Clone

by Todd Young

  “When you go out, okay? Not when you’re home.”

  Theo simply stared at him. He could put the fucking card wherever he liked.

  “So, you won the lottery, did you? The lottery to the promised land?”

  Theo nodded, but at the same time exhaled slowly. In his stomach, something felt as though it was writhing, maybe an eel.

  “I asked 3V3B—”

  “Where is she?”

  “You don’t need to know that.” Erran sighed. Frowned. “She said you didn’t win. That you told her you’d follow her.”

  “I did follow her.”

  “Right.” He bit his lower lip, then peered at him. “You think you might have mentioned that to us?”

  Theo shrugged.

  Erran raised his hand, as though he was going to slap him, but then turned away and walked to the window. He turned and put his back against it. “I want you to tell me something. Why do you think you’re special?”

  “What?”

  “3V3B. She said you’re special.”

  Theo shook his head rapidly, a very definite negative. He wasn’t special. He’d only said that to V3B because of what Chatman had said to him, about maybe not going to war. Now Erran was looking at him oddly, his eyes fixed on his. He was almost smiling, as though it was a joke or something.

  “I know, Theo. Okay. I know.”

  “What do you know?”

  “I know why you’re special.”

  “Why?” Now he sounded like a newborn, like a dumbass.

  Erran chuckled. “I don’t think he’s going to get any joy out of you, though, is he?”

  “Who?”

  Erran shook his head exaggeratedly from side to side. “It’s a secret, Theo. We’ll keep it a secret. You want to keep secrets from us, we’ll keep secrets from you.”

  “What secrets am I keeping?”

  “You might have got my friends — one of my best friends — into a lot of trouble.”

  “I wanted to go with V3B. She’s my friend. We stick together.”

  “Right. Well now you’re not together. You’re with Riley.”

  Theo nodded in silence, but he didn’t see how he’d hurt Erran. V3B and him were friends. They’d been friends ever since she was born, a few weeks after him. She sucked at the training, and he’d helped her. They kept close on everything, and when she won the lottery, he’d wanted to go too. What was so wrong with that?

  “I didn’t mean to get anyone in trouble.”

  Erran rolled his eyes. “Mmm. But you might find yourself in trouble. If he finds out where you are.”

  “Franklin?”

  “You mean Lieutenant Franklin? Your platoon leader?”

  Theo nodded.

  “You get on well with Franklin?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “No. From what I’ve heard, he wasn’t very popular.”

  “Where are the others?”

  “They’re safe, Theo. Everyone’s safe, no thanks to you.”

  Erran turned. He parted the curtains and looked down, looked down for a long time. A minute or so passed. Then he faced Theo again. “How would you feel about seeing Franklin again?”

  “No thanks.”

  “What if I make that happen?”

  “What?”

  “What if I tell him where you are, Theo?”

  “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “I might.”

  Theo took a step forward. He spoke in a low voice. “If you do that, I’ll …”

  “What, Theo? What?”

  “I’ll kill you.”

  Erran laughed. He rocked his head back, and spoke while looking at the ceiling. “Have you ever met your father, Theo?”

  “I don’t have a father.”

  “No, of course not.” Erran lowered his head, and their eyes met. “You’re a creation, aren’t you? A sub-thing. Who’s the father of you, huh?”

  Theo narrowed his eyes. If he clocked his elbow into Erran’s neck, he’d die. He’d choke to death. He lifted his elbow, just tentatively, and figured on the heft.

  Erran’s eyes widened, and he jerked his head back. “Hey, hey,” he said. He put his hands up. “Theo. Calm down.”

  “I thought you were supposed to be helping me.”

  “I am helping you … and now, well, you’re helping us.”

  Theo furrowed his brow.

  “In ways you can’t possibly imagine.” He nodded meaningfully.

  Theo glanced at his neck again.

  Erran ducked sideways. Now he was in the middle of the room. “Don’t go out, Theo,” he said. “Until you hear from me again. Don’t go out.”

  He nodded and stepped out of the bedroom. A moment later, the apartment door slammed.

  13

  When Riley came in, the 3TV was playing, the living room a menagerie of color and deafening sound. He peered down the short hall as he closed the apartment door, and saw Theo flash through the air. He had one leg extended and was three feet off the ground. His foot connected with something out of view. A “thock,” and then a deep, warped voice said, “Ohhh, nooo!”

  One of Creig’s fantasy games. Theo must have worked out how to play it.

  Then he heard Creig’s voice. “Wow, Theo! That was just … Wow!”

  What the hell was Creig doing home?

  Riley stepped forward hesitantly. The living room widened into view. It was a medieval fantasy scene, a banquet hall in a castle. The furniture was back against the walls, and a maiden was standing by the window. She was dressed in a white gown, her hands clasped in supplication.

  Theo had his hands on his hips and one foot on the chest of a warrior. He was dressed in nothing but the white boxer briefs, and his chest was heaving. The warrior was dead, by the looks of it, his sword out flung, his armor no match for Theo, apparently.

  “Riley!” Creig’s face was bright, his eyes wide. He was standing with his back against the wall, his hands splayed as though he’d been in danger himself.

  The maiden turned to Riley, stared at him for a moment, and then crossed the room to Theo. “Thank you, kind sir,” she said, and curtseyed.

  Theo nodded, his eyes flitting over her.

  “Kiss her!” Creig said.

  Theo glanced at Riley, and then kissed her.

  Riley had to shout over the music. “Can you turn it off?”

  Creig nodded, gulped a breath, and then crossed to the 3TV. There was another warrior, dead by the wall, and a third near the kitchen door. Creig hit the button and the hologramatic display dissolved with a dramatic “whoosh,” sucking into the player as though it were a vacuum.

  Now it was dark.

  Riley fumbled for the light switch, flicked it on, and then turned to Theo. He couldn’t believe he was wearing underpants. Why the hell wasn’t he dressed? And why on earth was Creig home?

  “I got the afternoon off,” Creig said, turning from the 3TV. He looked at Theo as though he was a real-life hero. “Your brother! He’s some sort of MMA champion. He was on Level Thirteen. Level Thirteen!”

  Riley felt a little stunned, but he nodded. If Creig was impressed by Level Thirteen, then it was no doubt remarkable.

  “He was jumping, kicking, spinning, feinting, punching, ducking. Hell, you should have seen it!”

  “I’ve seen him play before.”

  Creig nodded. He caught his breath and then cast a second admiring look at Theo. Things like this excited him for some reason. He was like a big kid. But was he checking Theo out in his underwear now? No? Surely not.

  Riley stepped into his bedroom, stood where he couldn’t be seen, and ran his fingers through his hair. What the hell?

  Out on the street, he’d had a shock. He’d run into a demonstration, a throng of Taylor supporters complete with placards. He’d never seen anything like it in his life, only in histories of the degenerate years, which is what the company called the decades surrounding the World Trade disaster. He wasn’t sure if it was legal or not, but as he reached the demonstra
tors, a group of CPF cars sped to a halt, lights flashing.

  Riley had been afraid of the CPF ever since he was a kid. His father was attached to the Citizen Protection Force as an administration officer. He worked from home, and even before Riley’s mother disappeared, CPF officers had come to the house, ferrying work to his father. Something must have happened when he was very young. He couldn’t remember what. But every time he saw a car or a uniform his heart sped up.

  When the CPF arrived at the demonstration, Riley pushed through the crowd and crossed the street. He didn’t look back. It had unnerved him.

  Now, he shut his eyes tight, held still for a moment, and then stepped into his bedroom doorway. Theo and Creig were moving the couch, and all he could see was Theo’s ass, his muscles straining, the boxer briefs not only tight, but damp. His body was slick with a sheen of perspiration, his olive skin glossy beneath the electric lights. Riley felt his cock pulse, and then begin to swell. He leaned against the doorjamb and watched as they moved the remainder of the furniture into place.

  He was startled all over again by seeing Theo, and by seeing how closely they resembled one another. He was almost naked and every inch of his body was on display. It would have been reasonable to expect him to be more or less muscled, or different in some other way, but no, they were mirror images of one another. Riley narrowed his eyes and became absorbed by the muscles in his back, by the swell and twist and turn of his body. It was as though he was standing outside himself and watching on. Theo’s hair was damp, his bangs plastered to his forehead. His breath was still settling, and Riley was surprised to think his chest was as entrancing as that, his nipples and abs, his torso. It was one thing to look in the mirror and admire himself, but that had never felt right. This was someone else.

  They finished. Theo lifted his head and their eyes met. A smile blossomed on his face, the sort of smile Riley guessed you’d give someone you loved if you hadn’t seen them for a day or so and you were pleased to see them again. There was something shy in it, and at the sight of it, Riley took a deep, unexpected breath. Theo walked toward him and stopped. He put his hands on his hips and lifted his eyebrows as if to say, “What now?”

  Riley sank backwards. He felt like gripping Theo’s hands and pulling him into the bedroom.

  “I’m cooking again,” Creig said.

  Riley had almost forgotten him.

  “Lasagna. That suit you?”

  “Yeah. Great.”

  “Theo, you’re not gonna chuck all over the table again, are you?”

  Theo turned, and Riley noticed what Creig had said about the way he stood. His ass was sitting high, perkily up in the air, his lower back a deep curve, his chest thrust out, his hands held loosely by his sides. Riley stared at his ass, spellbound. He felt like gripping it with both hands. Theo was so comfortable in his body, so utterly unashamed.

  “Is it fish?” he said.

  Creig shook his head, confusion troubling his brow. “It’s beef.”

  Theo nodded an uncertain nod, and Creig, after studying his expression for a moment, walked into the kitchen.

  Theo turned and faced him again, his eyes alive with light. “What did you do at work?”

  “Work.”

  Confusion flashed across Theo’s face, but then he looked troubled, irritated and annoyed. He dropped his chin onto his chest and thrust his hand into his boxer briefs. His groin sank backward awkwardly. “What the fuck is …?” He plucked something out.

  It was a card. He handed it to Riley.

  “That was cutting my fucking cock. Sitting right underneath it.”

  Riley turned it over, was surprised to see his photo, that it was his ID card, but then noticed the photo was different. “He” was wearing a T-shirt, and the card read Theo Matthews.“Where did you get this?” It had his address on it.

  “Erran brought it round.”

  “Erran? Here, come inside.” He closed the bedroom door.

  Theo trotted toward the bed and dived face-first onto it. He chuckled, his back convulsing, his face buried in the comforter. After taking a few deep breaths, he turned over and put his hands behind his head, his thighs splayed. “That was good.”

  “What?”

  “The game.”

  Riley nodded, staring at the card. It was utterly authentic, right down to the glittering blue thumbprint. “Erran’s a friend of Akam’s, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And he came here today?”

  “Yeah.” Theo locked his jaw, and rocked it from side to side.

  “When was this?”

  “About three.”

  Coincidentally, the doorbell rang now. Riley wondered who it could be, thought Erran? and then remembered the clothes.

  He was surprised to find David on the doorstep.

  “I thought I’d bring them round myself.”

  Riley frowned. Then David’s eyes widened, staring past him at something. He felt an awful, sinking feeling, and turned to see Theo, leaning forward inquisitively.

  David smirked. “Get out of his wheelchair often does he?”

  “Look, he really is sick.” He turned to Theo and lifted his voice. “Get into your room.” He lowered his brow, mouthed the word, “Now,” and then span back to David. “He has a mental illness. He can’t go out on his own.” He hesitated. “He can’t be trusted.”

  The sales assistant nodded, but he’d greeted Riley with a smile, and now looked blank. He handed the thumbpad over, then picked up the parcels. There were eight in total, two packages of four, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine.

  Riley took a breath. “Thanks for all your help today. Really. He can’t go out. Not on his own.”

  David nodded. “I live next door. When I saw the address I … anyway, it doesn’t matter.” He stared at Riley for a moment, his eyes clear and unblinking, then turned away and trotted down the stairs.

  “Boy, he was cute,” Theo said.

  Riley dumped the parcels on the floor and closed the door. “Are you a complete fucking idiot?”

  “Don’t swear.”

  “Theo, you cannot let people see you like that. You can’t just come to the freaking door!”

  Theo nodded, though perhaps a little belligerently. He was standing by the window, the dark night behind him. “Who was he?”

  “He sold me some clothes, okay? I bought some clothes for you. You’ve been wearing those underpants since yesterday. Don’t you think it’s time to take them off?”

  “Are you angry at me?”

  “Of course I’m angry with you.”

  Theo locked his jaw again. And then said slowly, “Like everyone else.”

  Riley frowned, glanced at him, but turned to the clothes. David had marked the parcels: 1A, 1B, 2A, 2B, 3A, 3B, 4A, 4B. He’d obviously put a bit of thought and care into it, and Riley felt awful. All the As were tied into one package, all the Bs into another. He bent forward, hefted the As toward Theo and dumped them at his feet.

  “What’s this?”

  “The clothes. You need to take a shower and get changed. You’re all sweaty.” He took a breath. “We’ll sort them out first.”

  Theo didn’t move.

  “Are you okay?”

  He shrugged.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Here, then. Help me sort these clothes out.”

  He found a pair of scissors in the bathroom and cut the twine. They got onto their knees and opened the parcels in tandem. The first contained the overcoats, the shoes, and on top of them, the fedoras.

  Theo lifted his out, settled it on his head, but had it on backwards. Riley stretched up and righted it for him.

  “Put yours on,” Theo said.

  Riley tossed it onto his head, and then tugged on the brim, lowering it over his eyes. He peered at Theo with narrowed eyes and pouted.

  Theo imitated this and peered back at him, his dark lips swollen. They stared at one another till it grew uncomfortable.
/>   “It’s like looking into a mirror,” Theo said.

  Riley nodded. He took his hat off, and laid it aside. When he turned back, Theo was reaching for the shoes. He took the tan perforated Derby’s out of the box and fitted first one and then the other onto his feet.

  “They fit?” Riley asked.

  Theo nodded. He shifted the fedora to the back of his head, ruffling his bangs, and laced up the shoes. He got back onto his knees, looking strangely vulnerable, dressed in a pair of white boxer briefs, a black hat, and dress shoes without socks.

  The second parcel contained the three suits along with the button-down shirts. In the third were the casual clothes, the chinos, the slacks, the soft collared shirts, and the sweaters. Everything was so neatly folded, and the parcels so well arranged, that Riley felt bad all over again about what had happened with David. He really shouldn’t have said that to him — about Theo being in a wheelchair in the first place.

  As they lifted the clothes out, he explained to Theo what each piece of clothing was, and talked about how and where you’d wear it. Theo nodded in silence, turning each piece over and holding it at arm’s length for inspection. Everything had to be smoothed against his face and its scent inhaled. As Riley watched on, he felt an unexpected tenderness. It was odd to see Theo quiet and thoughtful.

  They turned to the fourth parcel, and Riley remembered the underwear. Theo folded his paper back and frowned. He sat back on his heels, his hands in his lap, and glanced from Riley to the parcel in confusion. Forty or fifty colorful squares of fabric sat on a bed of white material, the white being the overalls and the undershirts. Each pair of underpants had been folded neatly into the size of a wallet. The neckties and socks were arranged along one side.

  “They’re underpants,” Riley said, unfolding his package, which, bizarrely, was identical, everything not only folded as neatly, but in precisely the same positions. A red pair in that corner, a green in the middle, those orange ones near the front. He let his eyes flit back and forth for a moment, thinking he had to be mistaken, but no, David must have done this on purpose. In fact, now that he thought about it, the other parcels had most likely been identical, only it hadn’t been so obvious.

  He frowned over it, and as he did, Theo reached forward and picked a pair of underpants out of his package, a pair with orange and green concentric circles on the cup, a target. It turned out to be a thong, nothing but a triangle of fabric with the target in the center. The waistband and butt-string were elasticized cord, about as substantial as twine.