Clone Killers

by Raylan Kane

  To be clear, I arrived at the Haker as a prisoner of a circumstance I did not choose. I have taken over and changed this place into a healing temple for the damned; a wellness center of another kind. I have turned the Haker into a kingdom of my own making – out from under the High Council’s thumb. The stadium is at maximum capacity tonight, the condemned scream for their retribution, they scream for the one who will give it to them.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  I enter the arena; the roar is deafening, the crowd screams for electric blood. Gigantic overhead floodlights slam on with a definitive ka-thunk. One of my helpers – a prisoner from the 44 Block named Mannem – pulls open the big door at the far end of the dirt floor.

  The stadium is something we’ve all built. The building used to be where the machines that brought destruction and death were mass produced on an enormous open floor with high ceilings. We’ve built stands along one wall from scrap metal. The machines had many tools and implements at their disposal - instruments of torture and fear - we've repurposed them and built a city of our own. We brought in dirt and covered the floor and painted the walls and ceiling black.

  The machines trip and sputter as they struggle to roll over thick brown dirt on the floor. I raise my arms and hold my blade high. The audience shouts their euphoric approval. I charge at the droids – there are 18 of them, rolling as one mass toward the centre of the arena. Their programming has been subverted – the robots now see everything as an error message – nothing makes sense – there are no automated tasks, there is only their impending doom.

  I reach the machines. The first is a tall white bot with a large round head. I swipe at its chest with the blade – blue sparks and smoke spew from its innards – the crowd fills my ears. I theatrically spin and jam the knife in the joint between the droid’s head and connective wires. Black smoke and bright yellow sparks jump out – it’s dead. I jump toward the crowd and smile.

  The next bot is short and square – I kick it to the dirt and pull off two of its wheels. It spins on its back over and over creating spiral shapes. I stomp its glass face until it stops moving. I wave to Mannem, he nods and flicks a switch that causes one of the flying drones to lift off from the ground. As if on cue the crowd boos; before the drone can lift out of reach I smack it with the solid part of my staff and the machine noise dives to the ground. I jump on it with both feet, I rip off its tail section and chop off its wings.

  The massacre continues as I break, stab, and dismantle every machine in the group. The audience is worked up. They spill over the metal barrier; thousands of people rush the center of the floor and kick and spit and throw the dead droids; bits of hard plastic, metal, circuit boards, and wiring fly all over. This is the agenda every night since I busted out of my box and took over and reshaped this place; every night the broken win.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  My staff half-busted I trudge back to the edges of the dirt. The mob rushes around me and raises me over their head. A ruddy man, his head patched with sprigs of wild hair pulls at my legs. The crowd reaches the exit under the stands. I am placed down on the ground and I wipe sweat from my forehead. The ruddy man approaches.

  “Impressive – ever so impressive.”

  “Thank you.”

  The people around me – mostly misters – slap me on the back and rub my head as they pass and walk out of the building.

  “You run this place?”

  “I think run is presumptuous to say. I was the first to revolt.”

  “Revolt?”

  “Yes. The machines – the things you just witnessed me kill – millions of them ruled this island. What do you think kept you in your box?”

  “I only just arrived last night.”

  “There hasn’t been a drone copter this way in months.”

  “I didn’t come on any chopper. I swam.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  “I did – I fell over on a trade ship running a thousand miles north of here.”

  “You expect me to believe you swam a thousand miles across the Thiel?”

  “I do. Took everything within me to avoid the cursed blood eels.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Niona.”

  “The capital region? You’re a mad man. Only councillors and commanders live there, everyone knows that.”

  The arena’s emptied out; only the man and I stand in the corridor. I walk from the man and head for the outdoors.

  “Why would you walk away when I speak to you?”

  We are outside the building now. The ground is awash in rusted metal jutting up through a field of flattened cardboard; the sky is the color of rust. The crowd has split into small groups eagerly chatting amongst themselves. Giant overhead lights shine above; no one’s bothered to kill those yet.

  “I walk away because I am tired, and I wish to have a meal.”

  “Have a meal with me.”

  “No.”

  The man holds the back of his hand against my chest. I throw him an incredulous look. “Have you truly lost it?” I said. "Remove your hand immediately - unless you wish to see it broken."

  “You need to listen to me.”

  “I need to do nothing with you. Walk away, before you get hurt. There are no wellness centers here – no medical bots to put you back together.”

  “And who will put you back together?”

  The comment stuns me. Two misters break from their conversation and walk over. “This one bothering you?” One of the men says.

  “Not for you to worry about,” I said. “He was just leaving.” I glare at the ugly little man and he rolls his eyes and steps away.

  The man walks by the two misters who came to my aid. The two turn their attention back to me; the ruddy man jumps behind them.

  “Watch out!” I said.

  The two men turn and the ugly mister clutches the men by their throats and lifts them off their feet hovering over the ground as they punch at his forearms. The men kick and choke – the ugly man’s fingers plunge through their necks sending blood spraying forth. People rush from all over to the scene. I run and slide at the ugly man’s feet and kick at his legs to bring them out from under him; his legs do not budge and my shin throbs with pain, it's as though he is carved from stone his muscles are so solid. He drops the two men dead to the ground. A gang of others jump on him and he fights through them.

  “Wait!” I said, yelling to the crowd. “Wait! Let me handle this.”

  The mob complies and backs off. I rush forward and swing for the man’s head. He dodges backward. I charge again and he slaps my jab aside and pushes me to the ground. As I pick myself up from the cardboard floor, the collective gasp fills the air as the ruddy man’s body flexes all over and he immediately morphs and grows two feet taller. His squat body turns lean with solid muscle, his legs lengthen, his arms turn lanky and rippled with muscle. His shirt and pants bust and fall to the ground. His seven-foot naked frame rises above us. His tufts of hair fall away revealing a bald veiny head. The assembled crowd runs away in a panic. I stand in awe at this man now a good foot taller than me.

  “Shall we continue this? Or shall we speak in peace?” The man’s voice has deepened. His body relaxes.

  “Who are you?”

  “Call me Marek.”

  “From Niona?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did you kill those men?”

  “They were in my way.”

  “Why do you insist on speaking with me?”

  “Because that’s why I was sent here.”

  “Sent here? You said you fell overboard from a trade ship and swam here.”

  “I did – what I did not say is that I chose to go overboard – I had to – so I could swim here.”

  “Who sent you?”

  “High Command.”

  I have serious doubt about this crazy changeling. “They couldn’t have dropped you closer?”

  “We had no
idea if you had destroyed the scanners. The Haker is a highly secure area – the scanners range about 800 miles off shore. You’ve created quite a mess here for us.”

  “When you approached me there – why did you pose in the form of another man?”

  “We know your capabilities. You had that version of me pegged for an easy mark – non-threatening.”

  “Is this you? This is what you actually look like?”

  “Close. This is about as large as I get in human form. I cannot hold it forever.”

  “In human form? You have others?”

  “How else could I swim a thousand miles?”

  “So you come here to tell me this? And to kill innocent people.”

  “Innocent? At the Haker? Maybe you are the madman, Bramen Hold. I am here to bring you with me – to Niona.”

  “You haven’t heard? I’m a clone. All these years, my parents lied to me. I had no idea. The High Command sent me here – you’re boss - sent me here. I was sentenced to die here for lying about my true identity. That charge itself is a lie, but that’s every day for the High Command I suspect.”

  “You speak of Joggard.”

  “Yes.”

  “He is no longer in charge.”

  “Oh no?”

  “No. He has been…replaced.”

  “And now all of a sudden I am desired again?”

  “Yes.”

  “For what?”

  “A special project.”

  “Ah, I should’ve known. It’s clear you’re not a madman after all – you speak just like the rest of them. Special this, secret that. I tired of hearing about the High Command’s special project months ago.”

  “Tired or not. We need you, and you will comply.”

  “Not interested. You already sent me to the Haker once - what more could you possibly threaten me with?"

  Marek jumps at me and grabs me and holds me down. His strength is unbelievable, I fight and struggle to move – I cannot.

  “Clearly there is no reasoning with you. It seems violence is your language of choice – so be it, we can fight if you so choose – either way, conscious or unconscious, you’re coming with me.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  An angry horde has us covered under a giant ball of humanity. Weight presses down on me making it hard to breathe. Marek has fallen off of me. The mob shouts and claws and kicks Marek on the ground next to me. We have our heads covered with our arms. More people seem to have joined in – I can see through the flying limbs, bits of blood falling to the dirt encrusted cardboard. Marek tries to get to his knees. Feet and fists burst forth onto his neck, groin and face. He lets out a mighty bellow as he turtles on the ground again. A warm red flow of blood streams from Marek’s body – they might kill this thing – this changeling!

  A rumble builds from the distance and grows closer - it hovers somewhere above – more people piling on perhaps? The pressure of the bodies is almost too much to bear. The rumble strengthens – blood and piss and bile trickles down through the amalgam of body parts onto my exposed skin. Fingernails, teeth and hair fall all around me. The rumble combines with thumping beats penetrating deep into the mass of humanity above me. The weight on me lightens as bodies fall away. The beats lose their bass sound and give way to zipping bullets slamming into flesh everywhere. The mob retreats – the people scatter; two giant copters roar overhead sweeping dust clouds outward. I squint up to see men on each chopper standing behind a giant rotating machine gun. Marek brings his arms from his head and looks at me. I stand and walk to him; I don’t hear the shots but I feel intense heat all over my mid-section. Marek yells to the copters and bear hugs me to the ground. The choppers land nearby.

  I cannot move; I touch my hand to my belly and see my palms drenched in deep maroon plasma.

  “Just hold still,” Marek said. “Don’t move.”

  “I cannot. I cannot.”

  “You’ve been shot, but you’re okay. Cursed fools.”

  The faces of the machine gunners hover above me. “Will he make it?” One of them said.

  “No thanks to you,” Marek said. Blood smears the big man’s chin and cheeks.

  “You have blood on you,” I said.

  “It’s nothing. You need to stay quiet. This will only take a minute.” Marek looks at the mister closest to him. “Give me your field blade.”

  “But I always must have it for-“

  “Give it to me or I will take it,” Marek said.

  The man hands a black knife to Marek. He cuts a long line through his flesh along his forearm. Blood flows out like a river; he holds his arm over my body and lets the steady stream of his blood pour over me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Hold still.”

  The intense stinging heat fades. Marek lifts my shirt and pushes away the blood with his hands. I see my wounds seal up within seconds. He holds his forearm overhead and with his free hand pulls me to my feet.

  “What just happened?”

  “I saved your life,” the big man smiled. “Now you owe me. Now you come with me to Niona.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  The cyclone of wind from the choppers forces me to lean just to keep my balance. Marek has his hand on my arm. The two gunners both look at me with disdain. I cannot believe I’m still alive.

  “How did you do that?”

  “I can regenerate tissue with my blood,” Marek said.

  “Nobody has that many stem cells flowing through them.”

  “I am genetically modified. I am a clone. Like you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

  “We know your DNA – we have your genome in our database. You were cloned when you were 33 years old. Your genes were modified. You thought those fighting skills of yours were self-taught?”

  “My Uncle Thereen-“

  “Your Uncle was a high level commando for the High Command, a bodyfight instructor, and a pioneer in genetic modification.”

  Anger wells up inside, my parents hid the truth. Mother, why didn’t you tell me any of this?

  “Look,” Marek said. “We don’t need to have this conversation here. Let’s go to Niona. We have a lot more to discuss.”

  The violent sound of the helicopters cutting at the wind and the sight of dozens of dead bodies littering the ground has more and more people crowd around. Someone in particular catches my eye.

  “Where are you going?” Marek said.

  The men follow me as I walk toward this familiar face, a mister I have not seen in quite some time.

  “I can’t believe it,” I said. “It’s you! What are you doing here?”

  “No!”

  “You still haven’t calmed down I see.”

  “No! Yes!”

  My friend – the clone – with his regular skin color. I am so happy to see him again. He looks at me; I don’t know if he recognizes me, he stares at me and looks away. The choppers seem to have him curious and also fearful at the same time.

  “Bramen – we don’t have time-“

  “This is my friend. I’m allowed to speak to whoever I want.”

  “Your friend doesn’t appear to know you. Frankly, he looks a bit simple - a waste of time,” Marek said.

  “No!”

  “You don’t know him like I do. We’ve been through a lot together.”

  “And if I ask him of these experiences, what do you think he’d have to say about them?”

  “I don’t know. I will grant you, he may not know who I am – but I still call him my friend.” A tear falls down my cheek. Seeing the clone’s familiar face – realizing I too am a clone – it brings this emotion up from inside me, like a brotherly protectiveness.

  “We need to leave – now.”

  “So leave. I’m staying here.”

  “After I saved your life? You realize I am trying to do this the civilized way. If I wanted to I could overpower you and for
ce you onto that chopper right now.”

  “You and your men have already killed so many here – what’s one more body right?”

  “Why are you so stubborn? All I’m asking – all we’re asking at the High Command is for you to come and see what we’re asking you to do. You have gifts that will be of great use – you can do things few others can – skills that may come in handy for this project.”

  “Yes! No! Come on!” The clone said.

  “You’ve heard my answer," I said to Marek. "You want to try and take me by force, go ahead, but you may as well shoot me now because I will kill at least one of your men if you try it."

  “So, that’s how it is?”

  “Yes – that’s how it is. I'm not going anywhere with you. I'm staying with him.”

  Marek waves his hand at the helicopter. A door slides open; Trident is pushed out. I cannot believe it - tears well up. His is a face I never thought I'd see again. He runs over; we heartily embrace.

  “I’d never expected to see you again,” I said. “But I am so glad to see you - you look well.”

  “It does my heart good to see you, Bramen," Trident said. "And our friend! I cannot believe he's here! How did you find him? Was he here when you got here?”

  “I’ve only just found him. I was worried I might find you here, or worse that you were sent here and I wouldn’t find you.”

  When they told us you were being taken to the Haker – we feared the worst. We had to come,” Trident said.

  “We?” I said.

  Trident points to the other chopper. Marek signals to one his men and an arm lets go of...I-

  It cannot be-

  Milne-

  The world stops. I feel numb and wrapped in silence. Everything around me falls away. I fall to my knees - she's here. I can see tears on her face as she runs to me.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT