Tears of a Clone (Easytown Novels Book 2)

by Brian Parker

  A familiar voice stopped me in my tracks. Chris Young’s manicured southern accent announced over the megavid screens above that his feature story was so shocking that the network had granted him five entire minutes on the big televisions normally reserved for advertising and national news broadcasts.

  I tilted my head toward the nearest megavid screen and saw the words, “BREAKING NEWS” blinking in red over the black screen while Chris spoke the voiceover. Then Sadie appeared, her unkempt auburn hair framing the bruised face and her eyes staring hauntingly into the camera. Murmurs of curiosity erupted from the crowds, who weren’t used to the unscheduled interruption in their daily lives.

  “This is Sadie,” Chris said. “That’s not her real name, that’s the name she was given by the city’s hero police officer, Detective Zachary Forrest.”

  The screen cut to a vid feed from Jackson Square when I fought against the drones that the Sex Club Killer had hacked. I flipped up the collar on my coat and scrunched my hat down closer on my head. The fucker was supposed to keep me out of this.

  Sadie reappeared and Chris continued the voiceover. “Detective Forrest rescued Sadie from the most hellish conditions known to man. She, along with eight others—and countless more that we may never know of—were beaten, tortured, burned, raped, sodomized, and abused in every imaginable manner. All of it was for the enjoyment of gamblers, betting on the outcome of whatever horror the captors inflicted. It’s called torture tourism and the industry is worth billions—and our politicians know about it. More on that in a moment.”

  The video synched up with Sadie’s voice as she described, in detail, some of what she’d endured, things that made the weaker-stomached patrons in the crowd blanch.

  She ended her story with, “I am the only survivor. All the others were already dead by the time Zach found me.”

  “Dead.” Chris let that word hang for a moment as the camera zoomed in on Sadie’s haunted eyes.

  The video reset and the symbol that Sadie had shown Dr. Jones and me a few days ago faded in over her face, then cut to the outside of a building somewhere on the southwest side of town that boasted the same symbol.

  “This is the headquarters for Biologiqué International, a company that specializes in genetic engineering and is majority-owned by Thomas Ladeaux, who also owns the Marie Leveau Shipping Company and approximately half of the businesses in Easytown. Biologiqué International is the world’s leading researcher for human cloning and they have perfected the technique. Sadie is a perfect example; she’s a clone.”

  The murmurs rose to shouts of anger and rumblings about people playing God. The crowd was not happy about what Chris said as Sadie dipped her ear for the camera, showing the serial number printed there.

  “Biologiqué’s clones are so advanced,” Chris continued, “that they are indistinguishable from humans. In fact they are human.”

  A man wearing a suit replaced the image of the headquarters building. “This is Dr. Henry Grubber from Scitech Engineering, a nonprofit laboratory that conducts medical research. Dr. Grubber is the world’s leading geneticist who isn’t on a corporation’s payroll.”

  “I’ve examined the DNA sample sent to me of the Sadie subject,” Dr. Grubber said. “And she is completely indistinguishable from a human, everything about her is an exact replica. In fact, if I hadn’t been told that I was looking at a clone, I would have assumed she was simply another sample, like what I see hundreds of times a day. The clone may have been grown in a lab, but Sadie is human.”

  “So you disagree with the government’s current stance on clones?” the reporter asked on screen. “Right now, in the eyes of the law, a clone is property that can be bought, sold, treated as the owner wishes and disposed of at any time.”

  “I disagree with it one hundred percent, Mr. Young. I’m a scientist. I tend to see the world in absolutes. Any harm done to that woman, or others like her, should be prosecuted under the full extent of the law—just as we do for humans carried in a woman’s uterus and born through various means.”

  Sadie reappeared, discussing her childhood. Chris’ voice once again came over the speakers, “Biologiqué International has discovered a way to transplant entire brain scans from the original human into the cloned human. As far as the clone knows when she opens her eyes, today is just another day in her life.”

  That sent the crowd over the edge. People who’d been lined up to fornicate with droids and human prostitutes screamed obscenities about the wrath of God and Judgement Day. The edge of my collar stirred in a sudden wind, causing me to look up further and see the drones descending. They would quell a riot before the first rock was even thrown.

  “We’ve contacted both Biologiqué International and Thomas Ladeaux for comment. Neither have accepted our attempts to discuss the matter with them.”

  Several still pictures flashed by faster than my eye could distinguish who they were. “We said earlier that our politicians were involved in torture tourism. Sadie originally came to Channel 34 News to get help discovering who she’d been cloned from—the folks who made her conveniently wiped away all memory of personally identifying information and stripped away her fingerprints. She remembered being a businesswoman of some type, so we started showing her pictures of prominent New Orleans businessmen and women to give us a lead on where to start. You’ll never guess where we ended up.”

  A picture of a black man appeared and Chris asked, “Do you know this person?

  Sadie’s eyes grew wide. “Yes! He was with me the night I was rescued—they dismembered him.”

  “Excuse me?” Chris asked in the video, not as a voiceover.

  “He was tortured and killed in front of me while people took bets on what it would take to make him bleed out.”

  Chris’ voiceover returned. “That man was prominent New Orleans business owner John Handy. Handy made a public appearance yesterday at his hotel in the French Quarter.”

  Several pictures flipped up with the names of business people and politicians. “In the interest of time, Sadie’s reactions and statements on each of these New Orleans public figures won’t be shown in this broadcast, but they can be seen in their entirety on our website. The final picture we showed her will shock you.”

  A picture of an older white male filled the screen, blurred at first and then slowly coming into focus. “Do you know…this man?” The video version of Chris asked hesitantly.

  “Yeah,” Sadie replied as the camera zoomed in on her face. “He raped me. He cut me. He was the one who used the blowtorch and did this.” The shot panned out as she stood, lifting her shirt up. She pulled away the bandage on her stomach to reveal a puckered, oozing collection of burn scabs in the shape of a happy face. “He’s pure evil.”

  “That man,” Voiceover Chris stated, “is the Mayor of New Orleans.”

  “Boss, your phone is going crazy.”

  “I know, Andi. I already saw the shitstorm on the megavids.” I paused to catch my breath. “I’m headed back to the station now.”

  “I’m tracking your movement. You appear to be making good time.”

  She was right. I’d only been running for a week, but her training plan of steadily increasing the daily distance was already paying off. I wouldn’t have made it more than half a mile before walking just last week. Good thing too, I still had ten blocks to go.

  “You have received multiple calls directly from the Mayor Cantrell’s office, the reporter Chris Young, Chief Brubaker and Thomas Ladeaux. There have been forty-three one-time calls from others. Primarily news agencies and vloggers asking for comments.”

  “Patch me through to Brubaker on a secure line.”

  He picked up on the first tone. “What the fuck were you thinking, asshole? The mayor has already demanded your resignation and wants you brought up on charges.”

  “What charges?” I scoffed, slowing slightly. “I didn’t say that stuff, Chris Young and Sadie said those things.”

  “They said to make up something
. You ain’t recovering from this one, Forrest. I need you to come in.”

  I stopped running and started to walk slowly to where the Jeep was parked. “This is a secure line, Chief. No one but you knows I called.”

  “So this conversation didn’t happen,” he said, catching on. “And you’re still acting with the authority of a cop.”

  “Exactly,” I replied, adjusting the sleeve of my duster as rain began to trickle down the sleeve while I talked. “How bad is this going to get?”

  “Like a gator getting stuck in your swimming pool.”

  “Okay… So, that means this isn’t going to end well, regardless of what happens, right?”

  “When the mayor asked for your resignation, he also demanded that I issue a shoot on sight order for Sadie,” Brubaker explained. “If she shows her face anywhere in New Orleans, she’s done for.”

  “Damn. I’m worried for Sadie’s safety at my place. I need a safe house for her.”

  “Good luck. There aren’t any places that the mayor’s staff doesn’t know about.”

  “I know of one,” I stated, dreading that I would once again put my friend in danger. I felt like I didn’t have a choice, though. At least not anywhere fast, like I needed.

  “Once I have her safe, I’m going to visit Ladeaux. He owes me an explanation.”

  “Is that a good idea if he’s involved?”

  “I don’t know that he is, Chief. I told you yesterday when we talked about the warehouse that I think he’s clean in this one.”

  I heard banging on the chief’s door. “I’ve gotta go,” he said. “Good luck.”

  The phone clicked silent and I punched the air in frustration. If they got to Brubaker, I was truly on my own for the moment. I needed to get off the grid and I was uniquely aware that the security cameras tracked my every movement, so I pushed my hat down on my head and flipped up my collar.

  As I neared the Jeep, I saw Karen Goldman, a uniformed cop who patrolled in The Lane. We knew each other fairly well, having been working the same area for about four years. I pulled out my phone again and placed it to my ear to help hide my face, regardless of the feedback between the earpiece and the phone. “Andi, turn off all tracking and nav systems in the Jeep. I’ll drive myself.”

  “Is that a good idea?” she asked.

  “Just do it.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  “Tell Sadie that I’ll be there in a few minutes to get her,” I said as I passed by the female officer.

  “May I suggest an alternative?”

  “I’m all ears,” I replied, not looking back at the cop as she continued on her way toward the livelier part of Jubilee Lane.

  I unlocked the car and sat heavily inside, buckling the seatbelt that I’d never worn since the vehicle was normally under robotic control.

  “Give Sadie access to the GoPhone and the lockbox,” Andi suggested. “Have her leave the apartment immediately on foot. I can guide her to a rendezvous point.”

  “Uh…” I hunted for a moment for the start button and found it under the dash. I wouldn’t be able to use my credit chip, so I’d need the cash in the lockbox, even though I wasn’t a fan of the clone taking all of the money that I’d set aside for an emergency like tonight.

  “Alright,” I relented. “Give her the phone and I authorize access to the lockbox. There’s a duffle bag inside that she’ll need to grab. Map out a route to where I can pick her up and then tell her where to go.”

  I shifted the car into drive and it jerked forward in the parking spot, ramming the vehicle in front of me.

  “Goddammit!” I yelled in frustration.

  I wished I’d paid closer attention to the theory of manual driving classes they gave us at the academy. Hell, I planned to suggest they implement a practical exercise portion of instruction when this was over.

  Through trial and error, and more damage to both the front and rear bumpers, I got the Jeep out of the parking spot. After a couple of blocks, I made an effort to restrain myself. The police transponder was off, so I was fair game to any officer patrolling. If I got popped for speeding, it was game over.

  I resisted the urge to ask Andi to put me through to Sadie as she fled my apartment. It would have upset her even more, so I forced myself to be content in the knowledge that Andi said she made it out of the apartment safely and was moving toward the linkup site.

  With Andi’s help, I navigated the car through the streets of Village de L’Est until I saw a woman walking with a phone up to her ear. I recognized one of my coats and the hat she wore was mine as well.

  “Tell her that I’m pulling up behind her.”

  The woman turned and I brought the Jeep roughly to a halt beside the curb. “Get in,” I ordered.

  “Oh, thank God, Zach!”

  She sat inside and looked questioningly at my hands on the wheel, following my arms back to my body where the seatbelt rested. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s the only way to disconnect the GPS tracking,” I replied. “Buckle up.”

  By the time we made it to Little Woods, I’d gotten the feel for driving. The front tires up on the curb outside of Teagan’s apartment, however, indicated that I still had a ways to go on learning how to park.

  “I couldn’t risk calling her,” I told Sadie as we walked down the steps to the front door. “We were encrypted for too long trying to get away from my apartment, any longer and someone would have found the signal.”

  “So your friend doesn’t know that you’re stopping by at one in the morning?”

  “No. And she’s probably not going to be happy about it.”

  I rang the buzzer outside her door twice without an answer. Then I knocked loudly and waited. No response. I knocked again, this time I saw a light come on through the window.

  “Who is it?” a tired female voice came through the speaker by the doorbell.

  “It’s Zach. Is Teagan home?”

  “Zach? Zach who?”

  “Is Teagan home?”

  “Yeah, she’s in here with her boyfriend,” the girl replied, sounding more annoyed now. “So go crawl back under whatever rock you crawled out from under and leave her alone, creep.”

  Boyfriend?

  “Can you just tell her that Zach Forrest needs to speak to her?”

  “Wait, the cop?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hold on. I’m buzzing you in.”

  The door opened and I saw a familiar, thin blonde girl. “Hello, Rebecca.”

  “Hi,” she raised her hand quickly and dropped it. “Who’s she? Oh wait! You’re the clone from the vids.”

  “That’s me,” Sadie answered.

  “Can I touch you?”

  “Do you want to get slapped?” Sadie asked, cocking her hip out and resting a hand on it.

  “You’re right,” Rebecca said. “Sorry. I’ll go wake up Teagan. She could sleep through an earthquake.”

  “I don’t want to interrupt her and her boyfriend,” I said.

  “She doesn’t have a boyfriend. I just thought you were some creep at our door, so I was trying to get you to leave.”

  “Alright. I guess I deserved that.”

  Rebecca disappeared down the hallway and I looked around Teagan’s place. I hadn’t ever been there before. From what I could tell, the girls were clean and everything seemed to be in its place. I doubted they had a maid service like I did, so that made the fact that the place was clean when someone dropped in unexpectedly even more impressive.

  Teagan’s roommate reemerged from the dark and crossed her arms across her chest. “Hey, I’m sorry about that time on the phone. We were really drunk.”

  “It’s okay,” I chuckled. “It’s funny now.” It hadn’t been funny at the time. Teagan and Rebecca had been out at a football game until very late and decided to call me so Teagan could profess her undying love. The problem was that Rebecca had a different idea about how things should go—and so did I. In truth, I was surprised she was still speaking to m
e after I called a cab for Teagan and left Rebecca stranded at the stadium.

  Teagan came around the corner rubbing her eyes. “Good morning, Zach.” Then she yawned. “Whatcha doing here so late?”

  “My place isn’t safe right now, so we needed a place to go.” Like a bandage, it was best to just rip it off quick.

  “Hmm… Um… Who are you?” she asked, pointing at Sadie.

  “Sadie. I’m a clone. Zach rescued me. Didn’t you see the news broadcast?”

  “No. I was at work until eleven. Clone? Like what Zach told me about?” she asked, showing remarkable mental agility for someone woken in the middle of the night.

  “Yeah, same thing,” I answered. “It would probably just be easier for you to watch the vid feed and then ask any questions. It’s only five minutes.”

  We pulled up the vid on Rebecca’s screen and watched in silence as the facts were laid out quickly by Chris Young. The blonde girl kept looking back and forth between the screen and Sadie.

  Teagan sat quietly until the final part about the mayor’s involvement and then shouted, “No way!”

  I felt the same way when I learned about it by watching the interview on the megavid screen.

  “I voted for that guy!” Teagan continued.

  “See, that’s why I don’t vote,” Rebecca huffed. “They’re all crooked.”

  “Now, the mayor has goons out searching for us,” I said. “I can’t leave Sadie at my place or else they’d get to her.”

  “Just have Andi secure the place like Fort Knox,” Teagan suggested.

  “It doesn’t work that way. They’d be acting under orders of the Mayor of New Orleans. Dirty or not, he hasn’t been charged with a crime, so Andi can’t ignore their legal orders to open the door. He has the judiciary in his corner as well, so it won’t be long before they have a warrant to search my apartment.”

  “That seems stupid,” Rebecca said. “You should tell your housekeeper to only open the door for you and nobody else.”