The Sphinx Project

The Sphinx Project

Kate Hawkings

The Sphinx Project

By Kate Hawkings

Published by Katherine Hawkings

Copyright © 2011 Katherine Hawkings

All Rights reserved.

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Prologue

The faint buzzing against my neck kept me focused even as the warm dirt and cloying humidity threatened to send me to sleep. One wrong move and an electrical pulse would shoot into the explosive buried deep within the base of my skull. Having my head blown off isn't the nicest way I could think of to die, but it was one of the fastest.

I took a deep breath, trying to clear the cobwebs from my brain. The little critters in this dense part of the jungle had long since stopped avoiding us. They scuttled over the girls and me as though they'd forgotten we weren't actually a natural part of their environment. It wasn't surprising, really. We hadn't moved in more than seven hours.

I shifted my shoulder slightly to ease the tension in my muscles. Blinking, I refocused my eyes, zeroing in on the base—nothing had changed. The only things that moved within the gated compound were the security cameras, rotating from side to side on their tall posts. Submerged lamps glowed dimly in the darkness. They lined the narrow entrance road beneath the protective canopy of camouflage nets and overhanging trees.

The dull green camo sheet covering Mouse stirred slightly as she prepared. A faint glow emanated from below its edges as she activated her tablet—no regular human eyes could have detected the difference in light; anyone watching would see nothing but shadows.

I returned my eyes to the compound. As anticipated, the tiny red L.E.D lights on each of the cameras blinked rapidly. When the blinking stopped, the lights extinguished themselves, switching on again three seconds later.

"They're ours," Mouse whispered. Her low voice echoed. I was close enough to hear the words from her lips, but they came through the radio attached to my ear too. From now on, the people in that compound would see only what we wanted them to see.

A low drone sounded in the distance—exactly on schedule. The noise from the vehicles travelled straight down the narrow dirt road to our left. It moved closer and closer, channelled toward us by the heavy foliage on either side.

When the convoy came into sight, the huge gate in the chain-link fence enclosing the compound opened of its own accord; the screeching of rusted metal announced the vehicles' arrival.

Two Jeeps and a pick-up truck loaded with men trundled past us and through the gates. The old machines spewed foul fumes into the air, completely overpowering the natural fresh fragrances of the forest.

The barriers closed and the vehicles wound their way between buildings half submerged in the packed earth. They entered a long, tin structure and the moment they were inside, those doors shut too.

"Five," Mouse said, beginning to count.

"Four." I rotated my shoulders and arched my back slightly, loosening the kinks from my muscles.

"Three." My hand shifted to my thigh, reassuring myself that my weapons still sat precisely where they were supposed to, even though they'd been there five minutes ago when I last checked.

"Two." I pulled the gas mask sitting on top of my head over my face. The rustling from the others told me they were doing the same.

"One!" I threw back the camouflage sheet, bursting from its protection at the same time as the rest of my team.

We sprinted silently toward the towering fence in a perfectly synchronized line.

When I was still several yards from the fence, I leaped, landing close to the barbed wire at the top. The sound of electricity whizzing along the wires beneath my armored gloves made me nervous—if I were to slip, would that be enough of a shock to set off the explosive?

I didn't slip. There wasn't much chance of me messing this up. The agility of my feline genes ensured that. I leaned over the top of the fence, bracing my hands on the other side, and flipped to the ground below. I dropped lightly to my feet, landing in a crouch just inside the compound beside the other girls.

I looked at Nicole, who silently signalled for us to separate. Mouse and I raced to our left; Nicole and Briana ran to the entrance of the warehouse the vehicles had disappeared into. We moved swiftly, hiding in the shadows of the buildings. We circled the compound until we reached the back of the long metal structure. The heavy doors were shut, but Mouse kneeled and easily picked the old lock.

"Ready," I whispered into the radio.

"Go," Nicole ordered.

A loud bang echoed around the warehouse as we flung back the large doors. Briana and Nicole did the same at the other end of the building. All four of us pulled canisters from our waists, depressed buttons on their tops and flung them into the building's brightly lit interior.

Thick gas spewed out of the silver containers, dimming the light. The men within scrambled frantically for their weapons, a few managing to get shots off before they fell to the ground. They missed us completely.

In no time, we were the only ones remaining on our feet. With guns in hand, we picked our way across the room. I stepped over the men sprawled between the vehicles and I, not bothering to go around.

It was easy enough to find who we were searching for. Most of the men were skinny and dressed in improvised combat gear. However, our target wore a suit that stretched unflatteringly across his rotund belly. I didn't know who he was and I didn't care. There was no point asking questions;
they
wouldn't have answered even if we did.

I dragged him from the car, where he had slumped against his seatbelt. With Nicole's help I carried him easily from the warehouse. The gates swung open the moment we approached, closing behind us as Mouse fiddled with her tablet again.

We dumped the target in the trunk of our vehicle before climbing in ourselves. It had been hidden way back from the road, beneath a thick layer of foliage. The greenery dislodged immediately as Briana put her foot on the gas pedal.

"Do you think we'll get ice cream for this?" I asked hopefully as we sped toward the airstrip where our plane was waiting.

Chapter One

White concrete walls, floors and ceiling—they weren't thinking about making the place look pretty when they'd built this room. There were no windows, only a heavy iron door that securely locked from the outside. This place was a cell, not a bedroom; the bare walls pressed in on me, a constant reminder of the fact.

The furnishings were sparse. Two sets of white bunk beds sat at opposite sides of the room, each made up with white blankets. The only other decoration was a single television screen set into the wall. The screen often remained bare; the scientists chose which programs we could and couldn't watch, screening them so we didn't get any 'silly ideas.'

The room didn't even have a toilet. If nature called, we had to push the buzzer to call the guards, who would escort us to the bathroom at gunpoint. It seemed excessive for a few seventeen-year-old girls.

Perched on the top bunk, I watched my twin sister Nicole execute perfect push-ups. Her blond hair hung loose around her face, coiling on the hard ground as she reached the lowest point of the movement.

She completed her hundredth repetition and rolled immediately onto her back, launching straight into sit-ups.

"Come on, Mouse. You said you'd do these with me."

Mouse was the quietest of our little team. Bored with exercise, she now lay on her stomach, reading a large book one of the laboratory technicians had loaned her. She turned the pages of
The Mayan Phenomenon
at such a fast pace that it was hard to believe she was actually absorbing all of the information—at least, until the scientists quizzed her about it later.

"I'll do them later. I want to finish this before I have to give it back."

Mouse's real name was Lorelei. Well, that was the name Mom had given her. If she hadn't, we'd all still be answering to numbers. We'd begun calling her Mouse when she was thirteen and we'd realized she'd stopped growing. She wasn't even five feet tall. The nickname suited her on another level too. The scientists had assigned computer technology as her specialty.

"Can you guys shut it? I'm trying to read here."

Briana was lying on the bunk above Mouse, poring over an old fashion magazine. I had no idea where she'd gotten it—I would have asked, but I couldn't be bothered getting into another argument.

Somehow she'd arranged her hair into a rather intricate braid, quite a feat considering she'd done so without the aid of a mirror. She held it in place by clamping the ends together between her fingers. It would simply unravel whenever she had to go to her training session.

I could sort of understand her interest in fashion, even if I didn't care for it myself. It was something out of our reach. Every day we wore the same white uniform. We always had. I couldn't see them changing their minds about that overnight.

No one had ever explained why white was their color of choice, but it had been easy to assume it was simply to keep an eye on us. The laboratory was surrounded on all sides by tall, dark trees—against which we would easily be seen, should we try to make a break for it.

Footsteps neared our door and an electrical hum sounded. I sighed, knowing exactly what was coming.

"Stand back!" a muffled voice crackled from the intercom.

I jumped down from the bed and slouched toward the back wall with the others. I placed my palms flat against the concrete and waited.

The moment they were sure we'd all done what we were supposed to do, the door creaked open. I didn't turn around—I didn't need to. I could hear three sets of footsteps and three hearts.

Only three guards? It didn't matter. They would all be heavily armed. Their weapons always seemed a bit over the top; simple handguns would have sufficed. I could hear shuffling and breathing in the hallway outside too. There were another six men out there.

"Three Seventy-Six," one of the guards recited clearly.

I raised my hands, threading my fingers together behind my head while taking four steps back. When I stopped moving, a large metal cuff was clasped around each of my forearms.

The guards wrenched my arms down behind my back with more force than necessary. A tiny remote beeped and the magnets in the cuffs sprang to life, securing my wrists tightly together. A guard on either side took hold of my upper arms, turning me and propelling me from the room.

The men waiting in the corridor watched me with a mixture of fear and disgust. To them I was a freak, an abomination. They were allowed to work in this facility because of their loathing and distrust of us. It meant we had little chance of ever befriending one of our captors again.

The guards led me through a number of long walkways stretching from one end of the building to the other. We eventually passed an automatic door into one of the smaller labs. The moment the glass panes swished open, the harsh smell of disinfectant invaded my nostrils. The scent overlaid the entire facility, but in the actual labs the intensity was overwhelming. The guards didn't seem to notice any difference. They didn't even scrunch up their noses.

In the center of the room sat a shining silver chair. They pushed me across the tiles and forced me into it. The smooth, cold metal caused goosebumps to form wherever it touched my skin. I wanted to fight them off, but they'd just make life that much more difficult for us; I'd learned that the hard way.

Another beep sounded and my wrists flew apart, pulled in opposite directions to secure themselves against the arms of the chair. The men fiddled with something beneath my shoulders and a band of metal slid out, wrapping itself around my chest, pinning me in place. They exited the room, leaving me alone.

Sometime later, the glass slid back to admit two well-groomed women. They carried folders and clipboards, but no weapons. These were the scientists. They treated their lab coats like some sort of fashion accessory—they never actually participated in the messy stuff. That's what the lab techs were for.

It's easy to differentiate between the scientists and the lab techs; the techs always seemed to be in a hurry. They were nervous around us and the guards, but at least they said hello. The scientists were aloof, strolling around at their own pace. They referred to us as an 'it' or 'subject number so-and-so.'

One of the women wheeled a small metal trolley to my side, laying her files on the surface. The other stepped on a lever, which caused the back of my chair to recline while she talked over my head.