Two Beating Hearts

by Campbell, Jamie

  I cringed.

  As a member of the President’s Trooper Division, I should have been agreeing with them. I should have mumbled and grumbled about the filthy bags of bones and organs that roamed the shadows of our city.

  But I didn’t agree.

  And that was my secret to hold.

  I choked down the rest of my meal and threw my rubbish in the trash with more force than I intended. The tray clanged loudly against the metal bin. A few people noticed. It was stupid of me. All they needed to do was connect the dots and then my secret wouldn’t be as secret as I needed it to be.

  The other troopers had me riled up and I needed an outlet. If I didn’t do something I was going to pick a fight and that would not have been smart.

  I headed for the gym and picked the last punching bag in the row. I didn’t even bother taping my hands before I started pummeling into the bag.

  Punch after punch I threw at the damn thing. There wasn’t only one trooper I imagined hitting, but all of them. They were all the same, conditioned to think a certain way and the Defectives were the enemy.

  I beat the shit out of the bag until I was soaked in sweat and my knuckles were bruised.

  The anger was still seething beneath my skin.

  Maybe it wasn’t all directed at them. Perhaps I reserved a little for myself. For not being able to forget about Stone’s clone and for feeling this way. Too many times I had wished I could conform and forget about the missions we did.

  I needed to forget their faces.

  Not remember their screams.

  My allegiance should have been to President Stone.

  I shouldered out the door and stepped into the cool night. The chill in the breeze clashed with the drying sweat on my skin and made it feel even colder.

  The base was growing quieter now darkness had fallen. Some groups would have left already for their night missions. The rest would be looking for a soft bed or warm woman. One or the other, or maybe a bit of both.

  I took the steps two at a time before reaching the fifth floor of my barracks. I shared my room with another trooper, Dwyer. I’d never known his first name. They were irrelevant around here.

  Dwyer had the television on when I stepped inside. He was lying on his bed, the hologram projecting in the middle of the room between us. He was so tall his feet all but hung over the end of his mattress.

  President Stone was standing there, projected almost in living color and size. She was only a small woman, at least a foot shorter than myself. Her brown hair was pulled back into a severe bun tied at the base of her skull. Her beady eyes saw everything and revealed nothing.

  This was supposed to be the same woman as the clone.

  But she wasn’t.

  It wasn’t just the age difference, but everything. They stood differently, Stone was confident and outwardly arrogant. Whereas her clone slumped her shoulders, showing her confidence in the set of her jaw and the determination in her eyes.

  Stone was hard, full of sharp edges and dangerous rocks. Her clone was soft, gentle. She was like a little bird that could so easily startle and fly away. How their genes could be exactly the same was beyond my comprehension.

  Maybe that was why I let her go.

  Perhaps I didn’t want her to end up with the same hardness as Stone herself. Maybe my small act of kindness was merely because I hated the real version so much that letting her clone escape was an act of rebellion.

  That had to be it.

  Because letting her go was one of the stupidest things I had ever done and been proud of.

  Dwyer flicked off the television and our room returned to only having real people in it once again. He stared at me. “What?”

  His oversized lips pursed as he studied me. “Nice little act you put on in the mess hall. What was that all about?”

  So I wasn’t just paranoid, people had noticed my trash incident. I played dumb anyway. “What act?”

  “You about burst my eardrums with that tray.”

  “It slipped.”

  “Yeah, right. Remember, I don’t have a clone for some spare ear drums, okay?” He sat up straighter, leaning in closer the way he did when he wanted something to be nice and clear to me. “You want my advice? Be careful. You know what happens to troopers who stand out in the crowd.”

  I did know.

  All too well.

  He threw his pillow at me before picking up his shower gear and heading out. In his own way, Dwyer was looking out for me. There was one unspoken rule on the base and that was to conform at all costs.

  Anyone that stood out attracted unwanted attention. It didn’t have to be obvious to everyone, perhaps a slip up in training or a mouth that said the wrong thing at the wrong time.

  Stone wanted her army to be perfect. She wanted to control us in every aspect. One little slip could cause our superiors to deal with us in ways we could only speculate.

  All I knew was that no-one who received the full extent of their discipline ever came back. They were pulled out of their drills or missions and carted off into the administration building.

  They always went willingly, like lambs to the slaughter. You couldn’t argue with your superiors. Our lives belonged to them the moment we enlisted. Sealed deep within the belly of the building was a contract with our signature on it.

  It may as well have been a death warrant.

  The heads knew we would never fight back. Only the poorest of men enlisted to be a trooper. We didn’t have any other option. It was either starve to death and become a beggar or sign up for the longer version of the death sentence with the troopers. Nobody with money would chose to risk their lives for the president.

  Nobody.

  There were plenty of tales about what happened to the troopers who didn’t conform. When given the right amount of rum after mess hall, some of the guys could spend hours telling stories about the ghosts that haunted the base.

  All ex-troopers, of course.

  They rattled chains and fogged windows, spending eternity roaming around the base where they had signed their lives away in perpetual service. There would be no rest or peace for traitors, so the legend went.

  I never listened to the stories. I didn’t need to. I had firsthand experience.

  My brother had been one of those who never returned.

  Chapter 4: Wren

  The Hills area of Aria City was nestled on the side of Beaumont Mountain. It made up one side of the city and towered high over all the manmade skyscrapers and buildings.

  It was also where the rich people lived.

  If you could afford to live in the Hills then you’d made it. Life didn’t get any better than amongst the high-gated and perfectly manicured lawns of the suburb.

  This was where President Stone had a house mansion.

  I knew from reports I had read in discarded newspapers that Stone mainly spent her time at the presidential complex in the middle of the city. It was a fortress of security within the parliament buildings with no known safety breaches in its history. People joked that not even rats were able to find a way in.

  When she wasn’t in the presidential complex, Stone retreated to her mansion in the Hills. She could look down over the country that she reigned and feel satisfied everyone was under her complete control.

  I hated her.

  The four of us Defectives skulked through the suburb pretending to be as small as possible. We had raided most of the houses on the street we were walking down at some point or another. To get food we had to go to those that stockpiled it. And no-one enjoyed wasting food as much as the rich.

  “Let me carry that,” I said as I took Daisy’s potato sack from her. Her deformity was her right arm. It hung limply at her side with no strength and little movement. If you combined the working parts of all four of us, we just might have made a complete person.

  “Do you think my Maker lives in one of these houses?” she asked as we continued with our long strides. I had to step twice as fast to keep up with them
to accommodate my limp.

  “Your Maker has to be rich, so maybe.”

  “Can you imagine coming face to face with her? It would be totally freaky.”

  I shrugged. “She’d be much older than you so it wouldn’t be like looking in a mirror exactly.”

  “Unless they were cloned as a baby. Some rich people do that,” Daisy commented, her eyes fixed on the luxurious houses we passed by, hidden by the trees lining the road.

  “Okay, that would be freaky,” I conceded. I had to see my Maker’s face in the newspaper, on billboards, on holograms, and in photos every day. Standing face to face with her would be something else entirely.

  I’d kill her.

  The thought popped into my head so suddenly that it took me by surprise. Until I realized it was the truth. It wasn’t only the fact that Stone was hunting me so I could prolong her life, but the knowledge the entire Defective Clone population suffered because of her laws.

  Everything we were was because of her.

  Outcasts, hated, loathed, considered dirty, freaks of nature. We had no rights and were created purely because of her scientists and her law makers.

  She deserved to die.

  Maybe I was defective, and not just on the outside.

  “This is our target for today, boys and girls,” Spider declared as we came to a stop. He gestured to the large three-story house sitting behind a tall fence. A long, winding driveway led up to the garage.

  “What’s the plan?” I asked.

  Spider snorted. “Get in, find the food, get out, and don’t get caught.”

  Sounded like our usual plan.

  We helped hitch each other over the fence before falling into the shadows of the lush garden to get closer to the house. Everything was silent with only our soft footsteps filling the air.

  The garden had to have roses somewhere, the sweet scent was being inhaled into my lungs with every heavy breath I took. It was beautiful, far better than the smell in the village.

  I wanted to bathe in that scent.

  Spider stopped, causing us to fall into line behind him. He pointed to a window and a door at the back of the house. Chances were it was the kitchen but there was no way to tell for sure without going through it.

  Our little group tiptoed across the lawn, keeping low and moving quickly. If any one of us were caught, it would be the last thing we did. Our organs would be in the deep freeze by sundown.

  We hit the side of the house and pressed ourselves against it, as flat as pancakes. It meant we had to walk sideways but it was the only way to minimize our exposure.

  Spider reached the window first. He carefully peeked through while every nerve in our bodies prepared to run. Being this close to Makers was nerve-wracking. I didn’t even know why I had agreed to come so soon after a raid. I was never on my best game after the troopers had come through.

  He put up two fingers – the sign for all clear – and we kept creeping along until we reached the door. I held my breath while Spider tried the knob. It turned and he carefully pushed it inward. Before long he was completely inside.

  Two fingers jutted out of the door.

  We followed him inside.

  It wasn’t exactly the kitchen but a breakfast nook off it. Close enough. We spread out, tiptoeing around so we didn’t draw any attention. The kitchen was said to be the heart of a home, it was quite often the most trafficked area by a family. Therefore it was the most dangerous room to sneak around in.

  Daisy and I made it to the pantry – a large, walk-in room surrounded by shelves of food. It was like striking a goldmine. I picked up as many cans and packets as I could, shoving them into my pockets and the dirty potato sack.

  Anything that looked edible went in.

  When my sack was filled and heavy from the stolen goods, I started wandering. The house was large, even bigger than our shanty village.

  There wasn’t a trace of dirt or death anywhere. Perfect white furniture was placed delicately around white walls. Soft cushions rested on the couch in the living room, inviting the occupants to take a seat and rest for a while.

  I could only imagine what it would be like to live in a place like that. To have proper walls and a ceiling. A floor that wasn’t made out of mud and earth.

  All our Makers would live in a house like that.

  Mine lived in a palace.

  My feet took me into a room off the living area. It was a bedroom, a large bed dominating the space. The white linen was embroidered with delicate pink flowers. Everything looked so perfect and pristine that I wondered whether the owner was ever scared of living there. Did they worry about damaging the perfection? Mucking up the room and never being able to get it right again?

  My fingers slid over the chest of drawers as I looked at the photographs framed on top. One was of an older woman and a young girl – mother and daughter? Whose room was it? Which one of them? Neither?

  I guess I’d never know.

  In the middle of the drawers was a crystal dish with jewelry carelessly thrown in. A gold brooch with a pink stone in the middle caught the sunlight just before I picked it up.

  The light filtered through the stone and turned it into a million rainbows. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Something I could get lost in forever if it continued to sparkle the way it did.

  It wasn’t big – the brooch was only the size of a quarter – but it was so beautiful that it didn’t need to be. Anyone looking at it would know how wonderful it was without it needing to declare its own beauty.

  Somewhere in the house, something thudded.

  My heart stopped beating.

  I stepped out of the room and found everyone still in the kitchen. We all looked at each other, silently communicating our panic. When everyone heard the same noise, it was impossible to chalk it up to a trick of the mind or hearing things that weren’t there.

  This was real.

  There was somebody in the house.

  We started running. Spider stood by the back door, making sure we were all through before following us out. Each of us retraced our steps to the front gate.

  “Hey! What are you doing?” a female yelled at us. One glance at the house and I could see her. She was older, at least sixty, with gray hair and glasses. She held up a fist as she started to run across the lawn toward us.

  “Come on. Move it or lose it, boys and girls,” Spider urged.

  I threw my sack over the fence, hoping the knot I’d tied would hold tight. There would be no time to pick up strays once we were over.

  Spider held out his hand and I stepped on, accepting the hoist over the fence. My good leg went over first, pulling me over the fence so my bad foot only had to follow.

  I landed on the ground with a thump. There was no time to worry about injuries yet. Daisy came next, followed lastly by Spider. The woman was at the fence by then. All she could do was threaten us.

  “I’m calling the troopers. I know what all of you look like. They’ll be coming after you!”

  Her voice carried all the way down the street.

  “Stupid woman, all she has to do is order her servants to buy more food,” Daisy muttered as soon as we could slow our pace. “I bet she’s never even been hungry in her whole life.”

  “We still took her stuff,” Spider replied, shrugging. “I’d be mad if someone stole all my food.”

  “We wouldn’t have to steal if they treated us like humans.”

  “Ah, but there’s the problem, Dais. We’re not human.” He nudged her with his shoulder, trying to make a joke. Whatever he did, Daisy always smiled and quit her grumbling.

  I think all Spider had to do was grin at her and she would melt.

  It was easier staying invisible in amongst the trees and between buildings when we were all quiet. Nobody said a word without whispering and only then it was directions or warnings.

  We made it back to the village and immediately split up so we wouldn’t be seen together. It was always best to have no witnesses after doing a raid.
Just in case the guards or troopers really did come after us. You never knew who was in the president’s close circle of friends.

  I hurried to get back to the shack I shared with Rocky. We had a false floor at one side. What looked like a dirty hessian sack was really the cover. I pulled it up and stuffed the stolen food in the hole before covering it again. It wasn’t exactly safe but better than nothing.

  Troopers liked nothing more than stealing back anything we stole.

  “Quite a haul.” Rocky’s voice startled me. I hadn’t heard him sneak up on me. My heart was beating a whole new fast rhythm.

  “I got a full sack. We’ll be eating for a little while, at least.” I straightened up and waited for the lecture about how I didn’t tell him where I was going, that I should have taken him, and it was stupid going into the city.

  He always lectured, but he never refused the food.

  “You shouldn’t have gone,” he started. I braced myself.

  “Daisy asked me. I didn’t want her going alone. You know what she’s like, she’ll get herself in trouble one day.”

  “Spider wasn’t with you?”

  “He doesn’t pay enough attention to her,” I replied, so ready for the conversation to be over. It was all moot anyway, we’d been and returned. We couldn’t change history.

  “Just tell me next time, okay?” Rocky’s big brown eyes studied me. There was no way I could say no to him. Everything he did and said was to protect me.

  “I will.” I nodded and tried on a smile, hoping it looked convincing.

  “Is your foot okay?”

  “It was only a bit of walking. I’m fine.”

  He didn’t believe me but wasn’t going to call me out over my lie. Rocky left me as one of his friends called him over. I sat on the floor of our shack, finally taking my hand out of my pocket. It had been in there since we left the house. My fingers uncurled, revealing the pink brooch in the palm of my hand.

  I shouldn’t have taken it.

  We weren’t allowed to own things.

  If the troopers found out I had it, they would kill me without hesitation. My organs would be in the deep freeze before I could beg for mercy. There would be no questions or trial. I would be guilty without any doubt.