by Greg Krojac
Marcus had no such necessity to feel a connection to any of his previous incarnations. It didn’t bother him what body he occupied as long as it was healthy, good-looking, and served his purpose at the time. On the contrary, he was glad to be rid of Thomas McCall’s body, which had become weakened to the point where occupying it was hindering his physical efficiency – although his mind was still razor sharp. The successes of directed soul transference and clone technology had happened at just the right time for him.
Philippa sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in a long sheer nightdress, the morning sunlight, silhouetting her body, whilst Marcus fastidiously cleaned his teeth.
“Marcus?”
He stood in the doorway of the bathroom looking at her, a creamy foam of blue and white toothpaste hiding his teeth. His response was muffled by the fact that his mouth was half full of toothpaste mixed with water. He took two steps back into the bathroom, spat the liquid out into the sink, cupped his hand under the tap and rinsed his mouth out. He took a small cream coloured hand-towel from the hook on the tiled bathroom wall and dried his mouth off.
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to thank you for not calling me Caitlin anymore.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m not doing it for your benefit. It suits me better to call you by something else now.”
“I don’t understand.’
“Well, one’s my lover the other one’s my whore. I don’t want to get you mixed up now, do I?”
“And which one am I?”
“I think you know. I’ve never pretended to love you.”
Not only did this blasé dismissal of her worth hurt Philippa but Marcus’s use of the present tense hadn’t gone unnoticed. She was under no illusions about how he had once felt about Caitlin but had hoped that now Caitlin was out of the picture, he might at least soften his attitude to her. Wasn’t she giving him sex whenever he wanted? And, more importantly, hadn’t she infiltrated the Boone family by posing as Caitlin in an attempt to gather information about One Life? Admittedly she had done so under duress and hadn’t actually found out much useful information, but she found the power that he wielded strangely and indescribably attractive. With Caitlin no longer a threat to any relationship that they may have in the future, she had hoped that perhaps Marcus would find it in his heart to fall for her, Philippa.
“Assuming that I’m your whore…”
Marcus interrupted her.
“No assumption about it. You are my whore.”
“Why did you say that the other is – present tense – your lover?”
“Why do you think? I’m still seeing the real Caitlin.”
“What do you mean, you’re still seeing her?”
“I paid her an impromptu visit three weeks ago. We had a nice meal together and finished the evening by making wild passionate love. We’ve seen each other six times since then and each time has resulted in sex. The only reason I’ve been fucking you is because – thanks to me – you look like her. And it’s convenient to have you on tap so I can shag you whenever the mood takes me.”
Marcus weaved this story partly to hurt Philippa and partly because he didn’t want to admit – even to himself – how he had been brutally and systematically raping Caitlin since that first time in HMP666. The prison guards had come to expect his frequent visits and looked forward to the entertainment and the money. The sweepstake as to how long it would take before Marcus came was proving very popular; the female sergeant being particularly lucky and having predicted correctly three out of the six times. They no longer bothered beautifying Caitlin before each ordeal, the pretence of a date being done away with, and only resuscitated her enough that she was aware of what was happening to her but was unable to do anything about it.
Philippa didn’t press the subject anymore, but neither did she forget what he had said. She was hurt to the core, perhaps irrationally, as he had never given her reason to expect more from him, but she didn’t betray her feelings. She simply repacked her overnight bag.
“Right. I’m going back to the Boone’s house. I’ll see you in a couple of days I expect.”
“You leaving without breakfast?”
“Yes. I don’t have much of an appetite this morning.”
***
Philippa arrived back at the Boone household, having given the whole situation a lot of serious thought, on the drive over. She entered the house, kicked off her shoes, not bothering to even put them tidily on the shoe-rack, and went straight into the living room where Caitlin’s parents were both relaxing, not wanting to lose the sudden influx of courage that she was feeling. She stood in the middle of the room, trying to decide how on earth she should start to tell them the truth. All Maurice and Karen could see was their daughter Caitlin hovering in front of them, looking as if she wanted to tell them something but saying nothing. Maurice thought he’d better say something.
“Are you alright Caitlin? You look a bit anxious.”
“Uh? Er, I need to… Is Mitch around? She needs to be here.”
“Sure. She’s upstairs. Your mum’ll fetch her.”
When Michelle had joined the rest of her family, Philippa was as ready as she would ever be.
“Mr Boone, Mrs Boone, Michelle…”
Karen was confused.
“Why… why are you calling us Mr and Mrs Boone? We’re your mum and dad.”
“Mr Boone, Mrs Boone, Michelle. I don’t know how to say this gently, so I’m going to just come right out and say it.”
“Say what? What do you need to tell your father, your sister and I?”
“I’m not Caitlin.”
The room was stunned into silence. If the proverbial pin had been dropped, its collision with the floor would have resounded loudly around the room. Karen was the first to break the silence.
“Don’t be silly. Of course you’re Caitlin. Look at you. Of course you’re Caitlin. Who else could you be?”
Philippa felt that to continue the Mr and Mrs Boone formality could be counter-productive.
“That’s just it Karen. I look like Caitlin. I sound like Caitlin. But I’m not Caitlin.”
“Yes, you are!”
“No, I’m not.”
Philippa had no choice but to be honest.
“I’m not Caitlin. I’m…I’m a clone. I used to be Philippa Makepeace, a humanitarian aid worker.”
Karen didn’t know what to say. She stood up and leaned against the wall, supported by the palms of her hands, gasping for breath. She turned around and strode over to Philippa. Philippa saw Karen’s hand rising just before it struck her face, but didn’t make any attempt to move out of the way. She deserved to be at least slapped around the face. Maurice sympathised a little, as he had felt the full force of his wife’s hand when he had suddenly turned up out of the blue after having been ‘dead’ for several months. However, that had been a slap borne of love; this was a slap borne of anger, frustration, and a sense of foolishness. How could they not have known that Philippa wasn’t their own flesh and blood, that she wasn’t really their daughter?
The truth was quite simple. Philippa was a carbon copy of Caitlin, right down to the small birthmark on the inside of her right thigh. Physically, she was an exact copy. Of course, she was an individual in her own right, and she had her own personality, a personality couldn’t be cloned. But Marcus had trained Philippa in Caitlin’s behavioural patterns, her mannerisms, and her subconscious gestures, using video that he had been secretly filming during their entire relationship. Nothing had been missed. Philippa could eat, drink, sit down, stand up, laugh just like Caitlin. The only thing that she couldn’t do just like Caitlin was to make love, but this only caused an issue between Marcus and herself.
Philippa rubbed her cheek, which was still stinging as the mark of the impact of Karen’s hand faded.
“I’m sorry, Karen. I…”
“Don’t you talk to me. Don’t you dare fucking talk to me.”
Maurice stood up. This was absurd.
Tears welled in Maurice’s eyes.
“Please, please don’t tell me she’s dead.”
“No. Caitlin’s not dead.”
Karen glared at Philippa.
“I want this…this thing out of my house.”
Maurice was trying to be logical, despite being in shock.
“No. We need to find out what’s happened to our real daughter. We need to know where Caitlin is. Throwing this clone out onto the street won’t help us get our daughter back. She’s the only link we have.”
Karen turned on her husband.
“This is your fault! If you hadn’t been so ready to agree to Caitlin spying on that bastard Marcus, none of this would have happened.”
Maurice felt on the ropes. He did feel responsible for Caitlin spying on Marcus. Maybe he should have stood up against the Businessman when the idea was mooted. Maybe he should have said – and meant – ‘no’. But Caitlin wasn’t a child anymore; she was a twenty-five year old woman and old enough to make her own decisions. He’d made sure that she had all the information available. Caitlin had made the final decision. But still, he felt that it was his fault. He was the father. His duty of care didn’t stop just because his child reached adulthood. Karen was right. Of course, it was his fault.
Luckily Michelle stepped in. She was a soldier. Not only that, but she was an elite soldier, trained to appraise, analyse, and make decisions with no procrastination. She had done so under fire in battle. She knew that unless she stopped verbal warfare from breaking out between her parents, they would get nowhere and be even further from finding her sister.
“Mum. Dad. I want you to stop arguing and listen to me.”
Her parents surprised themselves by doing as they were told. Even though she was their daughter, Michelle had an air about her that made people sit up and take notice of her. People could recognise the experience that belied her twenty-eight years and found themselves following her lead. Maurice and Karen were no different. They could see that their elder daughter was just as emotionally involved as they were, but they also understood that her training had kicked in and that if they wanted to find Caitlin, they should cede authority to Michelle.
“Right. I’m going to take Philippa into another room and she and I are going to have a little chat, and find out what’s going on.”
As Michelle took the clone into the kitchen, closing the door behind her, Karen spoke.
“Sorry about shouting at you like that, Maurice. If you’re to blame, so am I. I didn’t stop her.”
“I know Karen. It’s the shock. It’s frightening. Our little girl is out there, somewhere. I feel helpless too. But if anyone can find out where she is, it’s our Michelle.”
Michelle took a seat at the kitchen table, directly opposite Philippa, who was understandably nervous. Michelle had quite a reputation as a tough interrogator. Michelle clasped her hands together in front of her, resting them on the table top.
“OK. First I’ll tell you who I am. My name is Michelle Boone, a captain in the resistance movement known as One Life. Now it’s your turn.”
“My designated name is Caitlin 001, and I am a clone of your sister. But in my last life…”
“You’re a Recarn, I assume?”
“Yes, I am. In my last life, I was a humanitarian aid worker called Philippa Makepeace. That’s all I wanted to do really. Help others. But then I got cancer and Marcus – Marcus Gallagher – gave me a chance to continue my work with a cloned body, I jumped at the chance. I didn’t realise that I was entering into a pact with the devil.”
“So why did you pretend to be my sister?”
“If I didn’t, he said he’d have my parents killed. It’s not a hollow threat; he’s ruthless.”
“So why have you blown your cover now?”
“Because I’m a good person. And I can see that you’re good people.”
“Aren’t you scared of what will happen to your parents?”
“Of course I am. I’m terrified. But sometimes you have to do what’s right, not what you want to do. I wanted to save their lives. I still do. They’re not Recarns. I’m the only one in the family. But they’ll be reincarnated, at least we know that”
“Well, maybe we can extract them. I don’t know. But – more importantly – I need to know where my sister is.”
“I don’t know where she is. He’s keeping her somewhere. I mean she must be a prisoner somewhere.”
“You’re sure she’s alive?”
“Yes. He told me that he’s seen her quite a few times recently.”
“Seen her?”
“He was bragging about it. Saying that – I don’t know if I can tell you this.”
“Tell me. Please.”
“He was bragging about having sex with her.”
“He’s raping her?”
“I don’t know. He said that they were still having a sexual relationship.”
“Caitlin wouldn’t be having sex with him willingly. You should have seen the contempt she felt for him once she realised – was told – that he was a clone. She was disgusted that she’d been having sex with a clone. No offence.”
“None taken.”
Actually, it did hurt Philippa to hear people talking about her as if she were an object, something to be disdained, but she kept her feelings to herself. She felt human. She was human. Michelle spoke softly, more to herself than Philippa.
“The bastard’s raping her. And he’ll keep raping her unless we can find her and rescue her.”
Philippa was surprised at how calm Michelle was.
“Why aren’t you angry with me?”
“What good would that do? You’re just a pawn in his sick game, and you’re much more likely to cooperate if I don’t knock you about. And I wouldn’t need to use violence unless I thought you were lying to me or holding something back. I’m trained to take a step back and look at situations objectively, to not let emotions get in the way. Don’t mistake that for not caring about my sister though. I care about what’s happening to her a lot. More than you could imagine. But my keeping a clear head will be much better for her than if I lose it.”
“I want to help.”
“You’re going to help. I’m counting on it. And in return, I’ll try to keep mum and dad off your back. It won’t be easy, but if they know that it’s the best chance of finding Caitlin… well, they’ll have to see things my way.”
***
They returned to the living room. Maurice and Karen had calmed down but were still suspicious of Philippa.
“Mum, Dad. Philippa is going to help us find Caitlin. So, please try to be nice to her.”
“Why the hell should I be nice to her? She’s part of this plot.”
“Not willingly. Her parents’ lives were – are – at risk. You’d do anything you could to save Caitlin or myself, I know you would. And we’d do anything to save you two. Dad, you risked your life to save Caitlin when she was a little kid. You must understand.”
Maurice glanced over at a family photo on the wall.
“I still would.”
“So at least try to be civil, if not friendly. Can you do that? It’s our only chance”
Karen looked like a scolded puppy.
“I suppose so. If I must. She can’t stay here though.”
“I’ll take her to a safe house. I’ll come straight back after. I’ll be about an hour and a half. Whilst I’m gone, have a cup of tea. It’ll calm you down.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
10:45 SATURDAY 26 OCTOBER 2069
“Where are we going?”
Philippa was being led – quite literally – down blind alleys. She and Michelle were in one of the enormous landfill sites that surrounded all the major cities of Britain. These were hives of activity where the poor and needy would bring their booty from the day’s collecting and then sift through the enormous towers of junk and dam
aged goods for things that might be useful to improve their own lives. There was no government involvement in these places except to provide the land as a ‘charitable’ gesture. The truth of the matter is that these locations usually had some problem that excluded them from being of any financial use. This particular site was known to have levels of radiation that could be dangerous to human health, but, in reality, this was just a ruse to keep government authorities away and allow the site to be used for other purposes. There was no commercial gain to be made from such a place and so the government left these areas to their own devices, believing that their existence helped keep the dregs of the population under some kind of control.
Most landfill exchange sites, as they were called, were completely innocent, but a few – such as this one on the outskirts of the city of Portsmouth, Hampshire – held a hidden secret, a secret that was about to be revealed to Philippa. When Michelle and her blindfolded companion arrived at the base of a towering heap of rusting cars, Michelle removed Philippa’s blindfold.
“Okay. See that dark green saloon car in the middle there? It’s a bit awkward to get to, I know, but that’s where we’re heading.”
Philippa followed as Michelle led the way, carefully manoeuvring between the wrecks until the pair of them were crouching in front of the car. Michelle fiddled around under the radiator grill for a few seconds and the bonnet of the car sprung open just enough for the two women to climb inside. Michelle took a torch from her jacket pocket and used it to illuminate the inside of the engine compartment. The space where there should have been an engine was empty, except for a metal ladder, alongside three lengths of rope, that all appeared to lead down into the bowels of the earth.
Michelle reached through the open window of the car, pulled two objects out from underneath the driver’s seat, and handed Philippa a safety harness.
“Here. Put on this safety harness. Like this.”
Michelle slipped her legs through the harness and secured the fastening. Philippa copied her and Michelle attached a friction brake once she was satisfied that her companion’s safety harness was secure.
