Replication

by Jill Williamson

  Martyr straightened. JD? Yes. This was the boy Abby knew. She liked his hair. Martyr looked at JD’s hair and wondered if his would look the same if it ever grew out.

  “Answer me, you freak. Why’d you attack her?”

  “I would never hurt Abby. I have love for her. I want her to be my wife.”

  JD drew back a fist and punched Martyr’s face.

  Martyr’s nose burned. His legs collapsed out from under him, and he fell onto the cold, gray ground. JD crouched over him, still clutching the front of his shirt. He struck Martyr again, this time hitting Martyr’s left eye. Martyr rolled onto his side and curled into a ball. Perhaps this Jason is similar to Iron Man.

  JD grabbed the back of his shirt and tried to pull him up. “Not so tough now, are you? You only pick on girls? Huh?” JD kicked Martyr’s back.

  Pastor Scott’s voice floated somewhere above. “Come on, that’s enough. Break it up.”

  “Listen up, freak.” JD’s voice was so near Martyr could feel warm breath on his ear. “You stay away from Abby, you hear me? If you lay a hand on her, I’ll kill you.”

  “JD?”

  Martyr’s heart leaped at the sound of Abby’s voice. He scrambled to a sitting position and forced open his throbbing eye. Abby stood at the front of the van, face pale, lips parted. Martyr hoped she wasn’t angry with him.

  “Don’t you worry about this loser anymore, Abby,” JD said, strutting toward her. “He’s nothing I can’t handle.” JD reached out and pulled Abby into an embrace.

  She shoved him away. “Don’t touch me!” Her eyes, wild with fright, jumped from JD to Martyr.

  Martyr didn’t want to move for fear of what she might say. The power of her words amazed him. She held all that mattered in her hands.

  From the look on JD’s face, it was the same for him.

  “Marty?” Her voice was soft and unsure. “Pastor Scott, is that Marty?”

  “I’m sorry, Abby,” Pastor Scott said. “I just wanted to get a look at JD. I shouldn’t have parked so close to his truck.”

  “Get a look at me? Who are you people? Abby, what is going on? Who is this freak?”

  Abby pushed past JD and crouched beside Martyr. She turned to look at JD. “What did you do?”

  “I was helping you,” he said. “You said some bald JD look-alike attacked you. Well, here’s a bald JD look-alike, so I attacked him first.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “The dude stole my face. He attacked you. Be mad at him, not me.”

  But Abby turned back to Martyr and touched his cheek, brushing her warm thumb under his throbbing eye. He closed his eyes and relaxed at her contact.

  She whispered, “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.” She stood up and faced JD. “I didn’t mean for you to get in trouble when I talked to the police. I hoped you had an alibi.”

  “What are you talking about?” JD said.

  Pastor Scott helped Martyr stand.

  “I only talked to the police because I was trying to help Marty,” Abby said.

  JD sniffed in a long breath, his chest swelling. “My mom grounded me for a month! She thinks I did it. She thinks I’m obsessed with you.”

  Martyr had to agree with JD’s mother. JD looked quite obsessed.

  Pastor Scott opened the van door and helped Martyr inside.

  JD’s angry eyes flickered from Martyr. “Why does he need your help?”

  Abby turned to look JD straight in the eye. “He escaped from your dad’s lab. Your dad’s been cloning people, and here’s the weird thing: I think you might be a clone too.”

  JD stared at Abby, eyebrows crinkled, then laughed. “You can’t clone people.”

  Abby’s serious expression didn’t change. “Your dad has lupus. It’s getting bad, and I think he needs a kidney transplant. Problem is, all his clones have lupus too.”

  JD’s face relaxed into a frown.

  Pastor Scott pushed down the locking device on the door and slammed it shut, muting Abby and JD’s conversation. Martyr strained to hear what they were saying. He could no longer hear Abby, but he could hear JD loud and clear.

  “That’s not true!”

  Abby yelled something and poked JD in the chest.

  “You think he’s better than me? He’s a weakling!”

  Abby responded by shaking her head and gesturing to the van. Martyr felt useless. He wanted to protect Abby, but what could he do?

  “I was right the first time!” JD yelled. “You are a self-righteous snob!”

  Abby slid open the back door to the van and climbed in.

  JD stepped closer. “He said he wants to marry you, just so you know. You think I’m obsessed? Must be my DNA.”

  In one swift yank, Abby slid the door shut. Pastor Scott started the van.

  JD stood by the blue truck, staring after them as the van drove away. Martyr felt sorry for him.

  “Move back here by me, Marty. I want to look at your eye.”

  Martyr unclasped his seatbelt, stepped awkwardly to the long seat, and buckled himself beside Abby. Her black coat was unzipped, and he could see that she was wearing a purple shirt today.

  She touched his cheek again, staring at his face with furrowed brows. Martyr copied her, not meaning to at first, but it was easy to keep his face in that position when he realized what had just happened.

  “Will JD speak about this to Dr. Kane?” he asked.

  She released his face and slouched down in her seat. “Probably.”

  “What must I do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Send me back to the Farm. I don’t want to bring danger to you or Dr. Goyer. Besides, Baby needs me. I should never have abandoned him.”

  She trained her green eyes on his. “Did you tell JD you wanted to marry me?”

  He saw Pastor Scott’s eyes in the tiny reflecting glass, looking at him. Martyr was suddenly very warm. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are love. I read it in One Corinthians. And Pastor Scott said when a man finds love he asks the woman to marry him. Did I understand correctly, Pastor Scott?”

  Pastor Scott chuckled. “Well, sort of. But Marty, you’ve only known Abby for what, two days?”

  Martyr felt like he was falling inside himself. “That’s not long enough to know love?”

  “Not really,” Pastor Scott said.

  Shame washed over Martyr. He was a fool to think that someone like Abby would love him. What if he expired before he knew love?

  “It’s just that usually the girl and guy date for a while before getting married.” Abby took his hand in hers. “Let’s slow things down just a bit, okay?”

  Martyr squeezed Abby’s hand and breathed until his heart settled back into its normal cadence. Her smell filled every breath, and Martyr ignored his disappointment at having misunderstood love and enjoyed simply sitting beside her.

  But Abby had more to say. “Still, even a second is long enough to experience what’s described in 1 Corinthians. I’m thrilled that you see me as a personification of that kind of love, Marty. Many would disagree with you there.” She huffed a wry laugh. “JD being first in line.”

  Martyr could not imagine how anyone could see Abby as anything but love.

  They sat in silence as Pastor Scott drove away from the school, but instead of looking out the window, Martyr focused on Abby’s hand, which still was wrapped around his. He found it very hard not to think about what she had said.

  “It’s just that usually the girl and the guy ate for a while before getting married. Let’s slow things down just a bit, okay?”

  Slow down and eat?

  “I think we should go to the cops,” Abby said suddenly, pulling Martyr back to reality. “With the whole truth this time. We need to get Baby and the others out. I don’t know what will happen, but we have to try.”

  “Okay.” Martyr would do whatever Abby thought best.

  “Are you sure?” Pastor Scott asked. “They won’t believe you at fi
rst. I sure didn’t. Unless they see JD and Marty together, they’ll think you’re making it up.”

  “What else can we do? JD saw Marty, and as soon as he can he’ll tell Dr. Kane that we’re with you. So Marty shouldn’t go back to your house. He isn’t safe anywhere. The police have to help.”

  “The police might just call Dr. Kane to come down and pick up his son, thinking he’s drugged out. Marty looks like JD. It’s what I’d do.”

  “Will you drop us at my house, then? We’ll see what my dad thinks.”

  “You got it.” Pastor Scott said. “And Abby, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. It’s still so odd. Let me know when you decide to go to the police and I’ll come with. The more people you have to corroborate your story, the better.”

  When Pastor Scott dropped them off, Dad wasn’t home, which raised a lot of concerns Abby didn’t want to deal with. She was tempted to call Pastor Scott and ask him to take her back for her car at the school—the scientists could just as easily come to her house as to Pastor Scott’s apartment. But with no cars in her driveway, maybe they’d assume no one was here. Plus, she needed time to think. She hung up her coat in the front closet. Marty took off the green and brown plaid quilted flannel shirt he was wearing and hung it next to Abby’s coat.

  “Where did you get that?” she asked.

  “Pastor Scott loaned it to me.”

  How very Fishhook, Alaska.

  Marty’s eye was swollen; she needed to get some ice on it. But first, she had to know where dad was. “Do you have my phone?”

  Marty dug it out of his front pocket and handed it to her. She left a message on Dad’s cell, then ordered a pizza.

  “Why don’t you go lie down on the couch? I’ll get something for your bruise.” Abby went into the kitchen, took a package of frozen corn from the freezer, and wrapped it in a dishtowel. She walked back to the sofa and kneeled down. “Hold this on your eye. It’s cold, but will help the swelling.”

  Marty placed the wrapped corn on his face, and Abby sank to her rear on the floor and leaned her head back on the edge of the couch. What a day. Her mind spun with the bizarre events. She felt sorry for JD. Not for how he’d treated her—the creepazoid—but for the trouble her accusation had caused.

  She wasn’t really a self-righteous snob, was she?

  Something tickled her scalp. Marty was touching her hair.

  What to do with him?

  He was so sweet and naïve and innocent—like no other boy on the planet. He might have the same DNA as JD, but he was not the same person. And he wanted to marry her—because she was the first person ever to show him kindness without an agenda. Marty knew how to love instinctively, but she doubted anyone had ever truly loved him. No mother had kissed him good-night, no father had played catch. No wonder he wanted to stay with her.

  He was feeling her hair by the handful now. It actually felt kind of nice. What must he feel to have been raised in captivity all his life? To have never seen a girl? It must be confusing, especially since he was a boy. Teenage boys had more hormones raging than anyone. That was a biological fact.

  And JD’s mom wouldn’t let him date. Probably because she was afraid someone would find out he was a clone. As a result, the poor guy didn’t know what to do with himself. Attacking girls in the hallway was the best plan he could come up with.

  Poor, dumb boy.

  Marty had stopped touching her hair. Abby rose onto her knees and turned to check on him. He lay with one hand holding the corn to his ear, the other dangling off the couch.

  Sleeping.

  He looked so peaceful. His long, dark eyelashes fell softly against the rosy skin of his swollen face. His cheeks, chin, and upper neck were scruffy with brown hair. Did Marty know how to shave or had the groomers taken that bit of his independence?

  Abby gently pried the corn from his hand and set the package on the floor by her knees. Marty inhaled a long breath and opened his good eye. His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked the swollen eye back into use. She stroked the side of his face, feeling the chill left by the corn. His prickly cheeks darkened at her caress.

  So cute.

  “Is something wrong?” Marty pushed up onto one elbow and swung his legs to the floor.

  Their faces were inches apart now. She sat back on her heels to give herself room to breathe. “No. I-I’m sorry I woke you.”

  He gazed at her. His eyes had a way of ensnaring hers so that she couldn’t look away. He gripped her shoulder in one hand, leaned toward her, and, even though she knew she shouldn’t allow him to kiss her, she couldn’t move or form the words to stop him.

  But his aim was way off for a kiss, and his lips pressed firmly against her forehead. She closed her eyes, startled by his sweet gesture. When she opened them again, he had sat back and was watching her with a small smile on his lips. Lips that were full and perfect, unharmed by JD’s fist. Twice now JD had forced kisses without asking. Would Marty’s kiss feel different from JD’s?

  Abby stood on her knees and pressed her lips against his. They were soft and warm and nothing like JD’s. Marty tensed and uttered a little whimper.

  For a fleeting moment she wanted to stay connected to him forever. Everything about him felt right. His eyes, his lips, his smell, his sweet kindness, the way he looked at her … then she snapped to her senses and pulled back. What had she done? What had happened to her standards? She hadn’t known Marty much longer than she’d known JD.

  The horror! She had just pulled a JD Kane!

  Marty sucked in a powerful breath of air and slowly opened his eyes, staring at her with wonder. “More?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “No more today.”

  For the briefest moment, a hungry look flashed across his face. The same look JD wore daily. A flutter of fear danced through her stomach; maybe it was wrong to have introduced Marty to his physical side, especially right after he’d wanted to marry her and she told him to slow down.

  But then he fell back against the couch, closed his eyes again, and drifted back to sleep, a faint smile on his lips.

  Abby sat watching him, wondering what to do with her feelings, wondering how to keep Marty safe, wondering if his life would last beyond his eighteenth birthday.

  Abby and Marty sat side by side on the sofa.

  “May I thank God for the meal?” Marty asked.

  Abby turned to him, startled. “Oh. Of course.”

  Marty bowed his head over the steaming pepperoni and green pepper pizza. “Hello to you, Creator of Everything. Thank you for this pizza, and for keeping us safe at the high school facility, and for Abby’s kiss. Please tell me your purpose for my life so I can follow it. Thank you for listening.”

  Abby smiled. She considered telling him about saying amen after a prayer, but she didn’t want to make him feel like he’d done it wrong. And she supposed he hadn’t—the intent was the same. She bit into the warm pizza and Marty’s eyes watched, probably to see how to eat it. She doubted they ate pizza on the Farm, since it had so much color.

  “Should I have said ‘In Jesus’s name’ at the end of my prayer?” Marty asked. “You spoke it that way, as did Pastor Scott.”

  “That’s okay. I’m sure God understood.”

  “Why do you say it?”

  “Because Jesus said to. I’m not so good at Bible references, but he said something like, ‘whatever you ask for in my name …’ So I guess that’s why we say it.”

  “Why did they keep this information from us at the lab?”

  “Probably because not everyone believes the Bible.”

  “How could they not? It is written.”

  “Well, yeah. But just because something is written doesn’t make it truth. Anybody can write a book. Do you believe everything you read?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’ve never questioned anything?”

  Marty looked confused. “I have many questions.”

  “About the Bible or something else?”

  “Is Jesu
s a clone of God? Who wrote the Bible? Where does the Bible explain what my purpose is? How will believing in God change my life? What does—”

  “Whoa! Slow down.” Marty’s stay with Pastor Scott was supposed to have answered his tough questions, not raise more complicated ones. “Those are all great questions, but let’s just focus on the most important one for now. Believing in God changes your life because he lets you start over. Believers call this being born again.”

  “How can anyone be created again? Humans do not grow smaller.”

  “Not literally born again. But spiritually reborn. We’re all born with sin—with a badness in our hearts. And we do bad things in our life. But rather than have God punish us for that when we die, he sent Jesus to take that punishment for us. That’s the example he set for us in 1 Corinthians. God is love. Jesus died so we could live. But we have to believe it. We have to tell him we accept his sacrifice.”

  “How do I accept this sacrifice?”

  Abby shoved a huge bite of pizza in her mouth. She’d always hoped the first time she had this conversation, it would be with her dad. But who was she to argue with God?

  She swallowed her bite. Marty had still not touched his food. His pizza was going to get cold.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you, but after that you have to eat.” She didn’t know why she was bossing him around like she did her dad. As if eating pizza compared to his eternal salvation. Man, she was a control freak sometimes.

  She thought back to what her youth pastor had taught them. Giving your life to Christ was as easy as ABC. “It’s a simple prayer. First, admit that you’re a sinner—that you’ve done bad things. Then believe that Jesus died for you, so you could be part of God’s family. Then confess the bad things you’ve done and promise to live your life for him.” Abby twisted her lips and hoped she hadn’t forgotten anything important. “That’s pretty much it. Did you … uh … want to do that?”

  Marty nodded, his eyes big and childlike. Gosh, he was sweet. She wanted to kiss him again, but this obviously wasn’t the best time.

  Marty closed his eyes and began talking to God the way he talked to her. She couldn’t believe the things he considered sin, and some confessions were so bizarre she didn’t have a clue what he meant. Stealing food to give to Jasons with PDR marks. Not reporting when someone had hurt him. Faking ADR results. Lying to the guards. Eating before BMPs. Trying to choke Dr. Elliot. Taking Dad’s keycard. Trying on her dad’s clothes and her clothes—Abby would have liked to witness that one.