Havoc: Book II of The Evolution Gene by Hodges Aaron

Author:Hodges, Aaron
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780995142282
Published: 2021-09-06T00:00:00+00:00

Thirty-Four

Mike’s head whipped back with an audible thud as the guard’s fist slammed into his forehead. He slumped forward in the chair, blood dripping from his cracked lips, a faint moan whispering up from his emaciated chest. Before he could recover, the guard swung again, a left hook that caught the imprisoned Texan in the jaw and sent him reeling sideways. Only the steel shackles strapping Mike to the chair kept him from tumbling out.

Chris watched on, a silent spectator to the Texan’s torture. A steel helmet with a full-faced visor darkened Chris’s vision, concealing his face, and the skin-tight polyester uniform he wore made him a clone to the other guards standing around the room. Only the wings sprouting from his back gave him away. Those, and the steel collar strapped tight around his neck.

On the opposite side of the room, Ashley stood in a matching outfit. The sleek black material clung to her body, revealing the tension in her arms as she clenched her fists. The suits they wore left little to the imagination. Red hair tumbled down the back of her helmet, and her wings were half-spread, the slightest of tremors running through her white feathers. Around her neck, the steel collar reflected the harsh glow of the overhead lights.

In the chair positioned in the middle of the room, Mike coughed blood as the guard punched him in the stomach. Chris’s heart went out for him. In the four weeks since their capture, Chris had watched Mike wilt before his eyes. Now his bronzed Texan skin had faded to grey, and it seemed a man in his sixties sat in the chair, rather than the youthful thirty-year-old who had bounded around the safehouse back in San Francisco.

Even so, Chris made no move to help him. He had learned in his first week it was every man for himself here. Even while Chris’s wing and ribs were still healing, the Director had brooked no disobedience. No transgression, however small, went unpunished. And while she lacked Doctor Halt’s deranged taste for violence, she was well versed in the art of breaking men—mind and body.

She stood beside Chris now, arms folded, watching the Texan with a disinterested frown. But as the guard stepped up to continue his assault, she lifted a hand. Striding past the retreating guard, she came to a stop over the Texan. Her thin frame moved with an overt confidence, her authority over the room unquestioned. Hazel eyes stared down at Mike, her short blond hair carefully dyed and styled to mask her age. Crouching beside the chair, she took a handkerchief from her pocket and gently dabbed at the blood dribbling down the Texan’s bearded chin.

Groaning, Mike lifted his head. Uncertainty flickered through his eyes when he saw her. “What do…you want?” he croaked.

The Director smiled. Dropping the handkerchief in his lap, she reached out and stroked his cheek.

“We only want the truth, Mike…” she said softly, “Where have they gone, these renegades of yours? We know you’re hiding them.

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