Clone Crisis: Book 1 in the Clone Crisis Trilogy

by Melissa Faye

  The group was less torn this time. Most people supported my plan, although a small group was vehemently opposed to any plan an outsider would put forth. Still, that group had no other solutions beyond sending Ben into the wilderness to die.

  Matana called a vote. My plan won by a slight majority. There was grumbling from one corner, but a stern look from Matana shut it down.

  “Sven, please determine what supplies Ben will get and what communities he may try to join. We will send him away by midday tomorrow. Meanwhile, I expect everyone here to treat Yami with respect until she decides what she wants to do next.”

  The meeting adjourned and people retired to their living quarters or the dining hall. Dinner was particularly light since the kitchen staff had spent the afternoon taking part in the council.

  I entered the dining area hesitantly, unsure how I would be treated. Many people turned away when they saw me approach. I had a tray of food, a lean amount in an attempt to seem apologetic for how my presence had impacted the camp. I didn’t know where to sit, and briefly considered eating in my tent. So many people didn’t want me around.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when Daphne called me over. Her friends weren’t sure how to respond to my presence, but I stayed quiet and avoided their eyes. Daphne was genial, asking about my injuries and gently asking me what I thought of Ben’s sentence. I spoke as few words as possible. I was no longer welcome at the ACer camp, and needed to figure out what to do next. There was no time for pleasantries.

  As I hid in my tent – formerly mine and Ben’s – I received a message from Charlie. “EB in Med. Can’t track what’s happening.” I didn’t respond. I wanted everyone I knew and loved to run away. I worried where Vonna was, and wanted Charlie to stay out of it from now on. But I had no way to solve any of the problems ahead of me.

  The next morning, I went looking for Matana. She was reviewing the plan for Ben’s punishment with Sven. I waited patiently for her to finish her work, then approached. I could no longer hide my anger. She was sitting down at a bench where we used to discuss Etta’s pregnancy. I sat across from her, ignoring the cold that pressed against my scrapes.

  “How could you let this happen?” I said, knowing immediately that I was talking too loudly and disrespectfully. “You should have seen how dangerous Ben was. You should have seen how dangerous all of us were. Now the camp is in jeopardy, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it!”

  “Please mind your tone, Yami,” said Matana. “This is not our fault.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” I cried. “This happened while I was away collecting supplies for you to help us! I was almost caught by a janitor because of something one of your camp members did. We knew Li Fa hated us and you gave him a perfect opportunity to ruin me. I got a concussion. And then I returned to find out that you let my former friend betray us all!”

  “What would you have had me do then?” Matana said. A vein in my forehead pulsed at the sound of her calm, even tone. “What do you expect us to have done?”

  “Anything!” I cried. “Ben was going down a dangerous path. I couldn’t reach him. Nor could Etta or Breck. You are a leader here. You should have stepped in.”

  “How could I have known this was happening?” Matana asked. “You never told me you were fighting with Ben. I might have suspected it, if I had the time, but I was too busy running the camp. Supporting people who are actually part of our group.”

  “You and your group! We’ve been here for weeks. Why couldn’t you see us as part of your camp? What did we not do that we should have done for you? I worked hard in the medical tent. Etta was exhausted every day, but did good work in the kitchens. We did everything you said. Can you really say I’m not as much a member of this camp as anyone else?”

  “Yes I can,” Matana said. “When people are banished and end up here, it takes a long time for them to become one of us. It takes time for them to earn our trust and understand our moral code. It requires hard work. From the start, you were using us to provide support and resources. I’m glad you returned the favor with you own work. But in the end, you needed us, and we didn’t need you.”

  “I let you be part of something bigger than all of us. I worked with you to plan the first labor and delivery in hundreds of years. You could have been a part of making something important happen. Instead you devoted yourself to telling us we didn’t belong and ignored signs all around you. You sided with camp members when we were trying to survive. You are complicit in my friends’ arrest!”

  Matana stood up from the bench. “You’re acting out of anger, and you are speaking out of turn. If you don’t agree with my actions or those of others in the camp, you can leave. Ben is on his way out right now. You can join him, or you can find your own way.” She stormed off.

  I hid in my tent, fuming in the cold. I watched my breath freeze in front of my mouth as I gasped for air. Matana was wrong. She had to be. She was a part of all of this, letting the camp treat us poorly and pushing Ben to make a foolish decision. It was unforgiveable. I lay under my blankets, plotting my revenge. I couldn’t sleep. My head and hand were hurting, but I wouldn’t be asking anyone else for help from the camp. I needed to get out.

  Chapter Twenty

  I must have fallen asleep quickly, because I woke up early, tired but restless. Snow had fallen overnight, thought not much had accumulated. I spent a little more time planning my next steps, and steeled myself for what I was about to do.

  I packed my things, leaving behind the medical supplies I had stolen. Perhaps the camp would have a use for them. I certainly would not. I had the map showing where the monorail was, and I would head out as soon as I had collected enough supplies for my trip. I collected a few blankets, some protein packs, and water. An hour later, I left.

  The walk to the monorail was much more difficult than last time; the snow on the ground required extra caution. I had packed extra bandages, hopefully enough to last me the whole trip. Fortunately, getting from the camp to the nearest monorail station was technically shorter than our first trip since I wouldn’t be stopping at Glenwood Pines. It took two long, freezing days to reach the station. Each night, I thought I would freeze to death in the wilderness by myself. Each morning I awoke, stiff but alive.

  When I arrived at the monorail station, I didn’t bother using Charlie’s program to disguise my identity. I was headed back to Young Woods, and if Chancellor Lorenzo knew where I was, it didn’t matter. The hours ticked by like a death sentence. I didn’t bother admiring the snow-covered landscape as I rode. It felt like I didn’t deserve it. I had failed everyone I knew.

  I messaged Charlie. “Coming back. Don’t contact again.”

  He sent back a few responses, but I ignored them. Charlie should no longer be involved in any of this. I had failed at my goal of protecting my friends. Charlie wasn’t safe. Etta and Breck were gone. Ben had deserted us. And who knew what Vonna was up to.

  After the monorail ride, it was another few days of hiking to get back to Young Woods in the cold and ice and snow. I was plagued with guilt over what was happening, and my icy journey didn’t feel like nearly enough penitence. My heart leapt in my chest as I almost fell again on a set of rocks, but I regained my footing and continued on.

  I approached the Young Woods gate slowly, my mind numb. When I opened the gate, I found two security guards waiting for me. I silently followed them. They held my arms, but they didn’t need to. I was resigned to whatever fate was awaiting me. In a short time – or maybe a long time, I wasn’t keeping track – I arrived in front of Chancellor Lorenzo’s residence. Without hesitation, I walked through the doors, flanked by my personal guards.

  I SAT IN THE CHANCELLOR’S office for a long time. It was a large room with old-fashioned wooden furniture and over-sized windows. The walls were covered with bookshelves interrupted by a large safe locked with a padlock and keyhole. I wondered why the Chancellor needed his own safe. What did he have that he couldn’t store in the Records Room? Gianna had ment
ioned blackmail at the first Underground meeting I went to. Is this where he kept evidence of his threats and coercion? I shook my head quickly – I had decided to stay out of this.

  There was a large painting of the Chancellor on the wall above his desk. Anyone sitting in front of him would see both the Chancellor himself as well as a painting that made him look like a king. It was a power play; I knew it. The Chancellor was giving me time to stew in my mistakes. Little did he know that I had given up all feelings and guilt by now. He couldn’t touch me.

  I placed my TekCast on the Chancellor’s desk. I suspected it would be searched for any signs of my confidantes. I went through and deleted the secret program Charlie had created to hide our correspondence. Then I turned it off. No use waiting for more messages to come through from people I would no longer be speaking to.

  Someone came in to offer me water or tea. I ignored them. I was thirsty, but I didn’t want to take anything from the Chancellor. They left in a hurry. Time passed slowly, but with a blank mind, it didn’t matter.

  Finally, with an air of pomp and circumstance, the Chancellor arrived to dole out my punishment.

  “Yami,” he announced. He sat down in the desk in front of me and leaned his chin on his hands. As if he was deep in thought about what to say. As if he didn’t know exactly what he would do. Without emotions holding me back, it was easy to see right through him.

  “As I suspected, you’ve been working with the Underground.” He searched my face for a response that didn’t come. “Yes, I know about the Underground. We’ve narrowed in on the members and are working to pull them in as we speak.” I said nothing.

  “That leaves the matter of what to do with you. You knowingly abducted two very important community members whose biological data would be crucial in solving the fertility crisis. You ran away from your own community with them, avoiding detection using unauthorized TekCast programming. You infiltrated another community, causing unnecessary alarm and distress for their members. You escaped and joined an unaffiliated group of dissidents, helping their cause and keeping their existence a secret from the government.”

  I said nothing.

  “Do you deny any of these actions?”

  I said nothing.

  “Very well,” the Chancellor continued. “I take your silence as an admission of guilt. You have two choices moving forward. The first is banishment. You will be sent out of the community, never to return. The second is rehabilitation. You will work with myself and other council members to better understand the benefits of our community structures and serve as an example to others of the ways we can change the minds of our most heinous criminals. You must see my problem though – banishment would only throw you back into the waiting arms of the camp you recently joined.”

  He was right, of course. It was what I had expected. “Rehabilitation.” Brainwashing. I didn’t care, though. My very existence threatened those around me. Through the misery of rehab, I could atone for my sins. I may even come out of it with a renewed love for Young Woods and everything the community offered to protect its citizens and provide them with meaningful lives.

  “Very well,” Lorenzo said. “We’ll put you through rehabilitation. I will expect you to be on your best behavior throughout the process. As I said, I would like you to serve as an example of the power of rehabilitation to reform criminals and change the minds of our most passionate – and wrong – community members. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I said, clearing my throat after a long period of silence. “I will follow your directions. I’ll be a model citizen.”

  “Thank you, Yami.” He wasn’t thanking me, of course. This was my only option. My agreement to his terms meant nothing. “For now, you will stay in a guarded room in this building as you go through rehabilitation. You will be able to leave the building during the evenings to talk with friends about everything you’re learning. Rehabilitation may last weeks, months, or more. But know that banishment is no longer an option for you. Your rehab will continue until we are successful.”

  The Chancellor handed me back my TekCast. “Use this wisely,” he said. “You’ll be able to buy food and access community buildings like you normally would as a Gray. You’ll be able to message with friends, and the messages will be monitored.”

  I was uninterested. I wouldn’t leave the building. I would not be messaging with anyone. I was on my own now, and would do my best to reintegrate into Young Woods. After that, who knows. Probably I would be sent back to work in maintenance.

  The Chancellor excused me and a guard walked with me to my new room. After weeks in the ACers camp, it was luxurious. There was a queen sized bed, a bathroom with a sink and shower, and a large closet to house the clothing I no longer owned. I peeked inside, and was pleasantly surprised that the belongings I had left behind in my apartment had been transferred to my new home. I felt the soft fabrics. I looked down to see my calf length boots: black with laces running up the front and large rubber soles.

  I realized I was being kept from making any foolish decisions. There was no razor in the bathroom, and the mirror was unbreakable. The windows overlooked the lawn down below, but were similarly unbreakable. I was trapped. Not that it mattered. I had accepted my fate. I was an enemy of the state, and from now on, I would do my best to rejoin society, keep my nose down, and avoid anyone in my old life who sought to push me off my path.

  I WAS SCHEDULED TO attend “rehab” for eight hours every weekday and four hours each weekend morning. I spent my first day with two community councilors whose names I didn’t bother to remember. They lectured me on the history of the community. I knew most of it already from school, and didn’t feel the need to respond to questions or engage at all in their conversations.

  I was shown videos about cloning and fertility research. I was expected, like a student, to write reports on the videos. I was told to describe what I had watched and how it led to the wellbeing of community members. When my writing wasn’t deemed sufficient, I was ordered to rewrite it.

  Over my first several days, I saw a dozen city officials cycle in and out of my workroom, which was around 10x10 feet square and empty except for a few school desks, a video screen, and a table at which my current “teacher” could sit or work. My only escape from the videos, which quickly turned to propaganda extolling the virtues of Chancellor Lorenzo and the councilmen, was to count the number of blocks on each cement wall. There was a small row of windows through which I could see the courtyard outside the Chancellor’s mansion. I only saw a few people walking by. Most were maintenance workers doing clean up or maintaining the gardens.

  Pretending to be interested in the rehabilitation process was easy enough. I didn’t need to talk. I could watch the videos, mindlessly listen to the facilitators, and do a halfway decent job with my writing. After several days, the Chancellor came in to discuss my progress.

  “I’ve read some of your writing, Yami,” he said. “I must say, I’m disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm. After an entire week, you should have a much better understanding of the benefits of our community. I expect to see an increased passion in next week’s work.

  “For this weekend, your schedule is shorter and you’ll be able to spend the afternoons as you wish. I expect you to speak highly of the program with your friends, and keep yourself out of trouble. You’ll report back to your room each evening by eight pm.”

  It didn’t matter. If Lorenzo didn’t like my writing, who cares? I could try harder, or not, and it wouldn’t make a difference. I had food and a place to live. I didn’t go out in the evenings, and instead looked at some of the texts in my TekCast that Ben had shared with me months ago. I read up on the history of the community. The texts were less biased than the videos I watched, and went back further in time.

  I began to understand Ben’s interest in all of this. Our global history painted a picture of a society scrambling to find a different way to live their lives, creating a completely new way of rearing children. I read t
he explanations recorded by the original country representatives who decided to turn to cloning. They sounded hopeful, extolling the potential of the new system with a hint of worry over when the fertility solution would be found. There were a few paragraphs about the implications of cloning over a long period of time. People weren’t just worried about the physical implications – would clones stay healthy and would the life expectancy stay the same? – but also the ethical issues.

  I didn’t go out into the community for my first week, but decided to leave my room over the weekend. March had arrived, and with it came a slushy mixture of snow and rain that crunched under my boots and left me shivering in the streets with my collar pulled up high. On Saturday, I took my TekCast to a park and tried to do some reading outdoors. It quickly became too cold to stay outside, though, so I moved into a nearby community center. No one I knew was there, but apparently my reputation preceded me. People stared and whispered when I came in. I didn’t care. I found a couch in a back corner near a vending cylinder and read.

  On Sunday, after my “class,” I returned to the community center. Before I could walk in, I saw Charlie standing at the door. His face lit up when I looked at him for a second before I registered who it was and looked away.

  “Hi,” he said. I walked past him. “We should talk.” He followed me into the community room and sat next to me on the couch. I concentrated on my reading, ignoring him completely. “Vonna is fine. We’re all trying to temper her passion, but it’s getting harder to keep her out of things. Even with the bombings, we’re getting more and more volunteers every day. I understand you don’t want to be involved anymore, but...”

  He didn’t continue. I was completely shut down. He watched me for a few minutes, then left.

  Every weekend afternoon for a month, Charlie met me outside the community room and then followed me in. He filled me in on what was going on, even though I never spoke. “Etta and Breck are still in the Med,” he said. “But I can’t get access to them at all. I can’t break into the digital programming. The other interns and doctors seem to know what’s going on, but no one wants to talk about it in public. People seem upset, though. I don’t think any of us support what’s happening. Even Soo Yen seems particularly down.”