Things are spinning too fast. Johnson’s men are right on top of us, there’s a stranger offering to help us, and either way, the only entrance is blocked off by the raiding party.
“Why should we trust you?” Mira asks.
“I’m leaving,” the older woman says. “I can get you out of here. Trust me or don’t trust me. The choice is yours.”
“Why would you trust us?” I ask, finally whispering like the rest of them.
She looks hard at Mira before looking over at me.
“Call it a hunch,” she says.
We all stand there for a handful of seconds, working out the problem before us. It’s Mira that decides first.
“Fine, we’ll trust you for now,” she says, “but if I even think you’re leading us into a trap, I’ll break your neck.”
The woman doesn’t show any concern at the threat and motions for us to follow. I leap up, trying my best to ignore the pain it causes, and she leads us quickly down the tree and through the center of the building to a far corner, away from the entrance and the approaching men, where she opens a hidden panel to reveal a lever. She pulls the lever, and a section of the floor slides away noiselessly, revealing a darkened stone staircase leading into the depths of the earth.
“This way,” she says and descends the staircase. Mira follows her and I take up the rear. The lighting is only what dim morning sunshine is penetrating the darkness from the dome above, but I reach the end of the staircase and feel a hard, smooth surface beneath my feet, concrete or stone. Something clicks and the hatch overhead slides back into place at the same time that a string of dim bulbs ignite, leading away into the far distance. The corridor is squared off with concrete making up the sides, floor, and ceiling.
“What is this place?” Mira asks.
“It’s a tunnel that leads to the airfield and the shore. Now hurry, come this way. I don’t think there’s a chance they’ll find the entrance, but I’d like to put some distance between us just to be safe.”
I walk at a steady pace, watching the strange woman leading us. Mira walks by my side, wary, but not overly so. I don’t think the woman's dangerous. She could have killed me while I slept if she wanted me dead. And she did help us get away from Johnson and his men, though I still don't know why.
We’ve been walking for about twenty minutes, the tunnel rising and falling, curving and snaking. It's apparent that if this tunnel does lead to the airfield, it's not a straight shot. I'm sure the builders had to work around the landscape. The string of bulbs leads on and on, most of them no longer working, sometimes plunging us into darkness for hundreds of feet before we catch up to one that is lit again.
“Stop,” I say. Now that we have some space between us and the dome, I want answers, and I'm not going another step with this stranger until I have them.
The woman comes to a halt. She turns slowly, cautiously, until she faces us. She seems to draw herself up taller, and the muscles in her arms twitch like springs ready to uncoil. She's not tall, about Mira's height, but there is something imposing about her. But I still don't feel like she is being threatening. I get the sense she's only preparing to defend herself.
“Easy,” I say. “I meant no alarm. I just want to know your name.”
The woman still looks uneasy, but her shoulders relax a little.
“Please,” I say, attempting to bridge the gap.
“My name is Ilana,” she says.
“Ilana,” Mira repeats. “Thank you for helping us.”
The woman just nods.
“Where did you come from?” I say. “Why are you here?”
“That's more than just my name,” she says, but she grins a little, the first show of gentility under that tough exterior.
Mira takes over, more of a diplomat than me.
“Sorry,” she says. “We've just been thrown into a crap storm and any information you can give us would be very helpful. We don't even know why you want to help us.”
The woman, Ilana, looks at Mira for a moment. “I come from here,” she says. “And I'm still here because I chose to be.” She raises a hand to ward off the questions she knows we're about to ask. “You know what this place is?”
“Where Damian Harbin did experiments in genetics.”
“I am the last survivor of the people that lived here.”
“A scientist?” Mira asks.
Ilana scoffs. “No. Not those people. I was part of a group, a colony of sorts, that Damian experimented on. And no, we didn't volunteer. It was against...without, our knowledge.”
“Without?” I say.
“Yes. One of Damian's more sordid talents was memory manipulation.”
“Are you serious?” I say. It's more of a shocked response than a real question.
Ilana just raises her eyebrows as if to tell me I'm an idiot.
Something about the gesture gives me a funny feeling, but I dismiss it to be analyzed later.
“So you live in the dome?” Mira asks.
Ilana shakes her head and sweeps a hand through her hair. “I used to. It isn't safe anymore. I have another tree cabin away from there.”
Tree cabin. An odd way to refer to a tree house.
“Not safe?” I say.
“You've met the wildlife,” she says, indicating that she saw the carcass of the creature we killed. “The dome used to be fortified. Not anymore.”
“So there are more of those things out there?” Mira says. “Harbin's experiments?”
“There are things out there from your worst nightmares,” Ilana replies. “Damian was a sick man.”
“Is there more you can tell us about him?” I say.
Something in her expression closes off and she suddenly looks uncomfortable. I wait for a response, but she says nothing at all. She stands there, her expression blank.
“We need to keep going,” she says, turns, and starts walking again.
We move to catch up. I glance at Mira who shrugs.
“Must have hit a nerve,” I say out of the corner of my mouth.
“Hey, hang on a second,” I say. “I didn't mean...”
Ilana spins abruptly to face us again.
“No. Now it's my turn,” she says.
I still don't sense any hostility, only caution.
“I saw you fall from the plane,” Ilana says abruptly. “I came to find you. I assumed you were no friends to the men upstairs given the nature of your exit. I have my reasons for trusting you,” she glances at Mira again, and something odd crosses her expression, “but I could be wrong. So why are you here?”
“We came for a cure to The Virus,” Mira says.
“The Virus?”
Wow, she's really out of touch with the world.
“The Virus was just that. Damian created it. It annihilated most of the population of the planet and turned countless others into, something else.”
Ilana is nonplussed, and stands waiting. She has no visible reaction whatsoever to learning of the deaths of billions of people. I find that strange, unless...
“Have you been on this island all your life?” I say.
“Yes.” Deadpan. “Please continue,” she says to Mira.
“Like I said, we have reason to believe there is a cure, and this is where we were directed to find it.”
“What of the men from the plane?”
“They're here for the same reason, but they tricked us into coming. They're the ones who shot me in the leg.”
Ilana glances briefly at the blood-stained hole in Mira's pants leg.
“It would seem they don't want it for the greater good,” I say. “But we work for people who've committed their lives to the betterment of the world. This cure, if it's real, could be the most important find in the history of this planet. Please, we have to find it first. I don't know why you've helped us so far, but can you help us again? Help us find the cure?”
Ilana considers this.
“Do you have any clue to its whereabouts?” Ilana says.
&n
bsp; Mira shakes her head.
Ilana stares at the floor for a long time while Mira and I wait tensely for her decision.
“I suppose if there is anyplace it would be hidden, it would be the lab complex, though I've never found anything useful there. Only destruction.”
I perk up at the new information.
“A lab? Where?” I say.
“Come with me,” she says. “It's not far ahead.”
“Wait, you mean it's down here?”
“That was the real purpose of this tunnel, yes. Although I can't imagine you'll find what you're looking for even if it is there.”
“It's a start,” Mira says.
Indeed it is.
Chapter 24
My side, back, and head are killing me, and my weakened legs are starting to protest working without sufficient nutrition. I ate some of the fruit Mira found in the dome last night, but I've long since burned through it. After another fifteen minutes, I'm wobbly, tired, and frustrated with myself. Mira doesn't even limp from the bullet wound she took yesterday.
It would suck to collapse from hunger and weakness in front of my new girlfriend. Maybe it's chauvinistic, but my manly pride hurts at being so brittle in comparison to her, although I feel assured she wouldn't see it that way. But a sudden thought hits me, causing me to break into a huge smile. Girlfriend. I’ve never had one of those before. Truth be told, I had never even kissed a girl before last night. I just tried to go with it and not make an imbecile of myself. But then I smile even wider, as I realize that the butterflies that would normally accompany such a thought are not present.
That single, tender kiss shattered the insecure Cray hiding under the surface. Maybe I'm still a little nervous around her, but knowing her acceptance has given me confidence I’ve never felt before, and replaced the fear that was there. It’s a breath of fresh air.
“How much farther does this thing run?” I ask Ilana.
“We’re about a third of the way there,” she says. “We’ll be at the laboratory soon, but I have to warn you, there’s not much left.”
“What happened?” I say.
“Damian's people destroyed a lot of it.”
“Why?”
“Probably to hide his work.”
“Are they the ones who smashed the computers in the dome?”
“Yes.”
She picks up her pace. Not much of a conversationalist, this one.
I watch her walk. Her stride is strong, graceful, and familiar. And I keep thinking about how she always refers to Harbin as Damian. Perhaps it's just a quirk, the way she speaks, but it makes me think she knew him personally.
“How’s the leg?” I ask Mira again, mostly just for a reason to talk to her and to pass the time.
“Okay,” she says. “It doesn’t hurt, but the muscles are kinda tight. A lot of trauma in there I’m afraid. It would be nice to have a real doc look at it.” She looks over at me, shadows playing across her divine features. “Must be nice to have your own physician to check you out every day.”
“Truth is, I hate being a patient. I’d usually rather just be left alone. I mean, Doc’s a nice guy and all, but unless my arm is hanging on by one tendon, I’d rather just take care of it myself.”
“You didn’t object to me treating your wounds,” she says slyly.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, well, I can’t reach some parts of my back. And you can’t blame me for wanting to be close to a hot girl.”
Mira snickers, and I realize what I just said. I can feel my cheeks start to burn, and I'm thankful for the shadows.
“Ooohhh,” she says. “So I’m hot? Is it just me, or would any hot girl do?”
Ahead, of us, Ilana makes a noise that sounds a bit like a laugh. We're still within earshot. A fresh blanket of embarrassment smothers me, but Mira reaches over and squeezes my hand, and the feeling subsides. We walk a little farther before she speaks again.
“So you have a hard time getting your mind to settle down?” she says.
To say the least.
“Yeah. Things get crowded in there. It’s useful, but sometimes it’s just a big pain in the butt.”
“Does anything help?” There's more than curiosity in her question. It’s tinged with concern.
“Some. I like watching movies. I can sort of zone out with that. And I’ve been working on sitting quietly in a room and just letting my mind be still.”
“Like meditating? Sounds like a real party,” she says sarcastically.
“Hey, don’t knock it,” I say pretending offense. “And recently, I’ve found something else that helps calm my thoughts.” She looks at me waiting for my new revelation, and suddenly I feel like a shy freshman confessing his love to the prom queen, but I steel myself and charge ahead. “When I’m with you, it’s better.”
She holds my gaze for a while before leaning over to kiss me on the cheek. “I’m glad,” she says tenderly, but then the playfulness is immediately back. “After all, it’s not every day a guy tries to compliment you by saying you cause him to be dumber.”
“Exactly, but don’t let it go to your head.” We both laugh. This time, Ilana turns and glances at us, a smile brightening her face. Again, I'm struck with a familiar feeling, and suddenly, the understanding sinks in and I come to a complete stop.
“Oh, God,” I whisper.
Mira stops and faces me with a look of concern.
“What's wrong? Are you okay?” she says.
Ilana continues forward. She hasn't noticed we stopped.
I ignore Mira's question, and run all of the information through my mind, comparing and calculating, until I'm sure. When I am, the sinking feeling turns into shock and dread.
By now, Mira looks like she is ready to shake me.
“I want to ask you something,” I say.
Mira lowers her voice to match my tone. “Is something wrong?”
I answer with another question. “Have you noticed anything about you and Ilana?”
“Not really,” now her concern is tinged with curiosity.
“Don't you think you look alike?”
She eyes me warily, unaware of where I'm leading her. I decide it's best to just say it.
“Mira, accounting for aging and other factors, she has the exact same facial symmetry as you, minus an almost imperceptible indentation in her left cheek bone that could have been the result of trauma.”
Mira shakes her head a little. “Okay, you’re losing me. Are you trying to say she might be related to me?”
“No, Mira. I’m saying she is you.”
Chapter 25
Mira
“Cray, I’m still not following. You didn’t hit your head again did you?” I say half-jokingly.
He grips my shoulders gently, and looks me hard in the eyes. “What I mean is, she is you, and you are her.” Something clicks and a terrible comprehension begins to dawn.
No, it’s not true. I can’t believe that! I won’t believe that!
My voice comes out in a shocked rasp. “You’re talking about cloning aren’t you? You’re saying she’s a clone of me, or I guess, I’m a clone of her.” All my life I’ve wanted to know more about my past, my lost childhood, what made me like I am, but never once did I suspect something so dehumanizing.
Cray speaks, his empathetic tone interrupting my thoughts. “Perhaps, or maybe you’re both a clone of someone else.”
I feel sick, and sink down against the wall. “Human cloning was forbidden, Cray, and no one even tried it to see if it was really possible.” But even as I say the words, I know they’re hollow. Damian Harbin didn’t care about laws, as evidenced by everything else he’d done. Everything we knew about him said he would try anything without regard to whom or what it hurt. In fact, it made perfect sense.
I can’t think of anything to say. I trust Cray, but about this, I wish I didn’t. My emotions are in turmoil and I’m struggling to keep it together.
Cray gently takes my hand and pulls me to my feet, draggi
ng me behind the woman who is me. Up ahead, she’s rounded a sharp turn to the right, out of eyesight.
Cray keeps looking at me with concern, and I want to respond, but my mouth won’t work. I feel lightheaded and faint. Is this how shock feels? I’m still trying to get control of my emotions when we round the corner and come face to face with Ilana.
She stands in the middle of the tunnel, a weak bulb flickering behind her, casting an eerie light on the scene. She comes toward us and I tense, unsure what to expect. Beside me, Cray does the same, ready for anything, but as she draws closer, her hands hanging by her sides, I see her expression is sad and drawn.
She looks at me with a deep sense of pity. “It’s true,” she says. “What the boy says is true. I’m afraid neither of us are the original Ilana, or Mira, or whoever it was we came from. I knew we were the same the first moment I saw you.”
Pain is etched deep into the lines of her face, and I’m suddenly aware of just how old this version of me looks. Maybe not in actual years, but in the heavy expression that has come from a life of hardship and struggle.
I feel like my individuality is slipping away. As if “Mira” is just a figment of my imagination. “Why didn’t you say something before?”
She sighs deeply and her shoulders sink a little farther. “I hoped you wouldn’t figure it out.” Her eyes take on a faraway expression. “Some things are better left unsaid. What good does it really do?”
Despite my lifelong wish to understand where I came from, right now I agree. My whole existence has been reduced to a science experiment, and I feel like I want to vomit. I’ve always known about the genetic tampering, but this is too much. And Eckert surely knew what I was.
My head spins, and I grip Cray’s hand tighter to steady myself. He senses my unsteadiness, and places a warm hand on the small of my back, his presence and strength a comfort.
“Why?” I finally manage. “Why did he make us?”
Ilana gives a sad shrug. “Why did he do any of this?”
I wonder if she's holding back information, but I’m not sure I can take any more revelations right now, even if she was willing to share.
The Night Sweeper: A Zombie Conspiracy Novel (The Sweeper Chronicles Book 1) Page 12
