Frenzy

by Dawn Brazil

  We don’t speak for a long stretch of time. A knock at the door jars me from my thoughts.

  “Come in,” Brian calls out.

  Mr. Thompson peeks his head in. “Can we talk with you two?”

  “Sure,” we both say. Mr. Thompson opens the door all the way, and he and Mrs. Thompson enter. They carry grave expressions, and I assume Brian has told them what’s going on.

  Mrs. Thompson crosses in front of her husband and rushes to hug me. Her embrace is warm as she whispers an apology, “I’m so sorry.” She gathers my face in her hands and looks me in the eyes. “You’ve inquired about me, sweetheart.” She points to her head.

  “Excuse me?” I don’t understand her statement. Brian must understand, because he’s on his feet and wraps his mother up, burying her in his arms in a matter of seconds. I step back and fall to the bed, not allowing hope to enter yet at what I think her words mean.

  “You, Mom?”

  She nods with a huge smile. She extends her arms to draw me in again. Obediently, I pull myself up and get folded into their embrace.

  “You’re her, the woman who had the mutation removed?” I ask, trying to tamp down the optimism rising inside me.

  “Yes, sweetheart, it was me.”

  Chapter 19

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Brian asks.

  “We felt the less you knew, the better. You can’t be held responsible for things you didn’t know,” his father adds.

  “I didn't know what was going on, initially,” Mrs. Thompson starts to explain. “But I knew I recognized Elizabeth when I first saw her.” She turns to me. “You bear a striking resemblance to one of Brian’s friends when he was younger. I thought it was a coincidence. I should have known better.”

  “No, actually, I should’ve known better. Especially when I saw Ian. I didn’t know…” Mr. Thompson interjects. “We have no time to waste now.” He looks at me. “What we’re going to do will potentially place us at risk for exposure, but to do nothing would be an even greater travesty. What we do, we must do quickly—if this is what you want, of course.”

  I nod, still unable to speak.

  “Uh, Dad, there’s one problem—Ian’s her Deposit Escort.” I scrunch my nose up – I hate this title for Ian.

  “Well, let's talk to him and explain the situation,” Mrs. Thompson remarks.

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I don’t want to put you in more danger.”

  “Honey, there’s no getting around the escort. But it’s Ian. It’ll be okay.”

  “I do have a question, though,” I say.

  Everyone turns to stare at me. “Well, if you were scheduled to be disposed, and you ran away… won’t they be looking for you, or want you to go back? Even more, won’t they search for me to come back? What happens if I don’t go back?”

  Mr. Thompson crosses the room and takes my right hand in his. “First, no one is after us. When we left, we made a deal with the government. All of my research, and my father’s, was theirs to keep in exchange for our safe passage. I don’t think they ever expected us make it as long as we have.” His eyes are bright and his smile has a show of pride in it.

  “And if we remove the chip from your brain, all we have to do is destroy it. They won’t question if you don’t come back, because if the chip is destroyed, in their minds, you are as well,” he adds.

  I nod my understanding. “I’m confident we can convince Ian this is what’s best,” I say. “He’s my friend, too, and doesn’t want anything to happen to me that doesn’t have to.”

  Brian’s face is etched with concern.

  “We actually do have one problem,” Mr. Thompson announces. “We need the dura scanner resuscitator in order to do the operation. I donated the one I used many years ago.”

  “Where is it?” Brian asks, in his nearly normal voice.

  “It’s located inside the HBU. It’s always guarded, and will be nearly impossible to enter.”

  “Is this the white building that houses the energy that allows us to go from one universe to the next?” I ask.

  “You’re partially correct. It’s not inside a building. It’s underground. It stands for the Human Birthing Unit. This is where the genetic research to produce the clones was derived.”

  “That’s weird. In my dreams, it was always a white building. Ian even said it was a white building.”

  “You want to hear something weirder?” Mr. Thompson asks. I nod once. “The HBU on Remah is inside of a white building. With no visible doors or windows, and in the desert. Can you see the future, too?”

  Brian glances at me like I’ve turned into Pumpkinhead. “It’s okay, Liz,” Mrs. Thompson says with a smile in her voice. He’s teasing. We’ve heard of researchers who’ve had dreams and visions of other universes they’ve never been to—even before their awakening. Some people believe that clone sisters can even have a shared consciousness.”

  At her words, I recall what Crystal said about remembering these other places—some were places she’s never been. Ian must have realized I was seeing Remah. That’s why he was so excited.

  “Maybe Ian can get us in there. We can steal the machine and bring it back for you, Dad,” Brian says. “Can you call Ian now?” He turns and asks me.

  This is happening so fast I can barely keep up. Will I have to explain all this to Ian? Of course, dumbass. He’ll want to know why I’m calling him today when I made him promise to let Brian and me have our last day together in peace. I found a reprieve, but will he accept this?

  I pull my phone from my pocket, and open my contacts. My hand shakes as I push the buttons, no matter how I try to steady my actions.

  Brian must notice, because he wraps his arms around my waist. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay to be scared. I know this is new to you, but I promise—through this entire process, I’ll be right here.” I lean into him. “I won’t flake out on you again.” He tugs my face around so I’m looking at him. “I promise, only optimism from here on out.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” I take a quick peek at Mr. and Mrs. Thompson; they’re not watching us. Mr. Thompson hovers over Brian's computer, and Mrs. Thompson has a chair pushed up beside him. I plant a chase kiss on Brian’s lips. “But I trust you.”

  “I know, Sunshine.” He almost smiles my smile, but it doesn’t quite touch his eyes. That small trace of apprehension resettles the pit in my stomach.

  Now to call Ian. Then to inform Crystal that we don’t have to die.

  Chapter 20

  Ian answers on the first ring. “Yeah, what's up, L?” He sounds strained, like he just woke up.

  “I need to speak with you—now,” I say. “Can you please come to Brian’s house immediately?”

  “Sure. Is everything alright?”

  “Yes. I need your assistance with a situation that’s come up.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  “Great.” I say, and click end on the call. “He’s on his way,” I announce to everyone.

  The Thompsons sit at Brian’s computer desk, and Brian and I plop onto the bed. He holds my hand and makes circles on my palm for the longest time.

  “Where’s this building?” Brian asks his Dad.

  “It’s located in the mountain region of Death Valley. The area is full of endemic plants, chosen specifically to act as a shield to the elements, and to hide the entrance hatch from view. Many people can't tell anything exists out that far, because it’s housed between two mountain formations. The bunker runs on solar energy and has an underground well for water. It’s very efficient.”

  “I’ve never actually gone to the bunker here on Earth, only the drop-off locations,” Ian says from the doorway. “What’s going on?” Relieved, I sprint across the room and grab his hands. His lips purse and his eyes dart behind me, with suspicion clouding his features.

  “Something’s happened,” I announce, with more enthusiasm than I probably have ever exhibited.
r />   “What?” Ian asks. I turn to Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, not sure if I’m the best person to attempt this explanation.

  Ian nods hello to both Mr. and Mrs. Thompson.

  “Ian Parker, you'd better get over here and give your aunt a hug right now,” she scoffs.

  “Yes, ma'am.” He pulls off his Warriors cap and strolls over to Mrs. Thompson. She hugs him tight.

  “I’m the one who survived,” Mrs. Thompson says.

  “It's you,” Ian says in response. “I can't believe it. How do you feel?” he asks, with furrowed brows, not thoroughly convinced.

  “I'm perfectly fine,” she says, waving her hand as if any type of illness is an inconceivable notion.

  Ian raises his brow. “No long-term side effects?”

  “No long-term effects,” she proclaims. Ian turns and looks at Brian.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this, Chief?” he says, his voice raised an octave.

  “I obviously didn’t know,” Brian counters in a flat voice.

  “What do we do?” Ian inquires.

  “Get to Death Valley,” Mr. Thompson says.

  “Uh Unc, I don’t think that’s where we need to go. We need to avoid that place at all costs.”

  “Not this time,” he announces. “This time, we are going to find the danger instead of running from it.”

  “Why would we go there?” Ian asks. “It’s—”

  Brian raises his hand to stop him. “We have to get into that bunker. There’s a surgical instrument my Dad needs to remove Liz’s processor in there. We have to get into that bunker. You’re going to help us.” Brian squares his shoulders and takes a step toward Ian. “Right?”

  Ian glances at everyone—except me. He puts his head down and mumbles, “I hope it’s clear that any of us could get killed trying to enter and exit this place. Any of us,” he repeats, looking at me now.

  “We understand the risk. Are you in?” Brian asks again.

  Ian sighs and hunches his shoulders. “I must be insane, but sure, why not.” Brian steps closer to him and they smash their fists together and actually smile at one another. I smile, too. It’s nice they’re getting along.

  From the first day I met Ian, I knew he was special. Maybe my sister on Remah foresaw this.

  “Wow. To the desert,” Ian says. “We can’t all go barging in there. We’ve gotta have a plan, and honestly, Unc, I don’t think you can come.”

  “I’ve considered that as well,” Dr. Thompson says.

  I make a face, confused. Ian explains, “He worked for the militia on Remah. He helped to invent the disposal serum. They won’t treat his presence as a happy coincidence.” How can a man, as civilized and decent as he comes across ever be okay with killing innocent people? With all the advancements in medicine they possess, it doesn’t seem that it would have been too difficult to find an alternative to killing the women. I clench my lips, stopping myself from voicing my judgement of his actions.

  Mr. Thompson makes a face I don’t understand. “It was a different time. We created the serum as a show of compassion. I believed what we were doing was right. I thought if the women had to die, at least it could be humanely. It wasn’t until years later that we perfected the dura remover we now call a resuscitator. We created the instrument from a crude model designed by a doctor who had gone about this all wrong, causing many women to die. Still, not everyone agreed with its use. They see the remover as cruel, and not the serum.” A part of me understands, but part of me thinks they had god-like complexes that needed to be controlled.

  “The first thing we should do is decide what to tell Liz’s parents,” Ian says. “They’re going to be suspicious if she’s missing for two or three days.”

  “I have an idea for that,” I say. “I’ll tell them I’ve been invited on a camping trip by Brian’s parents.”

  Brian makes a face. “We shouldn’t involve my parents any more than—”

  “There’s no way my parents are going to allow me to go with you and Ian overnight.”

  “You’re right. You shouldn’t go, either,” Brian says. “Ian and I can do this alone.”

  “What? I have to go,” I respond.

  “She has to go, Chief,” Ian says. Brian turns, and his parents nod.

  “I’m going. Period,” I say. Brian runs his hands through his hair and glares at me. I shrug and turn away from him.

  Mr. Thompson says, “Felicity and I will rent a cabin, and we can leave in the morning.”

  “Liz, dear, if you’d like, I can call your mother myself and ask her. It’ll make the story more believable.”

  I nod my agreement.

  No one moves or says anything. We stand in a circle—not sure what to do next. This isn’t a good silence; I understand that much. Mr. Thompson breaks the quiet. “We need to gather supplies. You kids should plan to wear shorts and hiking boots, because we won’t make it all the way to the bunker in the truck. You’ll need basic supplies: canteens, waterproof matches, a good pin knife, sunscreen, bug repellant; things of this nature.”

  Ian, Brian, and I exchange looks. We are going to walk through the desert in a couple of hours. We’d better get some rest now, because if the occupants of this place don’t kill us, the heat in the desert may do it.

  Felicity gathers me into a final hug. I’m not sure why she’s hugging me this time, but I don’t question it. My arms encircle her and for a brief moment, I allow her to hold me like my mother might. As my arms slip from around her waist, tears well up in her eyes. I smile gingerly as I walk from the room. As I take the steps to the front door, Felicity asks Brian why he hadn’t come to them if he was in trouble. I don’t wait to hear his response. But it’s a good question.

  As I stand on Brian’s front porch, I text Crystal to come over. I bound down the steps, and as I plant my foot onto the second stone in the grass, a hand crashes around my mouth. I whirl around, pretending to be frightened, certain it’s either Brian or Ian.

  It’s not.

  Chapter 21

  This person is tall—taller than Brian and Ian—and his face is obscured by a black ski mask. Instinctively, my knee comes up and I ram it into his groin. He releases a noise with the back of his throat but doesn’t drop down.

  His massive, latex-gloved hands collapse around my throat, cutting off my air supply. I blink away the stars that shoot across my vision and shove myself backward. My attacker’s grip on my neck loosens as I fall. He clatters to the ground with me. The force of the fall takes my breath away. My attacker smiles with his shadowy eyes, until I drive my leg up and into the back of his head.

  He shakes off the kick and jumps to his feet. His black boot makes contact with my side. “Augh,” I groan through clenched teeth. He places his foot on my abdomen and pushes down with force on my pancreas.

  He points a finger at me. “You should be dead.” His voice is raspy and quiet, and I don’t recognize it. He shoves his hand in his pocket and pulls out a gun. My breath catches as he points it at my head. I don’t blink. I don’t move. This is it. Seventeen years of living on the cusp of a normal existence and this is it. I’m going to die on the lawn between my house and the house of the guy I might be falling in love with. The thing I hate most is that the last physical contact I have will be his gloved hands around my neck. If I try to run, at this close range, I won’t make it far. I might be able to yell for my Mom or Dad, or Brian, but if they come, he might shot them, too. I can’t let anyone get hurt because of me.

  I look him square in the eyes. His finger presses the trigger slowly. I release a deep breath. My body doesn’t shake, I don’t beg him, or react in any way. I’m going to die. It would have been more poetic if he’d had a knife like Michael Myers or Norman Bates.

  Voices converge around us, muffled like they’re funneled in to my head. My attacker squints away from me. No. Go away, whoever it is. Leave. I want to shout, but I can’t find my vocal chords.

  Then I recognize them. Brian’s and Ian’s voices get louder. �
�No,” I say more forcefully.

  The quiet melody of a cell phone dings. My attacker pulls a phone from his pocket – with the gun still pointed at my head. He frowns down at it and releases a low guttural sound with the back of his throat. “You’re a lucky bitch,” he spits at me. “Soon. Very soon.” He turns and sprints away.

  I don’t move; I don’t make a sound. What if he’s still around? What if he’s trying to draw out the people I care about so he can hurt them? The attack couldn’t have lasted more than five minutes, but if he kills someone I care about, that will last forever. I take a steadying breath and glance around me. No one is visible, then I hear the voice again. It’s Brian. He’s talking on his front porch.

  I push myself to a sitting position. The stars return to my vision, and darkness on the outer edges of my vision draws my eyes closed. “Help,” my voice is a whisper. With all my strength, I lift my arm into the air.

  “What the hell?” Brian and Ian drift over me in seconds.

  Brian scoops me into his arms and starts toward my house. I grab his arm and shake my head no. He stops, peers down, then turns to carry me into his house.

  “What happened?” Ian asks as Brian sits me on the sofa in his family room.

  “Mom, Dad!” Brian yells. His face is a contortion of anger and pain. He’s breathing harder than Jason Voorhees watching two kids make out. His parents rush into the room and he immediately points to me. He squats beside me and lifts my head, gently angling it so he can see my neck. “Someone attacked her.”