Imitation

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “No. I brought you out here to tell you I know where there are many more like you. In this city. Including your friend Anna.”

  I look at Linc. “They weren’t at the address Obadiah gave us?”

  He shakes his head. “It was empty. She moved them before I got there.”

  I glare at Melanie. “You’re holding them hostage?”

  She snorts. “Wrong. I’m hiding them.”

  “From who?”

  “Titus. Twig City. The world.”

  I let that sink in. “They are there … willingly?”

  Pieces are falling into place, even before she answers with a definitive, “Yes.”

  “You saved Anna from the carjacking,” I say.

  “I was the hijacker,” she corrects.

  I nod because even though I can’t explain it and even though this girl did in fact try to repeatedly kill me, I know she has saved and protected Anna. And maybe others.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because they don’t deserve to be used this way. Neither do you, though I’m sure you’ll find that sort of maddening coming from me. Still, I’m sure you’ve realized by now that Titus is a different sort of bad guy than I am.” I can’t argue with that. “They call you products but you are people,” she adds.

  Nothing she could’ve said surprises me more. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No, you don’t. The science it takes to create you … you might not have been born from a human womb, Ven, but you’re human in every sense of the term. Making you believe otherwise is part of the lie.”

  Her words—so contradictory to what I know as truth—make me angry. I drop Linc’s hand so I can ball it into a fist. “How do you know all of this?” I demand.

  “Daniel. Anna … and I’ve seen it.”

  “Seen what?”

  “The data. The conclusive evidence of testing that proves you have just as much emotion and ability to feel and experience as we do. Isn’t that what you think separates you? Isn’t that what they tell you? Humans are superior—intellectually and emotionally?”

  “You’ve …” I don’t realize I’ve taken a step forward until Linc’s hand on my arm gently pulls me back. “How is that possible?”

  She folds her arms and her lids lower. “I can’t tell you that. I’ve already sold Daniel out by telling you this much.” Her voice drops to a mumble when she says, “I won’t do it to anyone else.”

  I wonder vaguely who else there is left to betray, but then the thought is gone and I shake my head in frustration. “How can you still care what Daniel thinks of you? He was gathering those Imitations to use them as an army.”

  She is defensive as she attempts to explain. “The army’s purpose is the same as yours.”

  “Which is?” Linc asks.

  “Freedom from the creator,” she says, looking at me. I say nothing, though my stomach flips at the thought, and she continues. “His intentions were good. Or at least they started out that way. The grief of losing his mother hit him hard. Knowing she could’ve been saved …”

  “An Imitation,” I say, the story coming together as I remember the little bit Daniel mentioned just before he wrapped his hands around my throat. “He wanted an Imitation to save her.”

  “Titus refused to grow a product for her, even though harvesting organs probably would’ve worked. When she died, Daniel vowed to change things. Make the concept of owning a product more public, accessible.” Her words are no more than a whisper. “Somewhere along the way …”

  She doesn’t finish. She doesn’t have to. We all know that at some point, his mission became motive and he crossed a line. I refuse to acknowledge the compassion in her expression as she speaks of him. I will not feel sorry for him.

  “And him wanting me?” I ask. “Was it just to add me to your army?”

  “Yes and no. You were different.” There is something in her voice … guilt.

  “How?” I ask. Beside me, Linc makes a noise that is a growl and a curse all at once.

  Her expression is full of something I don’t understand when she says, “You make him crazy.”

  Linc snorts his agreement. “Don’t exclude yourself from that description,” he says.

  She glares at him for a moment and then turns to me. Her expression softens. It is the nicest look she’s ever given me. “I couldn’t see past … When I look at you, all I see is her. And I hate her.”

  I blink at that—and decide to be honest. “We have that in common,” I say. We share a look.

  I can feel Linc watching me, questioning. He doesn’t understand what’s not being said. That for a split second, Melanie and I are enemies on common ground. “What is the point of telling me all this?” I say finally.

  “Bottom line? I’m offering you the one thing you want.”

  “You have no idea what I want.”

  She crosses her arms. “In a word? Freedom. But that’s complicated.” She nods toward my arm. “You can’t just walk out. Not with that thing still in you. I’m offering step one.”

  “Which is?”

  “The location of your friend Anna—and all of the others like her.”

  I’ve suspected that’s where this was going, but I am leery. “What do you want in return?”

  “Kill me.”

  I thought nothing she said could’ve surprised me more than when she’d called me human. I was wrong.

  “What?” Linc and I say in unison.

  “I’ve heard enough of Titus Rogen to know what waits for me in there,” she says, nodding up at Rogen Tower behind us. “Interrogation, torture, starvation. But he won’t let me die. He’ll just make me want to. Before that happens, I want one of you to stage my death so I can escape. With Daniel.”

  “No.” Linc’s answer is immediate and final. Melanie doesn’t look surprised. Nor does she argue. “You can’t expect me to risk something like th—” Linc begins.

  “We’ll do it,” I interrupt.

  Linc gapes at me. “Ven, it’s imposs—”

  “It’s worth the trade. Save everyone, or save no one,” I say. I don’t mention that I’m beginning to understand what Melanie’s saying: I can’t save myself unless I save them too.

  Melanie presses her lips together and nods appreciatively. Linc shakes his head but doesn’t argue anymore.

  “Thank you,” Melanie says.

  I ignore that and ask the question I can’t shake. “Why go in at all?”

  She cocks her head sideways, cutting from Linc to me in a knowing look. “Love is reckless.”

  ***

  I know the moment Linc places the call to inform the house that he is bringing Melanie in. Feet thunder past my room and radios squawk with grainy, digitized voices telling each other to hurry to the lobby. The alarm sounds.

  I am supposed to be in bed, appearing asleep should anyone check, but I cannot still my bare feet from their pacing.

  I have an address.

  I don’t know if Melanie was telling the truth or if it’s a trap. I am choosing to believe the former since she’s allowing herself to be captured and from this moment on, her life is essentially in our hands. Before leaving me alone, Linc assured me we will go together in the morning to the address she’s given. I don’t want to wait even that long, but we have no choice. There won’t be a chance before then, not with all of the excitement unfolding as a result of her capture.

  I have no idea what I will tell Titus to get away long enough to check it out, but I can’t focus to think of anything. I am too distracted by what Melanie said—and everything it could mean.

  My thoughts are disjointed, incomplete. I am human. Somewhere in the city, she has a warehouse full of Imitations. All of them have found a way to disable or remove their kill switch. I am human. She was helping Anna. And others like us. If she is telling the truth, there is scientific data suggesting I am just as much human as someone womb-born. I am human.

  Someone knocks and I jump and then freeze in place. A s
ecurity guard sticks his head in. “Miss Rogen.” He looks surprised I am awake.

  “I heard noises,” I explain. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine. I need you to stay in your room until I come back.”

  I assure him I will—not that my assurance is needed when the door locks from the outside—and he leaves without another word. I resume pacing. A few minutes later, the alarm ceases and the house is silent.

  I am human.

  An hour later, Linc returns. “Where is she?” I whisper as he closes the door behind him.

  “She’s downstairs,” he says, his voice giving away exhaustion.

  “And Titus?”

  “Already interrogating her.”

  “Do you think she’ll talk?”

  “I don’t know. Titus will be ruthless.”

  “If they’re where she said, we’ll have to move them. If he finds them, he’ll kill them all.” He nods. I know he’s already thought of this. “You don’t have to help me,” I add.

  He frowns. “I’m not letting you do this alone.”

  “Linc ... maybe you should.” His brows knit in confusion, but I press on. It needs to be said. “Whatever is at that address is my problem. But it doesn’t have to be yours. The risk you’re taking—”

  “Is mine to take,” he interrupts. “I meant what I said about not letting you do this alone.”

  “If Titus finds out you’re involved, he’ll kill you.”

  “He could try,” he says fiercely.

  “He might kill you anyway.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  My heart beats erratically against my chest but I say the thing I’m scared to say. “Because he knows I’m in love with you.”

  I wait for his expression to change, for dismay or anxiety or something like it to sweep his features at the thought of what Titus could do to him for this, but instead a slow smile creeps across his mouth and he steps closer so that our faces are almost touching. His hands cup my hips. “Say it again,” he whispers.

  “Titus might kill—”

  “Not that part. The other thing.”

  For some reason, I feel incredibly shy. I force myself to look at him and slowly, I repeat the words. “I love you.”

  He presses his lips to my cheek. “Again.”

  “I love you,” I say with more confidence.

  He lifts his lips from my cheek, presses them to my neck. “Again.”

  I’m smiling now. “I love you.”

  He continues to press kisses to my jawline, slowly making his way to my mouth. I say it three more times before our lips finally meet. I can tell by the shape of his mouth as it finds mine that he is smiling too. The kiss is a tangle of lips and fingertips and arms and parallel friction. I am breathless and tingling when he pulls his mouth far enough from mine to whisper, “I love you too, Ven.”

  Joy, bigger than anything I’ve ever experienced, surges into my chest. It is a feeling so solid, it seems touchable. If this is what it’s like to be human … and then I realize—this is what it’s like to be me.

  Ven. An Imitation in love. How is this possible?

  Linc catches sight of my expression and his head tilts. “You look so far away. What are you thinking?”

  “That this is the happiest I’ve ever been and …” I stare at my gauzy curtains without really seeing them.

  “And?” he prompts.

  I almost don’t finish. I am too afraid it will ruin the moment. But his earnest curiosity is too much. I tell the truth. “I don’t want you to think I’m not capable of loving you as much as you love me just because I’m not human.”

  He growls, a sound that’s become familiar from him. Especially anytime we discuss this particular subject. “You are human, Ven. You heard what Melanie said.”

  “I don’t trust Melanie.”

  “Do you trust yourself?”

  I pause. “Yes.”

  “So do I. And I can see it inside you, shining through like a beacon, drawing me closer and closer. It’s what keeps me tied to you.”

  “What does?”

  “Your humanity.”

  I open my mouth to respond but he holds his finger to my lips and continues. “Melanie was right about one thing. No one else gets to make you feel like less because of how you were born. It’s the same in my world, only they use money, instead of science, as the measuring stick. Either way, who you are at birth shouldn’t define you. We make our own destiny.”

  Again, I open my mouth to respond, but he shushes me a second time. His voice rises with conviction. “We choose who we are. And who we’ll be. Not them.”

  I shove his hand aside. “Are you done yet?”

  His shoulders sag. “Yes.”

  “Good, because that was absolutely inspiring as pep talks go. And you should quit while you’re ahead.”

  The corners of his lips twitch. “I’m glad you liked it.”

  “You had me at humanity.”

  His smile widens and then quickly falls away, replaced by a serious determination. “We’re going to find them, Ven. And we’re going to change things. For them. For you.”

  “You believe that?” I whisper because saying it out loud makes the whole thing sound scary in a possible sort of way.

  “I do.”

  “How? How can you just believe it?”

  “Easy. Because I believe in you.”

  Without hesitation, I throw my arms around him and hold on tight. He stumbles back half a step, off balance from my unexpected display. Then he rights himself and his arms wrap around me too. “What’s this for?” he asks against my hair.

  “For not being less.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sharp drafts of wind cut through my hair and sneak into my helmet, caressing my cheeks like whispering fingertips. The sun is shining, sending a swath of light between the skyscrapers that cast shadows along either side of the street. Despite the bite in the air, I’m warm inside my jacket. Between my thighs, the motorcycle thrums as we accelerate out of traffic. Any other day, the experience of riding with Linc would be thrilling. Today, it is impossible to enjoy.

  The anxious thumping against my chest threatens to drown out the hum of the motorcycle’s engine. Not for what I’ve left behind—Titus was distracted enough by his newest prisoner to let me go without much explanation this morning—but for what we’re headed toward. I have no idea what we’ll find at the address Melanie has given, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m heading into something that will be impossible to walk away from.

  Red brake lights dot the road ahead, but Linc barely slows as he darts around bumpers and weaves between commuters. I am anonymous behind my helmet but I stare back at the curious drivers who scowl as we speed past. In no time, we navigate through the congestion and break free onto the roads that lead to the outskirts. These streets are far less traveled. I’m not sure if it’s because so few people here own cars or that anyone who does can afford to work uptown.

  We slow for a right turn. The street sign is chipped and weathered, barely hanging on to its steel frame. I can just make out letters that spell “Waverly” before it’s lost behind me. These buildings are long and squat, three stories at most. None of them display numbers so we do a lap and circle back.

  Linc slows and raises his visor. “You see it?”

  “No.”

  He angles toward the shoulder and pulls to a stop. I slide off and remove my helmet, shaking my hair free. Beside me, Linc removes his own helmet and stares up and down the street, frowning.

  “What?” I ask.

  “It’s … empty.”

  He’s right. Not a single vehicle—not even foot traffic penetrates from the main road we left a block away. The quiet is eerie. The stillness suggests … purpose.

  “Do you think—?” My words are cut off by a scraping noise. I whip around but there is nothing there. I stare at a corner of the building I can’t see around.

  The scraping comes again, like
feet dragging. A face appears at the very edge of the wall, two eyes peering at us from around the corner. I go still. Slowly, the face emerges far enough that I can make it out. “Anna.”

  Linc and I share a look. We are here.

  “Anna,” I call again, louder.

  She steps clear of the corner and waits there. The minute I move toward her, Linc’s hand is on my wrist pulling me back. “Wait.”

  “Linc, it’s her. Melanie was telling the truth.”

  “We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

  I don’t want to admit I shared his sentiment only moments ago. Instead, I stick out my chin, determined that he is wrong. This is safe. I am supposed to be here. “I know Anna. She won’t hurt me.”

  He scowls and slides his hand down until it joins mine. I hold fast. Together, we walk forward. Anna watches us from the shadows, her eyes darting in every direction as we approach. I can feel the tension in Linc as he squeezes my hand. I force mine to remain relaxed—a sign of my own certainty, though I’m not certain at all. Not with Anna biting her lip and looking for trouble behind my left shoulder.

  “I’m glad to see you again,” I tell her with forced cheeriness.

  At my words, the lines in her forehead smooth over and her shoulders relax. “Same,” she says. “I wasn’t sure Melanie would come through. Well, we can’t stay out here. Come on.”

  We follow her into the alley. Shadows grow and then cross, throwing everything into what feels like murky twilight though it’s not yet noon. We pass a set of Dumpsters that leave a stench in their wake. My nose wrinkles.

  Empty crates and debris litter the walkway. I step over several until I’m forced to go around a larger set. The scraping sound from earlier comes again. I jerk my head toward it so fast, I almost trip. With Linc’s help, I steady myself and catch up to Anna who waits in an open doorway. The metal frame has a thick coating of rust. It flakes off in tiny slivers, golden dust motes in the rotten air.

  “Ven,” Linc murmurs, the single word packed full of wariness.

  “I know,” I say as we walk forward.

  Warm, stuffy air hits me the moment I cross the threshold. The scraping comes again as the door slides closed. Anna leans on it, shoving with her entire body. She grunts and heaves until the latch clicks shut. Then she slides a giant deadbolt into place.