The Praegressus Project: Part One Read online

  “How dare you?” Halt hissed.

  With a sudden, violent push, Halt slammed her head back into the glass. Stars spun across Angela’s vision and her knees went weak. Pain lanced from her skull as Halt pulled her back towards him, until their faces were less than an inch apart.

  “If you ever defy me again, I will see you in a cage with your precious candidates,” Halt grated.

  Red exploded across Angela’s vision as he slammed her into the mirror again. Then the fingers released her, and with a muffled sob she slumped to the ground.

  Halt looked down at her, open contempt in his eyes. “The experiment will continue,” he said. “You will see that the final doses are administered to the candidates. Those still unconscious will remain in their comas until our research has been completed.”

  Darkness swept across Angela’s vision, rising up to claim her. But through the creeping shadows, she heard Halt’s final proclamation.

  “Succeed, and I might just let you live.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Clang.

  Chris slumped to the ground as the cell door slid closed behind them. Liz staggered past him and toppled onto Ashley’s bed. The guards had practically carried her this far. Despite coming out better than Chris in the fight, the collar had left its mark. The damage ran deep, and each inhalation brought about an awful cough and rattling to her chest.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t much better.

  Whatever Halt had said about success, Chris had still lacked the relentless strength of the Chead. When it had caught him, no amount of skill, training or mutated muscle had been enough to save him from its grasp.

  Thank God for Liz, he thought, looking across at her.

  She lay sprawled across the bed, her face half buried in the pillow, her back rising with each laboured breath. Every few seconds she would groan, but otherwise she lay still.

  Getting to his hands and knees, Chris crawled across to Sam’s bed and pulled himself up. Under the circumstances, he didn’t think the others would mind if they borrowed them. Both beds were neatly made up, the covers pulled tight, the presence of their two friends wiped clean.

  Minutes slipped by as he lay there, his face throbbing where the Chead had struck him. After a time, the clang of the outer door carried down the corridor. Idly, Chris wondered if someone had come to finish the job the Chead had started. There was no one else inside the prison block now. The other cells were empty, the faces that had once lined the corridor either dead or gone.

  No, whoever it was had come for them.

  Unable to summon the energy to move, Chris lifted an eyelid and looked out into the corridor. A woman stood outside the bars, her hands fiddling nervously with the hem of her lab coat. For a second he thought it was Fallow, before he realised she was too young, her hair blonde instead of brown. A guard stood beside the woman, looking bored.

  “I’m… I’m to give you a round of antibiotics,” she squeaked.

  On the opposite bed, Liz did not so much as stir. Stifling a groan, Chris rolled onto his side. “Really?” he coughed. “You people are all of a sudden concerned for our wellbeing?”

  The woman gave a nervous nod. “Could you, could you get to the back of the cell, please?”

  Chris blinked. If he hadn’t been in so much pain, he would have laughed. Instead he looked at Liz, then back at the doctor. “Sorry, lady. But I don’t think we’re going anywhere.”

  “But… but you’re meant to…”

  Closing his eyes, Chris lay back on the bed. “Just get it over with. Have the guard ready to press his little button, if it makes you feel better.”

  The woman hesitated another second, and then nodded. A buzzer sounded and the cell door slid open. The little doctor hopped into the cell, a packet of syringes held in one hand, a vial of clear liquid in the other.

  Briefly, Chris contemplated the thought of resisting. After everything they’d been through, he distrusted even this harmless-looking woman. Who knew what new horror might wait in the vial. But a hollow feeling sat in his stomach, an awful, helpless weakness that sapped him of the will to resist.

  After all, what was the point in fighting now? It was too late – they’d already lost, already been damaged beyond repair.

  Chris slumped into his pillow and watched as the woman moved across to Liz.

  “She’s unconscious,” she sounded surprised. “I thought… I thought the experiment was a success.”

  On the bed, Chris shrugged. “You’ll have to ask your boss about that,” he paused, his thoughts drifting. “Where are our friends? What’s happening to them?”

  The woman was busy preparing her syringe, and it was a moment before she answered. It wasn’t until she leaned over Liz that he heard her whisper. “The others are being kept in their comas,” she breathed. “To make the change easier.”

  Chris watched as the woman inserted the needle into Liz’s back and pressed down the plunger. Then she was moving towards him, the needle disappearing into a bag marked biological waste. Another appeared as she raised the vial.

  Turning away, Chris winced as the needle pinched his back. The cold tingle of the injection spread between his shoulder blades as the woman stepped back. To his relief, there was no pain, and the cold sensation quickly faded away.

  Chris looked up as footsteps retreated through the cell. He watched the woman reach the door and turn back, her eyes catching in his. “I’m sorry.”

  Then she was gone.

  Frowning, Chris shook his head, resigning himself to whatever fresh torment had been in the injection. He was certain now it had not been antibiotics. Something in her face as she looked back, in those final words, warned him.

  At least this time there was no pain.

  A gurgled breath came from Liz’s bed, drawing his attention back to the girl. She had rolled onto her back now, her mouth wide and gasping. Her eyes were closed, her brow creased as though she were struggling to wake. Fingers clenched at the sheets and the veins stood up against her neck.

  Chris’s heart lurched and a sense of urgency gripped him. Careful to protect his broken hand, he rolled from the bed and crawled across to the other set of bunks. Pulling himself up beside Liz, he reached for her as she started to thrash. A wild arm swung out, catching him in the face, and a foot struck a pole, making the bunk shake. Another awful gurgle came from her chest.

  “Liz, Liz, stop,” Chris breathed, struggling to calm her.

  But with growing fear, he realised what was happening. Liz was choking, drowning in the fluid filling her lungs.

  Ignoring the agony in his hand now, Chris reached out and caught Liz as another convulsion took her. He pulled her close, fighting to hold her, to turn her on her side. Desperate fists beat against him, and pain rippled up his arm as she struck his hand. Gasping, he twisted, narrowly avoiding a wild swing of her knee.

  Fighting back his pain, Chris heaved, pulling Liz onto her side. As she rolled, he saw her eyes were wide now and staring, though it was clear she still lay in the grips of unconsciousness. Bloodshot veins threaded the whites of her eyes, and a trickle of blood ran from her nose, staining the white of her pillow red.

  As she settled onto her side, a ragged gasp tore from her lips. Her chest rose, the gurgle fading to a whispered cough. She gulped again, wheezing in the cool air, as though still unable to get enough oxygen. Reaching out, Chris tilted her head forward slightly, memories of high school first aid returning.

  Moving her upper arm, he placed her hand beneath her head, then pulled up her knees. Liz’s breathing gradually eased, the gurgle slowly fading as her airways cleared.

  Finally, Chris let out a long sigh, satisfied for the moment she was safe. Holding her in place, he sent out a silent thanks that Liz was so small.

  Weariness swept through Chris like a wave. He looked across at Liz and smiled. Her eyes had closed again, her lips parted just a fraction, while a wisp of hair fluttered on her face with each exhalation. The sharp throb of his hand was quickly
returning though, cutting through the last dredges of adrenaline. He stifled a groan of his own, eager not to disturb Liz now she had settled.

  He saw her again in the padded room, thrashing on the floor, felt again the awful helplessness. He shuddered and pushed the image away.

  Only Fallow’s intervention had saved her, saved them both.

  Fallow.

  The woman’s face drifted through his thoughts. She had been in this from the start, had admitted her role in the facility while they lay in the clean room.

  You are the culmination of my life’s work.

  Was that why she had saved them, had stopped Halt in the padded room? Or was there more? Had the woman’s conscience gotten to her?

  Chris struggled to concentrate, but cobwebs tangled with his thoughts, and he could make no sense of the questions. His body throbbed, the ache of a hundred bruises dulling his mind. Beside him, heat radiated from Liz, banishing the cold of the cell. Distantly, he felt the pull of sleep.

  His eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of Liz. The pained twist of her lips had faded, revealing a softness in her face, the kindness of the girl hidden within. Her breathing had quieted now, and her eyes quivered beneath her eyelids, lost in some dream.

  The weight of exhaustion slowly dragged Chris’s eyes shut again. He knew he should move, should return to the other bed. But the strength would not come; his last ounce of energy had fled.

  Within seconds, the soft whispers of sleep claimed him.

  CHAPTER 27

  Light burned at Liz’s eyelids, dragging her back from her dreams, back to the pain. It washed over her like rain, a tingle that burned in every muscle, every fibre of her being. Gritting her teeth, she willed the agony to fade, to release her from its fiery grip.

  Slowly, the pain died away, slipping from her body, until only embers remained.

  Liz sucked in a breath, then suppressed a groan as the ache returned, now an icy frost spreading through her lungs. Whatever damage the collar had inflicted, it had spread to every fibre of her being. It would take more than one night to heal.

  Liz froze as movement came from beside her. Cracking open an eye, she found Chris asleep beside her. For a moment she frowned, the beginnings of anger curling in her throat. Then a dim memory came to her, of water all around her, of drowning in a bottomless ocean, of fire in her chest as she breathed the salty water.

  Then Chris’s firm hands on her shoulders, pulling her up, dragging her to the surface. And the relief of fresh air, filling her lungs, of oxygen flooding her body.

  Her anger faded, replaced by a warmth that swept away the pain. She looked at Chris, watching the soft rise and fall of his chest, the flickering of his eyelids. Silently, she remembered her fear as the Chead had beaten him to the ground, the terror that had risen within her. But rather than panic, it had filled her with purpose, with the need to act, to save him.

  A low moan came from Chris and he wriggled beneath the thin blanket, drawing closer. She sighed as his heat washed over her, and watched as his eyes slowly cracked open.

  “You know, when I said I’d give you a chance, I didn’t mean it as an invite…” she teased, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

  She caught him as he flinched away from her. Taking a gentle hold of his good hand, she pulled him back, drew him close, until only an inch separated them.

  “Don’t,” she murmured, basking in the heat of Chris’s body. “Don’t.”

  His hazel eyes stared back at her, streaked with a bloodshot red, but clear and filled with… something. She leaned in, trying to make out what, and her mouth brushed against his. A jolt of energy surged through her at the touch, and then she was kissing him.

  She felt Chris tensed against her, and for a second thought he would pull away.

  Then his hands were in her hair, and he was kissing her back, his lips hard against hers. A tingle came from her hip as a hand gripped her. Adrenaline throbbed in her chest, spreading to swallow her. She reached out, her arms wrapping around Chris, pulling him closer, leaving no escape. Goosebumps prickled her skin as fingers slid to the small of her back.

  Leaning her head back, Liz parted her lips, her tongue flicking out to taste him. The scent of him filled her nostrils as his tongue found hers, and they danced to a rhythm all of their own. Her mind fell away, drowned by the blood rushing from her racing heart. Her pain was forgotten, replaced by threads of pleasure winding through her body. Her skin was aflame, burning wherever his fingers touched.

  Reaching up, she slid her fingers through his hair, pulling him deeper. A hunger filled her, a need that grew with every heartbeat. A moan slipped from her lips and she gripped him hard, desperate now.

  Chris flinched in her arms and she paused, remembering his broken hand. For a moment they slowed, but their lips did not part, their tongues still touching, tasting. Liz wriggled in under his arm, her chest pounding like a drum as his good arm wrapped around her.

  Liz drew back then, sucking in a breath of air. Opening her eyes, she looked at him, saw the smile tugging at his lips. She shivered, a memory rising from her past, the horror of the day before returning. A sour taste filled her mouth, the pain returning. She blinked, and a tear streaked down her cheek.

  “What are we doing, Chris?” she whispered.

  Chris pulled back, his eyes sad. Reaching up, he wiped away the tear, then kissed her on the forehead. “What do you mean?”

  Liz shook her head. “What’s the point?” she choked, closing her eyes, the darkness welling within her. “They could kill us tomorrow, mutate us beyond recognition, burn the last traces of humanity from us–”

  She broke off as Chris kissed her again, quick and hard. Separating, he looked her in the eye. “We can’t let them win, Liz,” he whispered. “They’ve taken so much from us already, used us, stolen our humanity. But they can’t take our spirit, our hope. It’s like a flame inside me – barely a flicker now, but it keeps me going. It’s mine. It’s ours. And I won’t let them take it.”

  “Haven’t they already?”

  Chris only smiled. “Not yet. It’s like Ashley said - they’re only human. They’ll make mistakes.” The fingers of his good hand found hers, and squeezed. “When they do, we’ll be ready.”

  Staring into his eyes, Liz could almost bring herself to believe.

  Almost.

  Still, he was right. They couldn’t let their captors win. For the moment, they still had each other. She would not let them take that from her too. Leaning in, Liz gave herself to the flame burning inside her. Their mouths locked and she pressed hard against him, her hands sliding beneath his shirt. A wild hunger filled her, her kisses turning ravenous. His arms went around her again, gripping her with a new fierceness. His lips left hers as he pulled away - then they were pressed against her neck, igniting flames wherever they touched.

  She groaned, her neck arching backwards, her fingers tight in his hair.

  His hands slid beneath her shirt, trailing across her back, tingling wherever they touched. The warmth inside her spread, and she began to tremble. Lost in her passion, she leaned in and nipped at his neck.

  Liz smiled as Chris gave a little yelp. His hands continued to roam, though they had not yet gone far enough for her liking. Reaching up, she slid her fingers through the buttons of his shirt and began to undo them. Beneath, a fine layer of hair covered his chest. His skin burned beneath her fingers.

  Chris’s mouth found its way to the small of her throat, and with a rush of impatience she helped him with her own buttons, knowing his good hand was already occupied. His lips slid lower, his tongue darting out, tasting her, even as his hands etched invisible trails across the soft skin of her back.

  Clutching hard to his arm, Liz stifled a moan as Chris paused. His fingers froze on her back, his mouth’s progress coming to an abrupt halt.

  Opening her eyes, Liz looked down at him. He stared up at her from between the folds of her breasts, fear sparkling in his hazel eyes. Her stomach twisted as
a trickle of ice slid down her back.

  “What?” she whispered.

  “There’s… there’s something wrong… There are… lumps…” Chris replied softly.

  Liz’s cheeks burned, but her fear fell away. Laughing softly, she shook her head. Her hands slid through his hair, drawing him in, until his lips brushed across her.

  Chris gave a low groan, then shook his head again. “No,” he pulled away, “not… not those,” the hackles rose on Liz’s neck as he looked at her.

  The heat slowly drained from Liz’s face. “What?”

  “On your back,” Chris said, his breath harsh. “There’s… something on your back.”

  Fear flooded Liz, and the passion in her chest spluttered and died. Sitting upright, she craned her neck, straining to see. Her movements grew frantic as she fumbled at her shirt, tugging at the collar, desperate to rid herself of it. Chris reached for her, tried to calm her, but she pushed him away. She heard fabric tear, and then the shirt came loose. Throwing it aside, she twisted her neck again and looked.

  Beside her, Chris’s face flushed, and his eyes flickered with desire. But she no longer cared, had eyes for only one thing now. Her naked back shone in the fluorescent lights, the lumps clear now. They bulged in the centre of her back, one on either side of her spine, midway between her arms and hips.

  A pressure built in Liz’s chest and escaped as a low whine, a muffled scream. An awful horror swept through her, a raging anger at the doctors, at their violation of her body. Another shriek built, but she swallowed it down, blinking back tears.

  Her eyes burned as she looked at Chris, saw the fresh tears in his eyes.

  “Where does it stop?” she whispered.

  CHAPTER 28

  Within hours, Chris found a pair of growths on his own back. Though there was no pain or discomfort, they ignited a terrible horror inside him, a building terror that threatened to overwhelm him. Whatever the doctors had done to them, it seemed they had failed after all.