by Jason Hutt
“Sharon, will you please listen to me?” Max pleaded, his voice rising, “We don’t have time for this.”
“You can’t show up after eight years without even a word and expect me to just walk off with you! I don’t care if God himself told you to come get me! It doesn’t work that way, Max! You had your chance! You abandoned us long ago!”
“Sharon, I didn’t abandon you!” Max yelled back, “I couldn’t…damn it, Sharon, this is not the time for this argument. We’ve got to get you out of here. Everyone on Dust is in danger now. Everyone! And this bullshit between us doesn’t matter. You have to believe me.”
“Believe you? How the hell am I supposed to do that? Am I supposed to just pull together my things and march on out the door with you? You have lost your mind if you really expect me to do that.”
Max rubbed his temples and furrowed his brow, his expression especially pained. He looked plaintively at Nick, who was intensely studying the patterns in the tile.
“Do you really think I’d come here if it wasn’t an emergency?”
“I think you’ve become completely delusional, Max.”
***
Nick was beginning to think the same thing. He wanted no part of this conversation. Wish Max had left me on the ship for this one, he thought. Nick tried to find anything in the room to focus on other than the two of them, looking from floor to ceiling and back.
The walls were lined with projected images of Sharon and Hannah. One picture showed the two of them at the park, next at some school function, next Hannah sitting on Sharon’s lap. The images showed the girl at various ages, slowly growing up. The final image was of Sharon and Hannah walking along the beach, holding hands. If Nick didn’t know better, he would have said Sharon looked the same age in this photo as she did standing there. Age therapy was a wonderful thing, Nick thought.All these pictures made it seem like Hannah was still alive, as if she would walk into the room at any moment.
And in the very next moment, she did. The little girl in all the photos, a red-headed little girl of about eight, poked her head from around the corner of a hallway on the other side of the room. She was the twin of the girl in the images Max had shown him. Nick stood there, jaw agape.
“Mom,” she said softly, through a sleep-induced haze.
Sharon looked at the girl, taking her exasperated stare off of Max. She walked over, put her hand on her shoulder, and knelt down so that her face was right in front of Hannah’s.
Max spun on his heels as well. “Hannah…”
Sharon cut him off sharply. “Don’t you dare. You gave up any right to speak to her eight years ago.”
Sharon leaned in close to Hannah and said, “Go back to bed, sweet girl. I’ll be back in a minute, Max, and then we’ll finish this.”
Then, she led the little girl back out of the room. Nick’s mouth had gone dry and his face flushed. He struggled to find his voice.
“Wait,” Nick said, “Who the hell was that?”
“My wife’s daughter,” Max said, “I told you that.”
“Bullshit, Max. Tell me that’s not the same little girl from the pictures on the ship,” Nick said.
“It’s not, Nick. My daughter, my Hannah, died ten years ago,” Max said, casting his eyes to the floor.
“You had her cloned! Oh, tell me that’s not true! Tell me you lied about everything else, that she never really died in the hangar, and that the girl who was just standing there is not the creation of that lunatic Doctor.”
“Nick, please,” Max said, clearly struggling, “I can explain.”
“Don’t tell me this is okay, Max,” Nick said, “I don’t want to hear that. It’s not, Max. This is not okay.”
“Christ, Nick, we don’t have time for this. I’m having a helluva time getting my point across to her. I don’t need to worry about your crap as well,” Max said, his face growing red, “Yes, that little girl’s a clone, an exact copy of my daughter who died ten years ago.”
Nick was flabbergasted, unable to speak. This wasn’t just having another child.
“Sinclair made her for us, for my wife,” Max said.
“Is that why you defend him so much?” Nick asked with contempt, “Because he made you that thing?”
In an instant, Max grabbed Nick by his shirt and pushed him against the wall. His face was inches from Nick, his eyes bulging slightly. “She is a little girl. No different than you or I. Just because she was made differently, doesn’t make her any less of a person.”
“She’s an abomination,” Nick said. Nick couldn’t move; Max had him pinned with all his strength.
“You really think that, Nick? You really think that she’s not a real person just because she was grown? Guess what, she came from the same cells you did. So what if they didn’t grow in her mother’s womb. She’s still life; she’s still alive. Her heart beats the same as yours.
“Look in those images, Nick! Do those little girl’s eyes look dead to you? Does she look like a creature of the damned, the spawn of the devil! She’s not, Nick, she’s made of the same stuff you and I are. She bleeds red, just like you and me. Just like all the other cloned kids in this valley.”
Max finally let Nick go, but Nick was too stunned to notice. Nick slid down the wall slightly. He remembered their trip here, all the lights that lined the valley, hundreds, possibly thousands of them.
“Do you remember the couple at the Dry Dock?” Max asked. “The ones who ran up to Francis the night he knocked you out.”
“She was the woman on the subway,” Nick said, “The one who was crying.”
She had been crying as she made her way to the Windy City bank. Nick remembered their joy and their relief when Francis gave them the nod to come with him.
“All of them?” Nick said weakly.
“All of them,” Max said, “Every person living in this valley has had a son or daughter brought back to life through Aldous’ cloning. Welcome to Resurrection, Nick, where the dead walk the earth.”
“How many are there?” Nick asked.
“Over two thousand,” Max said, catching his breath.
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah, well, Aldous Sinclair has basically signed them all up to a life of misery,” Max said, “Once the Republic gets here and checks the ID chips of everyone here, the secret will be out. They will all be rounded up, probed, and prodded while the government decides what their fate should be.
“Some will want them destroyed, like they’re animals. So many in the Republic will see everything like you just did. They will be inhuman, abominations and they will want them slaughtered. What do you think, Nick? Do you think you could take that little girl who was just in here and cut her throat? Do you think you could take her life away like that?”
Nick was silent, his mouth agape. Part of him wanted to say yes, that she should be slaughtered. It was the part of him that believed that rules should be followed, laws obeyed, and people should live righteously or suffer the consequences. However, another part of him saw what Max saw. She was just a little girl.
Nick shook his head slowly and softly said, “No.”
“Well, neither could I,” Max said, “And I can’t let them stay here, either. That’s why I need to convince Sharon that the two of them need to leave.”
“And you really expected them to just come with us? After you left your daughter for eight years?” Nick asked. His mind was swimming; he felt a bit lightheaded.
“That’s not my daughter,” Max said quietly, “That’s a copy, a clone, but she’s not the same person.”
“You just said that clones were just like everyone else. Made of the same stuff,” Nick said somewhat agitated, “So what is she, Max? Is she your daughter or not?”
“She is a copy,” Max said through clenched teeth, “She might be an exact genetic copy of my daughter, but she’s not the same person. She doesn’t have the same memories, she hasn’t lived the same life, she hasn’t had the same experiences. That little girl is not the sam
e one that I cradled in my arms the day she died. That was my daughter. My daughter died.”
Max’s hands were shaking; his cheeks were flush.
“That little girl in there may look like her, she may sound like her, and she may even have the same talents as my little girl, but my little girl is gone. No amount of wishing would ever bring her back.”
“So you just left them,” Nick said.
“I didn’t want her brought back, Nick,” Max said, practically fuming, “I couldn’t face her, all right. I couldn’t do it. Didn’t want to do it. My wife wasn’t there that day, Nick. She didn’t cradle her little broken body, didn’t feel her skin grow cold. She didn’t have her blood running between her fingers!
“You want to call me weak? Fine. Think whatever you want. I knew that I couldn’t wake up every day and see that little girl’s face; just thinking about it tore my heart to shreds. But I knew that Sharon needed this.
“So I did it for her. Because I loved her too. Because what the Republic denied us, another chance to get this right, wasn’t fair to her.”
A sense of understanding crept into Nick’s expression.
“All this work for him, for this twisted son of a bitch, was to pay for this gift he gave you. You paid for it with your work for Sinclair.”
Max nodded.
“Someday you’ll understand, Nick. Like I said on the ride here, when you hold your own child in your arms for the first time, look in her eyes, and touch her soft skin, you’ll know that it’s your mission to protect her. And you damn well better succeed, because it’s the only chance you’ll get. You don’t know what it’s like to have that life ripped away.”
Max sat down heavily on a small footstool in the middle of the room while Nick now sat on the floor with his head leaned back against the wall. Max stared vacantly ahead.
“Sinclair could do something that nobody else would. He could give my wife her little girl back. My wife would’ve paid anything for that. I couldn’t deny her that chance. To Sharon, she was the same little girl. She was an opportunity for our whole family to be reborn. That day Hannah died, a piece of all of us died with her.
“Sinclair offered a chance to resurrect that piece, at least for Sharon. His price was high, well beyond what I could afford. Sinclair needed something though, something I could provide. I had no problem signing up to be Sinclair’s pilot. It was a price I had to pay.”
Nick could see the hurt and sorrow on Max’s face as he sat heavily on the stool, shoulders slumped. Max looked defeated. Old wounds had bled out leaving a tired, old man behind. Wounds had been buried under the tedium of the daily grind, as Max had done the bidding of Sinclair every day for the past decade. Nick knew Max would never pay his debt, either the one to Sinclair or the one to his dead daughter.
Nick walked up to Max, who sat staring bleakly ahead, and placed his hand on Max’s shoulder. Nick could feel the tension in Max’s shoulder where knots of muscle had built up over years of grueling work. Nick couldn’t think of anything to say. Max was a slave to his past, who couldn’t let it go or put it behind him. Every day Max faced the consequences of that horrible tragedy.
Max exhaled through clenched teeth. He finally broke the silence and asked, “Where the hell is Sharon? We’re running out of time.”
As her name came out of his mouth, she came back in the room. Tears were in her eyes; she had obviously been listening.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Nick watched as she tapped a spot on her wrist computer. Both men turned as they heard the front door slide open.
“What did you do?” Max asked.
“Max, I had no choice,” Sharon said.
Nick crept toward the entryway. Remembering the stun gun, he immediately reached for it. Suddenly, one of Sinclair’s creatures shot forward and punched Nick in the chest with a balled up talon. Nick flew backwards, hitting the back wall of the room with a thud.
Sharon screamed while Max looked around frantically for something to use as a weapon. This creature, while it looked the same as the ones on Nexus Station, seemed to be vastly superior to its cousins. Its movements were more precise; its reactions swift. Just as Max picked up the small stone stool he had been sitting on, the creature lashed out with its unusually long arm and backhanded him across the face.
In the next instant, the creature pounced forward and grabbed Nick by the throat. Nick clawed desperately at the demon’s wrist to no avail. The creature lifted him bodily off of the floor and Nick felt its talons break the flesh of his neck. Blood trickled down his chest and his lungs began to burn as he struggled to breathe.
Max regained his footing and found the small stool again. He charged forward, ready to throw his full weight behind the swing. The creature’s head swiveled quickly in Max’s direction. It pounded Nick into the wall again and then delivered a swift kick into Max’s midsection. Max gasped as air was forced from his lungs. He collapsed to one knee.
Nick was dazed; the blow to the back of his head caused his vision to explode with stars. The room around him seemed to wobble and he wondered if he was about to take his last breath. He locked eyes with Max; they were beaten. A fear of death passed over Nick, but he did not let that fear hold him.
The creature let loose a blood-curdling shriek, louder than anything Nick remembered hearing in their previous encounters. Deadly intent shone in the creature’s eyes. It started toward Nick, when suddenly someone yelled, “Enough! Relent, Gordo!”
The creature froze. The bloodlust disappeared from its stance and it assumed an odd parade rest with its long arms folded behind its back and its head held stock still while gazing forward. Nick and Max both kneeled on the floor, Nick down on all fours. They were both gasping, bleeding from multiple cuts, with Nick trying to stay conscious.
Francis entered the room and looked at Max with a bit of surprise.
“Never expected to see you again,” Francis said. His false eye zeroed in on Nick, scanning the young man.
“Go to hell, Francis,” Max replied.
Francis gave a nod to Gordo and it lashed out with its foot, striking Max in the dead center of his chest. Max fell backward, hitting his head on a small table. He felt blood pooling under his shirt and trickling down the back of his head.
“Watch yourself, Max,” Francis said, “Gordo doesn’t appreciate your tone of voice.”
Francis looked back to Nick. “Looks like your wounds aren’t fatal. You should count yourself lucky, for now.”
Nick didn’t bother to reply; he was still blinking his eyes, trying to stop his head from spinning.
“You’re quieter than I remember you, kid,” Francis said. Francis waited a moment for Nick to respond; Nick just sat there refusing to be goaded. “I guess the only courage you have is found in a bottle.”
Francis cackled and the two creatures that accompanied him, Gordo and the one behind Francis, started in their best approximation of a laugh. It was a chilling chittering sound. Francis backed away from Nick, slightly disappointed that the young man gave him no reply. After another moment, Francis turned his attention back to Max.
“You’ve made this day even more interesting, Max,” Francis said, “Father will want to have a word with you.”
“That’s good,” Max said, feeling the back of his head for any blood, “I have a few words I’d like to share with him.”
Sharon had knelt behind him, helping him off the floor. She was looking at Max with a mixture of sympathy and sorrow.
“Well, you’ll certainly have that chance,” Francis said, “Gordo, Wally, pick them up. We need to get back.”
Gordo picked a still dazed Nick off of the floor and held him in an iron grip with his arms pinned behind his back. The one called Wally did the same to Max. As they were being dragged out the door, Max looked back to Sharon, who simply watched from the middle of the room in stunned silence.
“I’m sorry,” she said to Max.
Francis responded before Max could, “Don’t be, ma’am. You’ve
been a great help to us.”
Francis laughed again as the two men were dragged onto a waiting sled.
Chapter 13
The morning sun crested over the red mountains to the west as the Hannah flew by overhead. Nick watched the ship disappear into the horizon as he sat on the flatbed of the industrial grade cargo sled. When the Hannah disappeared from view, Francis looked at Max with a sneer. Nick had the slight urge to get up and punch his disfigured face until the sneer faded away, but he knew that would only get him killed quicker.
As it was, Nick had trouble seeing how they would survive the day what with Francis at the controls and his two gruesome pets perched atop some handles that protruded from the rear of the sled. Nick’s gaze hung on the creatures for a moment. They stood perfectly still in their odd parade rest stance, eyes closed and arms folded behind their backs.
These creatures looked different than the ones they encountered at the station. The silver plate on their heads was larger, more pronounced. Their faces and necks were coated with coarse, stubbly hair. Their muscles looked more defined.
Nick looked back to Max, whose swollen and bloody face was now basking in the morning sun. The center of Max’s shirt was torn and stained with dried blood. Max’s ragged, gray hair was flitting in the cool breeze as they zipped along atop a mountain ridge. He lifted his chin toward the orange-red horizon. The bright morning sun highlighted every crag, every scar on his weathered face. The edges of his mouth were pulled down as his face reflected the hope they had both lost.
“Max,” Nick said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that none of this worked out the way we wanted it to.”
Max gave him a rueful half-smile. “It was a foolish idea to go to Resurrection. Don’t know why I ever thought that would work. I’m sorry to have dragged you into this.”
“I would’ve probably done the same in your shoes,” Nick said. He didn’t know if he really believed that or not, but it was the thing to say.
“No, you wouldn’t,” Max said, “You would’ve gone to sector security right away and avoided all of this. I should’ve listened to you.”
