by Aaron Hodges
“The best part is, even this so-called freedom of yours won’t last,” the President continued. “My former generals, those who still command the loyalty of their men anyway, are already lining up to take my place. It won’t be long before the nation dissolves into individual states, each ruled by a new dictator for you to fight.”
Swaying on his knees, Sam could hardly make sense of the man’s words. Even so, he looked up at the President and spat at his feet.
“Better them than you,” he snapped. “You tortured…and mutilated children. Spread a plague…across the country, all so you could…control us.”
“So I could unite us,” the President boomed. “So I could bring strength to our fledgling nation. You think we would have survived this long if I hadn’t? Even now, the remnants of the United States are circling. Texas, Florida, Ohio, they can’t wait to take a piece out of us. They hate us for what we did to them, for destroying their precious union and casting them out into the wilderness, for razing their cities and obliterating their economies when they refused to bend. If we had not stood together, we would have fallen.”
“I don’t believe that.” Somehow, Sam managed to climb to his feet. “It’s your deception, your lies and manipulations that have torn us apart. But this is not the end. We’ll find a way to continue, to unite. We don’t need your fear to force us together.”
“We?” The President smiled. He moved forward until they stood face-to-face. “Have you not heard what they’ve been calling you, Samuel? They may fear the Chead, but they despise the lot of you. You’ll never be one of them, never be human. Not so long as those things hang from your back.”
Sam’s stomach curdled, but he stared back into the man’s eyes, unflinching. A long silence stretched out as they glared at each other, each unwilling to back down, to give an inch.
Then Ashley, still lying in a pile on the floor, lurched forward and sank her teeth into the President’s ankle.
A high-pitched scream rattled the windows as the President stumbled back. His foot lashed out, catching Ashley on the side of the head and sending her sprawling, but Sam saw his chance. Gathering his fading strength, he lunged, arms outstretched…
Only for the golden-winged girl to catch him by the throat, and slam him face-first into the carpet.
“Too slow, Samuel,” she muttered, before turning to check on the President.
Sam groaned as delayed pain shot through his body. His wings lay like deadweights to either side of him, and he found he no longer had the strength to even sit up. Across from him, Ashley had curled up in a ball. A fresh bruise swelled on her forehead where the President’s blow had caught her.
A roar came from the President as he grabbed a fistful of Ashley’s hair. She cried out as he yanked back her head. Tears stung Sam’s eyes as he met her gaze. There was no mistaking the fear shining from her amber irises.
“Stupid. Stubborn. Bitch.”
With each word, the President slammed Ashley’s face into the ground. Even with the carpet, Sam could feel the thud of each blow through the floor.
“Leave her alone!” he gasped, struggling to rise.
An awful moan rose from Ashley’s throat. She tried to push the man away, but her strength had fled. Blood streamed from her nose, bubbling as she struggled to breathe. She gave a gurgling cry as the President hauled her to her feet, his fingers still tangled in her hair.
“Ashley…” Sam managed to croak.
“Sam…” she cried back, her voice laced with agony. Only the President’s grip kept her upright.
Laughing, the President shoved Ashley at his desk. Her feet crumpled as he released her, and she toppled headfirst into the mahogany. A sharp crack rang through the room, and a bloody streak appeared on the wood as Ashley fell.
The President shook his head. “Do you think she’s still breathing, Samuel?” He swung the baseball bat loosely in his left hand. “Probably, you freaks are tough to kill.”
Heart in his throat, Sam managed to pull himself back to his hands and knees. Ignoring the President’s taunts, he dragged himself across the carpet, eyes locked on Ashley. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see if she was breathing or not—but he could see the dark smear of blood on her forehead.
The President kept track with him as he crawled. “I warned you,” he said conversationally. “I was surprised when you survived the Chead, back in Alcatraz. You should have called it a win and left it at that. I would have spared you, you know. Now…now you’ll have to pay.”
Sam was almost at Ashley’s side, but as he reached for her arm, the President knocked his hand away. Stepping past him, he loomed over Ashley, bat held aloft.
“I really am sorry about this, Samuel,” the President said, glancing at him. “I know you were fond of her. But really, the girl is a danger to everyone around her. It’s better this way.”
He lifted the bat above his head. Ashley lay unmoving on the ground, her scarlet hair matted with blood, eyes closed, face pale. Sam’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach as the President took aim.
“No!” he screamed as the bat descended. Desperately, he threw out an arm, as though by will alone he could move himself into the path of the blow.
The soft thud as the bat struck Ashley’s head was horribly loud in the vastness of the apartment.
62
Susan paused in the stairwell as a shout echoed down from above. She glanced back at Hecate, eyebrows raised, then continued upwards. Above, light billowed from a partially open door, beckoning.
It hadn’t been hard for them to skirt the battle between the Chead and the winged mutants. Threading through the junkyard, Hecate and Susan had disappeared into the maze of buildings. From there, they made their way towards the only destination that remained unaffected by the chaos unfolding across the base.
The glimmering tower of glass rising into the night.
Keeping to the shadows, they skirted the patrols racing towards the conflict, and made their way steadily towards the tower. Once there, it had been a simple matter of walking through the front door.
The dozen guards stationed in the entranceway had stared in shock at their sudden appearance. It was all the opportunity the two Chead had needed.
Now they were nearing the uppermost floors of the tower, and Susan had begun to worry they’d come to the wrong building. The lower floors had been empty, filled with an assortment of desks, computers, and laboratory equipment. The last level had been packed with beds. The familiar stench of the winged creatures had wafted out into the stairwell when she’d opened the door, but the room was empty.
At least now they knew where their assailants outside had come from.
Susan smiled as they reached the open door, taking a moment to sniff the air. She recognized the stench of humanity and their winged rivals. There was something else too, but it was faint, already fading. Hecate shifted beside her, teeth bared, eyes eager. They shared a glance, then Susan pushed the door open.
Three pairs of eyes swung around as they swept into the room.
“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Susan growled as she took in the scene.
The first thing she noted was the man standing in the middle of the room. Clutching a bloody baseball bat in one meaty fist, he exuded a power those around him could not match. Despite his obvious humanity, he was clearly in charge. At his feet, a girl with white wings lay still, blood matting her face, while another winged boy lay with an arm stretched towards his fallen companion. A third freak stood silently nearby, arms crossed.
Turning to the man, Susan grinned. There was no mistaking him. “Mr. President, it’s so good to finally meet you.”
Uncertainty flickered across the President’s face as she started forward, Hecate just a step behind. Paling, he backed away, and stumbled over the fallen girl. The shock seemed to snap him back to reality, and straightening, he pointed his bat at Susan’s chest.
“Pascaline, stop them!” he snapped.
Laughter ca
me from the golden-winged girl as she stepped between Susan and the President. “That’s far enough, Chead,” she said, barring their path. “Allow me to introduce myself—I’m your replacement.”
Susan stopped a few feet from the girl. Her eyes swept the arrogant creature up and down, taking it in, before looking into its dim hazel eyes.
“My replacement?” Susan questioned. “My dear girl, your kind are but children to the Chead.”
“Children?” The girl bristled. Her wings snapped open, the feathers quivering. “I am superior to you in every way!”
“Oh yes?” Susan tilted her head to the side, an amused smile playing across her lips. “Then why don’t you try me?”
Growling, the girl sprang, her wings sweeping down to propel her forward. The smile never left Susan’s face as she watched her come. Feet fixed in place, she leaned back as a fist flashed at her, allowing the blow to sweep harmlessly past. Straightening, she savored the sudden surprise on her opponent’s face. Overbalanced and within inches of Susan, Pascaline could not avoid what came next.
Susan drove her knee into the girl’s stomach, crumpling her in two. Mouth wide, she clutched at her chest, desperate for breath. Still smiling, Susan locked her fists together and brought them down on the back of the girl’s head. The blow drove her opponent face-first into the carpet.
Satisfied, Susan watched for a moment as the girl twitched listlessly on the ground, before turning back to the President.
The man had turned a ghostly white. He backed towards his desk, as though something there could possibly save him. Susan leapt after him, her powerful legs propelling her across the dozen feet in a single bound. Courage fled the man and he tried to flee, but she caught him by the collar and hauled him back. He gave a strangled scream as she lifted him off his feet.
“Mr. President, as I was saying, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” She grinned as the supposedly most powerful human on earth squirmed in her grasp. “The Chead send their regards.”
“Please!” he cried, clawing at the fist clenched around his collar. “Let me go!”
“Very well.”
With a flick of her wrist, Susan tossed him to the floor. He bounced once before coming to rest in a tangled heap against his desk. He tried to scramble up, but Susan was on him in an instant.
“My dear President, where do you think you’re going?” she asked pleasantly. “You wouldn’t be so rude as to leave your guests unattended, would you? After all, we need to talk.”
“Ta…talk?” he stuttered.
Susan sneered. Whoever this man had been, he was nothing now. Stripped of his power and authority, he had reverted to humanity’s natural state—a pitiful, cowardly excuse for a creature. It took all her willpower not to snap his neck right there.
“Yes…” she breathed, pulling him close, until their eyes were only an inch apart. “About our place.”
“Your place?” The President repeated her words like a trained parrot.
Susan laughed. “Yes. I come to negotiate a place for the Chead in this world you affect to rule.”
The President stared at her, uncomprehending. “What…do you mean?”
An exasperated groan rattled up from Susan’s throat. She risked a quick glance around, but only the winged boy was moving. He had almost managed to drag himself across to the red-haired girl. Whatever had happened to them, they were obviously no longer a threat. Hecate hovered behind her, his eyes alert.
Satisfied they were safe for the moment, Susan crouched beside the President. “We only wish to assure our survival, Mr. President,” she said quietly. “We are not so numerous as humanity—if you wished, you could wipe us out within a year. I cannot allow that to happen.”
The President swallowed. “So what do you want from me?” Despite his predicament, he seemed to be recovering some of his confidence. He took a moment to straighten his shirt and then lifted himself to his knees. “Some kind of peace treaty?”
Susan smiled. “I was one of you once. I know what peace treaties mean to you. No, I need a stronger guarantee.”
“Anything,” the President gasped.
“Well, aren’t you cooperative?” Susan murmured. “Very well. I wish to know how to unleash your nuclear arsenal.”
The President went deathly still. A strained silence fell suddenly across the room, as though her words had flicked a switch. Whatever color the President had left fled from his face. His mouth opened and closed as he struggled to find the words to reply.
“The nuclear…arsenal?” he managed, finally.
“Yes, Mr. President.” Susan carefully lifted him back to his feet. “My memories are imperfect, but I recall the President is traditionally the one who commands your nuclear capabilities.”
“Yes…yes that’s…correct.”
The smile faded from Susan’s face, her voice taking on a dangerous tone. “Then you won’t mind showing me how that works.”
The President swayed on his feet, as though her words had rocked him to his very foundations. He blinked rapidly and seemed to come back to himself.
“I would need…assurances,” he replied in a quiet voice.
“Assurances?” Susan growled, stepping in close.
This time the man did not flinch. The faintest hint of a smile crossed his lips. “My life, for one,” he said.
Susan almost laughed. The man’s sense of self-preservation was something to behold. Instead, she raised an eyebrow. “So you can continue to murder my people? To use us in your vile experiments?”
The President shook his head. “I will lead the survivors.” he replied resolutely. “There will be peace between our peoples.”
This time Susan allowed herself a smile. The man was naïve beyond all imagining. She knew humanity’s nature. They were parasites, feeding off the world’s life for their own selfish ends. If they were allowed to prosper after the destruction, war between their peoples would be inevitable.
No, far better the Chead wipe your kind from the Earth¸ she thought. Out loud she said, “Your conditions seem…reasonable.” She offered her hand. “We have a deal.”
Some of the color returned to the man’s face as they shook hands. “Deal.”
“Monsters!” a voice croaked from behind them.
Susan glanced back and saw the winged boy sitting up on the floor. He stared at them, eyes shining with rage. Slowly, painstakingly, he climbed to his feet.
“Monsters!” he repeated. “You’ll kill millions.”
Heat swirled in Susan’s stomach, her rage flaring at the boy’s nerve. Glancing at Hecate, she made a gesture. Grinning, he started towards the boy.
Susan turned back to the President. “So, where do we begin?”
The President was still watching the boy, but her voice brought him back. “Oh, it’s simple.” He pointed at his desk, where Susan now noticed two silver panels inlaid on the wooden surface. A key had been inserted into each. “All the safeguards have been removed. We only have to turn those keys together, and…well…the targets are already set…That’s…it…” He trailed off as the boy screamed.
“So it takes two,” Susan mused. She glanced behind her, where Hecate had just tossed the boy halfway across the room. “Hecate, leave him. I need you.”
“What do you need him for?” the President asked. “Let him finish off Samuel. We can end this together, my new friend,” he said with a smile.
Susan looked up at the towering man, a smile of her own on her lips. “Thank you, Mr. President. But the Chead can take things from here.”
She wrapped her fingers around the President’s throat. His eyes widened, but before he could open his mouth to shout, Susan wrenched her hands violently sideways.
The crack his neck made as it shattered was music to her ears. It was still whispering through the room when the ding of the elevator came from behind them.
63
Liz shivered as the elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at the Presidential suite—or so the l
abel above the buttons read. Beside her, Chris took her hand. She forced a smile, even as she tried to conceal her pain. Her left arm hung uselessly at her side, while her wings were a mess of red-hot agony.
He had tried to convince her to stay behind, but even injured, she couldn’t let him face Susan and the Chead alone. The idea was suicide, and Liz couldn’t stomach the idea of losing him again. Not after finally getting him back.
Yet even now, as the elevator doors slid silently open, she still had no idea how they were going to stop Susan. Below, a dozen guards had been torn to pieces, and outside a war was raging between the Chead, humanity, and a host of winged teenagers that appeared to be the President’s private army. Their presence had made it easy for Chris to fly into the base’s airspace unnoticed—even if his wings had finally given in when they were still a few hundred yards from the tower.
Stepping from the elevator, Liz braced herself for the carnage the Chead left wherever they walked. She wasn’t disappointed. The breath caught in her throat as she took in Susan standing over the broken body of the President. Closer to them, Hecate stared back at her, his eyes dark with hatred. Movement came from beside his feet, and Liz gaped as Sam sat up.
“Liz?” Sam croaked.
Blood pounded in Liz’s head as she found two more winged bodies lying nearby. One was unfamiliar, but the other she recognized immediately by the scarlet hair and white feathers. A moan built in Liz’s throat as she started towards Ashley’s prone body.
“Elizabeth.” Susan’s grating voice drew Liz’s attention back to the Chead. “So good to see you again. I was disappointed our playtime was cut short.” The Chead’s eyes slid to Chris, her lips drawing back in a snarl.
Liz shuddered, remembering how easily the woman had batted aside her attacks in the cave. She had no desire to let Susan get that close again. Yet if the Chead had killed the President, she must already have what she needed. Despite her pain, Liz plucked up her courage and sneered.
“Why don’t you try your luck again, then?” she hissed.