The Similars

by Rebecca Hanover

  A decorative picture hangs on the wall below me, and I swoop down and grasp it, yanking it off the wall and pushing my feet off the Sheetrock, propelling myself toward the window like a human battering ram. I angle the picture frame at the window. It cracks the glass, which shatters around me. I slip through the opening, straight to the outside.

  Now I’m flying toward a grassy clearing, where I see them—the Similars. All six sit motionless in their chairs, staring straight ahead, looking comatose. I notice blood flowing out of their bodies through IVs. Their faces are pale, so pale. With frightening clarity, I understand why—their bodies are being drained. They won’t live through this. When this simulation is over, they’ll be dead.

  Panicked, I fly toward the Similars, about to land between Pippa and Maude when I hear the snarl. An attack dog crouches behind me.

  I spin to face the dog. With razor-sharp canines and bright red gums, he lunges at me, snapping. I spring into the air, channeling the power I felt when I burst from the manacles, when I flew to safety off Hades Point. I aim my body toward Pippa, who is directly below me. I will pull out her IV and save her—

  Chomp! The dog leaps several feet in the air and sinks his teeth into my ankle. I fall to the ground as more dogs appear, surrounding me. Moving in for the kill.

  No! I shout in my head. This isn’t real. Gravelle—it’s all part of his sick virtual reality. It’s not happening, not really…

  But the pain in my ankle feels more than real. I crawl forward, reaching to yank the IV out of Pippa’s arm. Seconds later, the dogs have converged around me, snapping and growling. I make a move to fly into the air again, out of their reach, but I can’t. They have me now. One dog knocks me over as another set of teeth clamps down on my calf, and two more dogs jump on top of me, one sinking his canines into my shoulder, the other into my neck. The end is surely in sight.

  Then I remember Hades Point.

  The injective. You are in control. You don’t have to be here. You can leave, Emma. You can leave…

  “No!” I scream, my voice raw and primal. “No!”

  My body is different now. It’s made of metal. Or maybe I’m wearing armor, I can’t tell. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that when the dogs go to bite, their teeth hit a hard surface. I hear the scraping of their teeth. Frustrated, they scratch and scratch until they lose interest, backing away from me. My pain is gone, and I am healed. Stronger, even.

  I look at my hands. My fingers are made of individual pieces of metal attached by joints that give me fluid range of motion. My torso, my legs, and my arms are also covered in this aluminum material. It clangs when I tap a metal finger on it. I don’t bother to explore my body any more than that. I don’t need to. In this virtual reality, I am strong. I know what I can and must do.

  I run toward the Similars, who are confined to their chairs. I move from one to the next, yanking out their IVs one by one and detaching the electrodes and other needles.

  “You’re free!” I shout, but no one moves or responds. Their eyes are still glazed over. “You’re free,” I say desperately.

  Still, the Similars don’t react. I rush to Pippa. I know she would acknowledge me if she could. She doesn’t. Her eyes are blank. I will Levi to look at me. He doesn’t.

  Frustrated and angry, I shout, “Wake up!” I push him with my metal hand, but as it connects to his body, his torso breaks open. Dust and feathers pour from his shell. I stifle a sob. He isn’t real. He’s fake. A dummy. A doll. None of these Similars are real. This was all another trick.

  Leave, says a voice—my voice. Stop letting him manipulate you. Stop it now, Emma!

  In an instant, I’m on Gravelle’s man-made beach. I see Prudence working to untether a motorboat that’s tied to a dock. She’s screaming out my name, calling for me to get in. Ollie hobbles over on his injured leg, blood flowing freely from the wound.

  I look down at my body. It’s no longer metal. My armor is gone. I am just me again. I may have finally escaped the virtual reality test, but I am still vulnerable.

  I hear a shout and turn. Two guards pin Levi down. I move to help him, but Gravelle blocks my way.

  I look into his face, the face of a madman. He motions for the guards to release Levi, who stops struggling. Levi stands slowly, trying to communicate something with his gaze. I don’t know what.

  “Welcome back, Emmaline,” Gravelle purrs. Even over the rumbling of the boat’s motor, I can hear him clearly. “I must admit, I’m surprised. That simulation should have kept you out of commission for hours.”

  “How long was I in it?” I ask, my voice sour, tinged with disgust. I’m aware of the tightrope I’m walking, standing here, conversing—provoking—this man when all of our lives are at stake.

  “Fourteen minutes,” Gravelle answers.

  “Oh,” I say, feeling defeated. It felt far longer than that.

  Gravelle circles me, and I look to Levi for help. What does this man want from me?

  “I am convinced,” Gravelle says, “that you would benefit from training at the compound. I’d give a lot to study that mind of yours…”

  I reach in my pocket for the only saving grace I have left. The injectives I grabbed from that glass case. My fingers close around one of the syringes, and I pull it out, lunging at Gravelle. I catch his arm through his sleeve.

  Surprise registers on Gravelle’s face, and I back away from him, tossing the needle aside, as Pru rushes up and grabs my hand, dragging me back toward the boat.

  Gravelle grimaces. We both know the injective will affect him soon. Within moments, he’ll be transported to an alternate reality to relive every misery he’s ever faced in his life.

  “Enjoy your reality—alone,” I shout over my shoulder.

  “Don’t you think I’ve relived those moments every day of my life?” he responds.

  I stop. “Then it won’t be hard, will it? To exit the memories? You created the technology. Surely you know how to end it. How to overcome it. How to do what I did.”

  “What you did wasn’t possible,” he says, his eyes becoming unfocused. The injective is starting to work. Pru pulls again, but I put out a hand to stop her. Wait, I silently beg her. Wait.

  “It was possible. But I’m not surprised someone unworthy like you has no idea how that kind of mental control works. You have to care for someone else more than yourself.”

  “I am not unworthy…” he mutters, and for the first time ever, I see a man behind that scarred face. A man who has lost everything—and lashed out because of it.

  Trembling, he falls, the injective rendering him helpless.

  “Now!” Prudence shrieks as she ushers me to the motorboat.

  “Levi,” I cry out, struggling against Pru.

  “Save yourself, Emma. Please!” Ollie shouts from the safety of the boat as I fight off Prudence.

  “We can’t leave him here,” I choke as I watch the guards starting to drag Levi away. Gravelle lies on the ground, his eyes closed, his body seizing. I don’t have time to wonder what he’s facing in the portal. I hope it’s as horrifying as the dogs. I hope it’s worse.

  “LEVI!” I cry out again.

  “Go,” Levi says in return. “Please. I’ve never asked anything of you, Emma, but I am now. Please, go.”

  “But Gravelle. He’ll torture you!”

  “And I’ll survive it,” Levi says. With a yank, the guards make it clear that it’s time for him to go.

  “No.” I sob as Prudence pulls me away from Levi, and Oliver hoists me over the edge. Pru knows how to operate the boat—I had no idea she could do that—and within moments, we have left the shore and are headed out onto open water.

  I get one last look at Levi as the guards drag him off into the compound. I have never missed a living person as much as I do now.

  * * *

  On the ferry ride home
, Pru and I stand at the stern of the ship, looking out over the vast ocean. On the boat to Queen’s Harbor, Pru applied an emergency medical patch to Ollie’s bullet wound. He can have it properly cleaned and stitched when we get back. Now, he naps, his head resting on the seat next to him. The ordeal has left us all exhausted, starving, and ragged. As the adrenaline begins to drain from my body, I feel the full weight of what’s happened.

  We left Levi at the compound with his guardian—a monster.

  I have Oliver back, but I have lost Levi.

  After a while, I go and sit next to Oliver. A piece of folded paper falls from my sweater pocket and flutters to the ground. Confused, I pick it up. This isn’t mine, or at least, I don’t remember it. I unfold it and start to read.

  Dear Emmaline,

  I very much enjoyed your surprise visit to my island. It tickles me beyond measure that my former roommate’s daughter has become such a valued player in both of my sons’ lives. Do tell your father that I took good care of you while you were here. He’ll be pleased to hear that.

  Emma, I do not wish to disrupt your life, but it is time you learned exactly who you are.

  When my brother, Albert, cloned the originals all those years ago—when DNA samples were taken from Madison, Tessa, Jake, Prudence, Archer, and Oliver and embryos were implanted in artificial wombs—there was another little girl, a sick little girl, who was cloned along with them.

  Fortunately for that family, I learned early on of the child’s dire situation and was able to offer a solution: a clone. A new daughter who would look exactly like her original. One who could replace the little girl after she died, offering the girl’s widowed father a second chance at being a parent. The original little girl, the one who was not saved by experimental treatments in Europe, who, in fact, died in her father’s arms, was named Emmaline Chance. You, my dear, are her clone. Your birth certificate says Eden Gravelle. I’d be happy to send along any paperwork that will give you the assurance you need that this is the truth.

  What matters now is that you understand who you are, Emmaline. Or should I say, Eden. After all, that is your given name. You were born on my island, but you didn’t grow up there. You had a more “normal” life, and I hope you appreciate that you had what the others didn’t. I’m sorry if your father couldn’t properly love you. I suppose he may have resented that you took the place of his first little girl, the daughter he adored more than life itself. Pity he couldn’t appreciate what I did for him—cloning you as a surprise gift and delivering you to the bedside of his dying daughter. I suppose you made it hard for him to love you.

  If this is a lot of information to process, I apologize. I simply wanted you to know the truth. You are a Similar, Eden, in every sense of the word.

  With all due respect,

  Augustus Gravelle

  The Clone

  The note from Augustus Gravelle no longer exists. I tore it into a thousand pieces and threw them over the ferry’s railing into the endless ocean. No one knows about the letter, because I haven’t told anyone. And I won’t. Not ever.

  I won’t think about what it said either. I won’t dwell on the fact that my father has never really loved me because I am me, not her. I won’t think about how my name isn’t my own. How I am an imposter, a stand-in, a replacement for a little girl whom everyone loved. I can’t think about how my father knew—and lied to me all these years. So much for family. But I keep this all to myself. Now is Oliver’s moment. His turn, finally, to see his parents again.

  The three of us have ridden the bus back to the station where Levi and I started our journey. We are fatigued and numb, but that does not stop us from being joyful.

  Oliver called Jane and Booker before we boarded the ferry, breaking the news gently. I’m quite sure Jane didn’t believe him, just as I didn’t—couldn’t—believe the news at first. But now, in the middle of the bus depot, she holds her son in her arms. Her frail, ravaged frame grasps him like a lifeline. Booker’s tears run down his cheeks unabated. I feel myself smiling. This is right and good. There will be time for explanations later, about how and why Underwood did this to them. For the moment, a son has been returned to his family. Jane can breathe freely again.

  Tears pool in my eyes as I watch the happy reunion. There was a time when seeing Oliver alive, like this, was all that mattered to me.

  But now—now, there is Levi. Levi, who has never had a chance at a happy reunion like this. Levi, who has only ever known suffering. Levi, whom we left behind.

  I check my plum for the millionth time, hoping I’ll get a buzz from him. A note, a one-liner. Something that will tell me he’s all right.

  “Dash,” I whisper. “Is there anything from Levi?”

  “No, Emma,” Dash responds. “I’ll let you know the moment I get an update.”

  The update doesn’t come.

  * * *

  Time passes. Two weeks, to be precise.

  I only let myself think about Gravelle’s note in the middle of the night, during the witching hours when I can’t sleep.

  Is he lying? I’ve asked myself that question a hundred times, and I still don’t have a good answer.

  Is it true? I’ve asked that question more often, but the mere asking sends my heart to my feet like an anvil.

  If I am not who I thought I was… If I’m not my father’s original daughter, but a stand-in, a replacement…

  I know nothing about who I am. My past isn’t what I perceived it to be. My future is a question mark.

  Only one thing remains constant: Oliver is alive, and for that, I am grateful. Back at Darkwood, he sits next to me at the long, rough-hewn table, and we eat lunch. He is back. He begged Jane and Booker to allow him to return for the last six weeks of school, explaining that the normalcy of his life at Darkwood would serve as a much-needed salve to heal his wounds. They were reluctant but ultimately didn’t argue. Having him back here is a dream come true, but that doesn’t change the fact that the serrated knife is still lodged in my chest.

  If I am honest with myself, Oliver is not the same. Gone is the carefree and spontaneous boy who viewed the world with such enthusiasm and wonder. Pippa has assured me that this is simply a side effect of the pharmas, that in a few weeks’ time he will be back to his old, chipper self—but I worry.

  Today, I try not to. My father is visiting. He felt the need to check on me after the news of Oliver’s return. I’ve held a spot for him next to me. Prudence sits on the other side of that. Pru has been on the receiving end of her fair share of squeals, hugs, and screams. She is alive, she is well—and she remembers who attacked her. Tessa Leroy hasn’t been at school since our return. Pippa sits with us too, and the rest of the Similars. It’s unfamiliar and strange, yet it feels easy, like it always should have been this way.

  Pru points to the feeds. We all look up to see the latest report on clones’ rights. We aren’t the only ones paying attention; nearly everyone in the dining hall stares up at the view space. Judging from the fragments of conversations that I hear, some are pleased with what they see, others unsettled.

  “What’s happening?” I murmur. “What did I miss while I was gone?”

  “Clones without updated paperwork will no longer be allowed across the border into the U.S. And that paperwork, even if it is current, can be challenged by any U.S. court. Which means that individual judges can deny a clone’s citizenship,” Pippa explains.

  “But that’s unconstitutional,” I say, my eyes traveling from Pru to Pippa, to Maude, Theodora, and the others.

  “Not if the Supreme Court decides that clones aren’t human,” Pippa says.

  “We can’t think about that now,” Maude says evenly. “We need to lie low. Not give anyone any more reason to dislike or distrust us or question if we belong here.”

  “And what happens when Headmaster Ransom calls you back to the research lab? Are you going
to go?” I press.

  Maude nods. “For now, yes.”

  I’m frustrated, but I know I won’t change her mind.

  “We have to tell someone,” I appeal to Oliver. “We have to report what Ransom’s doing to them. The research. It’s a violation of their human rights… Maybe you can make a documentary?”

  “But not if they don’t want me to. This isn’t our battle, is it? We’re not one of them…” Oliver says.

  But I am, I think, before I can stop myself. Or am I?

  When my father arrives in the dining hall, I wave to him. He gathers a tray of food, then sits next to me, squeezing awkwardly between me and Prudence. It takes all the willpower I have not to ask him, right here and now, if the original Emma died, like Gravelle said in his letter. If I was cloned to be a replacement. If that’s the reason he has never really loved me.

  I don’t. I won’t, especially not here.

  “I got you chocolate cake,” my father says. “You always liked that as a kid…” It’s not lost on either of us that he has no idea what I like anymore, what my tastes and preferences are.

  But then, maybe I don’t either. I was raised as someone else. How can I be me?

  “We’re so relieved you’re home, Oliver,” my father says, neatly folding his napkin over his lap. “You too, Prudence. How is your mother?”

  “She’s stable again. Thanks for asking.”

  The table goes noticeably quiet. My father hasn’t acknowledged that Levi isn’t here.

  Maude nods from across the table. Her eyes are kind. She understands. When it comes to Levi, Maude is as disturbed by his absence as I am.

  “He’ll be back,” she says quietly, as the others return to their chattering. They’re all looking across the cafeteria at the originals’ table, at the empty chair where Tessa would have been sitting. Madison sits there now without her sidekick, flanked by Archer and Jake. They notice us watching them and look away.