by Sean Platt
The door’s sensor might require a heartbeat, so Jonathan needed to be alive when Ephraim used his finger to open it — and Jonathan wouldn’t be alive after what came next.
With confused tears on his cheeks and dark thoughts spiraling in the black thunderheads of his mind, Ephraim looked down and waited for his almost-brother to die.
One breath.
Two breaths.
And then the body went limp, clone no more.
After a moment’s pause, Ephraim pulled the knife from Jonathan’s chest.
He tested its tip for sharpness.
And then he went to work on what regrettably had to come next.
CHAPTER 60
FALL APART LATER
Ephraim found a clean lab coat hanging on a peg and pulled it on. Then he ducked into a small private bathroom to look himself over and almost screamed.
The lab coat did virtually nothing to hide his grisly deed. His hands, neck, and face were soaked with blood. His pants were wet to the skin. He’d had to cradle Jonathan’s head in his lap to get the required leverage. And at the time, he hadn’t realized how much the dead man was bleeding.
He’d bled through the entire grotesque procedure.
Pushing down his nausea — along with all sorts of things he’d never be able to forget or forgive — Ephraim left the bathroom and pulled on a large black rubber apron to cover the inadequate lab coat. It looked like it belonged to a butcher. The thought drew Ephraim’s eyes to a door in the lab’s rear that looked like a walk-in cooler. Maroon fingerprints marred the door’s edges, but there was no obvious lock. He could open it right now, but he hated that idea. Somehow, he was sure there’d be a sharp hook hanging from the ceiling and a drain on the floor.
With the apron on, his face, hands, and neck washed, and a fresh lab coat, Ephraim decided he looked more or less passable in the bathroom mirror. And if he didn’t? Then fuck it. He was the only black man in the building. He’d either pass for Jonathan from a distance, or he’d be discovered. At this point, both options felt equally preferable to staying here.
He put his hand to the wedged-open outer door and stopped. Jonathan’s butchered carcass was on the floor behind him, seeing as he hadn’t had the guts to drag him to the cooler. Ephraim would leave red footprints if he wasn’t careful. But that wasn’t even the worst of his panicked feelings. He was suddenly certain that the bearded man — whose exit from this lab was the only reason Ephraim had been able to get inside — was seconds from returning.
You won’t improve your chances by stalling. Go. Now.
It was true. Maybe the bearded man was outside waiting for him, or maybe Ephraim would be near an exit before being spotted. Maybe he’d even get out of the big room and into a hallway (assuming he could find one) before getting caught. He had no idea what was facing him next — and, more importantly, no clue how he’d handle those things when he encountered them. His brother (his brother’s clone) knew how the Tomorrow Gene worked. Ephraim didn't have a clue. As things turned out, he hadn’t even had the procedure.
But he couldn’t abandon Altruance and Sophie to whatever Eden might decide to do with them now that they’d been replaced. If things had gone routinely, Eden’s standard procedure might be to send the original, now-rejuvenated celebrities home with raves in mind, leaving the clones to play with the many Elles and Nolons. Perhaps celebrity guests abandoned their ghosts on Eden the way sounds left echoes. They’d seen Alma Couch more than once, right? And wasn’t Alma herself supposed to be back home, albeit somewhat reclusive?
It didn’t matter. Ephraim’s actions had rendered “the usual procedure” moot. The bearded man would return eventually, and see what Ephraim had done. If he escaped, who knew what might come next? Maybe the man would decide it was nothing and that Eden could weather the shit storm that Ephraim would unleash with the evidence in his pocket. Or maybe he’d burn the facility to the ground to hide it, killing everyone — most notably the two guests in the middle of their transformations whose murdering buddy knew a little too much.
He had to find Altruance and Sophie. If he didn’t, he’d as good as killed them, just like Jonathan.
Ephraim pushed the door open and peeked around its edge.
The man with the black beard and piercing green eyes wasn’t there.
Ephraim looked over as he skirted the rear wall. The tram was where he’d left it, maddeningly tempting. But could he use it? Somehow, he doubted it would ferry him away this time — because now, nobody on Eden would want him herded anywhere but into custody. Nobody would be out there during this for-real escape, greasing his way.
What did Jonathan say? That Altruance and Sophie were “just down the hall?”
Ephraim wasn’t sure. And thinking was hard. He couldn’t shake the fact that he’d murdered his brother — or someone. This was real. He’d killed the other Nolon, too. That wasn’t a broken memory after all.
They were only clones. Just copies.
But they weren’t. They were human bodies with human thoughts. That gave them emotions. That gave them …
What had Jonathan implied?
… souls.
Ephraim felt his mind trying to fracture, a paralyzing terror scraping him with clawed hands. Panic was a noose, killing his oxygen. But he clenched his fists and held it in.
Later, he told himself. There will be time to fall apart later.
It was almost funny, but not quite. Ephraim’s face was set, and his head hurt. Hands stained with blood. Every heartbeat jarred his vision. The thing swaying heavy in his lab coat’s pocket was a heavy weight dragging him down. He had to keep moving. He couldn’t think about any given step until he’d conquered the one before it.
Down the long span of the warehouse room, he saw a pair of swinging doors with portholes at the top. He leaned into them and pushed through.
This had to be the place. Chambers lined both sides. They looked like rooms in a doctor’s office, with no obvious matching hallways anywhere Ephraim had been able to see.
Something caught his eye. He stopped.
A touchscreen on the wall. A directory.
They wouldn’t just have their names in here, would they?
But why not? Nobody unauthorized was supposed to be on Islet 09.
Ephraim touched the screen, tapping to look up clients in residence by alphabetical order.
BROWN, ALTRUANCE.
and
NORRIS, SOPHIE.
They were listed in the same room. The only room, as far as Ephraim could see, flagged as being part of the Tomorrow Gene.
TG-01 INCUBATION.
The tablet helpfully asked if he’d like a paint line uploaded to his MyLife, but doing so didn’t feel worth the risk. Ephraim didn’t trust his MyLife right now and probably wouldn’t ever again (might even be time to have the damn thing removed). He didn’t need a paint line; he could read a simple floor plan. And according to the display, TG-01 INCUBATION was just around the corner ahead.
Ephraim rushed on, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, skirting open doors like a cop sweeping a building under siege. He caught sight of a few unhooded ghosts, as well as a Nolon and three Elles. No other Jonathans.
He’s too arrogant for that. He’d protest even one clone being made of himself. Which begs the question: who authorized the creation of the monstrosity you just erased? Wallace Connolly? Did he make sure he had Eden’s succession plan in place before his death? Make a copy of his best geneticist, fix a few flaws that might make him go rogue, then erase the original?
It felt right. If he could believe Wallace Connolly was the villain, that might absolve Ephraim of his crimes. Connolly was the bad guy. Ephraim had eliminated the bad guy’s mistake, thus restoring the honor of his dearly departed brother — and making him the good guy in the end.
Bullshit.
But believing the twisted justification helped, so Ephraim let himself have it. And it might be true. Hell, it almost was true.
He had a
job to do, guilt or no guilt.
The room was plainly marked. It wasn’t even locked. The opaque doors opened easily.
Inside, the room was nothing like the lavish spas Elle had taken him to on the Pearl. This room was bland, utilitarian, and painted a pale, baby-puke green. It wasn’t the Enchanted Forest. That was just window dressing, filled with what must have been false clients. This soulless place was where the real work of the Tomorrow Gene was done.
The room was clean but stark. Nothing in it but a handful of indecipherable monitors and what looked like two large sensory deprivation tanks laid to end. Each tank had more readouts near what looked like a latch. Ephraim couldn’t make sense of those readouts, either.
He rubbed the glass on the top of each tank and peered inside. In one he saw Sophie and in the other Altruance. They looked okay, albeit fuzzed by glass and darkness. But they sure didn’t look decades younger. Whatever happened over weeks or months in these tanks must be progressive. Evidently, clients lost days at a time, and right now Sophie and Altruance were still the slightly-past-their-prime friends Ephraim had left behind days ago when they’d clocked in.
Ephraim put his hand on the latch of Altruance’s tank.
You don’t even know what you’re doing. You don’t know how any of this works. Opening the latch could kill them.
Another, sterner voice spoke up in his head. If you leave them here, they’re dead already.
Ephraim popped the hatch. He opened the top. Slowly, Altruance opened his eyes. When he began to sit up, Ephraim rushed to Sophie’s tank and repeated the process.
At least they weren’t dead. Brain-dead, maybe, but at least now he knew their bodies were well enough to sit.
“Ephraim?” Altruance looked around, blinking, confused. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Ephraim tried to answer, but Altruance couldn’t hear him above the screaming alarm.
CHAPTER 61
ALARM
“Ephraim?” Sophie looked around, her waking mind unable to mesh Ephraim’s presence with the screeching alarm’s jarring reality. She looked lost, like a toddler rousing from a nap in a strange place. And, Ephraim thought, this was a strange place. They’d both expected to wake up on the Pearl island in the lap of luxury. This room looked like an oversized janitor’s closet in the facility’s cheapest ward.
“What are we … is it over?”
“It’s over, all right. Get up, Sophie. Take my hand.”
Ephraim extended his hand for Sophie’s, half expecting to find it wet, but there was no liquid inside the tanks. There was a smell. Sharp and offensively sterile, like burning ozone. Behind him, Altruance apparently needed no assistance. He had one foot out and was straddling the tank, half-sitting on its open lid. With his few seconds lead on Sophie, his re-orienting mind seemed to have figured out that the alarm was something bad and called for urgency. He looked like he could barely stand.
“Altruance? Stand up, man. I need you to come back around. It has to happen quickly.”
“I just need a minute.” He looked around the room again. “Seriously. Where the shit are we? Where’s my aesthetician? Or that nice guide lady who set me up.” He looked at his tank. “Although when I got in, it wasn’t into this thing.”
Altruance swiveled his big head, pressing his temples with massive hands. He’d been promised luxurious serenity. This was a rude awakening in the back of a machine shop.
Ephraim returned his attention to Sophie.
“Come on. Try and get up.”
Seconds were ticking. Someone must have discovered Clone Jonathan’s body — probably the man with the beard. Could it possibly take long to put two and two together and know where their escapee and murderer would go?
The cavalry would storm the room in seconds, and Ephraim doubted they’d be as incompetent at taking their quarry this time around.
Altruance was on his feet, unsteady but more or less okay. They’d put them both into gowns, and the gowns, at least, had Eden’s fine touch. They weren’t hospital johnnies; they looked more like something between a high-end robe and a simple dress. Altruance looked a bit surreal in his, but Sophie looked great even if disheveled.
While the alarms brayed and Altruance and Sophie steadied themselves, Ephraim looked his two friends over. The Tomorrow Gene hadn’t finished its work, but Eden had shaved some time from their clocks. Judging solely by appearance, he’d have guessed Sophie was no more than thirty-five right now. She looked exhausted, but her skin was tight and radiant.
She squinted, looking up. “Has that alarm been going off the whole time?”
The alarm was an oppressive fist. The only sound in the world. Each second under its assault felt like hours in the exposed wide-open. It made Ephraim’s brain want to explode. He watched Sophie fight to understand, her world slowly swimming into focus. What was the “under” experience of the Tomorrow Gene like? It turned out, Ephraim hadn’t experienced it. Was it like a dream? A fugue? What were things like for them right now, coming so rudely out of it?
“Come on, Sophie. We need to hurry.”
“My fucking head,” said Altruance, palms on temples.
Ephraim pointed. “There are slippers there. See?”
Altruance was already putting them on. Sophie was climbing out of her tank, tightening her robe and finding her slippers under the tank.
“Ephraim,” Sophie said, pointing, her face concerned. “Are you hurt?”
He looked down. She was pointing at the side of his lab coat, at a blossoming flower of red.
“I’m fine. Come with me.”
“What’s going on, E?”
“Come with me! Hurry!”
Altruance looked unperturbed. “Okay, shit. You the boss if you wanna be.”
But the alarm seemed to be scaring Sophie, who was far more uneasy, less sanguine. “Something went wrong,” she said.
“I’ll explain later.”
“Where is Nolon? Ephraim? Where is Elle?”
“Everywhere. Elle is motherfucking everywhere, Sophie. Just … come on. We need to hurry.”
“I need a mirror. There’s no bathroom in here. Why isn’t there a —?”
“Sophie!” He grabbed her hand. She didn’t protest, though he’d been certain she would. “I’ll explain later.”
“‘Jonathan,’” she said.
“What?”
Sophie touched his lab coat. He hadn’t noticed, but Jonathan’s name was stitched on the breast. “This says, Jonathan. Like your brother.”
Ephraim ignored Sophie and went to the door. He peeked out and saw that the end of the hallway blessedly deserted. He called to the others.
“Ephraim?” Sophie said, lingering. “What’s going on?”
“They lied about the Tomorrow Gene,” Ephraim said, grabbing her by the arm. “They lied to us, and I know the truth. Now you do, too. If they find us now, I think they’ll kill us.”
That finally grabbed their attention.
CHAPTER 62
NOT ON OUR SIDE
“Where are we going?” asked Sophie, running between Altruance and Ephraim.
Ephraim was bone-tired. Maybe it was the adrenaline finally catching up, but as he watched the other two easily keep pace while he huffed and puffed, he couldn’t help wondering if it was because they’d become younger in their partial Tomorrow Gene treatment and he was still running original equipment.
Maybe the therapy worked from the inside out. Maybe their lungs and hearts had been rolled back to their mid-twenties while Ephraim slogged away with a ticker into its forties. It should have only been a point of interest, given all that was happening. But for some reason, his mind was racing with envy.
“There are boats.” Breath. “Somewhere.”
“They’ll hijack a boat. Turn us around.”
“You’re right. Fuck it. Let’s swim. That’s a better choice. That’ll get us home safely.”
He’d spoken more harshly than he’d intended. But Ephraim was ou
t of patience. Out of calm and forced acceptance. Right now, he was evolving into one seriously terrified motherfucker. He was losing it. And thanks to some of what Jonathan had said, Ephraim wasn’t sure he could even trust his memory.
There were five men who’d attacked Damaris, not three, Jonathan’s clone had told him. It happened on your birthday. And her shirt was orange.
But that didn’t mean anything, right? Jonathan lied. And besides, it was hard to remember things when you were afraid for your life — when your dead brother came back and then revealed himself as a copy.
“Ephraim?” Altruance said. “Just in case you’re serious, remember, I can’t—”
“I know you can’t swim. That’s why we need a boat. Jonathan said there were big boats on this island. Boats that I have to assume can reach the open ocean.”
“Assume?” Sophie repeated.
They’d left the building but hadn’t made their way out of the dense complex of buildings with many sprawling wings. The place was a maze. Fielding questions while trying to solve the most pressing puzzle of simply getting the hell out enraged him. The two VIP guests in luxury robes needed to accept that they’d have to wait for more information. They needed to trust him. But no. They both kept blabbing like needy divas.
Calm down. The fact that you’re keyed up isn’t their fault. It has nothing to do with them.
And Altruance, jogging easily, said, “It would have been a whole lot easier if you’d thought to ask your long-lost brother if—”
“He’s not on our side, okay? He’s with them! He’s the reason all of this is happening. Now, will you shut the fuck up and run?”
“Ephraim, we’re just …” Sophie began.
But Ephraim rushed ahead, not wanting any more of the discussion.
Altruance grabbed his arm. “Tell us what’s up, E. Just spit it out.”
“Later.”
“Now.”
“There’s no time.”
“You coulda told us half the story already, in all the time you’ve spent telling us there ain’t no time to tell it.”