The Clone's Mother

by Cheri Gillard

  It was the closet I’d seen full of boxes on the JCAH tour. Strange. Why was there such a bright light behind that closet door? I groped along the wall for the switch, then turned on the lab lights. The overhead florescent tubes flickered, turned bright white, and settled into their humming.

  I pulled open the door. The boxes were gone. This was no closet.

  A brilliant spotlight beamed from a gooseneck exam lamp in the center of a small room, focused right on Sheila lying on a procedure table with her feet up in stirrups. Carl sat at the foot of the table, between Sheila’s knees.

  Carl’s head snapped up. He sprang from his chair, catapulting the wheeled-stool across the small room behind him.

  Recoiling from the oncoming attack, I jumped back and slammed the closet door shut. What was I going to do?

  I had to think fast. In the split second before he burst through the door, I saw what I needed.

  When the door crashed open and Carl barreled out, I backed against an incubator and held my ground.

  Carl froze like an ice sculpture when he saw what I held. Then fury took over his eyes.

  “Put that down,” he snarled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a snub-nosed revolver. Then he howled, “Put that down, damn you!”

  I didn’t put it down. I figured if he held a gun at me, my best chance of staying unshot was to keep under my control the very thing he wanted for himself. It was a tray littered with test tubes and petri dishes. Each was labeled with one of two words: Zoe or Jack. In my hands was the source of his children’s DNA.

  I held the tray at arms-length in front of me over the hard tile floor. I inched farther away from him.

  “Stay away from me, and don’t shoot me, or I’ll drop this and shatter everything,” I threatened.

  We circled slowly around the island in the center of the lab, him with his gun trained on me, me with my tray of Zoe and Jack held high over the floor.

  Sheila’s voice came through the door, muffled and whiny. “Carl, what’s going on? Can I get up yet?”

  He yelled over his shoulder toward the closet door, “Don’t get up. Shut up and lie down.” He kept his eyes glued to me. We continued to rotate around the room.

  “You have to stop this, Carl,” I said.

  “Shut up,” he said. “All you’ve done is get in my way. You’re not going to anymore.”

  Droplets of sweat on his forehead caught the light.

  I’d step. He’d step.

  We couldn’t circle like this all day. I needed to do something, to gain an advantage somehow. Getting shot was a bad option.

  “I’m pregnant with Jack,” I blurted out.

  That stopped him. He looked at me sideways. Sheila must not have told him. This was news to him.

  “It’s your baby. From the clone you put in me when I came to your office. I’m pregnant with a clone of Jack.” Hard to tell if his big eyes were from hearing I had Jack inside me, or because I knew so much of his schemes.

  “You’re lying.”

  “You willing to risk it?”

  “You can’t be. You’re not on the drugs. You’re lying to control me!”

  The lab door beside me opened and Mack appeared.

  “Carl, what are you doing, man? Put that thing away.”

  Carl aimed his gun at Mack. “Stay out of this, Jim. Turn around and go away.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. Put down that gun. Someone might get hurt.”

  “Not if I get what I want.” He pointed the gun back at me. “Give me those test tubes.”

  Mack looked at the mess of dishes and pipettes on the tray in my hands. Two tubes rocked back and forth on their sides, the blood inside sloshing to and fro.

  “Carl, you can’t keep cloning. Zoe and Jack are dead. You can’t get them back,” he said.

  “You’re wrong,” Carl said, his eyes ablaze with insanity. “Zoe came back. I saw her.”

  “That wasn’t Zoe.”

  “It was. I held her in my arms. Somebody killed her, just like Jackie did the first time.”

  Mack kept his attention on Carl, trying to talk him out of his hysteria. He seemed so calm, like he was confident Carl wouldn’t use the gun.

  “Nothing will bring them back. The baby you saw looked like Zoe, but it wasn’t her. Zoe is with the angels. You can’t bring her back.”

  For a moment, Carl’s face relaxed as he imagined what Mack described. Then the peace vanished and the lunacy slammed back in its place.

  The gun became erect again and stabbed toward me.

  “Give me that blood. I’m going to bring them back.”

  Mack said, “Don’t be hasty, Carl. Let’s talk about this.” He stepped toward Carl. His shoulders were relaxed, his manner confident as he reached out to take the gun.

  Blam!

  Mack jerked. A gray wisp of smoke floated up from the barrel of the weapon. The lab smelled like fireworks and my eardrums throbbed. Mack stood motionless, except to look from Carl to his middle, where a circle of blood grew on his shirt. His surprised expression was still there when he collapsed at Carl’s feet.

  Chapter 45

  Carl looked as shocked as Mack. He hesitated, watching Mack go limp. His face showed horror, confusion, fear.

  He looked at the gun, loose now in his hand. Then his expression contorted into rage. His hand gripped the gun tightly again. He pulled away from the weight of Mack against his legs.

  I scooped up the two test tubes with blood samples then hurled the tray like a Frisbee at Carl’s head. The contents flew everywhere. The heavy metal tray whacked Carl directly in the face. The gun exploded again, shooting a wild bullet. The glass window to the animal lab shattered. I grabbed the doorknob and threw open the door, running from the lab as fast as my legs could take me.

  Around a corner I sped, toward the elevator. I rushed forward and pumped the elevator button until the door opened. I jumped in, pressing my body against the wall in case Carl started shooting before the doors shut.

  Four more shots, right into the outside panel where the buttons were. With a couple of loud sparking pops, the doors froze partway open and the whole thing went dark.

  I could hear Carl coming, his shoes slapping down the center of the hallway. I was trapped.

  His feet slowed down. He growled incoherent, feral sounds. If he caught me, I’d get something far worse than an escort to the front door.

  “Give me my blood,” he screamed. His mad voice echoed through the empty hospital subbasement.

  I had to think, be prepared. I shoved the test tubes into my pocket. I readied for him to come.

  He stuck his head in first, like something from The Shining. Then with all my strength, clenching the elevator telephone like a baseball bat, I smashed his face, low and over the plate, for a home run.

  He sprang back, screaming. He toppled over with his hands cupping his spurting nose. I jumped past his feet and fled down the opposite corridor.

  I ran as fast as was humanly possible, dashing toward the underground tunnel toward the other building. I had to get out, to get help for Mack, to get away from Carl.

  I tore through the labyrinth of hallways, pressing toward the tunnel. Whipping around corners, I struggled for a foothold on the slippery tiles. When I fell, I bounced back up and flew on. I ran in blind terror. The tunnel. I kept pushing. The floor sloped, descending beneath the street. The tile transitioned to concrete. Frantically, I crashed forward. I plowed into an iron-scissors gate cutting the tunnel in half. It rattled and clattered while I yanked and jerked it. It wouldn’t budge. The low ceiling cleared the top of the gate by maybe a couple of feet. It was enough. It had to be.

  I reached high and grasped a diagonal section of the gate in each hand. Then I jammed a foot into a diamond-shaped space, and hauled myself upward, hand over hand, foot by foot. The space on top was smaller than I thought. It’d be tight. I turned my head sideways and flatten my body against the ceiling. Each point of the gate dug into my flesh as I forced my gr
owing belly through the narrow escape route. I prayed the blood tubes in my pocket wouldn’t shatter. I might still need them.

  Just as I was nearly free, Carl roared up and catapulted himself at my trailing leg still on his side of the gate. He caught my foot, wrenching it painfully downward, torquing something in my knee joint.

  I must have been screaming. Had to have been. It hurt too bad to be quiet. I couldn’t use it to kick back. The pain blinded me. Spots swam in my vision. My handhold on the gate loosened. I fell. The momentum of the drop wrenched my leg from his grasp, leaving only my shoe in his hand and I crashed on the other side.

  Slamming down on the hard concrete floor ripped my mind from my knee. The jolt knocked the breath out of me. My ribs felt cracked. Through the dizzying blur, I heard Carl punching the electronic buttons into the key box for the gate. With his badge and the right code, he could open the barrier.

  I willed my body to get up and do what I commanded. Up. Run. I had to keep going. I clawed my way up the wall, trying to gain my feet. Through the pain, I hobbled up the tunnel, crawling along the wall to get away. Carl was screaming at me. He had been all along. But now I heard him. He wanted his blood. He demanded his children back.

  The gate was humming. The motor chugged, retracting the fence, inch by inch. I couldn’t outrun him. I reached into my pocket and fished out the tubes. I held them up like I’d hold a cross to a vampire.

  “Stay away, or I’ll break these. Stay back,” I cried. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it!” I couldn’t even see where he was. The pain, the tears, my hair—everything was in my eyes. “Stay back. Leave me alone!” The walls of the tunnel closed in around me. I sank to the floor, soaked in sweat, dripping in tears. All the noise roared through my ears, sending me whirling back in time.

  I was sixteen again. And in the kitchen. The clank and hum of the gate became the window air conditioner that’d been thumping away that stifling day. The cold tunnel air was the draft on me as I was held down across the chrome and sea-green Formica dinette table.

  In my mind, Carl wasn’t there anymore. It was him. The other one. It was happening all over again. I was helpless, horrified, blinded by panic. I couldn’t fight, couldn’t think, couldn’t see. The terror immobilized me.

  He came back, flying through the air, crashing down on me.

  Flattened beneath him, I struggled against his weight. “Please don’t hurt me,” I pleaded over and over.

  His weight held me down. Then he grabbed my neck, shrieking at me, calling me awful names. He kept squeezing. So tight. I couldn’t catch my breath. Pain jolted through my body.

  When I looked up through popping eyes, I saw him. My father. The one who’d hurt me, then made me destroy the evidence. The pain. It came crashing back into my body like the day it’d happened. I felt it all over again.

  How it hurt. I couldn’t breathe. The pressure. Like I’d explode. Tried to cry out. Let go. Please—

  My hands fell to my side, clunked against the syringe in my pocket. Before I couldn’t anymore, I fumbled it out while he lay on me, screaming, shaking, holding my neck in his fists.

  The cap came off. So weak. Couldn’t lift my hand. Must. Do it. Now! It sank in. Push, push the plunger. Push, push, getting dark, can’t keep pushing. Push. Can’t keep—

  Chapter 46

  The blackness began to recede. Pain took its place. First in my throat, then my knee. After that, I felt my rib cage as if a steamroller had plowed over me. But pain had to be a good sign. I hurt so bad, I couldn’t be dead. Either that, or else dead was going to be a real big disappointment.

  The light above me started to take shape, to come into focus. Without moving a hair, I lay there watching that light. If that was The Light which I was supposed to feel amazingly drawn to, it was an enormous let down. It held little appeal for me. It mostly looked like a security light. Heaven probably didn’t use halogen bulbs. Probably. Another sign I was most likely not dead.

  The panic was gone, the fear extinguished. The cold was just the subterranean air. I lay there, staring upward. The light didn’t move either. That was another good omen. The walls weren’t swimming anymore. Maybe I’d be able to get up.

  My first attempt contradicted me. Sharp stabs shot through my chest. I stopped and panted shallowly. The cold concrete felt good on my cheek. I had to regroup a bit before a second try. Then I braced for the pain, holding my ribs together with my hand, and I struggled to my side and tried to push myself up with my arms.

  When my head lifted from the floor, the walls did begin to sway. I had to take it so slowly, carefully, like the world was in slow motion.

  The tunnel was silent. My whimpers and groans echoed off the long, empty walls.

  A few yards down from me sat Carl. I could see he wasn’t my father. It seemed odd now that I’d confused the two.

  His face was purple, his lips dark blue. His watery, bulgy eyes stared straight ahead. His legs sprawled straight out in front of him. The wall held him up, though he listed to the left. Those hands which had tried—and nearly succeeded—to strangle the life out of me lay limp at his sides.

  He looked pretty dead. Very dead, in fact. Guess he got to see The Light. Or maybe it was the glow of a very hot fire.

  The syringe I’d plowed into him was dangling from just beside his sternum, half way up his rib cage. I’d scored a direct hit. I was lucky I hadn’t hit a rib. As it was, it appeared as though I’d injected his heart with a bolus of potassium big enough to drop an elephant.

  Who knew how long I’d been out or how long it took Carl to die? But I knew I needed to get back to Mack. The thought of him sent a new kind of jolt through my chest.

  I had to get to him, see if he was still alive.

  It took forever, but I pulled up to my feet. My knee wouldn’t take any weight, so I leaned against the wall with my shoulder. I made sure to use the wall that Carl wasn’t using. I’d have to go past him to get to Mack, but I’d just as soon stay as far from his purple, bloated corpse as possible.

  Holding myself up with the wall, I hopped and halted on one leg, each lurch sending excruciating jolts through my cracked ribs and dangling knee. My hands left bloody prints smeared along the white, smooth tile of the wall. Faltering, I somehow made my way back through the tunnel the way I’d come in my desperate and crazed flight to get away from the currently purple bloated Carl.

  When I emerged from the tunnel, firemen were gushing from a stairwell. Police officers streamed among them. They swarmed everywhere, including into Mack’s laboratory. Such relief to have help. And I must have looked pretty bad, because within seconds, they flocked around me too, catching me as I sank to the floor.

  I guess I not only looked bad, but maybe a bit terminal. The test tubes of blood must have broken too, soaking me in blood.

  One paramedic started treating cuts on my arms and hands. Another placed an oxygen mask over my face. Maybe because of all the blood. Or perhaps because of the greenish ghost one guy mentioned I resembled as he put an IV in my arm. Or maybe it was the deep handprints around my neck. Maybe my head wasn’t even completely attached anymore. I couldn’t tell. By the way they were treating me, I had to wonder just how injured I really was.

  At one point, I heard a voice calling to me. I hadn’t realized the blackness had closed in on me.

  “Stay with me, ma’am,” the voice said in a gentle Texan accent. “Open your eyes and look at me. Ma’am, can you hear me?”

  I didn’t even know my eyes were shut. But, sure enough, I lifted my forehead till the lids lifted, and there hovered over me a very nice-looking fire officer man.

  “Hi.” A scratchy, feeble voice had replaced mine.

  “You with me? Take some slow, deep breaths now,” he instructed so nicely.

  I tried. Man it hurt. I decided not to do that again, no matter how handsome the guy was who asked me to.

  Something cool slid through the tube into my arm and things started to move a little differently. I didn’t know what d
rug it was, but I liked it. I started to feel more comfortable, less foggy and distant.

  “You’re feeling better,” the guy said more than asked. “Your blood pressure is coming back up. That will help. Can you tell me your name?”

  “K…Kate.” And I was able to ask about Mack. My fireman gently took the oxygen mask out of my hand and positioned it back over my mouth and nose. He said his buddies were taking good care of Mack.

  “Be straight with me,” I said in a surprisingly slurred voice. I was so weak. “Ima nurse. I know ’bout things. Tell me’f he’s dead.” I sounded like a drunk talking into a cup.

  “No, ma’am,” he said in his polite southern drawl. “He’s not dead. My buddies are taking care of him. He’s not out of the woods yet, mind you, but he’s holding his own pretty good. Don’t you worry about him now. He’s in the best of hands.”

  It was a relief. I closed my eyes again to rest.

  “Kate, am I losing you again?” that same friendly voice asked. “Are you with me, hun?”

  I worked hard and got my eyes opened. “Just…resting. Don’t worry. I’ll let you know…” I was so tired.

  I lay there with sounds whirring around me. Voices spoke of discovering Carl’s body. Hushed whispers darted around the corridor. Some deep voice asked if I could talk yet, but my handsome rescuer must have shaken his head, because the deep voice went away.

  I finally heard the team coming out of the lab with Mack on a stretcher. It was quite a commotion, but I couldn’t even lift my head to see. I turned toward the group and tried to watch, but too many legs came between Mack and me.

  They couldn’t use the elevator that was all shot up, so they zipped down a different hall to the next bank.

  Once that commotion died down, I heard the deep voice asking questions again. And the voice answering belonged to Sheila.