Replication

by Jill Williamson

  Fido growled and scratched, and finally sank his teeth into Martyr’s hand. Years of anger went into Martyr’s free fist as he punched Fido’s cheek with all his strength, then he punched him again in the temple. Fido slumped to the floor and lay motionless.

  Martyr rose to sit on his heels and wiped his bloody knuckles off on his shirt. Both hands shook beyond his control and throbbed—one from the bite, the other from the force of his punches. He glanced at Iron Man. Their eyes met in a silent challenge.

  Martyr stood and stepped around Fido. “Fighting with each other solves nothing. We need both keycards to get outside.” He drew the keycard out from his waistband and held it up. “We must work together.”

  “But what about the stingers?” Brain asked. “As soon as we try anything, they’ll activate them.”

  “Dr. Goyer turned them off.” At least Martyr hoped Dr. Goyer had accomplished that part of the plan.

  “You’re sure?” Iron Man asked.

  “No. But Dr. Goyer promised to leave a tool in the computer room in case he failed. If we can get there, we can cut the stingers off.” Martyr lifted his pant leg to show that his stinger ring was gone. Dr. Elliot had been about to put on another one when Abby had arrived.

  Iron Man stared for a long moment, nodded once, and turned toward the stairs. “Let’s go then.”

  Martyr walked down the hall with Iron Man, watching for any sudden movements from the muscular Jason. The boys followed, mumbling to each other.

  “Where is your woman?” Iron Man asked.

  Martyr paused, searching to find the best way to explain her disappearance. “She’s hiding with Baby. I’ll come back for them once we defeat the doctors.”

  “Did you really see outside?” Brain asked. “Was there sky? Did you see clouds?”

  “When I first went out, it was night,” Martyr said. “The sky is black at night, and it is filled with tiny lights called stars. They don’t look like the stars Dr. Max uses on our charts, though. They’re dots of light.”

  “The sun is a star,” Brain said. “Did you see the sun?”

  “Yes,” Martyr said. “In the morning the room was bright, but no lights were turned on.”

  Brain’s eyes widened. “The light came from the sun?”

  “It shone through the windows.”

  Brain frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “The windows in Abby’s house look outside on the trees and snow and sky. The sun was a pale yellow ball in the sky. It hurt my eyes to look at it. Abby says at night the sun goes down and the moon comes up.”

  “Did you see the moon?” someone behind him asked. They stopped at the entrance to the stairwell, where the Jasons crowded around Martyr.

  “Abby says the moon can only be seen sometimes. I did not see it.”

  Iron Man opened the door to the stairwell. “Come on.”

  They took the stairs to level one. Iron Man stopped at the door and handed Martyr his keycard. “What should we do?”

  The Jasons all fixed their eyes on Martyr. He swallowed. “We must destroy the computer server.”

  “What’s that?” Teddy asked.

  How had Dr. Goyer described it? “It’s several boxes that hold information about how we were created. If we leave without destroying it, Dr. Kane can make more of us.”

  Iron Man snorted. “I don’t care if he makes more. I want to leave, now.”

  Several Jasons voiced their agreement.

  Martyr raised his voice. “First we destroy the computers. Then we restrain Dr. Kane, Dr. Elliot, and the guards. After that we find Dr. Goyer. He’ll help us gather the rest of the boys. No one will be left behind.”

  Iron Man did not look happy but said, “Fine. Where is this computer?”

  “According to Dr. Goyer, the computer room is the monitor room, just across the hall from here.” Martyr ran his keycard through the slot and opened the door. He crossed the hall, peeked into the rectangular window on the door, and snapped back. “Rolo, Johnson, and Erik are in there.”

  Iron Man cracked his knuckles. “I’ll gladly take care of Rolo.”

  Martyr looked around the group and turned to Brain. “You take Erik, I’ll take Johnson. The rest of you help however you can. Ready?”

  The boys all nodded, and Iron Man burst through the door.

  Johnson rose from his chair as Martyr entered. “Look out!”

  Rolo turned and fumbled for his stick. “How’d they get past the—”

  Iron Man knocked Rolo to the floor with one punch. Martyr tried the same with Johnson, but the burly man ducked to the side and whacked Martyr’s arm with his stick. Martyr shrank back, reminded why he rarely fought. Still reeling, he turned to his right, where a mob of boys had ganged up on Erik.

  A shadow appeared on Martyr’s left: Hummer, grabbing Johnson’s neck from behind. In response, the guard spun around and whacked the boy with his stick. Hummer went down into a ball.

  Iron Man stepped beside Martyr. “Allow me.”

  Before Martyr could answer, a crash turned every head. Brain had slammed into a table that held dozens of small monitors and stretched along the back wall. He lay on the floor, limbs shaking, a silent cry on his lips.

  Then Teddy screamed and fell to the floor, his body convulsing. A shiver raced over Martyr.

  The stingers still worked.

  Martyr ran to the end of the table and reached behind the monitors, searching wildly for the tool Dr. Goyer had left. He spun back to Johnson in time to see Iron Man punch the guard several times, attempting to force Johnson off his feet. Then Iron Man went rigid, grunted, as if fighting the sting. Bean Bag, a scrawny J:6, picked up a monitor and smashed it over Johnson’s head. The guard staggered a moment, dropped his stick, and slid to his knees.

  Andre—J:5:1—stood over Erik, watching with a proud grin as two J:5s kicked the unconscious guard over and over. Bean Bag pounded Johnson’s limp body with a stick. The others stood watching, cheering as blood matted Johnson’s scalp.

  Bean Bag dropped the stick and fell to the floor screaming.

  Iron Man went to one knee, still grunting against the electricity shooting into his body. Martyr scanned the room. Who to free first? Half the boys were down, though a few still fought without difficulty. Charlie, the round-headed J:5 who wore only underwear, kicked Erik again. Hyde, the other J:5 kicking Erik, wore only his sweatpants. Neither had shirts.

  “Stop!” Martyr yelled.

  The Jasons froze.

  “Take off your shirts. If they can’t see our numbers, it’s harder for them to activate the stingers.”

  White shirts flew around the room as the remaining boys tossed them to the floor. Martyr counted eight bare-chested boys left. But the Jason he needed most lay on the floor whimpering. Iron Man would be no more help until his stinger was disabled.

  Martyr dug the keycards from his waistband. “Andre?”

  The brawny J:5 stepped forward.

  “Take Hyde and Newton and Schroder to the security room.” Martyr crouched at Andre’s side and clipped off the stinger the way Dr. Goyer had done for him. “Go to the left, and it’s the first door at the end of the hall. There should only be one man in there.” Martyr stepped over to Hyde and clipped his stinger ring. “He’s the one who turns on the stingers. Once you take him down, put him in an isolation room.” Martyr clipped off Newton’s ring, then handed the keycards to Andre. “Go. Quickly. And make sure you take his keycards.”

  The Jasons ran into the hallway.

  Martyr handed the tool to Charlie. “Clip off the rest of the stingers.” Martyr bent over Rolo and pulled the key ring off his belt. Martyr found a similar one on Johnson and Erik, all containing two keycards. He removed Erik’s belt and strapped it on underneath his T-shirt, then hung all the keycard rings on it.

  Once Charlie had cut Iron Man’s stinger off, Iron Man pushed to his feet. “What can I do?”

  “When the rest of you are strong enough, take Johnson, Erik, and Rolo to the isolation r
ooms.”

  Brain stood up. “I’m strong enough now.”

  “Me … too,” said Teddy, who was still sitting on the floor, panting.

  While the boys started dragging the guards toward the door, Martyr turned to the monitors. They showed pictures of everything on the Farm. He saw Andre and Hyde dragging a man out of a door on one monitor.

  He saw the small boys asleep in their beds on another.

  Another one showed Dr. Kane’s spacious office. Dr. Kane sat behind his desk, talking on the phone.

  On another monitor, Dr. Goyer struggled against the straps that held him to the table in a lab room. Martyr’s fists clenched. How had Dr. Kane realized that Dr. Goyer had been helping Martyr? He would have to be freed next.

  Several monitors showed deserted rooms throughout the Farm, including the cafeteria.

  Martyr looked to the next monitor and saw Abby and a man at a desk. His heart leapt, and he put his fingers to her image on the glass. She sat beside Runstrom, the police officer who had turned Martyr over to Dr. Kane. He didn’t look angry with Abby; could he have learned the truth about Jason Farms? Yes, Martyr was sure of it. He was going to help. They would soon be safe.

  Though they weren’t rescued yet. Martyr remembered what he came to do and sought out the computer server. Dr. Goyer had said it was several computers hooked together with wires under the table. He crouched down and spotted the computers against the far wall.

  He crawled to them and sat cross-legged in front. The computer boxes hummed. Martyr pulled the cords out from the wall. The humming noises died. He tugged the first one out from under the table and pulled it into the center of the room, then went back for the next. By the time the Jasons had returned, Martyr had all the boxes in the center of the room.

  “Done,” Andre said. “What now?”

  Martyr returned to the monitors to check each area in case anything had changed. His eyes stopped at an image of the stairwell: A Jason was coming up. He looked to be at least a J:3 or J:4, but it wasn’t Fido, and a quick glance confirmed all the others were here or shown on different monitors. Who is he?

  The mystery Jason turned the corner to climb the next flight, and Martyr caught the number on his sleeve before he stepped out of view.

  J:3:3.

  Martyr felt a wave of dizziness run through his head. When he was able to focus again, he found the Jason using a keycard at the top if the stairwell, trying to get onto level one.

  Martyr tensed. “Lock the door and turn off the light. Now!”

  In the darkness, Martyr watched as the stranger opened the door. But instead of walking confidently through the hall, the fake J:3:3 stepped into the hall and paused, looking like he’d never been to level one before. How could that be? Every Jason made it upstairs at least once a week.

  The Jason finally chose a direction and walked down the hall. Whoever it was, he seemed harmless, but Martyr was afraid to lead the boys to the front and try the elevators with Dr. Kane, Dr. Elliot, and the mystery Jason up there.

  “Turn the lights back on, Andre,” Martyr said.

  When the switch flipped, Martyr saw every Jason was looking at him expectantly.

  “Iron Man?” Martyr removed two sets of keycards off his belt and handed them to Iron Man. “Take everyone downstairs to level two. Enter the double doors that lead to the elevator, then turn right and walk to the end of the hallway. There’s a door there—try the keycards to see if it will open. You and Andre will have to swipe a keycard at the same time. If the door opens, get all the Jasons out and wait for me in the tunnel. Hummer and Bean Bag, stay with me. The rest of you, go with Iron Man.”

  “You heard him,” Iron Man said, sounding like Rolo. The boys obeyed just as quickly as they once would have for the guard and scurried out the door.

  “We need to burn these boxes,” Martyr said to Bean Bag, remembering Dr. Goyer’s instructions. He went back to where Dr. Goyer had hidden the clipper tool, and found the items to help him set the fire. A wide roll of gray tape, a yellow can that said “lighter fluid,” and some matches. He pointed to a box of paper under the desk. “Crumple up that paper and pile it on the computers.”

  Hummer and Bean Bag dragged the box of paper into the center of the room and began to wad it into balls. Martyr took a roll of gray tape, stood on a chair underneath one of the sprinklers, and wrapped tape around it. Dr. Goyer hadn’t been certain this would work, but he’d hoped it would give the fire time to destroy the evidence. Once Martyr had taped all the sprinkler heads, he poured the lighter fluid onto the computer boxes. It smelled terrible, seeming to burn the inside of his nose. He hoped Dr. Goyer’s instructions on how to strike a match would work, and that Dr. Goyer had succeeded in disabling the fire alarms.

  “Can’t you make it go back?” Abby asked Runstrom. The image of a huge fight between Jasons and guards in a room with computers had flashed away and not returned. Instead, the monitor flickered to other locations: an empty hallway, a dark room with sleeping toddlers, then another empty hallway. Abby was thankful, but somewhat horrified, to see Fido’s body lying at the bottom of the slide and no sign of Marty. Did that mean Marty was up with the others, fighting the guards?

  “It’s not me,” Runstrom said. “The monitor flips from camera to camera on a timer. I have no way to control it from— Did you see that?”

  Abby had. The image of Dr. Elliot injecting her father with something had left the screen, but the sliver of fright it left on Abby remained. “How long until it repeats?”

  “Almost a minute. There must be over thirty cameras on this loop.”

  Abby stared at the screen, hoping whatever Dr. Elliot had given her dad was only a sedative. “Any word from Allam?”

  “Not yet.”

  Abby watched the black and white images flashing on the monitor for any sign of her dad or Marty.

  The empty cafeteria. The track. A classroom. An image of a single Jason walking down one of the hallways on level one, a phone pressed to his ear. “That’s him! That’s Marty!” The image flashed away.

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw the number on his sleeve: J:3:3.”

  “Who would he be calling?” Runstrom asked.

  Abby checked her jeans pocket; her phone was still there. “I don’t know. He doesn’t have a cell.”

  “He must have gotten one from someone.” Runstrom tapped his fingernails on the desk. The image on the monitor flashed from one to another until finally landing on the image of Abby’s father.

  She whispered, “Daddy,” but he was gone in a moment. She furrowed her brows. What was Marty up to? Why hadn’t he tried to find her dad yet?

  An image of Dr. Kane sitting in his office, speaking on the phone, flashed by.

  “Maybe the kid is talking to Kane,” Runstrom said.

  Abby scoffed. “How would Marty know the phone number of a secret lab?”

  “Maybe Kane called him.”

  Abby couldn’t shake the feeling she was missing something obvious. To ease her concerns, she went to check on Baby. Shortly after Wesley had brought him a pair of socks and boots, Baby had fallen asleep on the floor in the corner, curled into a ball.

  Runstrom’s agitated voice broke the silence. “The feed’s gone! It’s nothing but fuzz.” He slapped the side of the monitor.

  Abby ran around the desk and stood beside Runstrom. It was true—the screen had gone to salt and pepper. She looked down at her thumbnail and realized there was little left. She glanced at her watch instead.

  The lock expert had been at it a while. The elevator expert was still on his way from Anchorage, and would be at least another fifteen minutes. Her dad was down there, Marty was down there, and they were out of time. She had to do something.

  The CB radio crackled, jolting her heart. “Runstrom? You copy?”

  “I copy you, Allam. You find anything?”

  “Affirmative. We’ve got a storm cellar of some kind. Pitch black down here. We’re getting some lights brought i
n. We’ve also got a vault door, not quite the fortress of that one in the barn, though. Can you spare the locksmith? Over.”

  Runstrom ran his hand over his mouth. “How you coming on that thing, Joe?”

  The locksmith kept working as he answered, “I still got a good ten, fifteen minutes. But I’m not confident it will work. I feel like I’m trying to rob a bank.”

  Runstrom sighed and brought the CB to his mouth. “Allam, I’m sending Joe over to take a look at that door. You send him right back when you’re inside, copy?”

  “I copy. Over.”

  Runstrom led Joe out of the room. Abby quickly set her cell phone on the desk where Runstrom’s phone lay, slipping the officer’s cell into her jeans pocket. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her red phone right away. She felt almost felonious, but this would be the easiest way to call him if she needed to.

  The barn was empty and still dark as she padded through the interior. Abby’s eyes stung from lack of sleep, and she hoped her feet stayed steady. She peered out the open barn door. A handful of cops stood out in the parking lot, corralled around Officer Runstrom as he shouted instructions on how to meet up with Officer Allam.

  Abby hurried to the dumbwaiter and opened the door. She flipped the switch to call it back, but didn’t know what to do next with no one to flip the switch once she was inside.

  Behind her, boots crunched over dried hay. Abby spun around, shocked to see Baby standing before her. “Baby, Marty is still inside. And my dad. I need to go down. Can you help me do that?”

  Baby nodded, grunted, and banged his chest.

  “I’ll get in, and you close the door and flip the switch down, see?” Abby pantomimed each action.

  Again he nodded and banged his chest.

  The dumbwaiter stopped, and Abby tried to climb in. It was much more difficult than it looked, and she was glad Marty had gotten all chivalrous last time. Baby tried to lift her, but he wasn’t strong enough. After many awkward attempts, their pathetic teamwork finally managed to get her inside.

  Abby smiled at Baby before pulling the door closed. The humming started almost immediately.