Rebellion (The Praegressus Project Book 4) Page 4

  But he had done it to others.

  Ignoring the looks from Maria and Harry, Liz strode around the table. Her whole body was shaking, and without even thinking it her wings had opened, stretching out to fill the room. The wonder had fallen from the doctor’s face now, and he shrank down in his chair as she approached.

  Coming to a stop in front of him, Liz leaned forward, until their faces were only an inch apart.

  “So, you’re the doctor?” she hissed.

  The man swallowed visibly, and nodded.

  “How many children have you killed?” Liz growled. Her hands shot out and caught him by the shoulders, pushing him back. He yelped as his chair tilted backwards, but she held him still. He hadn’t yet answered, and with a growl that rumbled up from her throat, Liz lifted him into the air.

  “How. Many?” she shrieked.

  The doctor shook his head, his face drained of colour. “I…I…” he closed his eyes. “I don’t know. Too many to count.”

  Liz released him so suddenly he crumpled to the floor beside his fallen chair. Clenching her fists, Liz struggled to control herself. She could feel the flames raging inside her, feel the need to tear the man limb from limb. But obviously the Mad Women wanted him for something. Letting out a long breath, she turned to look at Maria.

  “Why is he here?” she grated.

  “I…I…I want to help,” the doctor stammered from the floor at her feet.

  “Did I ask you?” Liz snapped. She twisted her head and glared down at him. He promptly shut his mouth.

  “He has information we need,” Maria said softly, drawing Liz’s eyes back to the table.

  She stared at Chris’s grandmother for a long moment, and then slowly shook her head. “You can’t trust anything these people tell you.” She cast a disgusted glance down at the trembling doctor. “They’re scum. We should kill him now, before he can betray us.”

  At her words, the doctor whimpered and scrambled back from her. Grabbing the chair, he jumped to his feet and thrust it in front of him like a shield.

  Liz sneered back at him. “You really think that can stop me?”

  “Liz…” Jasmine’s voice came from behind her. The other girl moved slowly across the room, until she stood between the doctor and Liz. “Hear him out.”

  “You’re protecting him?” Liz asked softly.

  Jasmine didn’t back down. “If that’s what it takes to get to the Director.”

  Liz paused at that. “The Director?”

  Nodding, Jasmine turned to the doctor. “Speak, now. And do it quickly, before I change my mind.” Despite her words, there was no mistaking Jasmine’s hostility.

  Still shaking, the doctor slowly lowered himself back into the chair. He closed his eyes, as though summoning the courage to face them, and then looked around the room. But when his gaze returned to Liz, he flinched and looked away.

  “My name is Anthony Jones,” he began. “Until a few months ago, I was working in a top secret laboratory near Seattle.”

  “How many of these foul places are there?” Liz spat.

  The doctor shook his head. “I have no idea. Until recently, I thought we were the only one. I guess they keep it all separated–”

  “Just get on with it,” Jasmine growled, taking a step towards him.

  The doctor yelped and almost fell off his chair. Liz waited impatiently for him to right himself, foot tapping against the porcelain tiles. Finally, Anthony took a long breath and went on.

  “Like I was saying, a few months back, everything in the Seattle operation was closed down…”

  “What a shame for my hometown economy.” Liz spun as a new voice came from the entranceway to the hall. Sam moved slowly into the room, Mira shadowing his steps. Looking around the room, a wide smile split his face. “Someone start the party without me?”

  “You kids really can’t keep a secret, can you?” Maria said wearily, flashing a scowl in Mira’s direction.

  Smiling, Mira wandered across the room, past the doctor and Harry, to where Maria sat. Pulling up a chair beside Chris’s grandmother, she took a seat, placed her arms on the table, and leaned her chin on her arms. At just four feet in height, her head barely reached the tabletop.

  Maria stared at her for a second, and then shook her head with a laugh. Leaning back in her chair, Maria waved a hand at Sam. “Come in, Sam. Sit down. The good doctor here was just about to tell us why he’s come.”

  “Doctor, ay?” Sam moved across and took the last seat at the table. He looked up at Liz—where she still stood with Jasmine—then at the doctor. “You’re either really desperate or really stupid, buddy. You know how many of your colleagues we’ve killed?”

  The doctor frowned as he stared across at Sam. “You…you’re the one from the–”

  “Don’t say it.” Groaning, Sam threw his arms up in the air. “I thought it was meant to be thirty seconds of fame. How long is that damn joke of a press conference going to haunt me?”

  Anthony coughed and shook his head. “I was actually going to say the radio. There’s a receiver in the staff quarters at the new facility I was transferred to. You’re quite popular.”

  Liz raised an eyebrow as Sam burst into laughter. “You’re kidding me?” he managed finally, wiping tears from his eyes.

  The doctor’s eyes flickered to Sam’s wings and then back to his face. “Most of us thought you were a nutcase.” His eyes dropped to the floor. “Guess we were wrong.”

  Sam stilled. “Wrong about a lot of things.” His eyes flickered to Harry. “How did he get here?”

  Until then, Harry had watched the exchange in silence, his dark eyes giving away nothing. Now, he leaned forward in his chair, hands clenched in front of him as he studied the doctor.

  “He contacted the Mad Women in Independence Square yesterday afternoon. Said he could give us the Director of Domestic Affairs if we helped him. We spent the night transferring him from location to location, making sure he wasn’t being followed or monitored. He still hasn’t told us exactly how he can lead us to the woman though.”

  At that Anthony cleared his throat. “Yes, well, the interruptions...”

  Tired of his excuses, Liz snarled and started towards him, but Jasmine still stood between them. Holding out her arm, she barred Liz’s path. Their eyes met, and for a moment Liz contemplated batting her aside. Finally, she decided it wasn’t worth it, and spun away.

  “Get on with it,” she growled.

  “I’m trying!” the doctor said. “Where was I? Yes, the Seattle facility. I was recruited there after university, worked my way up to the Praegressus Project, took over the operations there a few years ago. My predecessor had failed to reduce the psychological stress caused by the virus’s integration into its host’s DNA. Unfortunately, I wasn’t any more successful. It wasn’t much of a surprise when they shut us down.”

  “Out of a perverted curiosity, what do you mean by psychological stress?” Sam asked, his voice dangerous.

  The doctor let out a long sigh. “It means the subjects who survived the psychological changes…suffered the same fate as the Chead. They were driven mad by the strain on their nervous system, succumbing to fits of rages that–”

  “They became Chead,” Jasmine cut in. “Tell me, Doctor, I’m curious too. What exactly brought you here? When were you finally convinced the government had crossed a line?” she snorted, “Obviously not murdering kids.”

  The doctor looked away at that. “It’s amazing, the things you’ll do, when your back is against the wall.” He looked around the room, though his eyes didn’t seem to register them. “So many came and went, all their faces have blurred into one. It was easy to justify, when it came down to it. Why not? It was their parents who sentenced them to death, not me. There was nothing I could do to save them—only offer a purpose to their passing.”

  “They died in agony!” Jasmine said, choking on the words.

  “They died for a cure,” the doctor shot back, then bowed his head. “A
t least, at first. That’s how we all started. I learned that later, when I arrived at my new laboratory a few weeks ago. They convince us we’re studying the Chead virus in search of a cure, as though a simple switch could reverse its integration with the host’s DNA. But after years of research, sooner or later, we all realise it’s impossible. That’s when they deem us ready to work on the Praegressus Project—on their so-called plan to ‘fight back’.”

  “You seem bitter, Doctor Jones,” Harry spoke in a soft voice before anyone could respond. Liz looked around and saw his cool blue eyes watching the doctor. His tongue wet his lips before he continued. “I take it you no longer buy the company line, as they say?”

  The doctor shook his head. His eyes returned to Jasmine. “You asked me what the line was? When it all became too much? It was the day I arrived at my new facility, right here in San Francisco, and realised we were no longer working on the ‘children of traitors’. It was the first day I walked along those underground corridors, the first time I saw my new candidates, and realised who they were. It was the day the government started conscripting young men and women to use as their guinea pigs.”

  “Some line,” Sam muttered as Liz’s heart sank.

  She closed her eyes, anger flaring in the darkness of her mind. So her suspicions were true: the Director was using the draft as an excuse to find fresh candidates for the Praegressus Project. Then Liz straightened, filled with a fresh resolve. Chris had died to stop exactly this—the continued abduction and slaughter of the nation’s youth.

  Quick as thought, she side-stepped Jasmine and leapt at the doctor. He yelped and tried to escape, but she had him before he could so much as leave his chair. Shoving him back down on the seat, she towered over him.

  “So, where are they?” she growled, “These children who so damaged your pathetic conscience?”

  Sitting in his chair, the doctor swallowed. “I’ll tell you, gladly,” he paused, eyes flickering around the room, at anywhere but Liz, “But first…I need your help.”

  Liz’s hand flashed out and caught him by the throat. Jasmine stepped towards her, but froze when Liz fixed her with a glare. Turning back to the doctor, she leaned in close. “Where?”

  “I…please…” the doctor choked, and she momentarily loosened her grip on his throat. “Please, you can do what you like with me. It’s my family I’m worried about!”

  Liz paused. “Your family?”

  The doctor nodded desperately. “Yes! My wife and sons. I’m not supposed to be here—not even supposed to leave the facility. They’ll know I’m missing by now. Please, I’ve already been gone a day. I don’t know how long before they…” he shook his head, “Just…protect my family, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  Liz studied the man’s face. It had to be a setup, a trap to lure them out of hiding. He seemed sincere, but she knew better than to trust appearances. They had been betrayed far too many times for that. But she knew one way of getting the truth from him. Tugging off her gloves, she tossed them aside and reached for him again.

  “Liz, stop!” Jasmine caught her around the waist and hauled her back.

  Hissing, Liz spun, extending her wings to thrust the other girl back. Jasmine staggered away and then straightened. “Don’t do this, Liz.”

  Liz scowled back. “You of all people should know he can’t be trusted!”

  “Maybe, but this isn’t the way. Chris wouldn’t want this,” Jasmine countered.

  “Chris is dead,” Liz said flatly. “I don’t think he cares–”

  “Enough!” Maria’s voice cut through their argument.

  Liz turned, and quickly looked away again, shocked at the rage on Maria’s face. Her hands dropped to her side as she clenched her hands into fists.

  “Harry,” Maria went on, her voice calm now, “Choose some men to observe the family, see if there’s anything going on that looks suspicious. If nothing is amiss, we’ll grab them tonight. So long as you’ve told us the truth, doctor, your family should be safe within twelve hours.”

  Her eyes swept the room, daring any of them to object, before returning to the doctor. “But if you’re lying, I’ll drive the knife through your heart myself.”

  Chapter 5

  Sam groaned as he leaned back against the wooden wall of the treehouse. Rays of sunlight bathed his face, streaming down through the cracks in the poorly constructed roof. His eyelids drooped, the pull of sleep irresistible. With only the cover of night offering them a chance to stretch their wings, they had all taken on a nocturnal lifestyle, and it was now well past his bedtime. Still, he was glad Mira had dragged him to the meeting. Too often, the Mad Women and their handful of allies made decisions while Sam and the others were sleeping.

  Yet despite his exhaustion, he found sleep itself would not come. His mind kept returning to Maria’s plan, going over the details, over everything that might go wrong. According to the doctor, his wife and two sons lived in a condo in Sea Cliff, one of the most expensive suburbs in the city. Apparently working for the government came with a few perks.

  Unfortunately for them, it made surveillance difficult, and the prospect of removing them without being spotted all but impossible. Thinking of the task ahead, he found himself wondering whether Liz had been right after all. The cold, logical solution to their problem was to force the doctor to tell them what he knew.

  After all, that was what the Director would do.

  Pushing the thought from his mind, Sam shook his head. Whatever happened, they had to be better than their enemy. If they allowed themselves to sink to the government’s level—to be corrupted by the very forces they fought—what would be the point? Ultimately, all they would achieve would be to replace one evil with another.

  Maybe that was why he’d volunteered to go with Harry’s team to bring back the doctor’s family. He needed to remind himself they were fighting for more than just themselves, that there was more at stake than their measly lives. After all, wasn’t that what the students at the university had given their lives for? Wasn’t that what Ashley and Chris had died believing?

  However, there was a more compelling reason to take Liz’s option. The government was continuing its crackdown against dissenters, and just last night another safehouse had been burnt to the ground. Its owner, a kindly woman who’d recently joined the cause, and everyone else inside had been killed. The news this morning had shown their bodies as they were carried out one by one, labelling each enemies of the WAS.

  Then the traitor Jonathan had come on the screen, explaining how joyful he was at the government’s progress against the rebels, and Sam had switched the television off in disgust. Jonathan was all over the news now, his presence adding weight to the Director’s crusade against the rebels, reminding everyone just what they stood to lose.

  Yet it hadn’t been Sam and the others who’d killed Jonathan’s family. It had been Doctor Halt who’d murdered Jonathan’s wife and daughter to ensure their silence. And now he stood beside Halt’s successor, spouting her accolades like a pet chimp.

  Hearing the thump of wings, Sam sighed and sat up, surrendering all pretence of sleep. Wind swirled around him as Mira landed on the wooden deck, followed a second later by Jasmine. Mira wandered across the half-finished treehouse and settled herself down beside him. Her soft grey wings stretched out, warming themselves in the sun.

  Sam grinned at her. After two bedridden weeks, they had both fully recovered from being shot in Independence square. They’d been fighting fit for weeks now—not that there’d been any fighting to attend too. Well, not unless they wanted to spend their nights ambushing soldiers with Liz.

  Sighing, he looked up at Jasmine, aware of the uneasy tension that still lay between them. He watched her wander across the wooden floor boards and lean her arms against the makeshift windowsill. Her wings hung limp behind her, her emerald-green feathers trailing along the ground.

  Slowly Sam shook his head, remembering the girl he’d first met back in the facili
ty. She had been easy-going, light-hearted despite the cruelty of their imprisonment. But that was before they’d been forced to choose between their own lives, and those of their friends. Jasmine and Chelsea had gone into a room together, but only Jasmine had stepped out again.

  Except the girl he’d known had never really come back.

  She looked at him now, her eyes hard, as though reading his thoughts. But Sam only smiled back. Whatever bitterness still lay between them, he was tired of it. They needed each other, now more than ever. Richard and Chris and Ashley were all gone, and Liz was falling into a pit she might never climb out of.

  Pushing himself to his feet, he moved across to join her at the window. A sharp pain came from his palm as he placed his hands on the raw wood. Cursing, he looked down and saw the splinter in his hand. The flesh was already starting to swell around it.

  “That looks nasty,” Jasmine murmured.

  Sam shook his head. “Think I should sue?”

  Smiling, Jasmine reached out and took his hand. Sam said nothing as she leaned in to inspect the splinter. Then, before he had a chance to object, she pinched his palm with her long nails. Sam swore and jerked his hand away.

  Jasmine looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Really? You took a bullet just a few weeks ago…”

  Sam shot her a sheepish grin and extended his hand. Jasmine bent to the task again, her eyebrows knitted together as she worked.

  “Mira seems to have taken quite a liking to you,” Sam offered, distracting himself from the sharp pain in his palm.

  “Yes, well, with Liz going all psycho-soldier and you busy with your gadgets, I seem to be the only one with the time,” she paused, looking up at him from beneath a fringe of black hair. “Although she seems quite fond of you as well.”