Rebirth - Chapter 3
Angela Fallow waited until the door closed behind her before allowing her mask to crack...
★★★★★ "Astounding, outstanding and makes the maze runner series in comparison seem like elementary school games."
In 2051, the United States has fallen. The Western Allied States is the new power in North America, and ruthlessly eradicate any threat to the union. Traitors are executed without trial, their children seized for a secret program.
Runaway teenager Liz wants nothing more than a normal life, but the government’s hunters have other plans. Abducted off the streets, she’s spirited away to a facility deep in the Californian mountains. There, Liz wakes in a cage – and she’s not alone.
Beside her, eighteen-year-old Chris stands wrongfully accused of treason. The two are now volunteers in the Genome Project – an experimental program to enhance the human race. Stripped of their rights, they will soon learn the true depths of human cruelty. The two must work together to survive, but even then, their chances are slim. Of course, only the lucky get to die.
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Angela Fallow waited until the door closed behind her before allowing her mask to crack. A sharp sob cut the air as she stumbled across the room and collapsed onto the bed. The soft duvet cushioned her fall, but it did nothing for the burden weighing on her soul. Burying her head in a pillow, she finally allowed the tears to flow.
What have I done?
For years she had worked in government laboratories, studying the creatures that had come to be known as the Chead, examining their genetic composition and identifying chromosomal alterations within their DNA. While the more superstitious citizens of the Western Allied States regarded the Chead as some paranormal phenomenon, she had dedicated her life to dissecting the mysteries of the creatures.
She had been the first to discover the link between the Chead awakenings across the country. A short sequence of nucleic acids discovered in one of the samples put her on the trail, and within days she had confirmed her suspicion. Whether the Chead had woken in rural Washington or downtown Los Angeles, the same virus was present in the genome of every known Chead.
Porcine Endogenous Retrovirus, or PERV, a well-known retrovirus amongst the scientific community. Since the turn of the twentieth century, the virus had been used to exchange DNA between pig and human cells. PERV was a provirus – meaning it fully integrated into the host genome. This led to its use in the modification of genes within the organs of pigs, to increase their receptivity when transplanted into human subjects.
But Angela had checked the records of every Chead, and none had ever been a candidate for xenotransplantation.
Normally, the presence of the virus alone would have meant little. There was not a person alive whose chromosome did not contain some viral elements. In fact, many scientists speculated the alterations caused by proviruses played a significant role in evolution, altering genes and alleles at a rate far faster than ordinary mutation.
However, once the link had been discovered, it had not taken Angela long to piece out other discrepancies in the Chead chromosomes. Alongside the PERV recombinations, she identified genome markers with foundations in everything from primates to canines, eagles to rabbits. Even genes from rare animals such as the Philippine Tarsier and the Western Australian Taipan had featured in the genetic puzzle presented by the Chead.
In the end, the evidence all pointed to a single, undeniable conclusion.
The Chead were no accident. Someone had created them, designed a virus and released it into the world.
The question of who remained unanswered, though the government had quickly pointed the blame on that old enemy – the United States. Or at least the scattered remnant states remaining of the once-great-nation.
But that was not Angela’s concern. Now knowing the cause, she had applied herself to countering its spread. Fortunately, the virus did not appear to be contagious. No cases had been reported of friends or family contracting the virus from awakened Chead, though the government still rounded them up as a precaution.
That left the question of how the victims were infected. She suspected an outside source was at work there, though again, it was up to others to solve that puzzle.
As for those already infected by the virus, Angela had quickly ruled out a cure. Ordinary viruses incorporated themselves into the host DNA, much as the Chead virus had done. However, the similarities ended there. Symptoms of an ordinary viral infection arose when a virus began self-replication, eventually leading to cell rupture and the spread of virons to other cells. Sickness showed as human cells were hijacked by the virons and used for further self-replication.
Instead of following this route, the Chead virus remained latent within the cells. It appeared to be almost perfectly incorporated into the human chromosomes of the Chead subjects. The alterations exhibited by the Chead were the result of gene expression in the cells themselves – the first symptoms only showing once those genes activated. This was similar to how many babies possessed blue eyes for their first few weeks, until genes for brown eyes were activated.
In other words, the virus was a part of the Chead now. There was no reversing the process.
Upon learning of Angela’s discovery, the government had decided to take her research in a new direction.
Now she was close to an answer – closer than they’d ever been before. Initial trials on bovine subjects had proven successful, but Halt and his government overseers wanted more. They were desperate for an answer, for a beacon of hope to hold up to the people. Even the usually ice cold Halt had appeared flustered in recent weeks, and she sensed far more than her career rested on what happened over the next few weeks and months.
Shivering, Angela wrapped her arms tight around herself. Not for the first time, she wondered what her life would have been like, had she taken a different path. Deep in her soul, she still longed for the wild open space of the countryside, the endless stars and unmarked horizons. Her family’s ranch had been remote, far from the bustling hives of the cities – though of course, they did not really own it. They had worked the land, harvested the crops, while the landowner in the city took the profits.
As a young girl, she had resented that fact, and the limitations of rural life. So she had studied and schemed, and won a place in a scholarship programme in Los Angeles. She had grasped the opportunity with both hands, and run off to find her place in the big wide world.
Funny how things changed, with thirty-five years’ worth of wisdom.
The world was a wild place too, but in the city, life was far less forgiving than the country.
Angela shuddered as she heard again the awful screams, watched as the girl writhed on the floor of the cage. In the silence of her mind, Angela imagined the girl’s blue eyes seeking her out, begging for help.
Another sob tore from Angela’s throat. Those eyes, that face; they were so like her own. In those youthful features, she saw her past, saw the girl she had once been reflected back.
What have I done?
The question came again, persistent. She had never thought it would come to this. When Halt had told her their plan to gather candidates for human trials, it had seemed simple. Family members convicted of treason were destined to suffer the same fate as the accused. So why not make use of those lives?
Young, healthy candidates were needed for the trials to maximise the chances of success. The children of traitors seemed the perfect answer to their needs.
Only now she faced the reality of that decision, it was more awful than she could ever have imagined. Halt might see them as a means to an end, but Angela could not look past the humanity in their eyes. Halt was a monster, seeming to delight in the breaking of each new candidate, but for Angela, the guilt ate at her soul.
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.
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 inside 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.”
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.
Lowering himself to the ground, Chris blinked sweat from his eyes. Using one large orange sleeve, he wiped his forehead clear and shook his head at Liz.
“You’re fast,” he croaked.
It was the second day since their awakening, and since then the two of them had barely spoken. Despite her reluctant greeting in the cell, Liz remained withdrawn. She had been quiet when they spoke in the cell, and said little of her past.
Liz only shrugged. Two blue eyes glanced at him, and then away. “It’s the air,” she breathed. “We’re in the mountains – I can taste it. You’re probably not used to the altitude.”
Chris nodded, and stars danced across his vision. A groan built in his throat as he saw Liz straighten, but he pushed it down and lifted himself to his feet. Ignoring the ache in his muscles, they moved across to join the others.
Sam and Ashley stood with their hands on their hips, looking like they had barely broken a sweat. Chris cursed himself for exerting so much energy. Who knew what else the day had in store for them.
Yesterday, they had been taken into a laboratory and put through a series of tests. The doctors had worked with a cool efficiency, asking questions, giving instructions, taking measurements, all the while steadfastly refusing to engage with the captives. Behind the doctors, the guards remained colder still, their hard eyes following the prisoners’ every movement.
The tests had been easy, little more than a thorough examination by the local GP. But now it seemed the easy part was over. That morning they had been roused in the early hours by the shriek of a buzzer and the sudden brilliance of the overhead lights. For a few seconds Chris had tried to resist, exhausted after a long night spent tossing and turning, unable to sleep. But Sam and Ashley had been insistent, dragging them from their beds to stand for inspection.
Within minutes, the guards marched past. A doctor accompanied them, pausing outside each cell to make notes on his electronic tablet. Chris shivered as the man’s eyes fell on him. There had been a mindless look to him, a mechanical way in which he took the roster, as though this was no more than an inventory check at the grocery store.
When the doctor left, the guards returned with a trolley. The hallway rang with the sound of bowls sliding through metal grates. Chris had stared for a long moment at the oatmeal congealing in his bowl, before the rumbling of his stomach won him over. Resigning himself, he’d taken up his spoon and eaten all he could.
Then their escort of doctors and guards had arrived, taking them from the quiet of their cell and marching them through the facility to this field – if it could be called that. The open space was the size of a football field, but there was not a blade of grass in sight.
Instead, a fine dust covered the ground, spreading out across the oval like snow. A running track ran around its circumference, edged by tall, imposing walls that hemmed them in on all sides. The cold grey concrete stretched up almost thirty feet, interspersed with the metal railings of observation decks. A guard stood at each deck, rifles held in ready arms.
Above the walls, the sun beat down from the cloudless blue sky. The world outside was hidden by the walls, and whether Liz’s mountains existed beyond remained a mystery.
Other than the doctors and their escort of guards, the field was empty. The doctors had made quick notes on their ever-present tablets, before nodding to the guards. Orders were barked, and the four of them had set off running.
Now they stood together in a little circle, panting softly as they waited for the next command. The doctors hovered nearby, their eyes fixed on their tablets, talking quietly amongst themselves. The guards still stood beside them, their dark eyes fixed on the prisoners.
Beyond the little group of overseers, a red light started to flash above the door they’d entered through. A buzzer sounded, short and sharp. Beside the doctors, the guards straightened, turning to face the entrance. The door gave a loud click and swung inwards.
Another group of doctors entered, followed by four prisoners in matching orange uniforms. Chris scanned the faces of the doctors, searching for Fallow, but there was no sign of her. His shoulders slumped and he clenched his fists, struggling to contain his disappointment. The woman was his only remaining link to his mother, but she had been conspicuously absent since their initiation.
As the group moved towards them, Chris sensed movement beside him. Glancing at the others, he was surprised to see Sam’s face harden, the easy smile slipping from his lips. The older boy reached out and grasped Ashley by the wrist, then nodded in the direction of the newcomers. Ashley’s face paled when she saw the group of orange prisoners, and she stumbled sideways a step before Sam caught her.
“What?” Chris hissed.
The two glanced at each other and then shook their heads. “Nothing,” Sam muttered.
Before Chris could say anything more, the new group of inmates pulled up across from them. They hovered a few paces away, three boys and a girl, their eyes studying Chris and the others with suspicion. Chris stared back, wondering at the reaction of Sam and Ashley.
Clearing his throat, one of the doctors stepped between the two groups. He glanced at his tablet, then left and right. “Ashley and Samuel. Richard and Jasmine. You have already qualified for the next round of analysis. You are here to ensure your health does not deteriorate.”
Chris watched a flicker of discomfort cross the faces of a boy and girl in the opposite group, and guessed they were the ones the man was addressing. Richard sported short blond hair and angry green eyes that did not waver from Ashley and Sam. He was almost a foot shorter than Sam, but more than matched the larger boy for muscle. He kept his arms crossed tight, his stocky shoulders hunched, and a scowl fixed on his face.
The girl, who he guessed was Jasmine, stood head to head beside Richard, a matching glare twisting her red lips. Her hair floated in the breeze, the black locks brushing across her face. The skin around her brown eyes pinched as she turned towards Chris, and caught him staring. Air had hissed between her teeth as she raised one jet-black eyebrow.
Chris quickly looked away, his heart beginning to race. Between them, the doctor had turned his attention on them.
“Elizabeth and Christopher, today we will test your fitness and athleticism, to assess your suitability for the next stage of the program. William and Joshua will be joining you. I suggest you get acquainted.”
Chris’s eyes drifted over to the other boys, and found them staring back. Their eyes did not hold the same animosity as Jasmine and Richard, just a wary distrust. The one on the left was a scrawny stickman of a figure, his long arms and legs little more than bone. Sharp cheekbones stood out on his face, and his jade-green eyes held more than a hint of fear. The other was larger, his arms well-muscled, but he did not match Richard or Sam for sheer bulk. He stood several inches above Chris’s five-foot-eleven, and had long blond hair that hung down around his shoulders.
Seeing neither of the two were about to introduce themselves, Chris made to step towards them. Sam’s hand flashed out, catching him by the shoulder. Chris glanced at the larger boy, raising an eyebrow in question, but Sam only shook his head. Settling back in line, Chris glanced at Liz and saw his own confusion reflected in her eyes. Ashley’s hand clenched around her wrist, holding her back.
The doctor glanced between the two groups, and with a shrug, pressed on. “Very well,” he cleared his throat, “All of you, line up,” he paused as the eight of them moved hesitantly to stand in one line, and then nodded. “Today–”
The doctor broke off, his brow creasing as the buzzer by the entrance sounded again. As one, the group turned towards the door. Chris shuddered as he glimpsed the face of the newcomer. Unconsciously he took a step back. A shiver ran through him, raising goose bumps down his arms and neck.
Chris shivered as Doctor Halt strode towards them, his eyes surveying the group as he approached. His arms swung casually at his sides, as though this were no more than a casual Sunday stroll for him. A smile played across his thin lips. He drew to a stop alongside the doctor that had been addressing them.
“Doctor Radly,” his voice was like honey. “How goes training day?”
“Good,” Radly spoke with hesitation. He was obviously surprised to see Halt. “How can I help you, sir?”
A soft laughter whispered from Halt’s lips. “I thought I might assist,” his eyes slid across the group of prisoners. “We need to advance our schedule – the directors are demanding results.”
Radly bit his lips, eying them uncertainly. “We have four candidates ready in this unit. We still need time to assess the remaining four. Most of the other units are the same.”
Shaking his head, Halt strode down the line, his eyes sweeping over each of them in turn. As Halt passed him, Chris risked a glance at the others. Sam and Ashley stared straight ahead, steadfastly ignoring the presence of Richard and Jasmine beside them. A hint of perspiration shimmered from Sam’s brow, but otherwise the two of them seemed untouched by the run. On his other side, Liz stood with arms folded, while beyond the two newcomers wore uncertain frowns on their faces.
The crunch of gravel warned Chris of Halt’s return, and he quickly turned to face straight ahead again. The man’s eyes stared hard at Chris as he passed, and then moved on to Liz. The thud of his boots continued down the line as he went on to examine Joshua and William, before returning.
Scowling, Halt stood beside Doctor Radly. Raising an arm, he pointed at Liz, then to the lanky boy from the other group. “Those two,” he scowled. “Pitiful creatures if ever I saw them. They won’t last long.”
Radly opened his mouth, then closed it. Glancing at his e-tablet, he shook his head and looked back at Halt. “Sir, we have a framework in place…” he trailed off as Halt stared at him.
Silence fell across the group of doctors. Chris glanced sideways at Liz, his heart beating hard against his chest. The girl stood staring straight ahead, her brow creased, fists clenched at her side. Though she did not move an inch, Chris could sense the tension building in her tiny frame, like a cat preparing to spring.
“Well, let’s see,” Halt’s voice came again. A second later he strode past and stopped in front of Liz. “Elizabeth Flores,” he looked her up and down. “How good to see you again.”
Liz didn’t move, just stood staring straight ahead. Nodding, Halt moved onto his next victim. “William Beth, a sorry looking excuse for a man, if ever I saw one.”
A tremor went through the boy as he stepped back and raised his arms. “Please, sir, please, I’ll do whatever you say.”
Halt took another step forward, and the boy stumbled backwards. His feet slipped in the dust and he crashed to the ground. Towering over him, Halt sneered. “Pathetic,” he spat. “Get up.”
William nodded. He scrambled to his feet, eyes wide with terror. “Please–”
His plea was cut off as Halt’s hand flashed out and caught him by the throat. Without apparent effort, the doctor hoisted the boy into the air. William gave a half-choked scream, his face darkening. His hands batted at Halt’s arm, his legs kicking feebly in the air, but Halt did not waver. His cold grey eyes watched as the boy’s struggles slowly grew weaker.
Chris watched in horror, his mouth open in a silent scream. A voice in his head screamed for him to help, but as he shifted an iron hand shot out and caught him by the wrist. He glanced back, opening his mouth to argue, but looking at Sam’s face, the words died on his tongue. There was a cold despair in Sam’s brown eyes, a haggard look to his face. Slowly, he shook his head.
Turning back, Chris watched as Halt tossed William to the ground. A low groan came from the boy as he struck, his legs collapsing beneath him. Dust billowed out around him. Gasping for breath, he struggled to his hands and knees and tried to crawl away.
Halt followed him at a casual stroll. Without taking his eyes from the boy, he began to speak. “You are all here at my pleasure. But I have no use for the weak,” apparently losing patience with his victim, he lifted a foot and drove his boot into the small of his back. William collapsed face first into the ground.
Lifting his boot, Halt stared down at the boy. “Get up.”
Arms shaking, William managed to lift himself to his hands and knees. His beet-red face looked up at Halt, eyes watering. He swayed where he crouched and a tremor went through him, but he made no move to stand.
Shaking his head, Halt growled. “Wretched specimen. Well, if you’re too lazy to stand, I will give you one last chance to prove your merit. How many pushups can you do?”
A confused look came over the boy’s face. “Push… pushups?”
“Yes.” Halt took a step closer, his face darkening.
William shook his head. “I… I don’t know…”
Halt sucked in a breath. He turned to face the other doctors. “He doesn’t know.” He gave a soft laugh and turned back to the boy. “Well, shall we find out then?”
He stared down at the boy, waiting for a reply, but William had gone quiet. The eyes of every doctor and prisoner were on him. Chris held his breath, sensing the trap in Halt’s tone, but not knowing how it would be sprung.
“Well, get to it then,” Halt snapped. He looked up at the doctor hovering nearby. “Radly, you can call the count for us.”
At Halt’s feet, a sharp sob came from William. Slowly, he lowered his hands to the ground and spread his legs. As Radly shouted out the count, William lowered himself to within an inch of the ground and then straightened his arms again.
Chris and the others watched on, faces grim, as Radly continued to count. Beside him, Liz’s expression was unreadable, though there was a slight sheen to her eyes, hinting at tears.
As Radly reached fifteen, William’s arms began to tremble. His breath came in ragged gasps and his face flushed red. A shudder ran through his bony body, and with a sob he collapsed to the ground. A triumphant grin spread across Halt’s face as he folded his arms.
“Sixteen,” Radly repeated the call.
“Please,” William coughed, lying with limbs splayed across the ground, “please, please I can’t!”
“Keep going,” Halt snarled.
He tried, Chris had to give him that. Veins popping in his forehead, teeth clenched, arms shaking with the effort, the boy managed half a pushup before he collapsed back to the ground. This time he didn’t bother to beg, just lay staring up at Halt, a haunted look in his eyes.
Shaking his head, Halt looked across at them. “In case you were wondering, this is what ‘weak’ looks like.” Cold eyes still watching them, Halt reached down and tapped the sleek black glass of his watch.
Chris flinched as an awful scream came from the ground. He stumbled backwards, turning to face the source, raising his fists to defend himself. But there was no threat – just William, thrashing on the ground, his half-gasped screams clawing their way up from his throat. Eyes wide and staring, William’s head slammed back against the ground. His fingers bent into claws, scrambling at the steel collar around his neck, even as another convulsion tore through him.
Panic gripped Chris and he stepped towards the boy. Sam’s iron grasp stopped him again, pulling him back. Chris swore, struggling to break free, unable to stand by and watch the torture any longer. He looked at Sam, fighting to break free, but Sam only stared passed him, eyes never leaving the convulsing boy. Behind him, Ashley stood as still as a statue, her eyes fixed on William, her face expressionless. Her scarlet hair blew across her face, but she did not so much as raise a hand to brush it away.
The fight went from Chris in a rush. Shuddering with horror, he turned back.
“Such a shame, to see our people come to this,” Halt’s words slithered through the air, filled with contempt. “Once upon a time we were proud, strong. Our forefathers marched to war with joy in their hearts and sent the cowards of the United States scurrying. Even then they did not stop. They followed the enemy back to their holes, and left a smoking crater in the heart of their so-called democracy.”
Chris gritted his teeth. Beside Halt, William’s struggles were weakening, his eyes closing as the veins on his neck stood taught. Agony swept across his features, contorting his face into a twisted scowl.
Still Halt spoke. “How your ancestors would turn in their graves to know of your treachery, of your betrayal of the nation they fought to create.”
Forcing his eyes closed, Chris sucked in a breath. The hand on his shoulder gave a gentle squeeze, but otherwise Sam stayed silent. Through the strangled screams, Halt’s words twisted their way through Chris’s ears. The wrinkled, smiling face of his grandmother drifted through his mind, telling of how her husband had fought and died in the American war. In 2020, a conglomerate of Washington, Oregon and California had unilaterally ceded from the United States. Arizona and New Mexico had quickly joined them, as support poured in from Canada and Mexico.
For a few years, a tense peace had hovered between the newly formed Western Allied States and the USA. However, talks had quickly descended to threats, as the USA demanded their return to the union. Within a few years, war was declared, and chaos had engulfed North America. A decade of conflict followed, leaving thousands dead on both sides.
Then, as the war was coming to a head, the Western Allied States had made one last, desperate gamble. In one decisive strike, Washington, DC was left in ruins, the leadership of the United States demolished in a single blow. The remnants of the union quickly crumbled then, leaving a scattering of independent states who either signed for peace, or were overrun.
Many scholars argued the values and beliefs of both nations had been lost the day Washington, DC fell. The Western Allied States had been left tainted, their ideals corrupted by that one act of evil. Watching Halt torture the helpless boy, Chris could not help but agree.
“Perhaps some of you may prove worthy, may one day live up to the memories of your ancestors.” Halt’s eyes flashed as he watched them.
Biting back a scream, Chris tensed his fists. More than anything he wanted to wipe the smirk from the doctor’s face. Only Sam’s firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.
Halt stared down at the boy, arms folded. The light on William’s collar still flashed red, though his twitching had slowed to little jerks of his arms and legs. He let out a long sigh. “I will give the boy this, he does not die easily,” he reached for his watch.
“Halt,” Halt froze as a woman’s voice carried across the dirt.
The group turned as one, staring as Doctor Fallow strode through the entrance. Chris blinked. So engrossed had he been in William and Halt, he had not heard the buzz of her entrance. Now, as she marched across the dusty ground, Fallow tapped at the watch on her wrist. Beside Halt, William’s convulsions came to a sudden stop.
For a moment, Chris thought the boy had finally succumbed to the collar. Then a low groan came from his twisted body, and Chris let out a sigh of relief. He looked across as Fallow drew to a stop in front of Halt, her eyes flashing with anger.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Fallow growled.
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