by Patti Larsen
It's been over an hour but I can't bring myself to explore, though I know I'll need to eventually. I managed to scavenge some food before we left, just shortly after I discovered my friends in secret talks with the crew of the train. Chime hates me and has wanted me out of her life since we met. Shown their duplicity by Brick, the one person I've been unable to bring myself to trust, considering his connection with the insane Cade and the Crawlers who pursue me. He guided me to the place where my friends pondered my fate without me. And looked guilty when I confronted them.
How could it be the person I thought the enemy could have been the only truthful one on the entire train? My mind still refuses to believe and I have no doubt, even now, there was some kind of agenda behind Brick's actions.
I can't deal with the thought of him now. Not now. Not while the tightness in my chest makes it hard to breathe and the dusty, musty smell of old leather chokes me as surely as though I had my own hands around my throat.
What have I done?
Focus. I need to focus. We have to have supplies if Duet and I are going to make it across the rest of the continent. But I know what I've taken will not be enough, and I need to find more if we are to survive the last leg of our journey to New York City and our task.
At least I'm not the only one of my sisters chasing that task now, not alone in my quest now that Duet is with me. My task, the one I woke with, the only part of my memory remaining when I found myself in this desolate and dying world, still drives me, as it drives my sister. It's a small comfort having her with me, considering how far I've already come with my new friends.
Friends no longer. Should I have been so quick to judge? I'd been looking for a reason to leave them behind, to put them out of harm's way. Perhaps this was simply the excuse I needed. But my regret is real and I ask myself, as I sit there in the heat of the car's interior, what would have happened if I'd just listened, just asked my friends why they were with Chime? If they really believe I'm dangerous. That my sister is dangerous.
Then again, remembering the guilt on their faces, I wouldn't have been able to accept the answers, knowing how damaged Duet is.
An image invades my melancholy. The statue, the guide who leads me on, looms in my mind, her cold green face expressionless, and I imagine she's as harsh as the spikes on her crown, as terrible as the false fire burning in her torch, as logical as the book she holds in her open hand. Surely she would never fall so far down into the darkness, would stand tall no matter her circumstances and is judging me even now for failing her.
If only I knew more of what I had to do. Maybe then I could make sense of this, even of Beckett's imagined betrayal. The feelings I have for him are more familiar than ever, as much as my recognition of Poppy. I'm sure I've known both of them before, somewhere, somehow.
But I can't remember, have struggled with this for days now, since I woke in that dank and decaying school bathroom, lost and alone. Pursued, hunted. Until I met Poppy.
And everything changed.
My throat tightens at last. Are they rising then, my tears? Will I finally be able to shed this loss, to shake free of it? Of my grief for Socrates, my brilliant young friend. Of Vander and his kind heart. The dear puppies I rescued who thrive and live because of the golden lab and his faith in me after I saved him.
The last time I sank into despair, I wasn't alone, not like this. I was on the train, with access to them, to their kindness and their smiles if I needed them. To the press of a heavy fur body against my leg, deep, dark eyes watching me, wet nose and tongue eager to show me how much I am loved.
Most of all, even more than Beckett, I grieve for the loss of the dog's faithful presence.
My vision wavers, tears flowing at last at the thought of my dear companion with his back turned, face pressed into Beckett's legs so he didn't have to watch me leave. My amazing, intelligent friend finally grants the release I need, even in his absence taking care of me. The pressure rises, choking, closing my throat so I have to lean forward, forehead pressed to the round of the wheel as I sob silently into the warm cab of the SUV. I clutch the leather-bound steering wheel as though it can save me, keep me safe, but nothing helps, nothing.
But the sobbing. When I'm done at last, as my body heaves out the final bitterness of my longing, I look up, wiping my face on my sleeve to see Duet staring through the windshield.
She's smiling like she has no idea what I'm going through. I know she doesn't. My half-cyborg sister, saved by the Teks in body but not in mind, can't comprehend at the best of times. She seems to be lacking anything resembling empathy, and it’s not her fault, but I still feel a surge of anger at her for being so damned cheerful.
“Trio.” I manage to wave a little as she says my name. “Perfect car.” She hops up and down on the balls of her feet before performing a spin. “Perfect.”
“That's great, Duet,” I say, leaning back. At least the weight holding me down is gone and I no longer feel the need to stay here, to hide. The crying has tired me out, eyes burning from the tears, throat aching, but I feel oddly refreshed and ready to do something. Anything but sit here any longer.
Perhaps my need to act is simply another form of hiding from the truth, but I'll take it over what I've just lived.
As I slide free of the driver's seat, Duet comes to me and hugs me, the warmth of her metal parts as real as the smooth, softness of her human skin. I close my eyes and imagine we're both whole again.
It's harder than I thought.
“So much better now,” she whispers in my ear. “Me and you, Trio.”
I can't contain my sigh, eyes opening, no longer adrift in what my lost memories assure me once was. And yet, something, someone, remains missing, adrift from us. Clone One.
Duet pulls away, frown gradually translating from her human side to the metal half of her face, like slow, cold molasses spreading across a piece of toast.
“Poppy.” She sighs too, her mind not on our lost clone sister, but the girl I’ve loved from the moment she saved me. “The puppies.”
I nod, more tears threatening. How can I not be out of tears by now? “I miss them,” I say. “But they are with Beckett. On the train.” I stay rooted on the spot physically, but my heart is suddenly racing back the way we came, trying to return to the others. It hurts I have to rein it in so sharply.
I've made my choice. Time to live with it.
Duet makes a face, full of anger, her glowing green eye flashing as her Tek blood surges in answer. “Keep you safe,” Duet says. “Go see Mother.” She hesitates. “Clone One.”
I squeeze her human hand, wondering why Duet scowls so when she speaks of our lost sister. I have no memory, not even a vague feeling of her. Does Duet know something I don’t? But no, she’s simply broken.
“That's right,” I say. “The task. Clone One. This will all be over soon.” I hope. I'm guessing. With no clear idea as to what I'm supposed to do when I reach New York, I can only imagine something will happen to show me the way. But at least then, with my task complete, I can put part of the ache inside me to rest.
Duet's smile returns, radiant despite her deformed features half-cast in steel. “I'm almost done.” It's one of the few full sentences I've heard her pull together. “Then we go.”
Which means I have work of my own to do. “I'll be back,” I say, turning from her toward town. “With supplies.” I manage a smile. “Then, yes. We go.”
I leave her happily singing over the mess under the SUV's hood, trusting she knows what she's doing, and head into town.
***
About the Author
Everything you need to know about me is in this one statement: I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl, and now I’m doing it. How cool is that, being able to follow your dream and make it reality? I’ve tried everything from university to college, graduating the second with a journalism diploma (I sucked at telling real stories), was in an all-girl improv troupe for five glorious years (if you’ve never tried it, I
highly recommend making things up as you go along as often as possible). I’ve even been in a Celtic girl band (some of our stuff is on YouTube!) and was an independent film maker. My life has been one creative thing after another—all leading me here, to writing books for a living.
Now with multiple series in happy publication, I live on beautiful and magical Prince Edward Island (I know you’ve heard of Anne of Green Gables) with my very patient husband and six massive cats.
I love-love-love hearing from you! You can reach me (and I promise I’ll message back) at [email protected]. And if you’re eager for your next dose of Patti Larsen books (usually about one release a month) come join my mailing list! All the best up and coming, giveaways, contests and, of course, my observations on the world (aren’t you just dying to know what I think about everything?) all in one place: http://smarturl.it/PattiLarsenEmail.
Last—but not least!—I hope you enjoyed what you read! Your happiness is my happiness. And I’d love to hear just what you thought. A review where you found this book would mean the world to me—reviews feed writers more than you will ever know. So, loved it (or not so much), your honest review would make my day. Thank you!
Table of Contents
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty Five
Chapter Thirty Six
First chapter of the final installment of the Clone Chronicles
