Clone

by Todd Young

  Her heart pounded and her breath came raggedly as she made the call. The other boy got away, but Pete had been arrested. He was castrated and it gave her a thrill. He was locked up for eighteen months, but she’d seen him since, on trips back to Jamestown to visit her family. Talking to him was a real kick. He was so ashamed.

  Still, he had really hurt her.

  Shorty after it happened, she got an odd call from a man named Len. She thought it was a joke at first, but it turned out Len really was with the FBI. They were impressed with her, he said. Thought she had potential. He arranged an interview. They profiled her. But she had to keep the whole thing secret. She was used to keeping secrets. They had secrets in her family. There were psych tests. And then training. She was eighteen before they put her out in the field. They sent her to New York. But seven years later she was still doing the same thing, investigating guys who’d been flagged by someone, somewhere, and seeing if she couldn’t weed them out.

  Not all of them turned out to be deviants, but most of them were. She sent them to see the surgeon, as she liked to put it, twenty-three of them since she’d started, not including Pete. Each and every one gave her a silent, secret thrill. The idea of having that sort of power was enough to send her into a fit of giggles, especially when she was drunk. She’d known each of them intimately, many of them sexually so, and when she thought of the crushing blow it posed to their characters, she couldn’t help shaking her head in a silent fit of mirth.

  Even so, she wasn’t so sure if handing Riley over would bring her any joy. He wasn’t her type of guy. So it wasn’t that. But there was something about him she couldn’t help liking.

  He was startlingly handsome, with a taut, muscular body, and dark auburn hair. He had an unusual, magnetic, almost Mongolian face, with wide, suspicious eyes, dark lashes, and a kissy, pouty mouth. He looked at her frankly, listened to her carefully, but treated her as though she was his sister. He hadn’t yet touched her, hadn’t so much as moved to hold her hand, but she would change that tonight.

  “Are you a good skater?” he asked her, struggling with his laces.

  She was sitting beside him. “No, not really. You might have to help me out.”

  He nodded, finished on his left skate and moved to his right. “When I was young, I was pretty good, but it’s been a while.”

  “I’ve only been once or twice. We didn’t do this sort of thing when I was a child.”

  “Really? How come?”

  “My folks aren’t into family outings.”

  “Didn’t you go with friends?”

  She had, of course. Of course she had. She’d been skating all her life, but the whole point of coming here tonight was so she could act weak and helpless and see if he would touch her. She hoped he’d take the bait. She preferred older guys, masculine guys, but maybe an hour from now they’d be back in her apartment, making love.

  “The last time I went,” she said, finishing her own laces and straightening up, “I fell, and after that, well, I never really had the confidence to go again.”

  He was listening closely as usual, and looking directly at her, staring deep into her eyes. Then he realized she had finished, and he stood up, smoothing his hands over his thighs. His jeans were a little tight, and his muscular thighs were clearly outlined.

  He stepped onto the ice and stood by the gate, waiting for her, perfectly balanced and at ease, his blades splayed outward a little. She took a tentative step forward, lifted her left foot, and then span toward the rail. She gripped it with both hands, and held herself awkwardly, her butt poking backward.

  “Wow. You’re really not confident at all,” he said.

  “I’ll be okay in a minute.” She made a big show of taking a breath, lifted one hand off the rail and twisted toward him.

  She smiled, and he smiled in reply. He lifted his hands, ready to steady her, and she saw her opening. She stepped forward, took a second awkward step, and then reached for his hand. He gripped it tight and she span toward his chest. They bumped one another, and he smiled again, looking down at her, their bodies pressed together. He looked embarrassed. He took her other hand, then lifted both her hands, and they parted.

  “Wow, we just sort of slide,” she said.

  “You’ll get the hang of it in a minute.”

  “That fall I had was pretty bad.” She swallowed nervously, her eyes wide. “I almost got my hand sliced.”

  “I won’t let you fall.”

  He was so impossibly nice. Most of the guys she investigated she didn’t like at all, but there was something different about him. He wasn’t exactly boyish. He was mature enough, but he was very naive. She couldn’t imagine tracking him to a public restroom. It wouldn’t be like him at all — if he was a deviant, and right at the moment she wasn’t sure. She’d give him a few weeks.

  “I guess we’re supposed to move,” she said.

  He shrugged. “We can stand here.”

  She looked over his shoulder at the people moving past. Then turned her eyes on him again. His lips were so incredibly kissable. She grinned.

  “If I let go of this hand,” he said, “do you think you’ll be okay?”

  “Ok-ay.”

  He took a step forward and span her straight. “We’ll move forward?”

  She nodded.

  A few minutes later they’d completed a circuit. She’d stumbled a couple of times, and he’d reached for her firmly enough. They went around a second time and she fell slowly into the rhythm. She stumbled once more, but didn’t quite pull it off. His brows drew together and his eyes narrowed, dark and watchful.

  “That was just plain stupid,” she said.

  “Don’t beat yourself up.”

  They set off again and were soon moving smoothly, circling slowly round and round, and firmly hand in hand now. He didn’t suggest letting her go and she settled a little. Maybe he was okay. Just used to moving slowly with a girl. Which meant they wouldn’t be having sex anytime soon. Which was a shame. It’d be nice to see his body.

  She sighed inwardly, and slipped into her own thoughts, listening to the music. After a while, it occurred to her that he was very quiet. She turned to him. His face looked dark. Something was troubling him.

  “You okay?”

  He didn’t hear her immediately, but then startled. “Yeah.”

  It was most likely that friend he’d met. Something had happened there. “Thinking about your friend?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good memories?”

  “Mostly.”

  “How come you lost touch?”

  “He’s been away.”

  “Not out of the country?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  No. It would be unlikely. Not many people got permission to travel abroad.

  “He asked me for a favor.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I can’t really say no, but I’d like to.”

  “If it’s something you don’t want to do, then you should say no.”

  “You think?”

  She nodded. “What’s he want you to do?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I got to meet up with him later.”

  What was he hiding? Something illegal? “I wouldn’t go getting yourself into any trouble.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that.”

  Maybe, but whatever it was, he was keeping it to himself. She was naturally curious and it bugged her. “You want to tell me about it?”

  “Not really.”

  “I give good advice.”

  “Sure you do.” He grinned, but she could tell he was getting angry now, his own quiet brand of anger bringing color into his face.

  “I’m like an agony aunt.”

  “I’ll remember that,” he said, his voice flat.

  She decided not to push it. It most likely had nothing to do with her, and nothing to do with her assignment. He’d most likely tell her next time they met, or she could get it out of him. It was probably best not to push things ri
ght now. If he broke up with her, it would only make her job more difficult. Things always went more smoothly when she could keep them in a relationship.

  “You want to have a break?” she said.

  “Okay.”

  They skated toward the gate and stepped out into the pavilion.

  [] [] []

  They went back out a second time and then sat down to coffee. She prattled on and on, and Riley was tired of her now. He was pretty sure she’d used the ice as an excuse to get close to him, and he didn’t like it when women played games. She was nice enough, but he shouldn’t have mentioned Akam. He shouldn’t have mentioned him at all.

  They got up to leave and she slipped her hand into his. They were definitely a couple now, at least in her mind, and he wondered how he could bring it to an end. He’d have to think about it. He’d spent half the night worrying about Akam, and the upcoming meeting, and trying to think of ways to get out of it. He could say no, obviously, but he didn’t feel as though he could do that to Akam. He’d go, at any rate, and meet this guy.

  They stepped outside. It had stopped snowing, but it was colder. A line of public hovercars stretched all the way down the block. They walked toward the nearest, all of them white and indistinguishable and driverless, without a wheel or seats facing the windshield. Not many people owned a car you could drive these days. His father had one, but it was a company car. He hadn’t paid for it himself.

  He pressed his palm against the pad, and the gullwing door opened like an arm, lifting into the air with a hiss. She ducked her head and stepped in first, pulling him after her and keeping a firm grip on his hand. She aimed for the back seat, but he pulled away from her, disentangling his hand a little awkwardly.

  “I like to ride backwards,” he said, and took the seat across from her, his back to the windshield.

  A flicker of annoyance crossed her face, and she stared at him quietly for a moment. Then she said, “West Seventy-Seventh Street. Exmore Towers,” and turned to face the window.

  The car lifted quietly into the air, pivoted toward the road, and then, after hesitating for a moment, dipped forward and sped into the traffic.

  “Did you have a good time?”

  She shrugged, but kept her eyes on the street.

  He took a breath and slipped his hands between his thighs. “Have I done something wrong?”

  “No, no. Of course not.” She turned to him, but her face was impassive.

  “You tired?”

  “Not really. It’s only —” she glanced at her watch “— eight thirty.”

  He could say something to her now, couldn’t he? But what? Simply say that he didn’t think they were suited, that he didn’t think it was going to work out?

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “If you weren’t meeting your friend, you could come up. You haven’t seen my place yet.”

  No. He hadn’t. It had been afternoon when they parted, the few times they’d been out. He’d dropped her off then, but this was the first time they’d met at night. She lived on the Upper West Side, in one of the newer towers. He didn’t know how she could afford it. She worked in a flower store, she’d said.

  “You know …” He wasn’t sure how to break it off, but he had to say something. “I’m not sure—”

  “Next time we meet we should go dancing.”

  He groaned inwardly.

  “You like dancing, don’t you?”

  “Sure, I … Susen …”

  “Are you doing anything on Friday, on Friday night?”

  He shook his head.

  “There’s this great place on Madison Avenue. I’ve been there once or twice.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “Dennison’s.”

  He hadn’t heard of it, but then, he’d never been dancing, not to the sort of place she meant, not to a club. He’d learned to dance at school, of course, and it had been fun, though it had always meant being with a girl.

  The car skirted the park and he realized it was too late. He couldn’t break up with her now. He agreed to pick her up on Friday. A few minutes later they pulled up outside her building. She was happy again, smiling, but before getting out, she strained forward and kissed him on the cheek, her hands on his shoulders.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I had a great time.”

  “It was fun.”

  She smiled, her eyes glinting under the bright, interior lights, her face so close to his he could smell her perfume, sweet and thick and cloying. His breath came a little faster. Then she was gone. He raised his hand to his cheek and watched her trot into her building, the foyer sleek and expensively furnished.

  “The East Village,” he said, and then tapped his watch, searching for the address Akam had given him.

  4

  The car pulled up outside a brownstone. Riley pressed his thumb against the paypad and got out, glancing up and down the street. It was empty. A lone streetlight lit the house, but there were no cars along the sidewalk and no pedestrians either. Behind a ground floor window, behind a gauze curtain, a 3TV was playing, a nature documentary, projected oversize, a coral reef with multi-colored fish, making an aquarium out of the apartment window.

  Oddly, he was reminded of an afternoon at home when he was very young, maybe five or six. There’d been a party in the garden and he’d been playing by himself, wheeling a toy truck through the grass. He looked up suddenly and found himself alone. The adults had retreated to the house. He’d broken into tears, forlorn, believing himself alone in all the world.

  Akam had said the basement, and that there were stairs. He stepped forward and saw a dark blue door with peeling paint, lit oddly under the acid wash of the streetlight.

  The door of the hovercar closed. It hesitated, as though uncertain whether to stay or go. Then it dipped forward silently, and drifted toward the end of the street.

  Hell, he thought. He was alone. Set in the basement door was a small frosted window, a yellow light glowing from within. He stood without moving for moment, then put his hand on the bannister and trod carefully down the stairs. He took a breath, then knocked.

  The window upstairs must have been open a little. “Thanks largely to the rise in sea surface temperatures, most of the world’s reefs have been lost. This shark, a grey nurse, is hunting for …”

  The door rattled and then opened. Akam’s face was pale, a chalk mask under the streetlight. He smiled, then exhaled, looking a little relieved to see Riley. He pulled the door inwards.

  “He’s in the bathroom.”

  Riley nodded, and stepped past a small kitchen into a living space little bigger than a car. There was a single bed against the far wall, a frosted window above it, a night table, a closet, some painted metal shelves along the wall at the side of the house. Sitting on the shelves was a cheap 3TV, a stereo, speakers, a glass vase without flowers and a photo of a young woman, glowing brightly in the dim light. She had bright, grey eyes and a serious expression, her mouth set firmly, her hair very pale. He expected the frame to cycle, but she continued staring out at him. He turned to Akam. He was standing by the door. He was no longer wearing his jacket or tie but was in shirtsleeves. It was very warm in here, and without thinking, Riley unzipped his windbreaker. Beneath it he was wearing a pale green T-shirt.

  “You really need to get yourself some clothes, Riley.”

  “Some clothes?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He didn’t see the connection to Theo.

  “I walk around a lot. There’s maybe one in fifty, one in a hundred people dressing the way you are.”

  “You think so?”

  “Really.”

  Riley sighed. “I guess so.” He glanced sideways. The door to the bathroom was closed.

  “He wanted to take a shower. He’s nervous about meeting you.”

  “Meeting me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s nervous!”

  “You’ll like him.”

  “Really?”


  Akam nodded. He stepped into the kitchen, put his hands behind his back and leant against the countertop, gripping it.

  “And you say he’s,” Riley lowered his voice, “just like us?”

  “He’s as human as you or I are.”

  “They make it sound like they’re ...”

  “I know, but it’s not like that.”

  He turned and scanned the apartment again. This wasn’t the whole basement, obviously. Merely a strip of it. On the way here he’d been thinking, thinking he could maybe hide Theo until Akam’s probation officer had been in the morning. After that, Akam could take him back. But looking at the apartment, he saw this wasn’t possible. Two people couldn’t live in here. There was barely room to stand. He wondered where Theo had been sleeping. Then the bathroom door opened.

  The light went out and a figure stepped into the room. Riley drew his head back. He had the momentary impression that he was watching himself on 3TV, projected life-size, a video someone had taken without his knowledge. Theo had his head lowered, his dark, auburn hair piled on top of his head, but short at the back and sides. Riley wore his the same way, but he’d never seen the top of his head before, not like this. Even so, he recognized his body, the set of his shoulders, broad and muscular. Theo was wearing a T-shirt, a pale one, with a wide-open neck, a T-shirt almost identical to the one he was wearing himself. He traced the line of his collarbone, the curve of his pecs, his nipples, starkly outlined.

  It was odd to see his body from this angle, to see it in front of him. He felt a shiver, followed by a surge that thrilled through his body. His breath came a little faster.

  Theo lifted his head and their eyes met. Riley gasped. Theo’s eyes were full of moisture, narrowed distrustingly, as his own often were, deep and dark and green, two wide slashes in a broad face. His pupils dilated, growing darker and moister, and Riley lifted a hand, unthinkingly. He stepped forward, his own eyes growing moist. They gripped each other’s elbows. Theo’s nostrils flared. His hands slid along Riley’s arms, and they sank into a hug. Their cheeks slid together, the skin warm and smooth and soft. Riley stared into the darkened bathroom, into a shadowy mirror, in which he could see his face, his wide staring eyes, and the back of Theo’s head.