The Third Ten

by Jacqueline Druga

  Roy nodded and smiled while watching Billy dart away. Sitting with the kids wasn’t a bad thing, and he actually enjoyed talking to another clone. He could relate on so many levels.

  <><><><>

  “What are you working on?” Frank asked Dean.

  “Just stuff,” Dean replied, standing across the room in the new make shift lab at the house. He kept going from computer to Frank.

  “So … anyhow ... ow,” Frank said. “Down at the Dan-a-Plex, they’re playing The Saw. Ow.”

  “Aw, I love that movie.”

  “It’s a great classic.”

  “I wouldn’t call it a classic, Frank.”

  “Ow. Why not? What’s the definition of classic?”

  “Serving as a standard of excellence or recognized value.”

  “There you have it. Ow,” Frank commented. “Anyhow, he hadn’t a clue what the fuck Ryder was talking about. Fuck. Ryder couldn’t talk, he was laughing so hard.”

  “That’s not his fault Frank. He’s from the future.”

  “True. Ow. And he isn’t dumb. I made the comment that he was a CAT four and Ellen said, oh, yeah, well, CAT four’s can’t invent viable artificial rooms, that expand with growth.”

  Dean suddenly turned around. “He invented what?”

  “A viable …. That’s what she said … ow … artificial room.”

  “Artificial …room?”

  “Yeah.”

  Dean blinked. “Womb.”

  “Huh?”

  “You mean artificial womb.”

  “Are you talking like Alex?”

  “No, Frank. Womb. Uterus. Not room. He made a viable artificial womb that expands with growth.”

  “I don’t know about that, but he did make an artificial room.”

  “Fuck.” Dean slammed his hand down. “How did he do that?”

  Frank shrugged. “I don’t know. Ow. With wood. No, wait, wood wouldn’t expand that much.”

  “He couldn’t have invented it in one day. He had to have had the design before he got here and only implemented it.”

  “Whatever. Ow. Why are you getting mad? You created him. He’s you.”

  “In a sense.” Dean tapped his hand on the table. “I will be able to use it.”

  “Really?” Frank asked. “Where?”

  “In the lab.”

  “Is it portable?”

  “Probably. But once you get it situated, it can’t be moved. I wouldn’t think. Wow. I really can’t wait to see it.”

  “What are you gonna use it for? Ow.”

  “Create babies.”

  “A place for sex?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Dean.” Frank snapped. “You're gonna make babies.”

  “Yes.”

  “In the artificial room. That means it’s …”

  “No, Frank! God. Womb. Womb. Womb. Not room. Room. Room. Artificial womb.”

  Frank stared.

  Dean calmed himself. “I’m gonna use the artificial womb to make babies. Not the artificial room. An artificial room is pretty useless.”

  “That’s what I thought. I couldn’t figure out … ow... the big deal.”

  “Frank.”

  “What? Ow.”

  “If he’s biting you, why do you keep on holding him?”

  Frank looked down to his hand. “He’s cute. Aren’t you Harry?” Frank ran his finger over the top of Harry, the Killer Fetuses’ head. “Look, Dean, look how he cuddles to my finger.”

  “Hmm.”

  Frank walked over with Harry in his hand. “Look at him curl up.”

  “He’s biting you.”

  “Nibbling. See. No real blood. He’s probably teething or something. Dean, trust me, if he put a hole in my boot, he’d put a hole in my hand if he didn’t like me. Like his parents …” Frank sighed. “I am his God.”

  “What can I say, Frank. You’re everyone’s God.”

  “I am.”

  Dean laughed.

  “Dean, doesn’t he look like a short, hairless ferret?”

  “A short, hairless…” Dean chuckled and looked. “No. he looks like a fetus, Frank. A four month old fetus with stubby arms, legs, a tail, and undeveloped features. Only he’s probably about ten days old.”

  “But he doesn’t have that Killer Baby look. You know. Pug face, wrinkled skin.”

  “He’s not done developing yet,” Dean replied. “Trust me; he’ll turn into a killer looking baby in no time. He’s still forming.”

  “Man.” Frank shook his head and stroked Harry. “Too bad you can’t get into his DNA now, huh? I mean, if he was mutated to grow into a Killer Baby, maybe he would mutate back.”

  Dean drew up a bright look. “Frank. You know what? You may be on to something.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When El and I went to the future, one of the problems was the Killer Baby population went out of control. What if we stopped them from being Killer Babies, by halting the formation in the fetus stage?”

  “How?”

  “Find the mutation factor and change it,” Dean said. “This way we wouldn’t have to kill them we can make them as normal as possible by going into their DNA early. Hell, you’re part jackrabbit.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But, Dean. I can’t do that.”

  “Do what?” Dean asked.

  “Change their DNA.”

  “Not you.”

  “You?”

  “No.” Dean shook his head. “The clone.”

  “Why the clone?”

  “Because he’s smart.”

  “How do you know?” Frank asked.

  “He’s me, he has my brain power, and he invented an artificial womb.”

  “And room.”

  “Yes.”

  “If he’s so smart and he’s you,” Frank said. “Why can’t you do it?’

  “I could. But I’m still in my infancy on DNA. Most of what I do and accomplish is by chance and or accident. If he has full knowledge or has a better grasp of DNA, he could do it.”

  “OK. So how do we get the clone to do it?”

  “Take Harry with you,” Dean said. “Bring him to the clone and tell him your theory about stopping the mutation during the developmental phase.”

  “But you’re working with Harry.”

  “True.” Dean paused in thought. “Can you get him one?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Frank shrugged. “I’ll get it tonight.” He looked at his watch. “Anyhow, I have to go. You need anything?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  Frank took Harry to the cage. “Night, Harry.” He leaned into him. “Ow, he bit my lip.”

  “Well, if you wouldn’t kiss the Killer Fetus, Frank, that wouldn’t happen.”

  “He has to feel the love, Dean.” Frank put him in the cage. “Love stops him from gnarling flesh.”

  Dean laughed with a shake of his head.

  Frank walked to Dean. “Is my lip bad?”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “Oh.” Frank shrugged, wiped the blood, and gave a pat to Dean’s back. “See ya’ tomorrow.”

  Dean nodded. When Frank left, and he was secure in the fact that he was gone, Dean quickly pulled out the HG Wells. He set it on the counter and stared at it in wonder. “Come on, Robbie. Hurry up. I have information and I wanna play with this” He looked at his watch. Like a kid at Christmas time staring at a wrapped gift, Dean grew more excited and anxious by the minute.

  <><><><>

  There was a Donny Osmond song in the seventies called, Sweet and Innocent. The words starting out, ‘I love the little wiggle in your walk.’ George couldn’t help but sing that song in his head when he looked at Tigger.

  Tigger climbed up on the bar stool next to George.

  “You wanted to see me?” he asked.

  “How are you, Tigger?”

  “Bored. How about you?”

  “I’m good,” George said. “What do you m
ean bored?”

  “They haven’t really found me a job yet. Stuck me in the fields.” Tigger signaled for a drink.

  “You know, you really are much too young to be drinking.”

  Tigger laughed. “I could say you’re told old to be drinking. But we all defied a plague, so who the hell cares, we’re on borrowed time. When did you start drinking?”

  “Drinking for real?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean when you drink, you drink for real.”

  “Forgive me,” George said. “I mean regularly. Not until I was thirty.”

  “Wow. You waited a while. So what’s up?”

  “I have a very big proposition for you little man.”

  Tigger tilted his head. “Is that a dig?”

  “Yeah, actually,” George nodded. “If you can toss them out, you gotta take them.”

  “OK, I’ll give you that.”

  “All right. As you know, we have your father in a jail of sorts.”

  Tigger nodded.

  “And as you know we are on the verge of war with an unknown foe,” George explained. “Every man is needed Tigger. You’re father has skills, viable skills that are needed. We have bridged the differences between us and we have to unite. I have an idea that I think will finalize the bridge, but that’s neither here nor there right now. You’ll find out later about that. I don’t want to punish your father. Beginnings doesn’t want to punish your father.”

  “You want my father to work for you?”

  George held up a finger and shook his head. “Work for us all. Be part of the team. That is step one of my plan.”

  “Get my father to work with the plan?”

  “Yes. Cross working,” George said. “We send people here, Beginnings sends people our way. Something I’m gonna bring up to Frank tomorrow is the fact that I want to send men over here to be trained by the UWA.”

  “Show unity.”

  “Exactly. Your father is not buying the unity bit. I think after my final step in the plan he will. But the country is a big country; the west isn’t big enough for him and Frank.”

  Tigger laughed.

  “I want Mike to be stationed on the East Coast with us and work with Bertha.”

  Tigger’s eyes lit up.

  “See, I knew that would spark you.” After a shudder, George continued. “Tigger I want you to come back with me to Quantico. I fly out tomorrow or the next day and I would like you to come with me. First, you would be able to get through to your father.”

  Tigger chuckled. “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, I do. He’s trusts you. He knows you wouldn’t lie. You convey how he is needed and how he has to move on and work as a team player. I think he would.”

  “What will you have him do?”

  “Train leaders. I already have that figured out. He would train men to be in leadership positions. To get that started, I’d like you to come with me.”

  “Join the Society?”

  “You’re wrong there. You wouldn’t be joining the Society; you’d just be living on the east coast. Working with us.”

  “Can you get me a job where I’m not bored or picking tomatoes?”

  George laughed. “I can use a good clerk. How are your organizational skills?”

  “Suck, but I can type and all than other stuff.”

  “So does that mean you’ll fly out with me?”

  “Do I get to see Bertha?”

  George swallowed. “Yes.”

  “If I don’t like it out there, I’m not stuck, right?”

  “You’re not a prisoner. It’s no longer one side or the other. If you want to leave, you leave.”

  “You’re not using a bad recruiter line on me are you?’

  Again, George laughed. He watched Tigger tap his hands on the bar. “Well? Does this mean ‘yes’?”

  Tigger downed his drink. “I’ll start packing.”

  <><><><>

  “Jesus Christ, Robbie.” Dean flung open the door. “It’s midnight. I’ve been waiting forever.”

  “Dean, I had to work. Geesh.” He took off his coat and laid it on the couch. “I wanted to get here as soon as possible.”

  “Sorry, I’m just antsy.”

  “I know.” Robbie followed him into the other room, Dean’s lab. He noticed the HG Wells. “You haven’t played with it, have you?”

  “Not since I initially touched it,” Dean said.

  “I can’t believe I found this.”

  “Me either.”

  “So, like, Dean. Obviously it took you somewhere. Where?”

  “The woods. You?”

  “The great plains complete with Indians.”

  “No, shit.”

  “Scared the fuck out of me.”

  “This needs our attention. But we also can’t just press buttons, we are going to have to learn this machine.”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “But first …”

  Robbie nodded.

  “Sit down, Robbie.”

  Robbie did. “I take it you got results?”

  “Yes, I believe I have come up with a conclusive answer.”

  “And?”

  “Not so fast.” Dean joined him at the table. “I’m gonna give you some whys first, OK?”

  Robbie nodded.

  “Your science lesson for the day. There is no such thing as taking an adult, cloning an adult, and getting an adult. You take an ovum, remove all chromosomal values and traces, and insert it with the DNA of a subject. After chemicals and generations, you get cell division much like the conception process. When the embryo is old enough it’s planted into a host mother. It’s called Embryonic or reproduction cloning. It is never a one hundred percent exact clone.”

  “Why?” Robbie asked.

  “Because one, especially a male, his DNA is inserted into a host egg. A woman different than the mother is going to carry that. There will always be traces from the cell division or host mother in the clone. Minor, very minor, but differences. Unless the egg is that of the actual mother, and an artificial womb is used. Which we know they have in the future. My clone would be a perfect clone copy of me if I hadn’t used Melissa’s egg. He was grown, I’m gathering in an artificial womb. I … cloned myself. My embryo was frozen. The purest clone we have or had was Ellen. I used her egg, her DNA, and if she could have carried her clone. Perfect. But, I destroyed her clone and all other clones except my own.”

  “My father’s too.”

  “Yes.”

  “Could someone have dug up his grave and extracted DNA to create a clone in the future?”

  “Possible. But unless they came up with a new way in the next hundred years, I doubt it, the clone would still have a marker in its DNA to say it is a clone.”

  Robbie nodded his understanding.

  “So with that lesson out of the way, I can say, with a hundred percent certainty that the body we dug up is not a clone.”

  “So what …”

  Dean held up his hand. “I am really serious, Robbie, I went back and forth on this issue. Was it Joe was it not Joe? For the purpose of this discussion, we will say Joe One and Joe Two. Joe Two being the body of … Joe.”

  “So my father did die?”

  “Listen to me.” Dean pulled forth a folder. “Several things can mutate DNA, a virus, radiation. Joe Two had our virus, but Joe Two also had traces of radiated mutation, meaning his was exposed to radiation at some point.”

  “Radiation?”

  “But he hung out at Jason’s lab. However … I’ll get to that in a minute. Differences, Joe Two had a bite mark on his left leg. Severe, matching that of a wolf. He also had traces of sulfur in his hair, which could have come from the explosion. Do you recall your father being bit by a coyote or wolf?”

  “Not to my knowledge.” Robbie said. “So there are differences. How can this be? Could it be a new type of clone?”

  “A clone would not have the same scars as its original. Joe Two had the procedural scars on his ch
est from his treatments. Joe Two also had the DNA mutation of my healing agent. The DNA I used to clone Joe was that of pretreatments.”

  “The hair …”

  “The hair is different. Gray. When Joe One died, his hair was not gray.”

  “Dean, I’m confused. First, you give me reasons as to how it isn’t my dad, and then you give me reason to why it is my dad. Which is it?”

  Dean paused. “This is where it gets tricky. Robbie, I firmly believe one hundred percent, without a doubt, that the body in the tomb, was indeed … Your father.”

  Robbie’s head hung low.

  Dean continued. “But the mystery continues.”

  Robbie looked up.

  “We have your father in a tomb buried six miles from here,” Dean said. “And we have your father a few days ago eating a jam sandwich at the trailer.”

  Suddenly, Robbie’s whole demeanor switched.

  “Your father is the one who had lunch with the clone.”

  “Oh, my God.” Robbie’s eyes closed. “Oh my God.”

  “The password thing Danny told you about … that’s him.”

  “So Andrea knows. That’s why …”

  Dean shook his head. “We can’t be certain of that.”

  “But she claims to see him …” Robbie shook his head. “No, she doesn’t claim to see him. She claims to sense him. Hear him.”

  “His ghost.”

  Robbie smiled. “Invisible suit.”

  Dean nodded.

  “Joe’s not in the future. Joe’s not dead. Dead men don’t eat jam sandwiches a month after their death. Your father is alive and well and is hiding out pretty damn well.”

  Robbie finished the sentence with a tone of relief. “In Beginnings.”

  Dean lifted a finger. “End of mystery one. Now onward to another. If Joe isn’t dead and is hiding in Beginnings, then …”

  Robbie nodded. “Why.”

  “Exactly.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  April 1st

  When Johnny Slagel started bartending at the Dan at the Creed Saloon, he became, in a short period of time, much like the Creedvillians. A person who rarely saw the light of day. Closing shop about four in the morning, Johnny would stay up all night and sleep all day.

  Tigger, though out late himself, needed little sleep. And aside from that, he had to go to Beginnings to pick tomatoes at eight in the morning.