The Praegressus Project: Part One Page 6

  On the bed, she heard again the crunch of fists on flesh. Her stomach swirled and it was all she could do not to throw up.

  “What have I done?” she whispered.

  The plain walls of her private quarters offered no answers, only their silent judgement. This was her life, this little white room, the empty double bed, the white dresser and coat rack beside the door. Her wool fleece hung on the rack, untouched for weeks now.

  Staring at it, Angela was taken by an impulse to escape, to leave this place and walk out into the wilderness beyond the facilities walls. Standing, she strode across and tore the coat from the rack. Swinging it around her shoulders, she fastened the buttons and pushed open the door.

  The corridor outside ran left and right. Left led deeper into the facility, where her laboratory and the prison rooms waited. She turned right, moving past the closed doors of the other living quarters. It was well past midnight, and the other staff would have retired long ago. Only the night guards would be awake now.

  It only took a few minutes to reach the outer door – a fire exit, but from past excursions she knew there was no alarm attached. The heavy steel door watched her approach, unmoved by her sorrow. Placing her shoulder to it, she gave a hard shove and pulled at the latch.

  A long screech echoed down the corridor, followed by a blast of cold wind.

  Clenching her teeth, Angela pushed it wider and slipped out into the darkness. She pulled the cloak tighter around herself as a tendril of ice slid down her back, and listened as the door clicked shut behind her. She wasn’t concerned – there were no locks on the outer doors. Out here, break-ins were the least of their worries.

  Angela sucked in a long breath of the mountain air and looked up at the sky. A thousand pinpricks of light dotted the darkness, the full scope of the Milky Way laid bare before her. The pale sliver of a crescent moon cast dim shadows across the rocky ground, where a thin layer of snow dotted the stones. Beyond the light coming from the building behind her, the night beckoned.

  Shivering, Angela watched her breath mist in the freezing air. It was eerie, staring out into the absolute black. Other than the sky, not a pinprick of light showed beyond the facility. They were far from civilisation here, miles into the mountains, as remote as one could be within the Western Allied State. Or the WAS, as it had come to be known.

  Staring at the stars, Angela could almost imagine herself a child again. A desperate yearning rose within her, to return to the simplicity of life then, to the warmth of her family ranch.

  Sucking in another breath, Angela watched the darkness, imagining the long curves of the hidden mountains. The first snow had arrived a few days ago, heralding the onset of winter. Climatologists were predicting a strong El Nino though, which would mean a mild winter.

  Standing there in the darkness, with the icy wind biting at her skin, Angela could not help but disagree. This winter would be long and savage, and few at the facility would survive its coming. Only the strongest would endure.

  She hoped the candidates would prove up to the challenge. They had only one chance, one opportunity. Fail now, and the government would end it all.

  Bowing her head, Angela turned back to the fire door. She pushed it open and returned to the warm light of the corridor. Once back inside, she leaned back against the door and slid to the floor.

  Just a little longer, she clung to the thought.

  Just a little longer, and she could rest, could put this all behind her.

  Just a little longer, and she would save the world.

  CHAPTER 9

  Clang.

  Liz flinched as the cell door swung closed behind her, the harsh sound slashing through her self-control. She clenched her fists, fighting to control the shiver running through her body. Every fibre of her being screamed for her to panic, to run and hide, but she sucked in a breath instead, calming her trembling nerves. Cold steel pressed against her throat, a constant reminder of her captivity.

  A sharp pain came from her palms as her nails dug into flesh. With a great effort, she unclenched her fists. The breath caught in her throat, but she swallowed and sucked in another, refusing to give into her panic. The heavy threads of the orange uniform rubbed against her skin, though in truth its quality was better than anything she’d scavenged in the past two years.

  Staring ahead, Liz cast her eyes over her new home. The plain concrete walls matched what she’d glimpsed of the rest of the facility on the short trip from cage to prison cell. The journey had taken less than five minutes, a quick march down long corridors, past open doors and strange rooms filled with glass tubes and steel contraptions. Some she recognised from her boarding school: Bunsen burners and beakers, test tubes and cylinders. But the rest was far beyond her understanding – plastic boxes that hummed and whirred, steel cubes of unknown purpose, containers filled with a strange, gel-like substance.

  The guards ushered them past each room with quick efficiency, leaving no time for questions. Only once had Liz paused, when they’d passed a room apparently used as a canteen. The smell of coffee and burnt toast wafted out, and she’d seen a dozen people sitting around a table, talking quietly. Before Liz could speak, a guard had jabbed the butt of his rifle into the small of her back.

  A little gasp burst from her lips, and several people in had glanced up. Their eyes took her in for a moment, then they looked away, returning to their conversation. Seeing their indifference, Liz had felt the last drops of hope curdle in her chest.

  From there they’d been led through a thick iron door, into the grim corridor of a prison block. Faces lined the cells on either side of the corridor as they marched past. Wide eyes stared at them, their owners no more than children, ranging from around thirteen to twenty years of age.

  Now Liz stood in a tiny concrete cell, the iron bars at her back locking her in, sealing her off from the outside world. Two sets of bunk beds had been pushed against the walls on her left and right, while at the rear a toilet and sink were bolted into the floor. Curtains dangled down beside the toilet, presumably to offer some small semblance of privacy.

  And between the bunks stood her new roommates.

  The boy and girl stared back at Liz and Christopher. The boy stood well over six feet, his muscled shoulders and arms dwarfing the girl beside him. His skin was a dark hue of Native American descent, except where a long white scar stretched down his right arm. Long black hair hung around his razor-sharp face, and hawkish brown eyes studied her with detached curiosity.

  Beside him, the girl could not have provided a greater contrast. Her pale white skin shone in the bright overhead lights, unmarked by so much as a freckle, and at around five foot three, she barely came up to the boy’s chest. She stood with arms folded, her posture defensive, though with her thin frame Liz guessed she’d struggle to fend off a toddler. Long hair hung down to her waist, the scarlet locks well-trimmed but unwashed. At first glance, Liz thought she might have just walked off a photoshoot.

  But with closer reflection, Liz noticed the faint marks of bruises on her arms, the traces of purple on her cheeks and the dark circles beneath her tawny yellow eyes. Cuts and old scars marked her knuckles, and several of her once-long nails were broken.

  Maybe not so harmless after all, Liz mused.

  The boy from the cages, Christopher, stood beside her, making them a party of four. Although it wasn’t much of a party. So far they’d gone a full minute without speaking.

  Outside, the last thud of boots ceased and the crash of the outer doors closing heralded the departure of their escort.

  Between the bunks, the boy came to life. “Welcome to hell,” he spoke in a Washington accent as he offered a hand, “I’m Sam, I’ll be your captain today. Ashley here will be your air hostess.”

  Beside him, Ashley rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, but did not speak.

  Liz winced as she recognised the urban twang. She had already dismissed the possibility of the girl being rural, but she had held up hope for the boy at least…
A lonely sorrow rose within her as she wrapped her arms around herself. It seemed not only was she to be locked away, but her roommates were going to be a bunch of kids straight out of prep school.

  Closing her eyes, she recognised Christopher’s voice as he spoke. “Ah…” the boy sounded confused by their new roommate’s banter. “My name’s Chris, and ah… this is Elizabeth, I guess.”

  Her ears twitched as she heard the shuffling of feet, no doubt the sound of the two shaking hands. Shivering, she blinked back the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes, determined to keep her weakness to herself. Her head throbbed where the guards had struck her, and a dull ache came from the small of her back.

  The tremor came again, the cold air of the room eating at her resistance. Her eyes snapped open, her gaze sweeping her surroundings, finding three sets of eyes studying her closely. A frown creased Sam’s forehead and his mouth opened, as though to ask a question, but she looked away before he could speak. A sudden yearning to be alone took her, a need for the peaceful quiet of the country. The concrete walls seemed to be closing on her, the still air suffocating.

  Her eyes found the beds, taking in the unmade beds on the bottom. Above them, the sheets of the top bunks were pulled tight, untouched by sleep.

  Without a word, she stumbled past Sam and Ashley and grasped at the ladder. Arms shaking, she pulled herself up and rolled onto the hard mattress of her new bed.

  “Your girlfriend’s a friendly one, Chris,” Sam’s voice carried up to her, but Liz only closed her eyes, and willed away the sounds. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to still her racing heart.

  “She’s just scared,” was Chris’s uncertain reply.

  You’re wrong, she thought.

  She was angry, horrified, frustrated, and more than anything in the world she just wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. But instead, she found herself trapped in a tiny cell with three teenagers from the city – two young men and a girl who would never understand her, her past.

  “She should be,” Sam’s voice took on a bitter tone, “you two haven’t even seen the worst of it yet.”

  Sam’s voice put Liz on edge, dragging her back from the peace she sought, but she kept her mouth shut. Scuffling came from below as the three moved, then the bunk shifted beneath her as someone sat on the bed below. Cracking open one eye, Liz saw the two boys still standing, and guessed Ashley had retreated to her bed.

  “I don’t plan on sticking around to find out,” Chris spoke in a hoarse whisper. “I have to get out of here.”

  Soft laughter followed his statement. “Don’t we all, kid,” Sam replied jokingly. “But it’s kind of a one-way ticket.”

  “I don’t care,” Chris’s voice smouldered with anger. “Fallow… That woman, she took my mother. I can’t, I can’t let anything happen to her.”

  “Tough luck, kid. Wherever she is, she’s going to have to cope without you. The only way out of here is in a body bag. Just be glad it wasn’t our pal Doctor Halt who grabbed her – although I’m sure he could arrange a reunion if you asked him nicely.”

  Below, Chris swore. “How can you joke?” he snarled, his voice rising. “Don’t you understand? There’s been some mistake. My mother hasn’t done anything wrong. Her father died in the American War; she would never betray the WAS --”

  “And you think our families are any different?” the larger boy snapped back, the humour falling from his voice. “You think we all conspired against the government? Don’t be a fool. There’s no going back, no changing things now. Not for any of us.”

  Silence fell over the cell, the only noise the soft breath of those below. A grin tugged at Liz’s lips as she embraced the quiet, taking the opportunity to calm her roiling thoughts. The lights were bright overhead, burning through her eyelids, but at least the assault on her ears had ceased. Thinking of the other three, she felt a pang of empathy for them, a sadness for their loss. They were orphans now too, same as her.

  Perhaps she was not so alone, after all.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Chris’s voice came as a whisper now, “I’ll find a way.”

  Sam chuckled. “You and what army? Even if you could remove that collar, could break out of this cell, where would you go? Who would help you, Chris? You’re the son of a traitor, a fugitive without rights.”

  A rustling came from below, followed by a yelp. Glancing down, her eyes widened as she saw Chris pushing Sam up against the wall.

  “She’s not a traitor,” Chris grated out the words. “And like I said, it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to sit here and give up. I’m not going to let them win.”

  There was no humour in Sam’s face now. Scowling, he reached up and with deliberate slowness gripped Chris’s hands and removed them from his shirt.

  “Listen, kid,” his voice was threatening now. “You still don’t get it, do you? We mean nothing to these people. You’ll find that out tomorrow, how little your life means. They’ll kill you the second you cross them.”

  “Let them try,” Chris snapped.

  Sam’s face darkened, and then it was his turn to grab Chris by the shirt. Without apparent effort, he lifted Chris off the ground, leaving the smaller boy kicking feebly at empty air.

  “Believe me, I couldn’t care less if you get yourself killed,” Sam snapped. “But since we’re trapped in here with you, chances are your stupidity will get us all executed–”

  Sam broke off as Chris twisted in his grasp and drove a foot into the larger boy’s stomach. Air exploded between Sam’s teeth as he staggered backwards, dropping Chris unceremoniously to the ground. Chris landed lightly on his feet and straightened, eying Sam across the cell.

  Liz raised an eyebrow as the two faced each other, their faces twisted with anger.

  “Enough!” A girl’s sharp voice cut the air.

  The two boys practically jumped out of their skins as Ashley stood between them. Moving with a cat-like grace, she moved across to Sam and placed a hand on his chest. Her eyes flickered from Sam to Chris, a gentle smile warming her lips.

  “Enough,” she said again, softly this time. Even so, there was strength in her words.

  Liz watched with surprise as Sam’s shoulders slumped, the tension fleeing at Ashley’s touch. Chris stared, his eyes hesitant, before he lowered his fists. The smile still on her lips, Ashley gave a quick nod.

  “We can’t fight amongst ourselves,” she chided, like a teacher reprimanding her students. “Sam, you know that better than anyone. We need each other.”

  She turned towards Chris then, her eyes soft. “Chris, I know you’re afraid, that you’re terrified for your mother. I know it’s awful, that you’re confused. But you must calm yourself. Your mother would not want you to throw your life away.”

  Liz blinked, shocked by the calm manner with which Ashley had taken control of the situation. With surprising insight, she had cut straight to the heart of the matter and found a way to quench Chris’s rising anger. Despite her reservations, Liz found herself warming to the girl.

  Below, Ashley turned back to Sam. “Sam, you can’t hide behind that charade. Not from me,” she paused, her tawny eyes watching him, “not after everything we’ve been through.”

  Sam bowed his head. “You caught me, as usual,” he said with a shrug. Pushing past her, he threw himself on his own bed. “I still don’t want him getting us all killed though!”

  Ashley nodded. Her eyes swept the room, lingering for a second as they caught Liz watching her, before turning to Chris. She moved across to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “You are not alone, Chris,” she whispered. “Wherever you came from before, we are in this together now. We’re family, you and I. All of us,” Ashley spoke with words rich in emotion. “And you’re right. We can’t just give up. We will find a way out of here, together. Whoever these people are, they are only human. They’re not perfect. Eventually they’ll make a mistake, leave some hole in their defences. And when they do, we’ll be ready for them, we�
�ll take our chance.”

  Liz’s heart lurched as the yellow eyes flickered back to her. “That goes for you too, Elizabeth.”

  Warmth spread to Liz’s cheeks as the other girl watched her. She nodded slowly, struggling to cover her embarrassment. Listening to Ashley’s words, she could almost feel a flicker of hope stir inside her. Maybe the girl was right, maybe she wasn’t alone after all. Whatever their differences, Ashley was right. They were in this together now.

  Sitting up, Liz placed her hands beneath her and propelled herself off the side of the bed. She landed lightly, her bare feet slapping against the concrete, and straightened in front of Ashley. A smile, genuine now, tugged at her lips, but she tried to maintain a stoic expression. She didn’t want to get too far ahead of herself – they were still from the city, after all.

  Liz took a deep breath and offered Ashley her hand.

  “You can call me Liz.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Chris exhaled hard as he rounded the final bend in the track, his lungs burning with the exertion. Pain tore through his calves and his stomach gave a sickening lurch, but he pressed on. The dirt track gripped easily beneath his bare feet, propelling him on towards the finish line. From behind came the ragged breath of the others, some hot on his tail, others fallen far behind.

  Allowing himself a smile, Chris glanced to the side, and almost tripped when he saw Liz draw alongside him. The black-haired girl had her head down, her eyes fixed to the path, and was picking up pace. Panting hard, Chris followed suit, and side by side, the two of them raced down the final straight.

  For the last few feet, Chris’s feet barely touched the ground. In the corners of his vision, he saw shadows pressing in, exhaustion threatening. Through the darkness, he glimpsed Liz pulling ahead, saw the wild grin spread across her face as she crossed the line a second before him.

  Drawing to a stop behind her, Chris shook his head, his mouth unable to form words. Bending in two, he sucked in a mouthful of air. He felt strangely light-headed, his lungs aflame. It took him a full minute to truly catch his breath. By then the others had pulled up nearby.