by SF Benson
I could take my chances and fight my way out. But he wouldn’t trust me afterward. I need to switch places with Shara which means Holden needs to leave here. And leaving this place is my goal.
Holden grips my arm and pulls me toward the bed.
“Now turn around,” he orders.
Fear twists my guts. I can’t move. Forcefully, he turns me until my back is against him. His cold fingers linger on my shoulders, kneading my flesh. I close my eyes and hear the soft hiss of a zipper.
Holden’s fingers thread through my hair, tugging my head back toward him. He slobbers a trail of kisses down my neck. The pig mistakes my shudder for enjoyment. He pushes the silky fabric off my shoulders, and the dress pools around my ankles.
“Lie down.” He utters the gravelly words against my neck.
My knees lock.
“Damn it, girl.” He shoves me onto the bed.
I lie on my back and watch him undo his belt buckle. He drops his boxers, and I pray for a divine miracle.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time,” he says coarsely. His body hovers over me.
Zared, forgive me.
I drag myself back to Taa’s room and knock lightly on the door. When she doesn’t answer, I knock harder. The door opens, and I rush into the room.
I kick off my shoes and curl into a corner of the sofa.
“Tru, what happened?” Taa asks anxiously. “Did Holden…”
Words escape me. I wipe the nonstop tears sliding down my cheeks.
Taa wraps her arm around my shoulders. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let you go there.”
I nod and cling to her side. I should have listened to her. All my life I’ve been reckless. Both my best friend and my brother warned me against it. My constant trips to the Underground worried them. Somehow, I dodged the unsavory advances from the men who frequented the place. Not once did I imagine how cruel they might be.
“Tru,” Taa says, “did he use protection?”
I shake my head. Her words bring on more tears. I bawl, “Taa, please don’t tell anyone what happened.”
She holds me by my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “I want you to know that you have nothing to be ashamed about. This isn’t your fault. Holden invited you to dinner. You went. He violated you.”
I want to believe her. I need to believe her. But my mind won’t let me. I should have fought him off. “I… I should…”
“Stop it right now, Truly Shara Shepard! I don’t want to hear another word about you blaming yourself. Holden is despicable. He’ll pay for what he did, but right now, I need to take care of you. I want you to go take a shower. I’ll get an injection prepared.”
I allow the bathroom to fill with steam before I enter the shower. Leaning against the mosaic blue tile, I let my tears mingle with the scalding water. If it were possible to scrub my insides, I would. My mind keeps replaying the scene, looking for ways I could have avoided what happened. Taa said it wasn’t my fault, but I feel responsible.
I stand in the shower until the water turns cold. Taa reaches into the stall and turns off the faucet. I wrap myself in a fluffy white towel and watch her prepare the Plan BII injection, one of the improvements the New Order made to a lot of our standard medications.
Taa steadies my arm before she administers the drug. Her brow wrinkles as she hesitates. “I have to ask. Don’t get upset with me.”
The waterworks refuse to cease. “What?”
Reluctantly, she asks, “Is Holden the only person you’ve slept with?”
Zared and I were only together once, and he used a condom. The likelihood of Holden impregnating me makes me sick. I croak, “Please. Just do it.”
“If you’re already pregnant, this won’t affect anything,” she warns.
I won’t take a chance. My eyes meet hers, and I plead silently.
Taa nods her head and injects me.
Now, what do I take to rid myself of the memory?
“Imagine a world free of sickness and disease. A world where everyone contributes to a better life. No more crime, poverty, mental imbalance, gender confusion, or prejudice. Imagine a world full of strong, intelligent, and capable citizens. This is what the UN’s ban on human engineering is against. The UN wants to perpetuate the myth of imbalance being the best fight against discrimination. Let your voice be heard. Stand against this barbaric policy and demand a chance for true human design.”
—An announcement from the Centers for Human Advancement
Tru
Thanks to a couple of sleeping pills, I wake up hours later. It’s a clear, sunny day. Time to focus on getting out of this nightmare. I push the covers off of me and get out of bed.
“You’re up,” Taa says blissfully. She sits near the fireplace drinking from a turquoise and gold Persian teacup.
An elegant swan-like pot is on a tray alongside another cup on a low table. I pour myself a cup of the fragrant tea and snuggle into a corner of the sofa. The scent of rose petals invites me to relax.
“How are you feeling?” Taa asks over the rim of the cup.
“Honestly? Stupid. You told me to be careful. I thought the man might have some redeeming quality,” I admit.
“Don’t chastise yourself, my dear. You underestimated him. You’re not the first person to do that. And you won’t be the last.”
I sip the tea. “Has he left yet?”
“Yes.” Taa sets her cup down. “About an hour ago.”
“Then we should act fast,” I say. “I want to meet my clone.”
Taa raises an eyebrow. Her expression is so like Zared’s. Thinking of him makes my chest ache. I won’t let Holden’s actions spoil my treasured memories. Doing so would only erase them and fracture my heart permanently. Any chance of happiness would be lost forever. Isn’t. Going. To. Happen.
“You’re sure?” she asks cautiously.
“Yes. I’m leaving here today. If I stay any longer, I’ll find a way to rip open Holden’s chest and end his life.”
“I understand.” She nods her head. “I’ll get you something warmer to wear. Take a shower, and I’ll bring Shara here.”
“Thank you.”
How does one prepare themselves for meeting their replacement? It’s important that I speak to her before I escape. Maybe it’s the fact that we share a name, a face. Maybe I need to witness first-hand the New Order’s plans.
I have no expectations about my duplicate. Taa says we are identical—our appearance, our demeanor, and even our abilities. Minus one trait, however. Shara isn’t a Creative. They designed her as Cogent. Bad enough to have a doppelganger, but does she have to be smarter than me?
No matter how similar we might be, Holden has to believe Shara isn’t the clone. If we screw it up, all of our lives might be in danger. I put nothing past the man.
The door creaks open. Taa strolls in with me, I mean Shara, behind her. They stop in the center of the room. It’s like looking in a mirror—same height, build, and complexion. I reach out and touch her unruly hair. She smiles. I flinch.
I stare at the girl wearing rose-colored scrubs. It’s a good color… My clone walks past me, fascinated more by the room than speaking with me. She steps over to the fireplace, running her fingers over the surface. I have to admit I felt the same way when I first saw this place.
Shara rushes to the window and pulls back the heavy drape. Her eyes widen, taking in the blanket of snow outside the window.
“Shara,” Taa calls to her.
“But it’s snow,” she whines.
My heart goes out to her. Has my clone ever been outside of this prison?
Taa says, “Later. What did we discuss?”
My clone hangs her head and apologizes. She walks over to me.
We circle each other. She leans in and stares. My mouth slackens.
“Shara, this is Truly,” Taa rests her hand on my replacement’s shoulder.
My Omega, I’ll never get used to the term, extends her hand. “It is
a pleasure to meet you, Truly.”
Slowly, I grasp it. “I go by Tru. Few people use my full name.”
“I apologize,” she says sincerely. “Dr. Aoki said you wanted to speak with me.”
Taa moves to the chair in a corner, observing the exchange.
“Yeah, let’s sit down.” Shara has my mannerisms, but she’s too formal. Watching her is akin to viewing an android portraying me—plastic, stiff, unnatural. “Did Taa tell you what we’re doing?”
“Yes, she did. Tru, I am glad to help. At least I am no longer facing disposal.”
I grimace. The idea of disposing of a human, even a cloned human, bothers me. Call it whatever you want, it’s still murder.
“Yeah,” I say, biting my lip.
Shara touches my hand. “Do not let it sadden you. I understand my fate. My type does not get the opportunity to reach our full potential until your kind dies. This way, we both get to enjoy life.”
Enjoy life with Holden?
I hadn't thought of it that way, but still…it’s wrong. “You’re braver than I am.”
“Not hardly. I have met Holden and I do not like him. Better to marry him than end up in the incinerator, though.” The corners of her mouth turn up.
If that is her attempt at humor, she needs to stick with whatever Cogents do for fun.
“Did Taa tell you anything about my stay here?” I ask her.
Shara exhales. “Yes, some things. I know you are not happy here and wish to leave. I am glad to help you.”
That’s an understatement. I glance over at Taa.
“Don’t worry, Tru. We have a plan figured out. You just need to do your part,” Taa says.
“Which is?” I ask.
My replacement speaks, “You will go back to my room wearing my scrubs. I am to stay here with Dr. Aoki.” Shara leans over and whispers in my ear. “By the way, I know you call her La Mohína.”
“What?” I sit there slack-mouthed.
Taa smiles. “Thank Holden for sharing the tidbit.”
Shara continues, “Disposal is in the morning. You will get a sedative to help you relax before they take you to the departure room.”
Disposal.
I open my mouth to say something, but I’m at a loss for words. Shara speaks so casually about the subject. If I were in her shoes, I’d be terrified. She isn’t a robot. She’s a living, breathing human being.
“I’ll be with you the whole time,” Taa interjects. “It won’t arouse any suspicion on Holden’s part. He knows I’m attached to Shara.”
Why is she attached to Shara?
“I will be with my… fiancé.” She drags her palms down her pants leg. It’s the first sign she might be frightened. “He will be furious we tricked him into retrieving a nonexistent picture, but Dr. Aoki took care of that detail.”
How did they know the picture isn’t at the apartment?
“He called asking where to find the picture,” Taa starts. “I told him where to go to pick up a replica of the original wedding gown.”
The two of them, taking turns speaking like players in a tennis match, make me dizzy. “Wait. Back it up a minute. Holden called here?”
Shara eyes Taa.
“Holden forgot the location of the picture. Remember your mother and I were co-workers? When he called, I merely told him I attended the wedding.”
I say, “Did he ask anything about—”
“You? Yes,” she answers. “I berated him about his behavior last night. He understood when I told him you had taken to your bed and didn’t wish to speak with anyone.”
“Thank you, but it wasn’t necessary,” I say.
“Yes, it was,” she declared. “Anyway, I found a dress on the Ubernet and sent him a picture and an address where he could buy it.”
I rest my chin on my hand. “You two have thought of everything.”
My replica beams. “Yes. We have even taken care of how you will leave the building.”
I sit back and listen to Shara draw out the details.
“Shara will have dinner with Holden this evening,” Taa announces.
I glimpse at Shara, then Taa. With my clone’s formal way of speaking, anyone will know she isn’t me. “Do you think that’s wise? He’ll figure—”
“It won’t be a problem,” Taa says. “We talked about it. Shara knows in order for this to work she must emulate you wholly. She’ll wear your jeans, t-shirt, and your boots. Holden won’t suspect anything.”
If I have an alter ego, I imagine Shara will be it. A nice girl. Someone who’s sweet, kind, and innocent. I want to find something dislikable about her but fail. The girl is putting her life on the line for me. She deserves saving.
“The Alliance is not healthy for children nor other living things.”
—A message from the Educators for a Brighter Republic
Zared
Asher and I walk out of his grandparents’ cottage, carrying our bags, and head for the boat off the dock. Halfway down the hill, I spot a small blue vessel near ours.
“Ash, check out the dock,” I say, pointing toward the water.
He stops in his tracks and mutters, “What the—”
A blood curling scream grabs our attention. Ko is standing on the deck of the cottage with her hands over her head. Griffin has a gun in her face. No sign of Leon.
Asher drops his bag and starts back up the hill toward Griffin.
“Wait!” I hold my hand out. “Split up. Keep an eye out for Jolly St. Nick.”
He looks over his shoulder, checking the landscape. “How the hell did he find us?”
“Good question. I’m going to Ko. Go around back. Surprise attack.”
He cuts his eye at me, ready to argue. If my suspicion is right, Asher can’t go after Ko. I know mistakes are made when your heart’s involved. We stare at each other. I clench my jaw. I’m not backing down. He gets the message.
We catch a slight break with Griffin’s back to us. Asher signals for me to crouch low. I point to a path through a copse of trees to our right that goes around the property. We both ready our weapons. Asher remains hidden while I scramble up the hillside.
I worry for Ko’s safety. Thanks to her injury, she can’t use a gun. Cadets in the officer program don’t learn hand-to-hand combat. I draw in a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. Worrying about her can get us killed. I have to keep a level head, but if Griffin does anything to hurt her, he’ll meet his maker ahead of schedule.
I skulk up the hillside stairs. Griffin’s eyes shift in my direction, but he doesn’t lower his weapon.
“Well if it isn’t whiny, Lover Boy,” he crows and throws a mock salute my way.
“Drop the weapon, Griffin. No one needs to get hurt,” I say calmly.
Where the hell is Leon? I hope Asher makes it to the back deck.
“Where’s the Sergeant?” he asks.
I keep my gun aimed on him. “Don’t know who you’re talking about.”
He cocks his weapon and says, “Maybe if I blow her brains out, your memory might be triggered.”
I exhale and lower my weapon. I replace the safety and place it on the ground. “No need to go there. I’m not sure where Asher is. How about you and me talk? Let the girl go.”
Griffin’s eyes dart past me. I’m sure he’s looking for Asher. “Okay. Let’s start with a little Riza protocol like deserting your squad.”
I keep my eye on his gun and stand next to Ko. “I’ve never been Riza. I just did what I had to do.”
“Far enough!” Griffin bares his teeth. “Sure you did. Bet the Sergeant taught you that move. Did he fill you in on our history?”
“Not interested,” I say.
“It’s a great story. You should ask him. It’s all about shooting innocent civilians and leaving them to die.”
Not the time for this.
Griffin pops his neck.
I reach out and pull Ko closer to me. “Look, you’ve got issues with Asher. I get it. Don’t include us.”
I say, “Let her—”
“Enough!” He points the gun at the door. “Inside, both of you.”
When we don’t move, Griffin yanks Ko from me and drags her inside the cottage. She winces, her eyes watering. He ignores Ko’s obvious pain and pushes her toward the sofa. I sit down and wrap an arm around her.
“What’s the plan, Griffin? You kill us, and then what?” I ask.
He parks his butt on the chair arm. “First, you give me the card. Then, I kill you and the Sergeant. The girl can come with me.”
Not happening. “Will that bring back your wife and kid?”
“Shut up,” he screams and starts pacing the floor.
I notice Asher on the rear porch. He nods his head. I yawn—my signal that I’m ready to go. If it weren’t for Ko, I could disarm this fool.
“You know I’m not giving up the card. It’s my ticket to saving my girl. As long as I have it, we’ll stay alive.”
“Don’t care about your problems,” he hisses.
“Look, I know you’re in pain. I can only imagine how I’d feel in your shoes,” I reason. “But if I don’t get out of here and get to Tru—”
“Shut the hell up!” He aims for my head.
Ko screams. A heavy thud comes from the back deck.
“What the hell?” Griffin eyes the rear of the house. He storms through the door, exiting onto the porch.
Asher cracks him across the head with a thick stick. Griffin hits the porch, releasing his weapon. The bullet chips the wall behind Asher. He kicks the gun away from Griffin.
Ko clutches my sleeve and presses her body against my backside. Griffin is out cold, but Asher presses a gun to his temple.
“What the hell are you doing?” I scream.
“Putting this piece of shit out of his misery,” he retorts.
As tempting as it is, I won’t be a witness to Griffin’s death, especially if he’s related to Mark. Somehow, the story will get twisted, and I’ll be the one to blame.
“No. We tie him up. Leave him in a closet or something. I won’t have Mark pissed at me,” I say and walk back inside to look for some rope.