by SF Benson
Tru
I’m dumbstruck. Too many revelations at once—ethnic cleansing, and now, I have a clone.
What’s the proper response when introduced to your clone? Clones aren’t supposed to exist outside of science fiction. I gawk at the facsimile, proof of the New Order’s plan to replace humans with replicas. Tinkering with God’s design has consequences. Man destroyed the environment… enough said.
I stand beside Taa, shaking my head, refusing to believe our country wants to do this to its citizens.
“How was she created?” I ask in a low, faltering voice and sit down on the sofa.
“Scientists extract DNA from the database and create the clone. Shara isn’t a carbon copy of you. She’s one of the Perfected Clones using altered DNA.”
So I was correct about Tai Barraza, the gifted violinist sidelined by the vaccine. She was a neighbor before my family moved to the ‘A’ Towers. After she received the vaccine, she was never the same. Now, I know why.
She really wasn’t the same. The government replaced her with… a clone.
I twirl my hair around my finger. “Taa, what happens to the real person?”
Taa’s hand brushes my arm. “The clones are real people. The program refers to the asset as the Alpha and the clone as the Omega. Unfortunately, changes in the program require all new Alphas to be eliminated.”
Eliminated. I scrape my sweaty hands down my pants legs. Civilized people don’t do these things. “You mean killed. The government is murdering people.”
Her beautiful dark eyes, reminiscent of Zared’s eyes, stare into mine. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. I promise.”
He said those same words to me. I believed him back then, and look where I landed. Should I believe her? “What about the Helix?”
“As far as I know, they’re alive,” she says plainly.
“What’s the deal with my clone?”
“We’re going to use Shara to extricate you.”
Shara. She has my middle name.
“How?” The word sticks in my throat.
“You’ll switch places with Shara. I’ll talk to her and prep her for what will happen. Holden won’t tell the difference immediately. And when he does, it’ll be too late.”
I bring my legs up to my chest and drop my head. Clones assuming the lives of people… This is all wrong. Are citizens so easily duped? Replacing people like items on a store shelf. The New Order’s plans are nefarious.
I lift my head. “What about you? Won’t Holden be—”
“Upset with me? Most definitely. But he won’t dare harm me. My knowledge is too valuable to him and the government.”
“What about Shara? What happens to her?”
Taa speaks, but the words escape me. My mind is racing with possible scenarios of what the New Order might do with their clones. Can they be programmed to commit murder? Infiltrate the governments of other countries?
She grasps my shoulders. “I need you to focus.”
I blink. “What did you say?”
“Uploading Intrepid and your arrest insured Shara would never leave this compound. The public thinks you’re dead. It would be a little awkward for her to show up now,” she says. “She’ll live out her days here within the compound.”
It seems unfair. What will happen once Holden finds out? Will he harm her? Then I remember Gliese. She doesn’t belong here, either. “What about the other girl who’s being held? The one with red hair?”
“What about her?” Taa sits back.
“Can you get her out, too?”
Taa scrunches her face momentarily and then releases it. A deep sigh emanates from her. “I can’t promise you anything. You’re my only concern.”
I wander over to the desk and examine the picture of Shara. Thanks to the New Order hacking with our DNA, our differences lie on the inside. How is it possible to remove traits from DNA? Those things aren’t like fingerprints, which can be burned away. This practice has to stop before all Creatives are obliterated, robbing the world of artists, musicians, and the like.
But this goes deeper than saving Creatives. The New Order can target any group of citizens—Purebreds, certain Hybrids, those with contradicting sexual orientation—and decide to obliterate them. It’s heinous.
“This is your husband’s doing,” I say, my tone deepening.
“It wasn’t just Katsuo,” she says. “Remember, the country is run by a team of scientists. Engineering mankind is their plan for creating a perfect world.”
My hands carve through my hair. “You told me all that. Other than creating a gene pool for clones, how does creativity fit into this?”
“Scientists consider creativity unimportant, a defect which can be eliminated,” she answers.
“Creativity isn’t an illness, disease, or a bad gene. It’s a unique trait. It makes us who we are,” I say, pounding the desk with my fist.
“I agree with you.” Taa covers my hand with hers. “Scientists teamed up with a group of educators and manufactured evidence, proving people were better off embracing STEM education. Throughout history, there’s documentation about how man has shunned the arts in favor of other pursuits. They used it to push through the research.”
These people piss me off. Who are they to decide who has relevance in society? My unique design is God given. No amount of tinkering can create a soul. Scientists can’t manufacture personality.
Taa drops her hand and continues, “Clones are being slipped into society unknown to the public. It’s easier to do it with young adults like yourself.”
“How?” I ask, clenching my fists.
She glances at me and says, “Calm down. I understand your anger. Just—”
I stare back. “Tell me!”
Taa’s forehead wrinkles. She twists her hands together before continuing. “Young adults receive the vaccine. When they start exhibiting odd behavior—”
“Acting like a two-year-old?”
“Yes. The CHA steps in and assures the parents solutions exist to help the teen recover lost memories and skills. The parents willingly take them to a facility where they stay for a week. At the end of the week, the parents unknowingly take home a clone.”
I lean against the desk, light-headed from this latest piece of news. “And you said the assets are killed?”
“Yes. When the program first started, the Alphas were maintained in government housing and treated like royalty. Someone decided only the Helix was necessary for survival. Now, DNA is harvested, and the Alphas are euthanized.”
The floor sways, and my legs buckle. I collapse onto the chair. “What will happen to Shara if Holden figures it out?”
Taa stands beside me, stroking my hair. “Don’t fret, my dear. Only worry about getting out of here. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
Not a sufficient answer. I don’t like the idea of Shara risking her life for me. Clones are designed, but they’re still flesh and blood. Just because she started life in a petri dish doesn’t make her any less human.
“When do we do it?” I mutter.
“In two days. I need time to arrange it. I’ll plan a little errand for Holden. He’ll think it came from someone else. When he leaves, we’ll make the switch.”
I grasp her wrist, stopping her fingers from rubbing my hair. “Taa, tell him I want my mother’s wedding dress recreated. He’ll need the picture from my apartment. It’s in my parent’s room on the nightstand. He won’t want anyone else to retrieve it. It’ll give us enough time.”
Taa’s phone buzzes. I notice Holden’s name on the screen before she picks it up.
“Yes, of course,” she says distantly. “In an hour. She’ll be there.”
She disconnects and walks over to her closet.
“What did Holden want?”
“He’s requested a formal dinner with you.” Taa places a red dress on her bed. “You should shower. He’s expecting you in an hour.”
I sense hesitation on her part. Cautiously I ask, “What’s the problem, Taa?”
She sighs. “Not a problem. You just need to be careful with him. He’s a cunning man capable of anything.”
Taa worries too much. Holden can be reasoned with. “It’ll be fine, Taa. We’ll have a pleasant dinner and talk. I might even get him to forget about having his uncle come here.”
I turn on the water and start to undress. Holden Pratt may be many things, but I believe he’s civilized. He likes to hear himself talk. So I’ll let him talk until he’s tired of his own voice. In the end, though, he’ll see I’m right. After all, I convinced him to retrieve my things. Getting a few more days before the wedding should be a piece of cake.
“What’s right with the New Order? Nothing! Our illustrious leaders created a government which lacks a representative amendment process. It lacks a system of checks and balances. The leaders altered the limits of federal power. Everything about this government stands against our original constitution. The New Order is evil masquerading as good! Restore our country! Abolish the New Order!”
—From The Alliance Manifesto
Zared
The rich scent of roasted coffee beans wafts past my nose as I shuffle my ass into the frigid living room. Four o’clock in the fucking morning. I hate starting my day before the sun rises. Hopefully, Asher found something other than cans of spaghetti for breakfast. I plop down on the sofa and tug a musty smelling blanket over my shoulders.
“Morning, dude.” Asher greets me wearing his usual fatigues. The guy can’t give up the attire even being AWOL.
I scrub a hand over my prickly jaw. “Not yet, man. Moon’s still out.”
He grins lopsidedly. “Best time for planning.”
I glance at the ceiling. Riza has an unhealthy obsession with wanting to plan every facet of life. I suppose it’s essential in certain circumstances, but I don’t like it. “Have you spoken to Mark today?”
“Not yet, but I did get a message from my contact on the inside. Tru’s getting help to escape. There’s some big event going down in the next few days,” he explains. “She has to get out before it happens.”
I narrow my eyes. “Who’s the contact?”
“No clue. We’ve never met. Not my pay grade.”
Asher hands me a mug of coffee. I savor the warmth on my hands before taking a gulp.
“What’s the event?” I ask.
“Don’t know that either, dude. Contact didn’t say anything else.” He sits across from me.
“You can’t tell me the contact nor the event. Can you trust your intel?”
Asher takes a sip from his mug. “Without a doubt. I do know my contact’s with the Alliance.”
The muscles in my face tighten. “Then, it’s a trap. I don’t trust any of them.”
“You can trust my contact.” He takes another sip.
I down the last of my coffee. “What’s our next move, Ash? We can’t sit here forever. We gotta reach North Woods before Leon and Griffin.”
“I hear ya. Sunrise, we head out. Ko’s still asleep.”
How the hell…
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s the plan for her? She needs to rehab.”
“In time.” Asher drops his eyes for a moment and then looks at me. “Listen, Ko’s kind of fragile right now. It’s going to be some time before she can rehab.”
“You talking PTSD?”
“Maybe. Doctors told me to go easy with her. Back in the hospital, she was having nightmares. They were pretty bad. I started staying with her. If I’m there when she wakes up, she seems okay.”
I rub a hand over my face. What the hell can I say to that? “You sure she should be here now?”
“She’ll be fine. As long as I’m with her.” Asher’s gaze bounces around the room.
We’ve been friends for years. In all that time, he never hid anything from me. Even when I left the Corps, he kept me informed. Why is he keeping secrets now?
“Who’ll be fine?” Ko asks from behind me.
“Morning, sunshine,” Asher says.
Sunshine?
She sits beside me and pulls the blanket over her. “When do we head out?”
“How ‘bout some breakfast first? Coffee?” Asher suggests with his eyes fixed on her.
Ko is grinning from ear to ear. Something’s up between the two of them.
She stares at Asher. “Coffee with heavy cream and sugar.”
Asher jumps to his feet and heads for the kitchen.
Could they… Naw. I do not want to go there.
“You feeling better this morning?” I ask Ko.
“As good as I’m going to get.” Ko lowers her voice, “Don’t say anything to Asher, but I don’t feel like myself.”
“Ko, it’s only been… what… not even two weeks. Give yourself time to heal.”
She shudders. “I can’t grip a weapon. I’ve tried. My hand just shakes.”
Damn. Not the news we need. This mission requires all of us. Maybe it’s the real reason Asher involved Mark Carter.
“You didn’t rehab. We’ll get you stronger if it’s what you want.”
Ko looks back at the kitchen. “You’re probably right. I just need time.”
“Time for what?” Asher asks, coming back into the room.
Her eyes plead with me to stay quiet. “Just wondering if there’s time to take a shower before we leave.”
“Yeah. Go ahead. I put water on for breakfast.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Please tell me it’s not oatmeal.”
“My not telling you won’t change the fact,” he says.
“Instant?” I’ve never been fond of oatmeal, especially the instant-sawdust variety packs.
“Yup.” He leans over the sofa and speaks to Ko. “Like, what did I miss?”
“Nothing.” She smiles up at him. “I just told Zared I should practice shooting.”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get you rehabbed. In the meantime, we’ve got you covered,” Asher says, squeezing her uninjured shoulder.
“That’s what Zared said.” She gives me the blanket and stands up. “I’m going to shower.”
I wait until I hear the door click. “What’s going on, Asher?”
“Keep an eye on the water. I’ll be back.”
I watch Asher walk down the hall and slip into Ko’s room. I’ll be damned.
“I’m fighting worldwide pandemics and you can too. Get inoculated today!”
—An announcement from the Centers for Human Advancement
Tru
I arrive at Holden’s room with my stomach in knots. Taa’s form-fitting red dress and matching stilettos display my body provocatively. It’s not a look I welcome, but he requested it. My hand is poised to knock on the door, but I’m seriously reconsidering this. Makeup, straightened hair… it’s like I’m trying to make an impression. I just want to bargain for more time before the wedding and maybe get him to trust me a little.
Holden greets me at the door with a flute of champagne. His lips curl like the flames in one of Leonid Afremov’s ardent oil paintings. A subtle reminder that he’s a devil. Keep my guard up.
“You look nice,” he says and closes the door behind me. Dark instrumental music plays softly in the background.
“So do you.” The tailored, dark gray suit does look nice on him, but it doesn’t change his overall appearance. He resembles a hungry vulture swooping down on a tasty, helpless morsel. My hands begin sweating.
A linen-covered table with lit candles is in front of the fireplace. Two place settings sit side by side.
“Shall we?” Holden is waiting to escort me to the table.
Cautiously, I slip my hand around his elbow. I take my seat and the glass of champagne. The sweet, golden liquid tickles my nose and throat. I lower the glass and say, “Why did you ask me here?”
Holden sits next to me and places his hand over mine. “I thought we’d have a celebratory dinner since you’ve had a change of heart.”
“Oh,” I say softly.
“Unfortunately
, I don’t believe it’s genuine.” Doubt oozes from his voice like a festering wound.
Suddenly, I want to move my hand away from his. I scan the table. The sharpest thing is a butter knife, but if need be I can make the fork serve my purpose. “I’m sorry you doubt me.”
“Perhaps you should try harder to convince me.” Slowly, his eyes sweep over me. I feel exposed.
Ice trickles down my spine. “What can I say to prove it?”
Holden licks his lips. “It’s not words I seek.”
Reality dawns on me. I was wrong thinking this man could be reasoned with. For some stupid-ass reason, I believed Holden might be a good man hiding behind a façade. Our few conversations hinted at the possibility of a decent person who made terrible choices to survive in a cruel world. Not the case at all.
My gaze darts to the door and then back to the fork underneath my palm. Don’t panic. Those were always Cris’ words when he trained me. My brother said I needed to keep my wits about me in order to make it out of dangerous spots alive.
The metal presses into my hand. “I came here to talk, Holden. Nothing else.”
He grabs my wrist and snarls, “So I’m right? You don’t want to marry me.”
I glance down and hiss, “Let go of me.”
Holden squeezes my flesh. “Answer my question.”
“I said I’ll marry you. That hasn’t changed. Let. Me. Go.”
A look of anger flashes across his face. I’m reminded of the rumors about Holden—his cruelty with women. I don’t plan on becoming his next victim.
I’m surprised when he drops his hand and stands up. Holden strides over to the king-sized throne of a bed. He removes his jacket and tie. “If you’re sincere, then let’s stop playing games. Prove you desire to be my wife.”
The path to the door is clear. I seriously doubt, however, that he’ll let me make a run for it. Reluctantly, I stand up and approach him. How the hell do I get out of this? “I thought we’d wait until our wedding night.”
“Please,” he sneers. “We both know your virtue isn’t an issue.”
I look at the bed. This isn’t what I had in mind. Talking, negotiating… those were the things I thought would happen. Not this.
