Doppelganger Girl

by T. R. Woodman

  Evelyn pushed aside a couple of kids who were standing and gawking at the smoke, and ran across the dirt. Sure enough, a crowd of people had gathered around the place where the power generator tent had been. At least a dozen men were shouting for people to stand back as the fire settled down behind them, most of the tent and its contents having already burned. Another group of men were running buckets of water back and forth, but they seemed more interested in containing the fire than putting it out. By the looks of things, it seemed like it was mostly under control.

  Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief, but then, just as quickly as the calm had come, a wave of panic swept over her. Why did Ogre explode? And then it hit her. The only way it could have exploded was if it had power. Who turned on the power?

  “Was anyone inside?” Evelyn screamed over the crowd, her chest feeling like it was caught in a vise grip. Men were yelling over her as she looked around frantically. Where’s Joseph … and Jane? Her mind raced, and she pushed through the gathering crowd.

  “Jane!” she screamed. “Joseph!” The sun had set. Everywhere she looked in the darkness, the faces of colonists were lit only by the glowing remains of the power generator.

  “Who was inside? Was anyone hurt?” Evelyn screamed again, trying to be heard over the chaos. She knew now what had happened. Someone had tripped the switch on the power generator. It had overloaded and exploded, and the back surge of power had blown up the engine on the shuttle it was plugged into. What she didn’t know was who flipped the switch or if they were still alive.

  Tears started to cascade down her face, and with screaming and trying to breathe the foul smoke, Evelyn heard her voice getting hoarse and raspy.

  “Jane!” she tried screaming again.

  “Evie!” came the response of the familiar voice.

  Whipping around, she saw Joseph barreling toward her. Before she could say anything, he wrapped her in his arms, holding her as if he was trying to keep her from going over a waterfall.

  “Evie, thank God. I thought you were in there too!”

  Evelyn didn’t care that she couldn’t breathe. At least she knew Joseph was okay, and she stood there for a moment and hugged him back, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. And then it occurred to her what Joseph had just said. Reluctantly she pushed him away enough that she could see his face. It was covered with soot and ash. He looked burnt and either that he had been sweating profusely or he had been crying, as his cheeks were streaked with the telltale signs of tears.

  Evelyn didn’t want to ask. “What do you mean, too? Who else was in there?”

  Joseph’s chin started to quiver, and he scrunched up his eyebrows, clearly trying to maintain his composure and failing horribly. He reached out to put his arm around her, attempting to escort her away from the crowd.

  Evelyn walked a few steps with him and felt the pit in her stomach grow. She stopped and turned to face him. She felt her own lips start to quiver and again didn’t want to ask the question. “It was Jane, wasn’t it?” she managed, her voice cracking and barely audible.

  Joseph couldn’t help himself. The tears started running down his face, taking the soot and his composure with them. Evelyn could tell he was having a hard time speaking, as if he could keep it from being true just by holding it in. Shaking his head, clearly caught somewhere between complete despair and disbelief, he brushed his hand across his eyes and took a breath.

  “They didn’t like what the council said. They wanted to meet in private to talk about going back to Earth. I was supposed to find you and bring you back to the tent also … Evie, it was all of them.”

  Evelyn’s knees went weak, and she felt Joseph catch her. As she hung there on his arm, the noise around her dwindled until everything became eerily quiet. The lights began to fade, winking out as the darkness enveloped her, and Evelyn exhaled what she wished would be her very last breath.

  REMORSEFUL

  Like a Stargazer in full bloom, its petals gently arching, stretching to catch every ray of light, the nebula reached across the night sky. White at the outer—shimmering like the sun through dew clinging on the edge—then yellow, pink, red, deeper red, red almost black. Black. Then, in the center, merely hidden in the blackness, green, like blades of grass, bending. Dancing.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “The stars?”

  “The flower.”

  Evelyn looked again. It was a flower. Behind it, a field of grass stretching to the limits of her sight. Then, her mountain, far in the distance, faint, but too bold not to be seen.

  “It is beautiful.”

  They sat together on the bench, watching the lone flower in the grass, the lonely mountain in the distance, the mild blue sky overhead, too bright to see without squinting. The flower danced in the breeze.

  “Evie, I have to go.”

  Evelyn felt her chest shudder. She tried to cry out, but nothing came. There were no more tears. She watched her sister stand and turn. She couldn't see her face, the brightness of the sky blinding her. She tried to stand. She couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry, Jane … I’m so sorry.”

  “No, Evie. It’s my time. Don’t be sorry.”

  “Can I come?”

  Jane smiled.

  Evelyn felt her chest shudder again.

  “Please, take me with you.”

  “I am.”

  Jane reached down and plucked the flower from the grass. Then, turning, she walked toward the mountain in the distance.

  “I’m going to miss you, Jane.”

  Evelyn watched her sister fade.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  Evelyn awoke, slowly opening her eyes to see the cold metal wall of her room—Jane’s room—in the shuttle. Jane was gone, and no amount of wishing was going to bring her back. Evelyn couldn’t hold back the tears as she cried herself back to sleep.

  TORN

  When she woke, he was there, in front of her, lying on the bed with his dark hair falling across his eyes. Even asleep, he looked tired, as if the sleep wasn’t actually helping or having any effect. She could smell the sweetness of his breath. She looked at the wrinkle on his brow, and his lips, just a little crooked even without the smile. She wanted to see the gold flecks in his mossy-green eyes, but she didn’t want him to wake.

  She hadn’t noticed that he had come to sleep by her, but she was happy he had. It reminded her of when they were ten. Even in cramped quarters on Vista, they had their own beds, but Joseph was an orphan. He was used to sleeping with other kids. Whether it was on the streets or in the orphanage, he was more comfortable sleeping with other people around him.

  Evelyn smiled a wistful smile as one of her favorite memories flitted through her mind. Joseph had been the only boy they had saved from the orphanage, and rather than have him bunk with the girls, they had given him his own room. Evelyn even remembered the look on his face when Jane showed him his room. He was grateful, but there was an uneasiness in his eyes when she said the room was all his. That night, Joseph came knocking on her door with a sheepish look on his face. He said he couldn’t sleep with nobody in the room and asked if he could sleep in hers.

  Evelyn didn’t know what to think but let him in and gave him one of her blankets. He curled up in the bed next to her. She hardly slept a minute all night, but Joseph’s easy breathing never wandered from its even pace, and before anyone else was up, he quietly slipped out her door, back to his room.

  The next day, Evelyn told Jane what had happened and she laughed. It didn’t seem to bother her—they were ten after all—and even though Jane tried to work it out so Joseph could bunk with some of the boys down the hall, he didn’t want to do it.

  For a while, Joseph came to Evelyn’s room every night, and other than that first night, they both slept peacefully—probably better together than apart, she figured. But as the months passed, Joseph came less to her room. Occasionally he’d show up, and Evelyn could see in his eyes he’d had a bad dream o
r something was bothering him. Evelyn knew Joseph had led a tough life, though, and he thought about things many adults hadn’t, so she never asked him too much about it unless he wanted to talk. But they would always sleep, and each morning, he’d be gone before she woke.

  It had been years since Joseph had come to sleep in her room, and this time—different than any other—he was still there, asleep. She started to bring her hand close to his face, thinking she might just brush the hair away from his eyes without waking him, and then caught herself. In the moment, every instance she remembered of watching Jane brush the hair out of Joseph’s face seemed to flood her mind, pounding her field of vision like waves breaking on a cliff. And then, like coming to the end of a picture book and stopping on the final page, the last memory she had of Jane tussling Joseph’s hair just two weeks before on the shuttle stuck in her mind.

  Evelyn froze for a moment and felt her eyes start to tear. Shaking her head, she took a breath and sat up quickly, sliding to the end of the bed. She felt an ache deep within her, and as the memory of Jane and Joseph faded, replaced with the reality that her sister was gone, Evelyn felt as if someone had washed every bit of joy she had within her away.

  She didn’t want to think about it, but she couldn’t help herself, and she started to shake as she sobbed quietly into her hands.

  A moment later, Evelyn felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

  “Hey,” Joseph said, sliding around to sit next to her, his warm arm around her shoulder reminding her of the chill she felt on her back. Probably not knowing what to say, he said nothing else, but sat there as Evelyn tucked in close under his arm.

  “I can’t believe she’s gone, Joseph,” she said, sobbing all over again. “They’re all gone.”

  As the words fell from her mouth between slobbery gasps, she realized that the flickering spark may have made her an orphan too. There was still Tate, but at the moment, she didn’t know if he was alive or dead. Jane had worried over him, and despite what Evelyn had told Jane about her believing him to be alive, she wasn’t too sure. Things had been getting really bad on Earth six years ago when they had left, and the authorities had been after him even then. The chances he was still alive weren’t all that great, and Evelyn knew it. The only thing she knew for certain was Joseph was the closest person to family she had left.

  “Yeah,” Joseph said quietly. Evelyn saw him rub his temples with his hand out of the corner of her eyes. “At least they didn’t suffer.”

  The thought of being blown apart—shredded—by an enormous exploding machine gripped her mind. Evelyn didn’t have the heart to tell him that while they may not have suffered, they certainly felt a tremendous level of pain in their final moments.

  “Yeah,” she said, letting the moment go, and letting Joseph preserve whatever peace he may have found in the death of the closest person he had ever had to a mother.

  TOGETHER

  When he was asked how he wanted to bury Jane, Marcus, and Mr. and Mrs. Philips, Joseph said he wanted them to have a traditional burial. Evelyn figured it was because he grew up in an orphanage run by Catholic priests. She was happy for what he chose, but she was deeply touched when he asked the council to name the burial ground Potter’s Field. It wasn’t so much because it had personal meaning or family meaning to it, but just because it seemed so poetic.

  Potter’s Field was a place in ancient times where paupers were buried—people who had died with nothing. It wasn’t that Mr. and Mrs. Philips had nothing. They had been billionaires on Earth, and they had used their wealth and influence to make the travel to Orsus possible. They had given up everything to give hundreds of others a chance at a better life, and even when they’d arrived, Mr. Philips could have assumed the standing of a king, if he had chosen it. But he hadn’t. He had allowed for the power of leadership and the design of the future to be shared. In the end, he’d died with nothing material. But he had the love of his family and the admiration of the community.

  The way Evelyn saw it, Potter’s Field was that place where people were buried who had nothing but the love of the people around them to carry them on to the next life. That described the Philips family—Carson, Christine, Jane, and her fiancé, Marcus Kline—and the fact that Joseph knew that, and understood it, made Evelyn smile. He was full of surprises.

  Standing in Potter’s Field, the heavy smell of peat and earth hanging in the still morning air, Evelyn looked at the four mounds in front of her. There were no headstones. Nothing to distinguish one person from the other. And the reality was that any of the four of them could have been buried under any of the mounds, as there wasn’t much left of any of them to bury.

  Evelyn couldn’t bear to be on the site of the explosion to help, and Joseph had only spent a little time there, but fortunately, there were a lot of people who cared enough to make sure that any of the remains of the Philips family and Marcus were preserved as well as they could be, under the circumstances.

  No one had imagined the community would have been dealt such a loss of death within the first few weeks of arrival—though they probably should have—and the colony was ill prepared to deal with it. There were no caskets or tools that would have been useful for carving headstones. Even so, nobody was content to just bury what was left of the founding fathers in a mass grave and leave it to chance.

  For a full day, everyone in the compound had stopped what they were doing to clear the land for Potter’s Field, leveling the earth and tilling the soil to make it pliable. And many of the townsfolk had hand-carved wooden boxes out of the native hardwoods to hold the remains of the four deceased. The boxes were beautiful, and even if they weren’t full size, the burial sites were dug as if they were, out of respect for the men and women they were, and would continue to be in the hearts and minds of the settlers.

  Evelyn walked to the head of each mound, and reaching into a satchel she had slung over her shoulder, she laid a stone on each. The stones weren’t meant to be permanent markers, but she had found four large river rocks and had used a medical laser to engrave the stones simply with their names and the Earth years of their birth and death. She knew at some point they would have time for something more elegant, but she couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Jane’s grave unmarked, even for a short time.

  The only other thing she did, almost as an afterthought—but in retrospect, she wondered if Jane was giving her a nudge from beyond—was to burn the number 91975 into the back of her stone with the laser. It was the number that was burned into Jane’s arm in the death camp. It was the reminder that she still had work to do, and it was the “forever reminder,” as Jane put it, that her life was not hers to live as she wished but was hers to live in service to others.

  Evelyn wasn’t sure which mound was hers—nobody was—but it felt right for her to put her stone on the third mound, so she did. Standing, she looked back at Joseph, who was wiping a tear away with his shirtsleeve. He gave her a half-hearted smile.

  The townsfolk had started to gather, but perhaps in recognizing the gravity of the moment, they held back around the perimeter of Potter’s Field, leaving Joseph and Evelyn to themselves to have a moment together to pay their last respects.

  Evelyn looked out to the growing crowd of settlers a few dozen yards away and felt a moment of relief wash over her. She wasn’t ready to share the time she had with Jane with strangers—they weren’t family—and she knew that after this, Jane and her family, and the ground in which they were buried, would no longer be private.

  Clearing his throat, Joseph pulled a small and well-worn black book from his back pocket. As if the spine had been broken from years of repeated use, the book fell open and Joseph began to read.

  “‘The Lord is my shepherd;

  there is nothing I lack.

  In green pastures he makes me lie down;

  to still waters he leads me;

  he restores my soul.

  He guides me along right paths for the sake of his name.

  Even though I w
alk through the valley of the shadow of death,

  I will fear no evil,

  for you are with me;

  your rod and your staff comfort me.

  You set a table before me in front of my enemies;

  You anoint my head with oil;

  my cup overflows.

  Indeed, goodness and mercy will pursue me all the days of my life;

  I will dwell in the house of the Lord for endless days.’”

  As he finished, he quietly closed the book, a look of peace on his face. Evelyn watched him look at the mounds and then at her. She felt a flittering in her chest—peace or comfort—and she smiled at him.

  “We have each other, right, Evie?” Joseph said in a whisper, barely louder than the breeze that blew between them.

  Evelyn looked at the boy who had always been there for her, around her, and even though she felt a sorrow in her beyond anything she could explain, she also couldn’t explain how she also felt a joy in knowing how he felt about her. He didn’t even have to say it, and she knew.

  Evelyn walked around to the other side of the gravesite and let Joseph take her hand. They walked together toward the crowd, and the crowd began to walk toward them and Potter’s Field to pay their respects.

  “Yes, Joseph, we have each other.”

  EXILED

  It was late and the evening breeze blew cooler than any night since they had arrived. Not cold enough to feel like the seasons were changing, but enough that she wondered if a storm was on its way. She pulled her sleeves down on her shirt and went quietly in the side door of the council building. Taking her spot in the corner of the room, it was obvious the discussion had been going on for a long time.