Replication

by Jill Williamson

  Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

  Abby stepped toward the windows and out of JD’s rapacious reach. “Rich people who live on a lake. It’s like something out of a movie.”

  JD laughed. “Are there a lot of movies about that?”

  “Tons.” Abby needed something to calm her nerves. She reached into her coat pocket, pulled out a stick of Kylee’s gum, and folded it into her mouth. She held out the pack to JD. “Want some?”

  He took a piece. “Does my breath smell bad?” He put the stick in his mouth and chewed. “Oh, I get it. You want us both to have good breath.”

  One-track mind on this one. She shrugged off her coat and dropped her backpack onto the floor. “So where’s this library?”

  “Upstairs. Next to my room.”

  Good grief.

  She glanced at the clock—3:20. If she was quick, she wouldn’t be that late getting back to Marty. She started up the stairs that climbed along the far wall of the living room and JD came close behind. She felt self-conscious with him behind her and hoped she didn’t lose her balance and trip. How embarrassing would that be?

  Upstairs, a hallway stretched in two directions. She paused on the stairs to let JD lead, but he stopped behind her and moved her hair over her shoulder. His breath tickled the back of her neck. A tingle shot down her spine, and she whipped around.

  “No funny business, JD.”

  He stepped up onto her step, grabbed her shoulders. His chocolate eyes melted into hers. He was so tall. Had Marty been this tall?

  “There’s nothing funny about how you make me feel.”

  Abby poked a finger against his chest. “I’m serious, JD. Knock it off!” She ducked under his arm and climbed the last three steps. She turned to face him, put her arms out at her sides, and turned in a circle. “This is my personal space. You stay out of it. I’d hate to throw you down the stairs. Don’t think I won’t.”

  A smile twitched at the corner of his full, perfect lips—Stop it, Abby! Focus!

  She walked to the right. “Where is the library?”

  His voice floated over the top of her head. “Third door on your right.”

  She pushed open the door and walked into an office. A massive cherry desk took up most of the floor space, but the walls were solid bookshelves. JD walked past her and sat on the edge of what must be his father’s desk. She needed to lose him for a few. Time for some creative thinking.

  “You got anything to eat? I’m kinda hungry.”

  JD waggled his eyebrows. “Are you sure you’re hungry for food, because I can—”

  “I’m sure, JD. Something munchy. Anything really.” As long as it got him out of there so she could snoop for probable cause. “Ooh, do you have any hot chocolate? I’d love some hot chocolate.” Which would take him a lot longer than grabbing a bag of chips.

  “Yeah, I think so.” JD jumped off the desk and left the room. “Be right back,” he called from the hallway.

  “Thanks for the warning.” She sat down in his dad’s leather chair. Ergonomic. Nice.

  She pulled open a drawer full of office supplies: paper clips, rubber bands, envelopes, pens, a letter opener— Ooh! She drew the letter opener out and set it on the desk. It would be a good weapon if JD got too frisky. She shut the drawer and opened the next one. Looked like bills waiting to be paid. Electric, doctor, phone—she took a closer look at the phone bill. Calls to Washington D.C., New York, somewhere in Europe, Japan, Boston. She put the bill back.

  Just what was she hoping to find? Dr. Kane must keep everything work-related in his lab office. He would be a fool to keep anything at home. And anyone who managed to successfully clone humans eighteenish years ago was not a fool.

  Drat.

  How could she get into his lab office?

  She stood and perused the books on the shelf closest to her. Her heart flooded with longing. What she wouldn’t give for a personal scientific library like this. She ran her finger over the titles and stopped at Lupus and You.

  Hello.

  She pulled the book out. The spine was creased, the pages heavily dog-eared, but the top was dusty. Someone had once made good use of this book, but not in a really long time. The copyright date was 1989. She frowned, her mind circling around something familiar. She hurried back to the desk, pulled open the drawer with the bills, and shuffled through them until she came to the doctor bill. After a moment’s hesitation, she opened it.

  It was a co-payment receipt for immune suppressants. A lot of them. For a Jason Dean Kane.

  Did JD have lupus?

  Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Abby shut the drawer, stuck the doctor bill inside the lupus book, and tucked it under her arm. She stepped back to the books, pretending to look at more.

  “Can I help you?” a woman asked in a cold and formal tone.

  Abby spun to face the door to the office, heat flushing over her. “Mrs. Kane! Wow. How are you?” Scary. With the school principal for a mom, no wonder JD was so popular.

  “I repeat my question. Can. I. Help. You?”

  Abby swallowed. “Um, I’m just waiting for JD. We’re doing a science project together on lupus for Bio II, and he said his dad had a lot of science books. I’ll say. I’ve never seen such an extensive home library, Mrs. Kane. It’s totally impressive that—”

  “You have an interest in my son?”

  Abby’s cheeks warmed. “Oh. No, ma’am. Strictly academic. Bio II. Big project. Lupus.”

  “There is no reason for you to be in our home.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I suggest you schedule your little study sessions at the school library from now on. And if you do have a romantic interest in my son, I strongly urge you to set your sights on someone else, immediately. Jason is not allowed to date.”

  Abby laughed out loud—she couldn’t help it. JD not allowed to date? “You’re kidding, right?”

  Mrs. Kane raised her penciled eyebrows. “Have you ever known him to have a girlfriend?”

  Abby sobered. “Well, I … um. I’m new. I’ve only lived in Fishhook a few days.”

  Not that JD hasn’t tried, lady.

  “Well, let me enlighten you. My son is not allowed to date. He is not allowed to invite girls over to our home. He is not allowed a girlfriend.”

  Awkward. The one time Abby would like JD to show up … She shifted her weight to her other foot.

  Mrs. Kane faked an icy smile. “Off you go, then.”

  Abby stepped toward the door, but Mrs. Kane still blocked the way out. The woman held out her hand. “The book can stay here.”

  “Right.” Abby reluctantly set the lupus book on Mrs. Kane’s hand, and the woman stepped aside. Abby scrambled out the door and down the stairs. She slipped into her coat, heaved her backpack over one shoulder, and headed for the front door.

  “You’re leaving?” JD stepped out of the kitchen with a tray in his hands. It had a plate of chocolate chip cookies and two mugs of hot chocolate. Awww. How cute.

  Abby grabbed a cookie off the plate and whispered, “Yeah. Your mom kicked me to the curb.”

  JD seemed to deflate a little. “I didn’t hear her. She must have come in through the garage. Look, Abby, my mom’s a little bit … strict.”

  “Yeah. I caught that. Makes for an efficient high school principal, though. Hey, she took this book that looked perfect for our project. It was called Lupus and You. Think you could bring it to school tomorrow?”

  “I’ll try. Unless she locks it in her vault.” He grinned. “Kidding.”

  Abby started for the door. “See you tomorrow, JD. Thanks for the cookie.”

  “Bye, Abby.” JD’s voice had never sounded so sad, but Abby remembered his plans to have her for a snack and was secretly relieved Mrs. Kane had sent her packing. Too much weird in this house anyway. She needed a plan B.

  She stuck the cookie in her mouth and let herself out.

  [CHAPTER THIRTEEN]

  MARTYR SAT ON THE LONG CHAIR, bouncing his leg.
He looked at the clock: 3:44. Only one minute later than the last time he had checked. He turned his attention back to the TV, watching the dolphins swim in very deep water. They were fascinating creatures, but his thoughts were fixed on Daughter Abby. Where was she? He hoped nothing had happened to her.

  Something touched his leg, causing him to lean forward. It was the dog, rubbing its body against him. Martyr lifted the creature onto his lap and stroked its thick fur. It closed its eyes and hummed, low and content. Martyr smiled. The dog made him feel like—

  The front door rattled. Finally! Martyr pushed the dog off his lap and stood up.

  “Abby, honey? I’m home!”

  Martyr scrambled up the stairs. He had just reached the top when the front door slammed shut. Martyr paused at the railing and looked down on the room, where the strange sounds of the dolphins still came from the TV. He’d forgotten to turn it off.

  “Abby? Where are you going?”

  Martyr ran to Daughter Abby’s cell and darted into the closet, pulling the door closed behind him. He plowed past the hanging clothes, burrowing his way to the back wall. His heart thudded. It was dark in the clothing, and Martyr hoped Dr. Goyer would not see him even if he opened the door.

  “Abby?”

  The doctor was in his daughter’s cell now. Martyr curled into a ball and held his breath. Something slipped underneath his leg and clunked onto the floor. He winced.

  The closet door swung open. Martyr hugged his head and begged the Creator of Everything for Dr. Goyer to go away.

  The light turned on.

  Martyr could hear the doctor’s breathing, the creaking floor. Martyr waited, hoping, pleading.

  “Come on out, son, or I’ll have to call the police.”

  Martyr did not know what the police were, but it sounded like a threat. Someone grabbed Martyr’s arm. He screamed.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.” Dr. Goyer pushed the clothing aside. “I just want you to come out of there.”

  Martyr relaxed some. Dr. Goyer had been nice during marks; if he said he wouldn’t hurt him, then Martyr believed he wouldn’t.

  Martyr crawled backward out of the closet until he was in the main room, then sat back on his heels and looked up at the doctor. Guilt pressed down like a heavy blanket.

  Dr. Goyer’s eyes widened, looking huge behind his thick glasses. “Martyr?”

  Martyr shrank back until he bumped into the leg of Daughter Abby’s desk.

  Dr. Goyer hissed a string of words that Martyr had only ever heard the guards use when they were very angry. Martyr scooted under the desk, watching Dr. Goyer carefully to see what he might do next. He didn’t appear to have a stick. Would the taser work in Dr. Goyer’s facility? He braced himself for the pain just in case.

  “Dad?” The muted sound of Daughter Abby’s voice drifted up from level one.

  Dr. Goyer spun in a circle. Then he motioned to Martyr and said, “Stay right there.”

  Martyr was more than happy to comply. The floor under the desk was small enough that no one else could fit there.

  Dr. Goyer bounded out of the room and closed the door behind him.

  Abby almost cried when she saw Dad’s truck in the driveway. What on earth was he doing home so early? She should have driven straight home from school or skipped it all together. What if she were too late?

  What if Dad had found Marty?

  The house was fairly messy. Marty had eaten the sandwich at the counter but left his plate. A documentary on dolphins blared from the television. A box containing Dad’s office décor sat on the kitchen counter. Hope swelled in her chest. Had Dad been fired? Did he quit?

  “Dad?” she called again.

  “Abby, honey?” Her dad’s slightly strained voice came from upstairs.

  He knows.

  She raced to the stairs and met her dad halfway up. “Hi, Dad. How was work?”

  His eyes darted away from hers. “Good. Good. Did you know …? How was school?”

  “Great. I made some real progress on my big science project.” Sort of. Not really. Dad stood sentry on the stairs, not moving. Guarding what, exactly? “Uh, Dad? You okay? I’d like to change out of this sweater. It’s fine for school, but it’s always too hot to wear at home.”

  Dad didn’t speak. He just looked over the railing into the empty space above the living room.

  “Dad?”

  He jumped and looked back to Abby. “Huh?”

  “Can I get by?”

  “No!”

  “No?” He definitely knew. “Why not?”

  “Your homework. You should finish it first. Downstairs.”

  “Before I can change my sweater?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you gone insane?” Not a real nice thing to ask under the circumstances, but on the plus side, Marty must still be here. In Abby’s room, to be precise. No sense in beating around the bush. “You found Marty?”

  Dad’s eyes bulged out in a Halloween freak-show kind of way, then he turned a pale, pale yellow. She hoped he wouldn’t puke.

  “Dad, it’s okay. He’s safe here, right? You didn’t tell Dr. Kane anything, did you? Do they have surveillance footage of him getting into your truck?”

  Dad’s eyes bulged further. Abby was afraid they might pop over the top of his glasses and roll down the stairs. When his mouth dropped open, she shrank back a hair and put a firm grip on the banister, just in case he lost it completely.

  “How do you know …? Where I work is my … How do you, you, you …?”

  “Dad? Chill, okay and I’ll explain. Deep breaths. I found Marty last night. He rode here in the back of your truck and got into the house somehow. I let him sleep in my room.”

  The color came back to Dad’s face real quick.

  “In my sleeping bag, Dad. You watch too much TV. I told him to stay here today because I need to come up with a way to help him. I was thinking about—”

  “Help him? He’s not a stray dog, Abigail. He belongs to Dr. Kane. He must go back!”

  This time Abby’s face flushed. “No, Dad. He doesn’t belong to Dr. Kane. People don’t belong to anyone, not like that. He’s not a car or a boat that has a title of ownership.”

  She tried to push past her dad, but he wouldn’t let her. “Hold on, honey—”

  “You hold on, Dad. I can’t believe you’d take another job like this. Didn’t you learn anything from the last time?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but she did quit trying to shove him out of her way. “Did Dr. Kane really clone his own son over and over and keep them imprisoned in an underground lab? Who does stuff like that?” When her dad still didn’t answer she dropped her gaze. “Marty says he’s going to die in two weeks. He thinks the air is poison and his purpose in life is to die to save humanity.”

  Sighing deeply, her father sat down on the steps, putting their faces at the same level. “They need to tell the boys something so they won’t run away. If you thought about—”

  “I should have known you’d take the scientists’ side!” She wanted to rush past, to go to Martyr, but this might be her only chance to reason with her dad. She sat down on the step his feet rested on and leaned against the wall. “Please, Dad. This isn’t your pet project. They did all this long before you went on the payroll. You have to admit it’s abuse. Psychological abuse. Physical abuse. Please don’t condone that!”

  Her dad put his hand on her knee. “I don’t condone abuse, Abby, honey, ever, but you have to accept that these clones are not people. They are copies of people.”

  Abby jerked her leg away from him. “Have you talked to him? He’s as real as you or me, and he’s scared!”

  Her dad stood up. “Not everything in this world fits your black and white beliefs, Abby. I will not allow you to meddle in things that—”

  Abby stood up too. “Me, meddle? You’re the one playing God! You’re just no good at it.” She paused just long enough to see the question in his eyes. “What about the brokens? The boy without legs?”
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br />   Something must have snapped in her dad’s brain, because he suddenly buried his face in his hands. Abby seized his moment of sagging posture and barged past. He turned and grabbed for her waist, but she wriggled free and burst into her room. She went to the closet and peeked behind armfuls of clothing but couldn’t find Marty. Her foot snagged on something and she looked down. Clothes were strewn about the closet floor. She turned back to her room and saw her bras, underwear, and socks poking out of open drawers.

  Awkward.

  Dad stepped into the doorway, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “He’s under the desk.”

  Abby sank to her knees and pulled back the desk chair. Marty lay curled in a ball, arms cradling his head. He was wearing her dad’s clothes.

  She smiled. “Looks like Marty likes those Christmas socks I bought you, even if you don’t.”

  “He likes red.”

  Abby glanced at her dad and saw he was smiling a bit. “Look at him,” she said, hoping her dad was no longer on the dark side. “Why would a guy his size cower like this? What do they do to them at that place?”

  Dad sank onto the foot of her bed. “He’s just not confrontational. Some of the other clones are very aggressive.”

  “But not Marty?”

  “He’ll fight to protect someone, which is how he got his nickname, I guess. If I attacked you, I bet he’d come out in a hurry.”

  “What if I attacked you?” Abby grinned.

  “I’m not sure he likes me. I’m a doctor. The enemy.”

  Abby set a hand on Marty’s thigh. “Come on out, Marty. Dad’s not going to hurt you.”

  Marty didn’t come out, but he relaxed a bit and let go of his head. He peeked out at Abby, his dark eyebrows wrinkled. “Will he take me back?”

  “No,” Abby said firmly over her father’s whispered, “Yes.”

  Marty crawled out from under the desk. Dad’s orange silk tie hung around his neck like a scarf. Abby pursed her lips to keep from laughing. He looked good in Dad’s shirt. It was buttoned off kilter, but the maroon color brought life to his pale skin. The jeans were a little baggy around the waist, short in the legs. He sat against the wall and hugged his knees to his chest.