“When are they supposed to be here?” asked Michael.
“Wednesday.”
“Good, that gives us two days before—”
“Then Magnum needs to get here before then,” I interrupted. “He should have been here by now. Maybe he’s been caught or knows the authorities are on their way here and doesn’t want to risk having to hand Victoria over to them.”
“I don’t think so,” answered Michael as he joined me in looking out the window. “They don’t know our current location. If they did, we’d be sitting in a detainment facility. Magnum’s just being extra careful. He’s probably watching the house and waiting for the right time to act.”
Trail lifted his hand and looked at his altered band. “So do you think they’re trying to listen to me right now?”
“I’m not sure, but we can’t take any risks. Keep the disk in for the rest of the evening so we can talk freely, but tomorrow you’re going to have to remove it and go about your normal routine in order to avoid any suspicion.”
“You also can’t tell anyone about Travel,” I added. “Not even the made-up story about the hover accident.”
“Okay, what else do you want me to do to help?”
Michael licked his lips and straightened his back against the chair. “There’s a man I need you to contact for me. His name is Saul Whittaker. He’s a Region Three, GenH3 employee. We worked together for several weeks last year. He’s a pilot and my transportation guide.”
Transportation guide to where? This was obviously the point where Magnum’s plan ended and Michael’s began. We needed Saul to fly us to our final, secret location.
“Sector Ten is not going to be our final stop.” Michael smiled. “Sector Ten has minimal security compared to the other sectors. They’d be less likely to look for us there but not unlikely. We’d still be fugitives, trying to fit in without working L-Bands and looking over our shoulder every minute. But once we reach this alternate location, they won’t be able to find us, let alone bring us back to one of the regions.” Michael’s smile grew.
“Alternate location?” asked Trail. His teary eyes widened.
“I think it’s time to tell you, Cassie.” He squinted and the depth of his eyes glistened.
“Where are we going?” I urged.
“Tasma.”
Trail reacted first. “Tasma? That’s not a real place.”
Tasma—the subject of Kale’s playground song and sarcastic remarks from Dr. Love.
Michael leaned across the table, his eyes sparkling. “It is real. I know it is because I’ve been there.”
Trail clenched his hands. “I knew it. Those bastards. There’s another damn government cover up for ya.”
“Wait.” I said. “So where’s Tasma? I don’t understand.”
“It’s an island off the coast of Sector Nine.” Which meant it was an island off the coast of Australia.
Trail interjected, “And it’s not supposed to exist.”
“And it doesn’t exist. At least not on any map, not even the ones Magnum gave us. Only a handful of people know the truth. The less people who know about it the better. That’s why I had to keep it a secret until now.”
“But how can the government keep something like an island a secret?” I couldn’t imagine the existence of an entire island being kept in confidence back in 2022.
“It’s easy. The open sea south of Sector Nine is restricted due to high winds, whirlpools, high surf, tornadoes—you name it. But all of that’s just a lie to keep people away.”
“How come they don’t want anyone to know about it?”
“Well, it was once one of the dead countries. After the plague, the new government believed that the island’s inhabitants either left and returned to the mainland or stayed and died out, but it turned out that the country was never really dead. Apparently, there were enough rebellious, young survivors to stay and form their own government, a government severed from the rest of the world and Liaison One.”
“But they were infertile, too. How could their society survive?” I asked after another peek out the window.
“At first they couldn’t. Within ten years they were on the verge of extinction, but the remaining citizens refused to leave. They decided that they would rather die on their homeland than come under the control of the new-world regions.”
I couldn’t blame them for that.
Damn it! What was keeping Magnum so long? Where was my baby? Taking a deep breath didn’t calm my nerves.
“And I’m sure the forefathers didn’t want that, in case the mainlanders found out,” said Trail. “That could have started a revolt.” He smiled mischievously.
“Exactly. The forefathers were afraid that if the public knew about this small population surviving and building their own democracy, then more citizens would try to overthrow the new government or pull away from it to form their own bands, inspired by the success of the people already doing it. The Earth had just lost over half of its population from a terrible disease. Life was too precious. The forefathers didn’t want to punish or destroy the inhabitants of Tasma for their defiance, so their solution was to keep them happy and turn them into a distant memory, a made-up place.”
“But they needed clones,” I added.
“They did. So the forefathers made a deal with the islanders. They brought them baby clones once a month to replace the elderly who died, and in return, the islanders agreed never to leave their island or try to contact or recruit others from the three world regions. Over time, the island was erased from every map and obliterated from the memories of the survivors of the plague.”
“So if this place is so top secret, why were you allowed to go there?” I asked.
“Well, when the regions recently became desperate for fresh DNA, the three presidents met and decided it was time to take a census of Tasma. Another geneticist hypothesized that some of the people who resided there might be able to reproduce. The presidents wanted to see if this was true, and that’s where I came in. As a physician already handling your case, they felt that I was the only person qualified to take random fertility sampling.”
“And?” I asked with minimal hope.
“They are as infertile as any clone.”
“How many clones live there?”
“Less than fifty thousand.”
“And you said Tasma’s south of Sector Nine?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, my gosh. Tasma. It has to be Tasmania.”
“What’s Tasmania?”
“It’s one of the islands of Australia, but during my time, it also had its own government. It was its own state just like it is now.”
Trail pursed his pale lips. “So why do I need to contact what’s his name, and what do I say?” he asked.
“Saul’s one of the ten who know the truth. He’s the only pilot whose flyer is not equipped with blockers to keep it away from Tasma. He stayed with me while I collected samples and examined some of the men and women, acting kind of like my assistant.” Michael continued, “I need you to call him and tell him that you’re from GenH1. Tell him it’s a code 42/147 and that you’re calling on my behalf. This code not only identifies the destination of the flight, but it also tells Saul that he’s not to contact anyone, not even me, for verification or further instructions. His flight plan won’t be registered, and his plane won’t be tracked or monitored by Liaison One.”
“So that’s where we’re going to live, Tasmania?” I asked.
“Yes. The population will welcome us. They trust me, and I made many friends. I’ll admit that the buildings are older than what we’re used to, some are hundreds of years old, but they’ve all been maintained. They have electricity, plumbed water, and many of our conveniences with the exception of Liaison One. There are no L-Bands, and most importantly, the residents live in a democracy, managed by an ancient constitution that’s very similar to the one before the plague.”
That meant Tasma had the resources needed for Michael and me to
restart a Van Winkle Project on our own.
“So we can develop and start a program on our terms?” I asked.
“Yes, and we’ll begin an organ cloning program, too. They’ve been doing transplants the old fashioned way, using a donated organ. But an organ from a clone doesn’t have much life left in it, making their mortality rate higher than that of the regions.” Michael gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “But you and Victoria won’t have to worry about that.”
“But what about you?”
“Like any clone, I have a 30 to 40 percent chance of needing a transplant in the future, but I’m not concerned about it. I’ll take my chances.” He gripped my hand tighter, a sign that there was no point in arguing with him. “You’ll like it there. Before my first trip, it was described to me as what the world was like one thousand years ago. You’ll feel right at home.”
“Will we be able to contact Shen-Lung and Tupolev from Tasma? We need to let the other presidents know Gifford plans to deny them of fertile females.”
“To coordinate the delivery of baby clones, the Prime Minister of Tasma has a direct line of communication with the presidents.”
Trail wiped under his nose with the back of his hand. “Michael, when do you want me to call Saul Whittaker?”
“Tomorrow morning at nine. Tell him he’ll need to meet us at ten. He’ll know where. One hour should give Cassie and me enough time to make it to the pick-up location.”
“But what if Magnum’s not here by then? I’m not leaving without Victoria,” I said.
“We won’t leave without her. I have faith in him. He’ll be here before then. I know it,” said Michael.
Travel showed us to a guest room, and after Michael and I took turns taking showers, we lay side by side on the bed, my ears eager to hear the opening of a door or the sound of footsteps—anything to indicate that Magnum was finally here.
Michael hadn’t dried thoroughly before getting dressed. His black T-shirt clung to his chest, and his thighs below the hem of his boxer briefs were damp. I picked at a loose piece of thread poking from the seam of my cotton pants, and from the corner of my eye, watched his abdomen rise and fall with each breath.
He rolled onto his side to face me, and when his knee touched my thigh, I inhaled through my nose to disguise my reaction, a pleasant heat shooting through my chest. As his fingertips brushed against my cheeks, I arched my back and welcomed his kiss.
With his hard shoulder against one hand, and my other at the back of his head, our kissing intensified. His lips trailed the length of my neck, and he drew one leg across mine as I bent one knee and lowered my leg to meet his.
When his mouth moved to my collarbone and the bit of shoulder not covered by my shirt, I pushed against his arm, and he lifted away from me, his forehead glistening with perspiration. Rising up on my elbows, I sat up and raked my hands through his hair. Even with my wacked-out hormones, it was hard for me to stop.
“We can’t,” I said, dropping back to the bed.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just can’t help myself when I’m this close to you.” He lay on his back, with bent knees and his hands laced behind his head.
I stared at the ceiling, and as my breathing slowed, I thought about rescuing Victoria, and the rows and rows of S.T.A.S.I.S. capsules resurfaced in my mind.
“You didn’t tell me there were more like me,” I said, trying to keep my voice from rising.
Michael didn’t say anything, but I heard him exhale through his nose.
“How many are there?”
“Sixty-two,” he finally admitted after a long pause.
“So why am I the only one who…?”
Michael sat up and frowned. “Because you’re the only female who survived the awakening.”
I gasped, rising to sit next to him.
“I tried, I really did,” he continued. “I tried to revive them all, but I failed. You were the only one who survived the fluid replacement and cell repair. I saved you for last, hoping that by then I’d find a solution to the problem. I just wanted you to live so badly.” He turned to meet my eyes.
“Then the other women are dead for good?”
“Yes.” A deep sigh dropped his shoulders.
“How many?” I groaned.
“Before I was old enough to join the program, there were two teams trying to bring them back to life. There were thirty-seven pre-menopausal females in total, but by the time I came along, only seven of them were left, including you.”
“Wait. This doesn’t make sense. If the program started before you were a doctor then…then how long was I here before I was awakened?” My heart jerked in my chest.
“Cassie, don’t ask me that now. You have the Van Winkle files. You can read them later, and then you’ll know everything.”
“Just give me the number, Michael. How long was I there?” I demanded.
“Thirty-one years,” he said so softly I could barely hear.
“Thirty-one years?” I shouted.
“Please, don’t be angry with me. Remember, I’ve only been involved with the project for five years, and I didn’t want to awaken you, or any of them, until I knew all of you would survive.” He reached for me, but I pulled away. “And finally we did it. We regenerated your cells and filtered your blood. Your heartbeat was strong and steady, and—”
“Then it’s no accident that I’m here. They knew I was in that warehouse, that we were miraculously still hooked up to an energy source, didn’t they?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I didn’t tell you at first because I was following the plan, and then after, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. I knew it would upset you. I wanted to protect you from the things you didn’t need to know. You’ve already been through enough. I planned to tell you everything once we made it to—”
“Don’t! I don’t want to hear it,” I said, flopping back against the bed.
Thirty-one years. It wasn’t a coincidence that Travel was a twenty-year-old clone in the year 3035. They reinvented him especially for me. Bastards!
“So what’s going to happen to the ones who are left?” My tone was desperate but bordering on demanding.
“Simon’s saving them in case he finds a use for them in the near future. He refers to them as ‘fresh DNA.’” Michael lowered to his elbow next to me. “And there’s something else.” He licked his lips, and his chest expanded with a steady breath. “Your grandfather is one of them,” he said quickly.
“What? Are you sure?” I asked, twisting to face him.
“I’m sure. Each chamber was opened and resealed, so the team could retrieve the paperwork inside. We needed ages and the causes of death. Marshal Miles Dannacher is one of them.”
It was as if time stopped. I couldn’t blink, only stare. I couldn’t speak, only think. My grandfather was here. Besides Victoria, he was the only person on the planet with whom I was genetically connected. But he was frozen, in a state between life and death, stored like a time capsule.
Full of worry for Victoria and too mentally spent to argue and ask my questions, I turned away from Michael and closed my eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Trail did not own a house bot. In fact, he thought all bots were spies and was detained once last year and fined five thousand credits when his neighbor’s GROW came too close to the edge of his yard and he smashed its face with a shovel. Trail was my kind of guy.
“Good morning,” I said. He was already dressed for work, wearing thick canvas trousers and a shirt that read “L-Energy Plant” in red letters that matched the puffy spots under his eyes. “How are you doing? Are you holding up okay?”
“Yeah, I think I’m ready to face the day. If anyone asks why I look like crap, I’ll tell ’em I’m sick, ran out of anti-virals, and was too tired to go to the dispensary and get some, so I didn’t sleep very well. They know I don’t own a house bot.”
“We’re so grateful that you agreed to help us. I don’t know what we’d do without you. Thank yo
u.”
Trail made the coffee himself, pushing buttons and watching the brown liquid flow, hot and savory, into mugs before setting them on a tray he positioned in the middle of the kitchen table. A plate of scrambled eggs and toast he pulled from the food heater joined the mugs in the middle of the modestly set table.
The coffee was thin but creamy, coating my throat on the way down as I drifted back into the bedroom to give Trail some alone time. Michael emerged from the shower wearing only one thing—a towel wrapped around his waist. When he gave his head a quick shake, a spray of water droplets hit my upper arm and he smiled apologetically. He sat down next to me and leaned his cheek against my shoulder, making a wet spot with his hair.
His damp skin was cool against mine, and as I eyed a bead of water trickling down the contour of his abs, I couldn’t help but set my hand on top of his thigh. From under the towel, his muscles moved against my palm as he scooted even closer.
“It’s almost nine, Michael,” I said. “Magnum’s not here. We’ll have to stay here another day and wait for him.”
“I know,” he said in the same disappointed tone. I turned my head and walked to the window while he dressed.
The clouds hung low in the sky, draping across the building in the distance as a peek of sun broke the horizon. My eyes, blurred by a ray of sun, refocused, and from the corner of my eye, there was a flash, something dark and quick, and a body stood mute behind the largest tree beyond Trail’s backyard.
“Check this out,” I said excitedly.
Still pulling up his jeans, Michael hobbled to my side as the figure made a second dash to the back gate. It was Magnum, and Victoria was in his arms.
“He made it,” I cried, running to the back door to momentarily turn off the Whimsy Birds and meet him. “Magnum’s here,” I shouted as I passed Trail, who was taking a long sip from his coffee mug.
“I told you I’d make it,” Magnum said as he presented Victoria to me and let a canvas bag slip from his shoulder and land on the floor.
“My baby girl,” I said through a smattering of kisses to first her forehead and then the tops of her hands as my heart swelled with love.
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