There was a fit of mumbling as many clones agreed.
My god. Lima, Peru must have been burnt down to the ground.
“I’ll be the first to admit it got out of hand,” said the First Clone. “That’s when I started talking to Victor about merging us. I had seen it in a comic. If we get all the memories, experiences, and viewpoints of these countless clones into one mind, we’d be some super being.”
“Even a few months isn’t that much,” I said. “You’d have to have them go have experiences and memories for…” I dropped my jaw, aghast. “For years. You’re not planning to merge now, you’re planning to merge years from now. You want this to keep going!”
“I managed to find this guy around midtown,” said the First Clone. “He can get all of them fake identities, fake social security numbers, the works. Nothing that will hold up to tough scrutiny, but enough for a few years. I figure some can go to college, some can find jobs.”
He smirked. “We’ve always wanted to be more of a ladies’ man. Imagine getting the combined memories of all the chicks an army of yourself could bang between now and then.”
As the clones moved close, I kept backing up. I reached the edge of the ship again, feeling the spray at my back.
“How many are there?” I said. “Is everyone on this ship a clone?”
“Number Twelve,” said the First Clone, “Did we successfully prevent anyone else from getting on?”
“Yes, we managed to block some old ladies by saying it was a family event,” said one. “And I wish you’d stop calling me Number Twelve. I’m the real one, you know.”
“No, I’m the real one!” shouted a clone in the way back. There was some mumbled arguing.
“As you can see, it’s not perfect,” said the First Clone. “But we’re really working on it. We’ve been setting up a ruling committee, with rotating members. We tried voting, but everyone voted for themselves in the first round. We all formed two person alliances in the second round, but then everyone still only voted for their alliance member, so still all the votes were tied. We could have gone on with this until an odd number, but we all knew it wouldn’t have been an effective way of reaching agreement. Committee seems to be working pretty well, right guys?”
There was mostly agreement, but some harrumphs from the back.
“I mean, democracy’s not perfect,” said the First Clone.
“I don’t want democracy,” I said. “I’m the actual real one, I’m not submitting to the mob rule of clones!”
“I’m the real one!” called the same clone from the back.
“Shut up,” called the First Clone, “you’re not helping!” He turned back to me. “Look, I know this isn't what you wanted. It's not what I wanted either. But it’s what we’ve got. You need to work with it. Sure, you could freeze, melt, electrocute, or do whatever to me that gun does, but then you have to fight all these guys and zap them too. And they're all just as strong and quick as you. Even with the advantage of the gun, I doubt you have enough shots in that gun to do it. So you need to play ball with us.”
I was horrified. But this also reinforced my previous decision. The clones had made a mess and abomination of my life. This needed to end. I needed to be the only one.
I reached in my pocket as they came closer.
“Just relax and talk with us,” said my First Clone, but by the way some of the others were approaching me, they were more likely moving to grab me than talk.
I pulled the detonator out of my pocket as I climbed up on the side of the boat.
“What the hell is that?” shouted the First Clone.
I smiled weakly, then leapt off the boat, trying to jump as much distance from it as I could. Simultaneously I pressed the button.
Plan B.
I was underwater when the boat exploded. I could feel the vibrations of the explosion and the muffled sound. I swam as far as I could underwater, then pushed up out of the dirty waves into the air, gasping for breath among the debris falling around me. I could smell ash and gasoline, wood and metal.
The Circle Line had been my home court advantage. Before the trip I had swam underneath it and set the special explosive charge I had gotten from Victor. Mad scientist-enhanced C4: for when you absolutely have to kill every motherfucking clone on the boat.
Of course I didn’t know there was going to be more than one clone. I thought there was only one and had planned around that. I had hoped to dis-integrate him and that was it. But if things went really bad, I was prepared for extreme measures. I didn’t know if my clone would have armed friends; I considered the idea, so I assumed he thought of it too.
I realized that in the event of Plan B, there would have been collateral damage. Sure, there would have been other people on the boat, unrelated to my feud with my clone. Innocent bystanders. But I also realized you couldn’t make a clone-killing omelette without breaking a few non-cloned eggs. When a man fights a clone of himself, it is War, and in war there are casualties who happened to also be going to see the Statue of Liberty on the same day.
But hey, the plan went better than expected. 100% clone kill, no innocent bystanders. Completely accidental, but that’s win-win in my book.
I began the long arduous swim through the foul waters of the bay towards the Manhattan shore to a life of my own. Completely mine, completely alone. That’s how I like it.
Flowers of Evil
"You didn't blow up the Circle Line," said Bruce.
“That sort of thing is so hard to confirm,” I said.
“No, it isn’t. You didn’t,” he said. “It never blew up. I’m not even sure if you’ve ever been on it.”
“Well, maybe I meant metaphorically. Because, really, metaphorically, haven’t we all blown up the Circle Line?”
“No,” he said, “no, we haven’t.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and yanked the sheet of paper he was reading back. At the bottom of the page I hastily scribbled: BASED ON A TRUE STORY.
“There,” I said. “That makes it authentic.”
“Authentic bullshit,” he said.
“Ah! But you admit to the authenticity part!” I said.
He shook his head sadly.
Bruce had finally showed up, making me a little more comfortable. It was still an eerie and stormy night, the rain coming down in sheets - something Bruce reminded me of a few times, citing how much of a favor this was. But I knew that was to cover up his concern for me. And my own bluster was to cover up a feeling of impending doom that I couldn't even explain.
"Did you call Becky?" I asked.
"Yes," he said tiredly.
"Is she coming?"
"She said she's not your goddamn bodyguard."
"But is she coming?"
He sighed. "Yes, because she's a better friend than you deserve."
"What about you?" I asked. "Do I not deserve you?"
"It doesn't matter if you do or not, because I'm stuck with you. Some infernal contract before we were born, I guess. The drawback to my otherwise fantastic existence. Or some such thing."
"You make it sound so begrudging," I said. "You didn't have to become friends with me as kids. You didn't have to move down here after college. You don't have to be here now. You're free to go... if you want to be a terrible friend."
He rolled his eyes. "We've been through worse together. If I was going to bail on you, I would have done it a long time ago. Someone's gotta keep you out of trouble."
I gave him a sidelong glance.
"Okay, let me rephrase that. Someone's gotta help you pick yourself up after you get into trouble."
"That sounds more likely," I said. "And I do appreciate your friendship. But, y'know, in a manly insensitive way."
"I know," he said. "Linda knows it too, which is why I'm not getting angry calls. Speaking of which, I need to call and check in. I'll be back in a few."
I made a mocking whip-crack motion.
"Really?" he said. "What year do you live in?"
"Late
ly? A long time ago. This project has gotten me thinking too much about the past. And, maybe admitting that I made one or two mistakes. Maybe."
"Well, I'll leave you alone with the past for a few minutes," he said, reassuringly patting me on the shoulder as he got up and pulled out his phone.
After he left, I stared out the window, unable to see much other than the rain crashing against the glass. I thought about the past, true or untrue, and the enormous weight it pushes down on the present. Less abstractly, the past seemed to have made an attempt on my life, and I was definitely not happy about that.
As I mused upon the mental weight and anguish of a life long lived, a delivery man entered my room. He carried a vase of flowers with a get well card.
"Flowers?" I said. "I've been here for weeks and they're just sending them now?"
The delivery man shrugged and put the vase on the table next to me.
"And lilies?" I said. "Who sends lilies? Aren't they associated with funerals?"
"Yes," said the delivery man in a voice that was far too familiar. He grabbed one of my pillows as I looked up at his face. His delivery cap cast a shadow, he hadn't shaved in weeks, and his face was worn with the wages of nearly twenty years, but I still recognized the face in a moment.
It was my own face.
The pillow slammed down on my face as my clone tried to smother me. It was only through some primal survival instinct that I managed to get one of my arms under the pillow before it came down. That arm gave me leverage, or else I would probably be dead right now. The twenty years had been kinder to him, as he was stronger than me. I wondered if he had a really good workout plan I should find out about. Or maybe he just hadn't been wasting away in a hospital bed for weeks.
Through the leverage of my arm and turning my head to gasp for air, he wasn't able to cut off my breathing. But he was still pushing down hard and it took all my strength to fight him off. He said nothing during this time, probably to not alert anyone. But when I finally took a real breath after all the gasping, I screamed for help. It was a pitiful scream better suited to that of a poor old woman, but that shrill utterance still managed to carry outside the room.
At this he gave up and ran. He bolted outside of my room where he knocked over Bruce, who had heard the scream. The clone ran down the hall, but turned his head back to see if he was being followed. Bruce and he locked eyes for a moment, enough for Bruce to confirm his identity. Then my clone loudly slammed through stairwell doors and was gone.
Once he regained his feet, Bruce looked in on me. I was gasping, but rasped out a command for Bruce to follow my clone, though I knew it was probably too late. Bruce ran for the stairwell, but once there had lost the trail. He returned to my room where nurses swarmed me, checking my vital signs and asking why my heart rate had spiked. Bruce waited outside until the circus was over.
Once every nurse had left, Bruce came back and sat in the chair next to my bed. It was a long moment before either of us spoke.
"He survived," I said icily. My blood was still cold[21] from the realization and the second attempt on my life.
"And he wants you dead," said Bruce.
"Yes, I hadn't noticed that," I said sarcastically, before dropping my tone. "But why now after all these years? Yes, I tried to kill him, and I thought I did. If this was a week later, I could understand him wanting to kill me. But it's been nearly twenty years. Twenty years of silence. Why now? Why wait? It's not like I grievously disfigured him. I saw that he still had my rugged good looks when he was trying to smother me. Why wait twenty years?"
Bruce didn't say anything, but his jaw was clenched.
"Why does he want revenge now?" I asked again.
Bruce said nothing.
"Hey guys, why the pity party?" said Becky from the doorway. She was drenched, her hair flat with water. It looked like she didn't even bother trying to use an umbrella. Bruce and I both tried hard to not look at her chest area, where the soaking clothes hung a little too close and showed a little more than intended.
"Just an uncomfortable realization," I said.
"Ooo, can I join? I got a bunch of those," she said. "Oh yeah, before I forget, I found this." She pulled out a soaking wet delivery hat. "I think your brother dropped it when he left. I didn't even know he was still around. When do I get to meet him?"
Bruce and I looked at each other.
"I love lilies!" she exclaimed, idly shaking water out of her hair. "When did you get flowers, anyway?"
I had completely forgotten about the flowers. I reached over and grabbed the card.
I read the card and my stomach churned. I handed it to Bruce. He read it twice, has mouth open and his brow furrowed. Becky took the card from him and read it.
"I don't get it," said Becky. "Kinda dark for a get well card, though."
"It means my life is still in danger," I said. "A madman is trying to kill me."
"Is that like one of these Most Dangerous Game things," she said, "Or did you sleep with somebody's wife?"
As Bruce began explaining the story[22], I looked at the card again. The handwriting was chicken scratch touched by a very severe madness.
Hello me! If you're reading this, I've failed again. We're harder to kill than I expected, but I'm sure you can appreciate that fact as well. Unfortunately for you, I need you dead. Very very dead. Only then can I take my proper place ushering in the end of the world. You wouldn't want to stand in the way of the apocalypse, would you? I'm glad you understand.
Be seeing you soon,
Ben Reilly
About the Author
Dennis Liggio is the author of eleven books, including the Damned Lies series, The Lost and the Damned, the novella Cthulhu, Private Investigator, and I Kill Monsters. He is a veteran of the game industry, enjoys long walks on the beach while thumbing through tomes of unspeakable evil, and rumor has it that if you say his name three times in front of a mirror at midnight he will appear and give you Hostess Fruit Pies. He writes primarily in the genres of geeky absurdist humor, horror, and urban fantasy. He lives in Austin, Texas with his wife and two furry monsters.
www.dennisliggio.com
Books by Dennis Liggio
Damned Lies Strike Back
Damned Lies Strike Back follows in the great tradition of sequels in that it is bigger, bolder, and dripping with franchise potential. Like a good sequel, it answers all the unanswered questions of the original (except for the ones it doesn't). It is exactly the sequel this world needs.
This time around, our intrepid hero and friends battle the evil apocalyptic plans of his homicidal clone and a dangerous cult. At the same time he is facing his clone in the present day, he recounts the story of his first year in college where he formed a mystery gang to stop the nefarious plot of evil college professors. It all leads to a climactic sword fight and then a desperate epic battle against a true evil that we all know well...
Damned Lies of the Dead 3D
Damned Lies of the Dead 3D is not the zombie novel we need, but it's the zombie novel we deserve. In 1995, Austin, Texas was nearly wiped out by a zombie outbreak. This fact has been long suppressed, but the truth cannot be silenced. Now there is a firsthand account from our intrepid hero of just what happened... and how he survived. Only the dead know the truth...
It's grindhouse, it's horror, it's how humor novel characters deal with death in the inevitable third book in the series. And it has zombies. Everyone loves zombies, right?
I Kill Monsters (Nowak Brothers #1)
Mikkel and Szandor kill monsters. They're not government funded, they're not from a time-honored lineage of hunters, nor are they rich kids with lots of toys. They're two twenty-something brothers from the poor side of town who have taken it on themselves to rid the streets and underground of creatures who would prey on the innocent. Donning gas masks and using makeshift weaponry, they delve into the labyrinthine sewer system of New Avalon to grapple with snarling zombies, flesh-eating ghouls, insectoid hive creatures, and more.
It's a dirty job and it rarely pays, but someone has to do it.
Hired by a woman from the rich side of town who believes she's being stalked by monsters, the two brothers think they've finally gotten an easy job that will pay well. But as they follow the clues, things are not adding up. Kidnappings, jackbooted commandos, and mysterious emails are just the beginning. Soon they find themselves involved in something bigger than monsters. It's anybody's guess whether they'll come through it alive, much less get paid.
I Kill Monsters is an exciting punk rock urban fantasy for those who enjoy their protagonists with a mouth on them and a weapon in their hands.
Jabberwock Jack (Nowak Brothers #2)
Mikkel and Szandor are back! Everyone's favorite monster hunters return for a new adventure, and this time it's a monster that's bigger than they have ever dealt with before! While on a routine job in the city's underground tunnels, they stumble on a creature thought lost for years. They are then invited to join a hastily assembled team of hunters going underground to try to kill the enormous serpent. Delving deeper into the dark tunnels than they have ever gone before, Mikkel and Szandor find themselves searching for this massive beast in dark overflow tunnels and the endless labyrinth under New Avalon. But creatures beneath the city are not their only problem. Soon tensions begin running high among the assembled hunters, threatening to derail the mission and put them all in danger. Will they succeed, or will they fall prey to the gigantic monster known as Jabberwock Jack?
Manic Monday
Dane Monday deals with weird stuff. Mad scientists, sorcerers, robots, time-travelling cats, cyborgs learning the concept of love, and more. Whether it's a death ray, a doomsday ritual, or simply magic gone wrong, Dane Monday is there to stop them. He's even got a rogue's gallery of megalomaniacal villains who want revenge. Armed only with his wits, some reluctant allies, and a satchel full of gadgets, Dane steps forward to save the city of New Avalon.
While investigating an abandoned building, Dane encounters the remnants of a magical ritual shortly before the building explodes in spectacular fashion. Narrowly escaping this destruction with his new ally, the aspiring journalist Abby Connors, Dane follows the threads of this mystery while evading a menagerie of homicidal robots, kidnapping thugs, and the wrath of a mad scientist. At the bottom of it all is a scheme to destroy New Avalon involving a century-old architect, a historic hotel, and something not of our world.
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