Project Gemini (WATTYS 2016 WINNER!)

Prologue.

Sixty years ago . . .

A WOMAN WALKED barefoot through the streets of London towards the Houses of Parliament. Bloody. Beaten. Deranged. She didn't know where she was, who she was, only that she had to keep moving. Forward. At all costs.

Never to stop.

Her blood matted hair clung to the side of her face as the passing taxis and cars didn't slow to ask her if she was okay, only sped up. Two broken bracelets of handcuffs hung from her wrists. The flashing blue lights of police sirens wailed after her as she felt the instinctive need to run. She stumbled into a jog. The gothic style architecture of the buildings around her flashed in the lightning that lit up the sky, brightening the pitch black sky to a ghoulish shade of purple.

A niggling pain stabbed into her side, gnawing, digging, trying to pierce her ribcage above her heart. She sucked in a shaky breath as black dots spotted her vision. Threatening to claim her. Her every thought was derailed, broken and jarred, like a broken record, and it made it hard for her to think straight.

He has to know.

Know what? She couldn't remember.

The truth.

The area felt familiar to her. The buildings, the streets, even the road layout. It felt...sane. Normal, soft and cosy, homely almost. But each thought brought back the grounding reality to the only stable bit of her mind.

He did this to you.

She fell onto her knees grazing the skin as the pain sucked the breath from her lips. The police cars screeched up on the street in front of her, officers leapt from their cars and ran towards her, their Tasers raised and primed. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as her skin tingled. Her vision thinned to only a small crack in the darkness making the world spin around her violently, warning her she only had precious few seconds left. She rolled onto her side and reached forwards.

"H-help me," she breathed, "please."

A thin white band around her black and blue bruised skin caught her attention. A hospital wristband. The bold lettering too large for her to miss:

PATIENT ZERO - FEMALE.

And beneath the main lettering, almost too small to read in dark red ink read the words:

EDITH HEIL - PARIAH.

Edith Heil. Her name.

She remembered who she was.

The Prime Minister's wife.

What she was.

She raised her head slightly and saw the street closed off in both directions. The gleaming illuminated face of Big Ben looking down on her, blurring in the fine rain. She turned her head a fraction and saw the police officers switch their Tasers for real guns. Loaded. Not taking any chances. She smiled to herself and rolled her head back to look at the sky. The agonising fire rippled across her skin as she felt the energy inside of her grow to breaking point.

If I'm going, I'm taking you sons of bitches with me.