The Book of Eva: Clone, Book One

by Paxton Summers

  “I will be a butterfly.” I threw my shoulders back, lifted my chin, and took a deep breath, arching my back and examining the results. Yes, my boobs could be bigger, but I had what I had. I’d have to work with what I’d been given and find clothing designed to flatter my slight figure. Or… fake it—stuff my bra.

  Reaching up, I pushed my breasts together. Right. Clothes it was. There couldn’t be a pushup bra out there that would make that sight any better. I dropped my hands to my sides and watched the sorry-looking cleavage vanish.

  Something I owned had to make a difference—give me the sexy look I desperately wanted. I turned to my closet and dug through the garments, plain, nothing remarkable, nothing pretty. I snagged the best of the outfits and put it on with deep regrets, wishing for once I had something more mature—flattering. I’d never had a reason to wear eye-catching garments. Until now. With a sigh, I flopped down on my bed. A feather, free from the ticking, floated up. With a puff of my cheeks, I sent it toward the ceiling.

  I had to do it.

  Ask for money. And an escort. Sneaking off to the field behind the estate was one thing. Going to the city alone, quite another. My father and mother would want a reason why. I didn’t want them watching me closer, noticing what I’d been doing. Still, I wanted Axel to see the young woman I’d bloomed into, not the child everyone treated me like. I didn’t want to be a girl in his eyes.

  Lying around on my mattress watching fugitive feathers wouldn’t get me any closer to my goal, so I gathered my courage and started downstairs to ask my father to have someone take me shopping. I thought perhaps one of the servants, but, oh no. That would not be the case. Unfortunate luck indeed, I’d caught him with his mistress.

  Carmen jumped at the chance, and before I could object, she rushed for the door with me in tow, working as his aide for once. And though I didn’t like her, she could get me out of the house and into the city where I could find something a little more flattering, something to take Axel’s breath away. I went along willingly for that reason.

  “Real elegance is something you have or you don’t, Olivia, not something you can buy. But I do believe it is about time you cared about your appearance, and we shall have to do the best we can with what we’ve got. Seriously, you’re the president’s daughter. You have an image to maintain. I have no idea why they allowed you to keep this raggedy appearance for so long anyway. You’re what, almost sixteen?”

  “Nineteen.”

  She continued to ramble on about this season’s fashions and the latest fads. Blah, blah, blah. I didn’t think she’d ever shut up. When the ship docked and locked, I found my chance. As the doors slid open, I made my move. Carmen had other ideas. She grabbed the back of my shirt, stopping my mad dash to safety.

  “The spa first. You need a full wax and haircut, and dare I say a facial?”

  Dare she? I rolled my eyes, but she didn’t notice. She dragged me down the sidewalk with our bodyguards following close behind. I wheezed, and she slowed for me to catch my breath, but only for a few seconds in order to flag a hover bike over.

  No sooner than I opened my mouth to tell her I could do without the spa treatments than she’d shoved me inside the vehicle and we were headed down the street to what I’d later call stiff competition for the Marquis de Sade’s dungeon.

  After I’d been washed, waxed, plucked, and fluffed to within an inch of my life, I decided the shopping trip had been a bad idea. Worse than bad—horrid. I’d grimaced when I’d seen the price tag on the makeup. Pure gold added to the foundation to give the skin radiance. And for what it cost, the wearer should glow like the sun. People were starving, and the leaders of our country were slathering gold on their skin like lotion. It made me ill.

  Carmen squealed in delight, like a little girl receiving a grand present. I couldn’t wait to get home and scrub the itchy makeup from my face, but that wasn’t going to happen while my new best friend had me in her clutches.

  There was this thing called haute couture, and slender frames looked divine in it—or so Carmen informed me as she dragged me into a snooty shop. Couture was French for high or elegant sewing. The language used to describe it was a nearly extinct dialect, and like the Latin of a hundred years before, just as ridiculous to speak. You could still hear the Latin in church, but you hadn’t a clue what they’d said when they used it. It did make everything sound sacred, like the French made the couture sound pretentious, but then again, it didn’t need any help.

  This time, when I stared into the mirror, I’d been struck dumb. The image looking back didn’t belong to me. My hair had been lightened, my eyebrows had been made into thin arches. The cherry red lipstick and golden shimmer foundation gave my skin a garish appearance.

  Hideous. Carmen smiled and clapped her hands, jumping up and down in her stilettos and couture dress. I wondered if it would split its seams if she did it much more.

  I’d never worn heels like I had on and worried I’d snap my ankle if I took a wrong step. Each movement became a balancing act. Carmen didn’t give me a chance to protest, but paid and pulled me from the shop as though I were a leashed pet. “Jewelry.”

  No more. I’d had enough, but it was the looks on the faces of those we passed that made me want to hide. Funny how a simple change in appearance altered the way people perceived me. I recognized many from the field. I felt foolish for waving the abominable display of wealth in their faces, and heated under my makeup, wanting to crawl away and hide from them.

  As I tried to walk down the sidewalk, holding onto my father’s mistress for dear life, people nodded and bowed, avoiding looking me in the eyes. No one dared to greet us, wave, or even pretend to know me.

  This time, they didn’t treat me as a friend. The shopkeepers I’d always spoken to while gardening uttered not a word. Instead, they hustled to get out of the way. Fear?

  I hated it.

  A small shop on my right caught my attention. There. I pulled Carmen toward the store. It resembled none of the stuffy boutiques we’d spent our morning in. Cargo pants and T-shirts hung on a rack out front. There they were—me clothes. And though they didn’t scream elegant woman, I didn’t want that look anymore. I wanted to be me, with a little touch of blush. I wanted to be approachable, the pretty young woman Axel drew in the hidden garden. The person the people of Aeropia talked to in our hidden field.

  “Oh, no you don’t. I didn’t spend all morning making you over to have you dress like a vagrant.”

  “Shut it, Carmen.”

  She stopped in the middle of the street, mouth agape. I continued to the shop and tugged the door open. Carmen snorted and the clip clop of her heels told me she followed, though she didn’t seem to be happy about it.

  I removed the pinchy-toed stilettos as I stepped across the threshold. The shopkeeper lifted her attention from her sales counter. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open. Not a word passed her lips, but something akin to a squeak escaped. I couldn’t blame her—I looked frightful.

  “Ladies room?”

  She pointed to the back of the store, her mouth still agape.

  I walked by the counter and set my shoes on it. “Can you give me a pair of boots in this size, no heels?”

  She nodded.

  I entered the ladies room and turned on the sink. Carmen blazed in after me, fire in her eyes. “You are not washing that down the drain. That’s pure gold.”

  “Then they shouldn’t put it in cosmetics meant to be washed off.” I scrubbed my face with the hand soap and grabbed several paper towels, cleaning until every last trace was gone, certain I’d have golden blemishes in the morning.

  Carmen stared. Fury radiated from her.

  Oh, there were many reasons I shouldn’t act on the prompt from the little voice in my head that told me to keep my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d grown more brazen with each rebellious act and was no longer the social wallflower I’d always been. Gone was Olivia of the past, replaced with a woman of purpose. I could not
, would not be bullied. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to take some off, too. It looks a little trashy.”

  I watched her in the mirror, waiting for the explosion. I’d never challenged her before, but I’d found my strength lately and felt powerful. Plus, she couldn’t do anything about it. Like Cook, I outranked her. Top of the food chain. She gasped, spun on her heels, and evacuated the room as though it were ablaze.

  I returned my attention to the young woman in the mirror, the Olivia I was familiar with. I wasn’t that other woman, and I’d never try to be anyone but me again.

  I learned people would judge me by my actions, regardless of the power I wielded. Respect had to be earned. If I acted like I didn’t care, neither would they.

  Two days later, I strolled in the outdoor orchard. The branches bowed and dipped with their burden, having come alive under the attention of the clones and kitchen staff. I went from tree to tree, surveying the crops. The branches, heavy with developing fruit, were only beginning to show autumn’s blush. This year, we’d have abundance, and my mind whirled with the possibilities.

  I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and smiled when I realized who had joined me. Axel mirrored me from the other side of the trees as I walked along the row. As I took a step, he took a step. I’d dodge behind one of the trunks and peek around it, only to see him do the same. Laughing, I jumped into cover. When I stepped out again, expecting our game of peek-a-boo to continue, he surprised me by instead swinging around the tree to face me, ducking under a branch and stepping closer.

  “Amazing,” he said. His lips were so close, he could have kissed me.

  On instinct, I took a step back. As it was, the space was scarce, and anyone who saw it would question our behavior.

  “It will be a big crop this year.” I ran my fingers along the rough bark on the old tree and looked up into his eyes. “You’ve worked a miracle on them.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the trees.”

  “Are you teasing me?” I smiled.

  Axel winked and grabbed my hand, walking backward and pulling me deeper into the orchard. My heart went thump, thump, thump. Perhaps he’d forgotten I wasn’t supposed to love him, or maybe he’d changed his mind. I could only hope. I didn’t care what his reason. He led and without a doubt, I’d follow.

  As we entered the center of the orchard, a buzzing filled my ears. I scanned the area, not seeing where the sound came from. “What’s that?”

  “You’ll see.” Axel tugged my hand and brought me around part of the ruins and just outside our secret garden. Sitting before me was a large hive, woven from the green branches of a giant willow growing beside a brook on the estate. I looked from the large conical hive to Axel and back to the bees. The drones flew around and into the hive.

  “You did this?” I turned to him, amazed. “How?”

  “From a picture in one of those history books you read to me.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “I wanted to give you a gift for your birthday. They are as much responsible for bringing the crops back as you are.”

  “My birthday isn’t for a few weeks, and I didn’t bring them back. You did.”

  “We did. I wasn’t certain when I’d see you again. I wanted to give you a present.” His smile vanished.

  “What?” The look he gave me told me there was a lot he wasn’t saying, and my stomach churned in response. “Tell me.”

  “It’s nothing to worry about.”

  I nodded but didn’t have a good feeling. Axel was protecting me again, that much was obvious, and no amount of asking would get me an answer. He’d tell me when he was ready.

  Two days passed, and I did not see him. I wondered what happened. And then there was a ruckus in the courtyard outside my bedroom. Enough to pull me away from my novel and to the window to peek around the shade.

  “Attention!”

  Nothing to worry about? My father was building an army of clones and, among them, somewhere out there was Axel. I was certain.

  Ranks of clones snapped stiff as iron statues. Rows and rows of men and women wearing black uniforms with brown berets. Their pants were bloused in combat boots, and they looked every inch the warriors.

  I searched the lines, scanning from soldier to soldier. The picture became clear as to why I hadn’t seen him in a couple of days. Please no. Aeropia’s sacrificial drones. My father planned to start another war.

  Our world could not survive it. My hand went to my mouth, and I gnawed on my thumb as I watched the scene unfold, doing everything I could to still the panic rippling through me. No.

  They brought their rifles up and shifted them to their right shoulders.

  “Right face!”

  They turned in unison. For the next half hour, the officer ran them through drills. Each order called out was followed without question, each clone certainly afraid of the consequences should they fail to follow direction with precision. Every move they made bound my guts tighter into a knot. There would be no going back, no changing what I was about to do—and I needed to do something. Now.

  I exited my room and strolled down the hallway, even though a tsunami of fear roared through me. I stopped outside my father’s study. The door was ajar. I knocked softly and waited. No answer. I tilted my head and listened for voices. Silence. Pushing the door open, I slid inside and surveyed the room.

  All over his desk, maps were spread out, but not maps of Aeropia. Something much more disconcerting. Papers with head counts of each imperial state were scattered around. Numbers of each clone and what they were being trained for were on other documents. I slid my finger down the list that corresponded to the capital city and found Axel’s number in a row for special operations. I’d also discovered he wasn’t the General’s first clone, but third. The others had been killed, written off and replaced—Axel would be too.

  They were taking the youngest and strongest for the most dangerous missions. Sacrifices to draw attention away from the units on the flanks. Collateral damage. My heart skipped several beats, and I fought to catch my breath.

  Collateral damage? I moved around the room and studied each document and map, committing them to memory. Axel was not collateral damage. He was human. He was my friend. He was…

  On the shelf behind my father’s desk were several books on war. I grabbed a couple and tucked them inside the front of my pants, letting my thick sweater drop over them. Today we would not read romance, history, or poetry. Today we would find a way to stop what my father planned to do.

  I fled the study and walked as fast as I could down the hall, taking my ill-gotten treasure with me to hide in the garden. So busy escaping, I failed to notice General Axis until he stepped out in front of me and I ran into him.

  He grabbed my arms to steady me, holding my torso tight to his body. “Good morning, Olivia. You’re looking lovely as usual.”

  Tipping my chin up, I made eye contact and swallowed. He’d never before looked at me the way he did that day, almost as though he held a valuable possession. I tried to pull away, and he tightened his grip.

  He was not Axel. He gave off this creepy vibe, which made him intolerable, even though he was an older duplicate of the man I loved. I wanted to flee to the lavatory, scrub where he touched me, erase all trace of the contact, but he wouldn’t let go. They might have been the same in many ways, but the similarities didn’t outweigh the differences. No, he was not Axel. He was evil, disgusting, and I could not abide him, even for a brief minute.

  “What were you doing in the study?”

  “Nothing,” I mumbled and looked away.

  “And that lump under your sweater is what?”

  I turned back to him, pleading silently he’d believe me. “Please don’t tell my father I’ve taken my mother’s romance novels.”

  “Romance novels?” He studied me so intensely, I wasn’t sure the lie didn’t show on my face. The corner of his mouth curled slightly. “Romance novels? You are what, almost sixteen?”

  “Nineteen.” I tried to pul
l away again, but he continued to hold me to him.

  “You should’ve been handfasted a long time ago, Olivia. Then you wouldn’t need romance novels.” He gave me a lecherous smile and let go.

  The flesh on my arms twitched where he’d held me and gave me the sudden urge to bathe with pumice and caustic chemicals. “That practice is barbaric and demeaning. Marriage should be for love, not convenience.” I stepped back, putting several feet between us. My stomach twisted into knots. What was he getting at?

  He cocked his head. “Should it? It serves its purpose, keeps our population growing. Your mother and father believed in it.”

  “I am not my mother or my father.”

  “I see that.”

  I turned and rushed for my room as fast as I could, my heart pounding, my head spinning. Livestock. Young women were often treated like livestock, but I’d never thought my father would do that to me. I was sick, weak. The man was at least twenty years my senior. I couldn’t be certain what he hinted at, but I believed he meant I should be handfasted. To him. His parting words behind me confirmed it.

  “We shall have to rectify that, I think.”

  12

  “Who was this Sun Tzu?” Axel pointed at a quote. “‘The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.’”

  I stared at the sky, a cushion of thick moss under me. A million thoughts laced my brain. Betrayal. Love. Disappointment in all I’d believed in. I’d heard him, but I hadn’t really heard him. My mind was lost somewhere in the layers of deception. My life felt like that finely sewn couture dress. Fabric bound together tight, no give, no release, forced to be what the seamstress wanted, what my family wanted.

  Axel rested next to me, continuing to read the book I’d brought him. I wanted to tell him my suspicions of what my family planned for me, but not until I had hard evidence. The thought of being tied to General Axis scared me. It also meant I would see Axel every day. Unless they sent him into battle and he didn’t come back. The thought made me want to weep. I wouldn’t. Now was the time for strength. Later, when nobody saw—I’d cry.