Havoc: Book II of The Evolution Gene, page 16
Looking into Liz’s eyes, Chris shook his head. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the thumb drive and pressed it into her palm. “Take it, get out of here.”
“What?” Liz’s eyes widened as she saw the thumb drive. She shook her head. “No, we’re not leaving you, Chris. Come on, get up, there’s still time.”
Chris staggered to his knees. Pain radiated through his body, robbing him of strength, but he reached out and gripped Liz by the shoulder. “I can’t fly, Liz,” he croaked, “He broke my wing. If I come with you, they’ll catch us all.”
“Then they catch us all,” Liz said.
Her eyes hardened, and she started to stand, but Chris caught her by the wrist and pulled her back down.
“No, Liz,” he blinked back tears, “You need to live. You need to show the world what’s on that drive, tell them what they did to us. Make all this mean something.”
“But what about you?” Liz’s voice cracked, and her eyes shone with unspilt tears. “I can’t leave you like this. I… I love you, Chris.”
Chris squeezed her wrist. Pulling her forward, he kissed her, hard and fast. His heart started to race, and for a second his pain lessened. But when they broke apart, it returned two-fold. Biting back a scream, he gathered his feet beneath him and stood.
“I love you too, Liz,” he stroked her cheek. “But you have to go.”
“I’ll come back for you,” she whispered, pain in her eyes.
Grimacing, Chris shook his head. “No, Liz. I won’t let them take me, not this time.” He forced himself to turn away. If he stared into her eyes any longer, he would never be able to do what was needed.
“Chris…” she croaked from behind him.
“Go, Liz,” he said again, swallowing his grief, “I’ll distract him, so Ashley can follow you. Go!”
Across the room, Ashley was running rings around Paul. Every time he went for her, she would dance clear, and he would stagger as she landed another blow. As they watched, Paul leapt at her again, and received a fist to the face and a knee to the groin for his efforts. Wheezing, he fell to the ground as Ashley leapt back.
Chris steeled himself and moved away from Liz and Jasmine without looking back. Silently, he hoped Liz would listen, but there was no time left for discussion. Studying the two fighters, he searched for an opening. If he could distract Paul for just a second, he could give Ashley a chance to escape. But he had to act quickly – the last few students were crumbling, and the soldiers almost had a clear shot at him. Glancing back, he was relieved to see Liz and Jasmine almost to the exit. His heart lurched and he quickly looked away again.
Paul was circling Ashley again. His face was bleeding from a dozen cuts and a dark bruise showed on the back of his neck. His chest heaved as he gasped for air. Then he bared his teeth, and his eyes seemed to darken. Chris saw him straighten, and realised he was about to attack again.
Before he could charge, Chris threw himself between them. Paul’s eyes widened and for a second he hesitated, taken aback by Chris’s intervention. Taking the opportunity, Chris twisted around and caught Ashley’s eyes.
“Go!” he screamed.
Then he turned back to Paul, and charged.
The surprise on Paul’s face turned to amusement as he watched him come. But Chris couldn’t turn back now. Fire lanced through his chest but he leapt at the larger boy. Twisting, he swung a fist at Paul’s face.
But Paul merely grinned and reached up to catch him by the wrist. Chris’s heart fell into his stomach as he was yanked forward into a crunching headbutt. White light flashed across his vision, and then he was falling. He hit the ground with a dull thud.
Blinking, he tried to clear his vision and regain his feet. But the strength had fled his limbs, and when his eyes cleared, he was still lying on his back staring up at the ceiling. His ears rang and he could hear distant voices, but before he could look around in search of them, Paul’s face appeared overhead. Their eyes met, and Chris saw his death lurking in the empty grey that stared back at him. Closing his eyes, he waited for the end to come.
Instead, there was a soft thud, and he opened his eyes in time to see Ashley tackle Paul, driving him back. Paul stumbled beneath the force of her attack, but Ashley was half his weight and the blow had only stunned him. Snarling, Ashley chased after him. Leaping into the air, she slammed her foot into his chest.
Paul was still recovering, and this time Ashley’s kick put him flat on his back. Before he could get up, Ashley raced in and stamped her boot down on his face. There was a sickening crunch as his nose broke, but before Ashley could retreat, Paul’s hands shot out and caught her by the ankle.
Ashley screamed as Paul surged upwards, lifting her foot with him to throw her off-balance. With Ashley’s ankle still firmly in his grip, Paul hauled Ashley’s leg above his head, and then slammed her face first into the ground. Releasing her ankle, he dove, attempting to pin her down and use his bulk to overwhelm her. But Ashley rolled to the side, her wings contracting, and Paul slammed into empty carpet. Coming to her feet, Ashley fixed Paul in her sights, and charged.
Still on the ground, Paul gaped at Ashley’s sudden fury. Her eyes remained the same tawny yellow, but there was a glint to them that reminded Chris of the rage he’d seen when Liz and Jasmine had turned. Yet this was different somehow, tightly controlled, as though Ashley had somehow managed to take all her pain and fear and insecurity and turn them into strength.
Paul managed to stagger to his feet before Ashley was on him. Her fist flashed out, and he raised his own to turn aside the blow. A sharp crack rang through the room as her knuckles caught his elbow. Paul screamed and holding his injured arm, he tried to retreat. But Ashley came after him, her amber eyes simmering.
A sickening crunch came from Paul’s skull as Ashley’s next blow caught him square between the eyes. His eyes rolled up into his skull and his mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. Slowly, he toppled backwards and landed with a soft thud on the carpet.
Ashley stood over him, chest heaving, her white wings trembling with each inhalation. Fists clenched, she watched him for long seconds. But Paul lay unmoving. His eyes stared blankly up at her, unseeing.
Chris managed to stagger to his feet and move across to her. She looked up as he approached, and the tension seemed to rush from her body. She sagged, and reaching out, he caught her as she started to fall. Pain burned in his chest, but he held her close and looked around.
There was no sign of Liz or Jasmine, but while the whole fight had lasted no more than a few minutes, their time was up. On the staircase, the last of the students had fallen. Now the plain-clothed soldiers poured out onto the stage, their guns held at the ready as they formed a semicircle around Chris and Ashley. A deadly stillness fell over the room.
Chris held Ashley tight against him. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t fled with Liz and Jasmine, but he was suddenly glad to have her there. Together they faced the black-barrels of the soldier’s guns, and waited for death to come.
“On your knees,” the Director’s voice carried down to them.
Chris looked up and saw her slowly descending the stairs. His eyes were drawn to two silver bands she held in one hand. His heart clenched as he recognised the shock collars, and he felt Ashley’s grip tighten around his waist. A shiver went through him as he shook his head.
“Kill us,” he croaked. “We’re not going back.”
The Director’s face did not change. The soldiers still on the stairs gave way before her. As she reached the stage, she held up the collars. “They weren’t meant for you,” she nodded to the limp bodies of Paul and Francesca, “I removed them as a show of trust. But I liked to keep them handy, just in case.”
“Get it over with,” Ashley croaked beside him, “You can’t make us go back, so you might as well end this joke.”
“But who will replace my faithful servants?” she raised an eyebrow, “You’ve made such a mess of them, the least you can do is take their place.”
“Go to hell,” Chris stepped towards her.
Two dozen rifles lifted half an inch as the soldiers glanced at the Director, waiting for her order. Despite himself, Chris paused. Now that the end had come, he found himself suddenly wanting to draw out this moment, to savour every last breath of life.
The Director pursed her lips. She turned her back on them and looked up at the students. “They’re all traitors you know,” she laughed, the sound cold and hollow, “You know the punishment for traitors.”
At her words, the soldiers still stationed at the top of the lecture theatre swung the heavy double doors closed. The men on the stairs turned and pointed their rifles into the rows of chairs where the students huddled, open terror on their faces. Several cried out as the Director looked back at Chris.
“Don’t,” Chris croaked.
“Why not?” the Director raised an eyebrow.
“Please,” Ashley begged, and a smile spread across the Director’s face.
Lifting the collars, the Director tossed them down at their feet. “Put them on, and I will spare them.”
“No,” Ashley whispered beside him, but even as she said the word, she slumped to her knees.
Chris crouched beside her. They glanced at each other, and he could see the terror in her eyes. Then Ashley closed her eyes and swallowed. When they opened again, the fear had fled. Reaching out, she gripped Chris by the shoulder. Neither spoke, but Chris nodded. Together, they picked up the collars.
“Put them on,” the Director repeated.
Nodding, Chris steeled himself, and lifted the metal collar to his throat. He shivered as the cold steel touched his flesh, and he fought the urge to hurl the thing from him. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a breath, found the clasp, and pressed it together. The collar gave an audible click as it settled into place.
A pit opened in Chris’s stomach as he looked up at the Director. Another click came from Ashley’s collar, sealing their fate. Together, they met the woman’s gaze, helpless slaves before her wrath. She grinned again and lifted her wrist, showing them the controller she wore as a watch.
“You remember this?” she waited until they both nodded, “Good. Behave, and I won’t have to use it.”
Biting his lip, Chris stared down at the carpet, too afraid to do anything else. Despair welled in his chest, robbing him of strength.
“Excellent, you may yet prove useful.” The Director laughed. Chris flinched as the sound grated in his ears. “Okay, men, it’s time we finished with this mess. Kill them all.”
Chris’s heart froze in his chest as he looked up and saw the soldiers taking aim at the students. A scream clawed its way up from his chest, and he started to his feet. A deafening roar filled the lecture theatre as the soldiers opened fire. He screamed again, and leapt at the Director, determined to tear her down.
Before he could take two steps, white fire wrapped around his neck, cutting off his shriek. His feet went out from beneath him as his muscles spasmed, and then he was on his back, his whole body convulsing as the boom of gunfire echoed through the lecture theatre. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He thrashed, unable to breathe, to think, to do anything but listen as three hundred students were murdered where they knelt.
Only when silence returned to the lecture theatre, did the darkness finally rise to claim him.
Thirty-One
Susan sucked in a breath as she looked down at the lights of the town. For what seemed like endless days and nights, the Chead had raced across the open countryside. She had run with them, revelling in her newfound strength. Light bled into dark, but it made no difference whether she travelled by the moon or the sun. At times, the red haze would sweep over her, but she embraced it now, thrilling in the power it gave her.
When they stopped for rest, she would find herself in Hecate’s arms, his lips beneath hers, and all memory of her past life would fall away. The voice in the back of her mind grew weaker with each day, until it seemed only a distant memory. She had become a creature of instinct, driven by need, by desire.
Now, darkness stretched out in all directions, except where the humans had built their homes. The ring of lights stood in defiance of the night, a cocoon protecting its occupants from the perils of the dark.
That was how the humans were, she knew. Scurrying away in the dirt, always hiding from the power of mother nature, from the wrath she might bring. But it was not mother nature they needed to fear, not tonight.
Tonight, it was their own folly that came for them.
She saw the truth now, saw the cruelty of their species, the lives they destroyed in their endless quest for power. How she longed to undo her past, to take back the evils she had wrought. Thinking of those strange memories, she found herself confused, no longer able to understand what had driven her before the red haze came.
There was only hunger now, the thirst for slaughter, the lust for her mate.
Hecate stood beside her, his scent lingering in her nostrils. It was intoxicating, like a drug she could not live without. Together they stared down at the little town, contemplating its distant glow. Movement came from around them. The full moon lit the hillside, revealing the gathered Chead. They moved across the grassy slopes, preparing themselves.
Returning her gaze to the town, Susan thought of what was to come. From deep in her mind, she felt a tug, a strange pang that seemed to come from another life. She shook her head, and it faded, the red haze rising to replace it.
A call went out across the hilltop, followed by slow, silent movement. As one the Chead slid down the hill towards the town and its unsuspecting inhabitants. Their faces took on a new light in the glow of the moon, so they seemed almost ghosts, the spirits of the things they had once been.
Humans.
The word rang in her mind, and for a moment Susan paused. The red haze flickered, and her breath caught in her throat. As she looked out at the lights, an image flickered into her mind. She saw a dimly lit room, a fire crackling in its hearth, a man and a woman in each other’s arms, and a child nestled up against their legs.
Pain seeped through her chest as she stilled. The image flickered, growing and then shrinking, as though struggling to exist in the darkness of her mind. She wondered where it had come from, what it meant, who they were.
“Are you… ready?” Hecate’s lips brushed against her ear.
Susan sucked in a breath, and the sweet scent of her mate filled her nostrils. She shivered as the red haze rose again, consuming the image in flames of rage.
I am yours.
Smiling, Susan looked up at Hecate. Today marked the beginning of a new age. Once lions had roamed the earth from Europe to Africa to America. Then had come Homo erectus, and the time of the lion had ended. Humanity had followed, creeping across the planet, extinguishing all that threatened it.
But now their time was ending. Another had come to take its place.
The age of the Chead had begun.
“I’m ready.”
Part Two
Thirty-Two
Liz sat on the edge of the rooftop, her legs dangling out over empty air. Her body tensed as she looked out at the city, her gloved hands gripping tight to the concrete lip. Skyscrapers stretched up around her, towering over the nondescript apartment building on which she sat. In the distance, she glimpsed the first glow of the rising sun, but the city remained in shadow, all colour leached away. With strict power rations in place, there was hardly a streetlight left to cast back the gloom.
It made the night perfect for hunting.
Four weeks had passed since the massacre at the university, and hardly a day had gone by in which she did not curse herself for fleeing, for running away and leaving Chris to die. Never mind that there had been nothing she could have done; she blamed herself all the same.
After all, Ashley had found the courage to stay and fight. Poor, broken Ashley, who just days before had frozen at the merest sign of danger. Liz had hardly been able to blame her—Ashley had been through more than any of them; suffered for weeks alone at the hands of Doctor Halt.
Yet, when their backs had been against the wall, it was Ashley who had stepped up, who had fought off the Chead and given Liz and Jasmine a chance to escape.
Liz almost hated her for doing it.
It should have been me!
She stood suddenly, her boots balancing precariously on the thin ledge. Fists clenched, she stared down at the hundred-foot-drop, her stomach twisting with the nausea of regret.
She saw again Chris’s face as she’d seen him last—tight with pain, his lips drawn back in a snarl, his broken wing hanging limp behind him. Injured and outmatched, he had thrown himself between the Chead and Ashley, determined to sacrifice himself to save his friend. But Ashley had remained, and the two of them had perished in the massacre that followed.
Liz’s only comfort was that Chris and Ashley had died believing their sacrifice had meant something—that their deaths had bought their friends time to escape, and reveal the truth to the world.
Battling through their grief, Liz and Jasmine had carried the pendrive the professor had given them back to the safehouse and handed it over to Maria. Then, tears streaming down her face, Liz had told the old woman what had happened to her grandson. She had watched as the light faded from Maria’s eyes, as the lines on her face deepened and her smile fell away. And Liz had felt her own heart breaking, as she’d been forced to face the truth.
Chris was gone.
Even the hope offered by the pendrive proved short-lived. With the collaboration of the students in the lecture theatre, they had hoped to be able to convince one of the news networks to run the story. After all, those students had been the children of the rich and powerful, the future of the nation. Not even the Director of Domestic Affairs could silence them without consequences.
