Two Beating Hearts

by Campbell, Jamie

  “You’re back,” Dwyer said, sitting up straighter on his bed. He was watching a hologram, the colors splayed in the middle of the room like a rainbow.

  “I went for a walk.”

  “Malone is looking for you. You have to report to the admin building immediately.”

  They knew.

  They had to know everything or they would not have been summoning me to Block A. People rarely returned when called in and they were probably far less guilty than I was.

  “Did they say why?” I asked, rubbing the back of my neck. It didn’t help relieve the tension or knot of muscles.

  Dwyer shrugged. “It was a need to know situation and I didn’t need to know. You know what they’re like.”

  “Yeah, I do. Thanks.”

  “Good luck,” he called out as I was halfway out the door.

  I should have run. The thought crossed my mind more than a dozen times as I returned down the long hallways. The same comrades that had watched me enter now stood around to watch me leave.

  They knew.

  They all knew.

  I wouldn’t even get to make a public spectacle out of myself by being dragged away while everyone watched. I was sacrificing myself, saving them the trouble of finding me.

  Running would have been smart.

  But I didn’t run.

  Not now, not ever.

  My thoughts flittered to Wren as I reached the building. If I was walking toward my death or imprisonment I would not be able to help her. She would never get out of the city without assistance. I was giving her the same sentence.

  I needed to stop thinking about her.

  Nodding my head at the receptionist while she finished up her phone call, I waited and tried to calm my heart rate. Acting guilty was the worst thing I could do for myself. If they didn’t have any proof of my betrayal then I might be able to talk my way out of the charge.

  Now I was delusional.

  “You can go in now, Corporal Thompson,” the reception said sweetly. I bet she had no idea what went on in the office behind her. She probably went home to her pencil-pushing husband and two-point-three children. She probably believed the fairytales she read to them at bedtime.

  I let myself into Malone’s office to find him standing behind his oversized mahogany desk. Everything in his office was for show, silently screaming to the world how important he was.

  He was delusional too. Everybody knew he was only a puppet for President Stone.

  “Ah, Corporal Thompson, you’re alive,” he said, gesturing toward the chair across from his. He took a seat and I did the same. His chair was higher than mine, ensuring he looked down on me no matter our heights.

  “You wanted to see me, sir.”

  “I did. Where have you been?”

  “I went for a walk around base, sir,” I lied, for the second time. I guess, technically, it was true. But the walk wasn’t the purpose of my outing.

  Malone linked his fingers on his desk, resting his head on the apex as he studied me. He was trying to use the silence to elicit more information from me. Why try to trap me when I could do it myself?

  I wasn’t going to play that game.

  We sat in silence, enduring the unbearable test of resolve. Little did he know I was happy to wait there all night without one word slipping through my lips if it meant I would eventually leave and return to my room.

  Malone blinked first. He lost. I won. “I suppose you’d like to know why I have called you here this evening.”

  “I did wonder, sir.”

  “Did you hear what happened to Rickards?”

  Do not look guilty.

  “I was in the mess hall when he was summoned and charged with being a traitor,” I replied evenly. My heart was beating a restful pattern, sufficiently under control for now.

  He sat back, making himself more comfortable behind his desk. It was clear this was his territory, not mine. He held the power here, nobody else. “There’s been some gossip around the base. Some people think he wasn’t acting alone.”

  So that’s what he suspected me of? Helping Rickards? He was skirting around the truth like a skittish kitten. But if he did suspect I was involved somehow, he could easily have had me followed.

  And if I was followed today…

  He would know a lot more than I wanted him to.

  “I don’t listen to gossip, sir,” I replied, completely void of emotion. I needed to know what he knew before saying anything else. I wished he would get to the accusation already so I could figure out my approach.

  “Maybe you should. Sometimes idle gossip is the best source of information,” Malone started conversationally. “Is it not arguable that all our intel is nothing more than mere gossip? Someone heard something here, saw someone talking to someone else there. Not all gossip is foolish, soldier.”

  “No, sir.”

  “So have you heard any good gossip lately?” He asked the question like he wasn’t interested in the answer. When, in fact, I could see the slight sheen of sweat on his upper lip. He was hanging on my every word.

  “Like I said, sir, I don’t listen to gossip. I am too busy with my missions and being the best trooper I can be. Keeping our president and her city safe is my only priority.”

  His sweaty lips pursed as they bit together. I was displeasing him, to put it mildly. Whatever he thought I knew wasn’t coming out. But the truth was I didn’t know anything. Not about anyone else, only my own traitorous actions. And I wasn’t about to give them up.

  “Nothing at all?” he continued to press.

  “Nothing, sir.”

  His hands clasped together, his knuckles turning a shade of white. “Tell me what you know about Corporal Redman.”

  The question took me back for a moment. Corporal Redman was a man in my troop. We had undertaken at least a hundred missions together. He was likeable and friendly. I would have been surprised if anyone had a bad word to say about him.

  “Corporal Redman is a good trooper,” I replied honestly. “He is easy to get along with and an asset to the army. I enjoy working alongside him.”

  This seemed to annoy Malone too. His knuckles continued their albino quest. “Do you think his loyalties truly lie with President Stone and Aria City?”

  He really thought Redman was the cat amongst the pigeons? Whoever he was getting his information from was severely misinformed.

  “I believe so, sir.”

  “Lying to a superior is a punishable offence, Corporal.”

  “Yes, sir. But I’m not lying. I can’t believe Redman would be a traitor. His loyalties are true and strong.”

  He studied every one of my features, trying to find the truth and whatever I might be hiding. He was going to get nothing. Not from me, anyway.

  It only added to my guilt knowing they were looking into Redman and not me. If anyone deserved to be called into Block A and given the third degree, it was yours truly. Not a good bloke like him.

  “I want you to do something for me,” Malone continued. “Keep your eyes and ears open. If there is anything suspicious out there, anything at all, I want to be the first to know about it. You got that, Corporal?”

  “Yes, sir.” Like hell that would happen.

  “Good. You are dismissed.” He waved me away like I was an ugly fly on his radar.

  Leaving the office at a steady pace, I made sure my relief was not visible on the outside. I would give nobody a reason to suspect me of anything except being a textbook trooper.

  I had to be more careful about my actions. It wasn’t just the fact I had snuck off base tonight to meet with a Resister, but the way I wasn’t saying the right things around the right people too. One dickhead like Watson could easily run to Malone and air his suspicions.

  I was not foolish enough to believe I was the only one Malone had asked to be a spy. There was no getting around the fact I was surrounded by them.

  Eyes and ears were everywhere.

  And they didn’t need any proof for a convic
tion.

  I needed to get Wren out of my head for once and for all. Joseph was right, she was too dangerous. I had to leave her alone.

  Come what may.

  Chapter 9: Wren

  “I’d walk right into the capital building and demand to see the president,” Rocky said as we walked. He threw his fist into the air, miming what he would do if he was a human.

  My desires were a little less political. “I’d go to a supermarket and buy food.”

  Rocky kicked a stone and sent it skittering along the road. “I’d never be hungry again.”

  It was nice to imagine what it would be like if we were human. How the world would treat us differently and what it must be like for all the humans that co-existed right beside us. Even simply being a Valid Clone would have been a step up. As it was we were the lowest rung on the ladder. Not even that, really. We were the mud the ladder stood on.

  “Wren, can I ask you a question?” Rocky asked quietly, in the tone that always worried me.

  “You know you can,” I replied. I linked my arm through his, keeping him close and letting him know I was there for him. He could have asked me anything and I would answer honestly.

  “Do you ever wish you weren’t created?”

  No thought was needed for my answer. “Sometimes. But if I didn’t exist then I wouldn’t know you. And I love knowing you, Rock. We’re here, we exist, we have to deal with that.”

  “Not if Stone got her hands on us.”

  “No. But I’m not planning on allowing that to happen.” I playfully punched him on the arm. We were in dangerous wallowing territory and I didn’t want Rocky to go there. He deserved happiness.

  Not… this.

  Whatever it was.

  The sound of footsteps grabbed my attention and held me hostage while I strained to hear where they were. I pulled Rocky against the wall, placing a finger over my lips in a shushing motion.

  We merged into the shadows while the troopers came into view. There were four of them, all walking in perfect alignment. Their profiles were hard, unreadable. Whatever they were doing in that part of the city was anyone’s guess.

  One profile looked more familiar than the others.

  Reece.

  He was in the back pair of the formation, holding his gun and setting his jaw with determination. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I had to gasp for air.

  All troopers were dangerous, but one that knew me by name was even more so. I had been foolish being so candid with him. No matter what pretty words he spun for me, I shouldn’t have said a word.

  I should have run.

  Trying to be invisible was impossible but Rocky and I did our best. We made no movements, barely breathed for fear it would attract attention.

  Then he saw me.

  For a moment, just one little moment, Reece looked at me. Our eyes locked together before glancing away. My heart pounded in my chest, pushing my blood through my veins way too harshly. I was going to explode as it roared in my head.

  I waited for Reece to say something, to stop his comrades and announce our presence. We wouldn’t be able to outrun four of them in such close proximity. We would be dead before morning.

  But he didn’t.

  Reece snapped his head forward, all signs of recognition completely gone from his face. He was a trooper again, that single moment of softness was hardened back to a crisp shell.

  They continued their marching down the street and eventually turned a corner. “We need to get off the streets,” I whispered.

  Rocky let out a long sigh. “You think?”

  We crept away in the opposite direction of the troopers. We’d had too many close calls already, suffered too many injuries. We needed to get out of sight and we needed to do it quickly.

  There were only two real options, we either had to go up… or down.

  The sewers of Aria were a complicated maze of tunnels. They reeked with the stench of discarded waste and were infested by rats as big as family pets.

  But they were our best shot at hiding.

  “We need to head for the sewers,” I said. It was a fact, not a suggestion or choice. Rocky understood, giving me a nod as we changed course.

  Most of the manholes into the sewer were bolted shut by the city. They had swept through with a seeker gun only a few months before and ensured only those with keys could access the system by that means.

  They said it was for safety purposes.

  The Defective Clones knew better.

  Thanks to the city council and their forethought, we had to walk an extra five blocks before we found a suitable entrance. It was a drainage hole, designed to give excessive rainwater a chance to escape and run for freedom.

  We had to double over to slither into the tunnel. The ground was wet, slippery, and gave off the stench of long-stagnant putrid water. My hand instinctively covered my nose as I tried to breathe through my mouth.

  The air tasted like decay.

  The sloshing of our feet stirred the aroma as we trudged on. Even with two working feet it would have been difficult to keep a firm grip on the ground. With one gimp foot it was nearly impossible. I held onto Rocky to stay upright.

  It was completely black in the tunnels. The shadows could have hidden untold monsters and demons. Or, more likely, hungry rodents that weren’t concerned about whether their food was alive or dead.

  I kept a guiding hand on the side of the tunnel, the other with Rocky. If we got separated down there it would be impossible to find one another again. I was certain the tunnels could go on forever and ever.

  The drip drip drip of water in the distance steadily grew louder. It had to be coming from up above somewhere. A drain that swept rain from precious city streets into the sewers to be forgotten.

  Much like us.

  We had to be walking for miles before I heard the voice. It was only whispers at first, so quiet I wondered if I was hearing things. As we continued our endless trek, it steadily grew until I could mold the whispers into words and read them like puzzles.

  I pulled on Rocky’s hand, successfully getting him to stop. We listened for a few moments before the voice stopped. The silence left us in an eerie suspense like we might not even be living ourselves anymore.

  Then it started again.

  We walked slowly and carefully, not sure if the voice belonged to a friend or foe yet. Chances were it was a foe, someone who would take great delight in turning us over to the troopers.

  But… we were in the sewers. The humans rarely went underground in order to hunt for Defective Clones. They had far better things to do with their lives than worry about us.

  Unless they were sick.

  Then they hunted for their Defective relentlessly.

  Our footsteps echoed in the concrete tunnels, the noise bouncing around us until we couldn’t be sure they were even ours anymore. Too many times my ears played tricks on me, making it seem like there were troopers everywhere.

  It was not a good place for the paranoid.

  Or scared.

  Or hunted.

  A spot of light danced along the walls in front of us. Rocky stopped dead in his tracks as if the light beam might burn him alive.

  The voice started its garbled warbling again, much closer this time. Tracing the light back to its source, I saw it was coming from a flashlight. And firmly in the hands of an old man.

  If it wasn’t impossible, I would have put his age at easily two hundred. He bore his mass of wrinkles like someone that had seen many, many years. Instead of wisdom, the years had given him a burden that he wore on his hunched back and shoulders.

  He only had one arm.

  He was a Defective Clone.

  “Sir,” I began quietly, afraid I would startle him. “We are like you. We won’t hurt you.”

  He brought the flashlight to his face, illuminating his worn features. His eyes were milky white with cataracts, I doubted whether he could even see us let alone hear us.

  “Who are y
ou? What do you want? The rocks are full of ears and will attack if they think you’re one of them,” he said, waving his one arm wildly to punctuate every word.

  Rocky stepped closer. “My name is Rocky and this is Wren. We’re Defectives, like you.”

  The man looked us up and down before launching into a tirade of words. “We’re not defective, they’ve got it wrong. We have every right to be here as them. They lie. They lie about everything to keep us on the ground. That’s where they like us, they don’t want us to realize the truth. It would be terrible for them. Devastating, horrible, all because they lied to us.”

  He continued with his rant as his voice grew quiet and more withdrawn, drawing the words back to him like a bungee cord. I wanted to calm him somehow, reassure the old man that everything was alright.

  But my words would be lying too.

  Apparently he had a problem with liars.

  “Sir, calm down,” I said, hoping my voice would soothe if not my words. “Do you live here, in the sewers?”

  His gaze drifted from the floor to stare into my eyes. I suspected he saw more than I initially gave him credit for. With him staring so intently at me, I felt like he could see right into my brain at all my confused thoughts.

  “It’s not going to last much longer. Do you know that, girl? Not much longer at all. We’re going to fight back. All of us. There’s more than they realize. They never kept count,” he said, with more conviction than many people I had spoken with recently.

  “Who’s going to fight back?” I asked.

  Rocky pulled at my arm. “Wren, we should go. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. It’s all nothing but nonsense. We’re wasting time.”

  “We don’t have anywhere to be,” I reminded him. “Talking for a few minutes isn’t going to change or hurt anything.”

  “But—”

  His words were cut off as the old man continued on, regardless of whether we were listening or not. “The resistance is strong. We’re going to slaughter them all. The city will be ours, we’ll take back what we’re due. No more hiding. No more murders. No more hunger. I’m so hungry, it’s always the same. Every day. Every long day.”