Doppelganger Girl

by T. R. Woodman

  For a few days, Evelyn had avoided coming to any council meetings. She couldn’t imagine how she might make it through one without Mr. Philips and Jane being there, and she was having a hard time keeping herself together even without the pressure of reporting on this or that or some such thing that seemed of no consequence to her.

  Some moments she was fine, engrossed in doing something, like reorganizing her quarters on the shuttle for the thousandth time. But then she’d see her reflection in the mirror or the glass, and her moment of peace would shatter as she realized that it wasn’t Jane.

  Evelyn couldn’t even do anything ordinary, because, especially with all of the mundane bits of life—walking down the hallway, brushing her teeth, rifling through the closet to borrow clothes—Evelyn could always expect to run into her sister. And in the million moments in the day when her brain told her Jane might be right around the corner, her heart had to remind her that she wasn’t. She never would be. Jane was gone.

  With all those not-so-gentle reminders, Evelyn spent the few days since the funeral just trying to make it through the next hour without totally falling apart. And then some moments, she would sob just to let the pain out. In those moments, she would feel a little better for the release.

  Jane believed in Heaven—as did Tate, Mr. and Mrs. Philips, and Marcus. Jane had talked occasionally, very matter-of-factly, about how they would all be there together one day. Evelyn felt comforted by that thought, but the doubts would always creep in. It wasn’t so much because she didn’t believe in Heaven—she knew it could exist, and was almost sure it did—but because she knew that she wasn’t exactly human the way everyone else was. She had been created in a lab, and was almost entirely human, but she didn’t know if that was enough to make it.

  Evelyn’s heart told her that Jane, her parents, and Marcus were all in Heaven—and even her dream about Jane and the lily the night after they died gave her that comfort—but her head told her that she might not be able to join them when she died. And so, the momentary sense of peace she had about seeing her sister again was always clouded and made gray, followed by an aching in the pit of her stomach. An ache that she felt just then, standing alone in a corner that would never see her sister again.

  “Evelyn, it’s good of you to join us,” Councilwoman Vandergaast said with less vitriol than she spat in their last conversation, no doubt to preserve her own appearance of being dignified than to genuinely be polite. Evelyn knew exactly what this horrid woman thought of her. But even if she was right, and most of the settlers didn’t trust her, Evelyn had to think they didn’t also consider her to be an abomination—at least, she hoped that was the case. And so, the councilwoman’s tact in the face of that uncertainty not only gave Evelyn the chills, but it also had her hoping the pear-shaped woman would bend over and split her pants at the seam, just so the rest of the settlers would see her to be the ass she really was.

  “Thank you, Councilwoman,” Evelyn responded, stepping forward only slightly and then back to lean against the wall.

  Mrs. Vandergaast returned her gaze to the other council members. “And with a unanimous decision, the council has voted to leave the seat vacated by the passing of Mr. Philips empty for a period of one year, in honor of his contributions and those of his family members to our community,” she said with a somber look and a flourish, as if she were saying it for dramatic effect.

  Evelyn couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She felt a warmth in her chest, touched by the gesture she was seeing before her. It was fleeting, however, as something else inside her was bickering that this was nothing more than posturing. Whatever her motives—whether Mrs. Vandergaast was participating in this for political gains or because she really did care about the Philips family—the result was nice, and Evelyn tried to take it at face value.

  As the moment passed, and she watched the councilwoman continue her performance, Evelyn just couldn’t get comfortable with the nobility of the council’s act. Something about it didn’t seem right. Maybe it would have if Evelyn knew Mrs. Vandergaast’s motives to be pure, but they probably weren’t as far as she was concerned, and then it occurred to her to ask a question.

  “Councilwoman, a point of order,” Evelyn said, stepping forward.

  The councilwoman turned to look at Evelyn, a cocked eyebrow and a burning stare making it clear she didn’t appreciate being interrupted. “It isn’t our custom to take questions from the floor, Evelyn, but by all means, go ahead,” Mrs. Vandergaast said, folding her hands across her waist and putting on a porcelain smile.

  “I am just wondering, what is the normal protocol if a council member dies before their term is over?”

  At this, Evelyn could see Mrs. Vandergaast’s face flush enough that, for a second, it even seemed her eyes had flashed red. She took a breath slowly and then responded.

  “When each council member was elected, we designated a proxy to sit in our stead, until an election could be held to replace the deceased.”

  “So, you each picked someone to replace you, if something ever happened to you … Is that right?”

  “It is,” the councilwoman said, her glare continuing to visibly rattle nearly every member on the council and everyone in the chambers. She started to turn back to the other members. “Thank you, Evelyn, for your question—”

  “And, Councilwoman,” Evelyn interrupted, “who did Mr. Philips designate as his proxy?” She knew it was probably Mrs. Philips, and since she was also killed in the explosion, there would be no one to accept the seat. But her curiosity was getting the better of her.

  Mrs. Vandergaast’s head whipped around, and the icy stare she gave Evelyn was enough to bring down the temperature in the room another ten degrees. She folded her arms across her chest, and a moment later, a creepy grin crept across her face. Evelyn felt a shudder start up her spine, and she tried to hold it off.

  “Mr. Philips designated you to be his proxy, Evelyn.”

  Evelyn was stunned. Whatever she had been thinking floated out of her mind as she stared at the smug smirk on the councilwoman’s face. A moment passed, and then, in a desperate attempt to get her mouth to work, Evelyn blurted, “Well, what does that mean?”

  As if she had just been invited onstage for an encore performance, Mrs. Vandergaast smiled a more genuine smile and addressed the room. “It’s funny you should ask that, Evelyn, because under normal circumstances, it would mean that you would take your seat up here with the council,” she said, returning her look to Evelyn and gesturing to the empty wooden chair in the circle.

  Evelyn froze. She knew this was not an invitation. It felt more like a dare. Evelyn crossed her arms, refusing to move. “But?” she asked, feeling certain the councilwoman had something sinister in store for her. Feeling frustrated by it, the tone carried over into her question.

  The councilwoman dropped her hand and her smile at the same time, perhaps realizing Evelyn wasn’t going to take the bait. “But, you are not eligible.”

  At this, Evelyn did step forward, an anger building inside her. She wasn’t sure she wanted anything to do with the council, but the fact that her rightful place was being taken from her by this hateful woman was enough to make her want to choke her. “And why am I not eligible?” Evelyn said through a clenched jaw.

  “Because, Evelyn,” Mrs. Vandergaast began whimsically with the flip of her hand, “you are not a citizen.”

  Evelyn stopped. “What?”

  “Yes. Mr. Philips, in his great wisdom,” Mrs. Vandergaast said with a subtly mocking tone, “never saw fit to list you in the records as a colonist—as a citizen.”

  Mrs. Vandergaast turned her back to Evelyn to address the rest of the room. As Evelyn looked at the other council members, they all looked away.

  “We can only guess why Mr. Philips would have done such a thing, but since you are not a citizen, you cannot hold a position within the council.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Oh, is it? Well, it wouldn’t matter any
way, Evelyn. The council has voted. The chair will remain empty.” At this, the councilwoman stepped toward Evelyn with a curled lip and a wrinkled brow, as if she couldn’t contain her disgust. “Further,” she added, “the council voted three days ago that there is to be a moratorium on the use of technology within our colony.”

  “Three days? That was the day of the funeral,” Evelyn said, more to herself but loud enough that the councilwoman heard.

  Evelyn watched as she smirked. The full weight of what was happening was crushing her. She felt like her knees might buckle. The council had made it a point to meet at a time when they knew Evelyn wouldn’t be there to defend herself, and now, as they were being confronted with their spineless actions, they couldn’t even look her in the eye.

  “Because of your mistakes, the Philips family and Marcus Kline are dead. We cannot have you continue to do what you are doing with the technology in our settlement when these are the results of your efforts. You are not a citizen, Evelyn, and your services are not required. Show yourself the door,” she added, stepping just inches away from Evelyn, “or I will have you thrown out.”

  Without thinking, and faster than she knew she could move, Evelyn clenched her fist and swung, landing her knuckles just under the councilwoman’s eye, sending her sprawling back onto the dirt floor. Obviously shocked, and moaning and clutching her face from the punch, the councilwoman tried to sit up as several men around her moved to her aid.

  Evelyn stood stone-faced over the councilwoman, her fists still clenched and her arms and neck straining from the rage inside her.

  Mrs. Vandergaast looked up from the ground, a mix of fear and anger alternating in the one eye she didn’t have covered. “Don’t just stand there … somebody grab her … Do something!” she shouted, her voice cracking at the force.

  Nobody moved. Evelyn stared at the councilwoman, her field of vision narrowing to include just her. She wanted to jump on top of the hag and punch her again, and it seemed like it was all she could do to restrain her instinct. But a second later, she unclenched her fists.

  “No need,” she said, turning her back on the council and walking through the door into the cool night air. “I’m leaving.”

  STORMY

  “Horrible, hateful woman,” Evelyn growled under her breath, stomping through the dirt. She was still angry enough to feel her pulse pounding in her ears, and her thoughts were completely out of control. One second she was fantasizing about smashing Mrs. Vandergaast’s face in the dirt, and the next she was wondering if the townsfolk might come after her with pitchforks and torches.

  “Evie!”

  Evelyn stopped and turned at the sound of Joseph’s voice, having fumed her way less than a hundred feet from the council building.

  “Joseph, where’d you come from?” she asked, an unintended barb to her voice. He jogged toward her. As he came close, she felt her shoulders relax a little, but she still wanted to bite someone.

  Joseph had a smirk on his face.

  “Remind me not to piss you off.”

  Evelyn gave a half laugh and smiled, immediately feeling a little lighter for the levity. “I don’t think you could ever piss me off that much.” Unless you go skinny-dipping with Misha … and then I’ll punch you someplace other than your face.

  “I came in the other side of the building … I saw the whole thing.” His expression took on a more serious tone. “Mrs. Vandergaast is horrible.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Evelyn turned and started walking with Joseph. As mad as she was, she couldn’t tell whether she was madder at Mrs. Vandergaast’s rudeness or the fact that she had said nothing that wasn’t the truth. As much as she didn’t want to believe it, and tried to make up reasons why it wasn’t true, she knew deep down that she was the reason why Jane was dead. If she hadn’t tried to rewire the power generator, it never would have exploded, and the guilt she felt was like a sticky black smear of tar on her skin she couldn’t tear away.

  “I don’t know.”

  They took a few more steps in the silence, the gravel crunching under their feet in the cool night air. Evelyn crossed her arms and tucked her hands into her armpits to warm them. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Joseph. I can’t think straight about it. As horrible as she is, she’s right. I really screwed up,” and as Evelyn said it out loud, her mind actually hearing her admit her failure out loud, she felt her eyes start to water again.

  “Evie, it was an accident,” Joseph said, tucking her under his arm. Evelyn felt the warmth on her shoulders again, comforting her against something she wasn’t sure she wanted to feel good about—not yet. “How could you know that would happen?”

  “But I should have known. That’s the point. That stupid Ogre electrocuted me three times at least.”

  “Ogre?” Joseph said, glancing at her with a raised eyebrow.

  “I … named it,” she said, looking quickly at Joseph. “I name all of my machines. The other generator is Fiona. The agribot that saved Mrs. Telini from the snake is Charlotte, and the others are Sebastian, Hank, Pearl, and Mr. Squiggle. The shuttle we fly in is … Buzz.”

  The teasing grin stretched across Joseph’s face, and she felt herself blush, feeling more than a little stupid. She quickly looked away and tried to rescue her train of thought and her self-respect at the same time. “The point is, I should have known that it could happen—that it wasn’t safe to mess with the generator. In fact, I did know that could happen, but I ignored it.”

  Joseph stopped and turned to face her. “It’s not your fault, Evie. You can’t control everything.”

  Evelyn felt her blood pressure rising again. Even he doesn’t understand. “You don’t get it, Joseph. I am supposed to control everything. That’s why I was created. It’s my job—my whole purpose for being—I am supposed to take care of everyone,” she added, waving her arms in the air, gesturing to the village but at nothing in particular.

  “You’re being a little dramatic about it, don’t you think?”

  Evelyn’s eyes went wide, and Joseph’s eyes went wider in response. “No,” she breathed through clenched teeth, and then stormed away.

  “Evie, wait. Where are you going?”

  Evelyn turned back to face Joseph, who was walking slowly toward her again but seemingly with less assurance. She breathed a deep sigh. “Look, Joseph, you’re really sweet, but I have to figure out what I’m going to do. I just need some time to think.”

  Evelyn quickly saw in Joseph’s expression she had said something horribly wrong. His eyebrows furrowed, and for the first time ever, she saw anger in the lines on his face.

  “Sweet? I’m sweet? I may not be as smart as you are, Evie, but even I know when I’m being talked down to.” And then, as quickly as the anger had appeared, it melted, and a sadness crept across his face. Turning, he started to walk away. “Take all the time you need. Come find me when my friend Evie shows up again.”

  Evelyn stood in the dirt and the dark, the chill of the night making the back of her neck feel clammy. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, wiping a tear from her face. And as much as she wanted to stop him, she couldn’t find the strength. She had too much to figure out. She just hoped he might forgive her one day.

  CONTRITE

  With no moon and a heavy burden of cloud cover, Evelyn could hardly see anything. If it weren’t for the scattered muted lights in the tents, and an occasional flickering of a fire in the distance, Evelyn was certain she would be completely blind. Even Joseph had disappeared into the darkness in seconds, the sound of his footsteps lasting for only a moment. But even with him gone, Evelyn had stood there alone. Whether it was for five minutes or thirty, she had no idea, her mind awhirl with scattered thoughts about where she should go and what she should do. After staring into the dark, the breeze practically blowing her over she felt so ungrounded, she drew a small penlight from her pocket, and behind a faint but steady stream of light, she started
across the grass.

  She walked fast, trying to warm herself, and she alternated holding the light in each hand, rubbing her arms with her free hand, trying to brush the chill from her skin. Moments later, she found herself standing at the foot of Jane’s gravesite.

  Evelyn sat in the grass and switched off her light. It was completely dark, but as her eyes adjusted, she could make out the grave in front of her and even the tree line in the distance. If sitting in a cemetery after dark was supposed to be creepy, Evelyn didn’t feel it, and as the minutes passed, she felt herself relax.

  “You were always there for me, Jane,” Evelyn said under her breath, staring at her hands. “You always knew what to say. You told me I was smart and beautiful … and I always felt like I fit in when you were around.

  “But you aren’t around anymore … and it’s my fault … and now I don’t feel any of those things. I always thought I was the one taking care of you, but I wasn’t … You were taking care of me. And I have all of these questions whirling around in my brain about what I’m supposed to do, and only one thing makes any sense to me.”

  Evelyn felt the tears beginning again and the tightness in her chest return.

  “I know you wanted to go back to Earth to find Tate, but since you can’t, I’m going to do that for you. I’m going to tell him that we found a new world. I’m going to tell him you found someone you loved and who loved you back … and I’m going to tell him what happened to you,” she added, and as she did, she started to sob through thick, salty tears. “He deserves to know … and I don’t want to tell him … but I will.

  “I’m sorry you can’t be the one to see him, Jane. But I will try to keep him safe … to make sure he’s safe … I promise.”