The Eve Genome

by Joanne Brothwell

  “Hello, brother.” Marcus stepped into the room. He wore jeans, a black leather jacket and protective eyewear. His eyes glittered, his mouth curled up in a smug half-smile. Tait stood right behind him with a blank expression. Was he under Marcus’s control? “Sorry about the door.”

  “What? Why are you here, Marcus?” I asked. My shoulder still ached from where the door rammed into me.

  Marcus chuckled and walked in. He glanced at the bed, the rumpled sheets. “I got tired of waiting, and I saw from a text on Tait’s phone that you were here, looking for our mother, behind my back.”

  The bathroom door opened. Adriana came out, her eyes fierce, her mouth a hard, thin line.

  “It wasn’t behind your back. We found something—”

  “Yes, yes. You found the picture at Uncle Lester the Molester’s house.” Marcus smiled, his white teeth gleaming. “I already know this.”

  Adriana narrowed her eyes and surveyed Tait. “Tait? Are you okay?” His vacant eyes spoke volumes. She reached out and snapped her fingers in Tait’s face. “Tait?”

  Tait’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead and he blinked. “What? I’m fine.”

  “Where is Zoe?” I asked.

  Tait looked at Marcus. “At home. Where else would she be?”

  Marcus continued on, ignoring me. “The point is, you and Adriana went to find our mother without me,” Marcus’s nostrils flared. “That was not part of our agreement, Kalan.”

  “I didn’t think it was a big deal,” I said. “Obviously, I misjudged.”

  “Obviously,” Marcus sneered.

  Adriana glared at Marcus. “Is he under your control?” She gestured to Tait.

  “Obviously,” Marcus said with a wave of his hand. “Now, I’d like a quick run-through of everything you’ve discovered so far. No more secrets. No more skulking around, behind my back.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” I said.

  Without warning, Marcus grabbed my throat and squeezed. My throat closed in on itself and my whole body spasmed. I grasped at Marcus’s fingers to pry them off as a gurgling noise erupted from my mouth.

  Adriana shrieked. “Stop it, Marcus!”

  Marcus stopped and the relief was instantaneous. I leaned forward and gasped for breath.

  Fuck. Why did I allow myself to trust him when every gut instinct inside of me screamed to stay the hell away from him? Brother or not, he was nearly a stranger to me, barely more than someone off the street. Hell, I knew the street hobo about as well as I knew my own brother.

  I wished Adriana hadn’t seen me emasculated by my own brother. Fuck!

  “What the hell did you do that for?” Adriana demanded.

  “Why don’t you ask Kalan?” Marcus’s brow arched, his mouth quirked on one side. “Brother, why did I do that to you?”

  My voice came out in a rasp. “He’s angry we went to find our mother without him.”

  Adriana’s eyes widened and she spoke through gritted teeth. “You won’t get anything out of us if you continue to hurt Kalan.”

  Marcus laughed. “Oh, I think you’re incorrect on that point.” His stance changed, ever-so-slightly, and then with lightning speed he had his hand wrapped around Adriana’s neck. Her eyes saucered and her mouth flopped open with a gurgle.

  She wrenched sideways and managed to sink her teeth into his fist. He jerked his hand back involuntarily but then it was back around her throat the next instant.

  “Hmm. Your nasty spit burns my skin, isn’t that interesting? Luckily, it’s not bad enough to stop me.” Marcus practically snarled into her face.

  “Stop!” I leaped over to Adriana. “Stop! I’ll tell you anything you want to hear!”

  Marcus let her go. She sucked in rough, gasping breaths.

  “Thank you. It’s so much easier if you’d all just cooperate,” Marcus said, stretching his hands out and cracking his knuckles. Adriana’s chest continued to heave, her eyes glassy.

  I had no other choice.

  I told him everything, from the street hobo to the attack in the abandoned hotel. Marcus listened intently during the entire explanation.

  “Back to the hotel,” Marcus said. “Where you failed, brother, I will succeed.”

  #

  This time, when we entered the lobby of the abandoned hotel, the stench was even worse than before. Something had obviously died in there, and not only was it decomposed, but was beginning to putrefy. I swallowed back on the gag reflex and put my hand over my mouth, which did nothing to mask the smell anyway. This is my personal version of hell. Stink, human misery, humiliation at the hands of my brother, and the girl I love witnessing it all.

  Marcus appeared indifferent to the odour. His eyes glittered black like polished coal with a hard, determined look that made my skin crawl. Adriana’s lips were pressed together. I grasped her hand.

  Tait followed along, directly behind Marcus, as if he were tied to him by some invisible tether, never straying more than a few feet. And while he looked like himself, his hollow responses and oddly blank expressions told me he was far from normal.

  Now the wooden check-in desk had a giant hole kicked in the front on the left side so the heavy marble top slanted in the start of a collapse.

  Marcus took the stairs two at a time. Unfazed by the darkness as we climbed higher, he lithely sidestepped the litter and debris on the floor. He didn’t even notice the dead cat, which now looked far more flat than it had the day before.

  Once we reached the landing of the second floor, my mind flashed back to the attack that had taken place less than twenty-four hours prior. Perspiration broke out under my collar.

  Marcus stood in front of all of us. A hush fell over the room, every person waiting, watching Marcus as if he was a preacher preparing to deliver a Hell and brimstone sermon.

  Marcus’s baritone voice rang out in the decrepit room. “Genevieve. Your sons are here to see you.”

  A voice responded from within the depths of the room. “Nobody here by that name.”

  “Genevieve. You will respond or your friends will pay,” Marcus said. “You know this is true.”

  The silence that ensued was enough to make every last nerve inside of me come to a state of high alert. People glanced back and forth from one another, but in the dimness, their expressions were unreadable.

  A choking sound rang out. Who was Marcus choking? I cringed at the remembrance of the pain, the complete and utter sense of panic at being unable to breathe.

  Then a commotion broke out and several people stood up and staggered about, their hands around their necks. Their eyes bulged from their red faces.

  “What—?”I turned to Marcus. “How are you doing this?”

  He smiled at me. “I’ve got lots of tricks you don’t know about. Wait and see.”

  I watched in helplessness as choking sounds continued and faces turned to shades of purple and blue. Was Marcus using telekinesis? If he was, we were in far more danger than I’d even realized. Marcus is actually unstoppable. This is beyond bad.

  “Marcus,” I whispered, “Stop.”

  Marcus ignored me and maintained his focus on the group. The gagging and choking sounds continued, and several of the people dropped to their knees, others flat on the floor. All the sounds combined into a single, high-pitched wheezing.

  Adriana shrieked. “No. Please. Stop! You’re hurting them.”

  A woman stumbled forward, her arm raised and waving. She came directly at Marcus, her brilliant teal eyes flashing.

  “Marcus, stop. It’s her.” I grabbed his arm.

  All at once, the woman and the rest of the people took a deep, gasping breath. The teal-eyed woman fell to her knees on the deteriorating floor. She had exactly the same shape of eyes as me and Marcus, deep-set with long black lashes. But where my eye colour was silver and Marcus’s were black, hers were the same vivid teal as Adriana’s.

  Marcus took a menacing step to
ward her, the tips of his shoes at her side. She peered at him from inside a blue hooded sweater, her face dark, as if she hadn’t washed in days, her skin ruddy and thick.

  She stood up, her gaze fixed on Marcus. “I’m Genevieve.”

  I approached her, my legs rubbery, my mind and body somehow at war with one another. This was undeniably my biological mother, that much was obvious. I stared into eyes that were so familiar, and yet, I’d never seen them before in my entire life. As I approached her, those eyes grew wider and wider, until she shut them altogether. She held her hand up in a Stop! gesture.

  I came to an abrupt halt, my mouth dry as sandpaper. Marcus eyed her with lips pulled back in contempt. I swallowed and waited.

  Genevieve’s eyes opened. “Don’t come any closer.”

  I nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  “What, mother?” Marcus said, his voice mocking. “No hugs and kisses for your long lost boys? No bittersweet reunion that could be a made-for-TV movie? Or, better yet, a reality show?”

  Genevieve’s gaze flicked back and forth from Marcus to me, and I could almost see the wheels turning inside her head. Undoubtedly, she was evaluating who was the most dangerous of the two of us.

  “No, Marcus. I’m afraid not,” Genevieve said. She spoke to him with confidence, no hint of fear.

  Marcus’s expression changed slightly. “You know our names. That’s a surprise. I expected you to have given us the titles of Scary Baby One and Scary Baby Two.”

  Now there was no denying the bitterness in Marcus’s voice, belying the cool, arrogant expression. Were his angry words only a veneer? Years of varnish coated over the sadness, pain, rejection and abandonment? Emotion will be your undoing.

  In contrast, Genevieve’s expression was obvious. Her eyes were wide and flashing, her mouth down at the corners.

  “I named you, Marcus. But I couldn’t keep you. For everyone’s safety.”

  Marcus stared at her, his black eyes cold and hard. “Is that so, Mom?”

  Genevieve grimaced. The word mom dripped with sarcasm, the sting of it biting. She took a quick glance back at the hoard of people who watched the spectacle, obviously too afraid to intervene on her behalf.

  She addressed both me and Marcus. “Let’s talk in private.”

  Marcus made no attempt to move, but when she stepped by him, he grabbed her by the shoulder and brought her to an abrupt halt. He leaned in to her ear, but spoke loud enough for all of us to hear. “Don’t pull any stunts. Got it?”

  Genevieve turned to Marcus and looked him straight in the eye, but didn’t respond. She shrugged his hand off of her arm and continued walking away. Marcus let her go, and followed her descent down the spiral staircase with Tait faithfully right at his heel. I glanced at Adriana and she reached for my hand. Clutching one other, we set off behind them.

  At the bottom, in the lobby, she slowed and spoke to Marcus. “I go no further.”

  Marcus stopped, Tait beside him. He laced his fingers through Tait’s, who smiled in response. What? Adriana and I exchanged glances.

  “You’re so wrong, mother,” Marcus’s head was turned to the side, as if he was goading her. “You’re coming with me. With us, actually. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention the most important part.” He looked directly at me, his cheek twitching, as if stifling a laugh. “We are going to meet dad.”

  “What?” I felt like I’d been struck by a bus.

  “It is the best part, isn’t it?” He chuckled. “Kalan, you’re not the only one doing things behind people’s backs. As it turns out, I’ve had a little secret of my own, all this time. I was almost feeling guilty about it, early on when we decided to pair up and work together to find mom, but after the stunt you and Adriana pulled… well, I don’t feel much guilt anymore. So, thanks for that.”

  Genevieve shrieked. “No! No, you can’t do that. He’ll do things… to all of us.” Her face was white beneath the layers of grime.

  “Marcus, I—”

  He cut me off. “Shhh. None of you want to experience the sleeper hold again, do you?” He didn’t wait for a reply, but instead grasped Genevieve around the bicep and pulled her to the car. Tait reluctantly let go of his hand.

  Marcus insisted Genevieve sit in the front passenger seat, and Adriana, Tait and me in the back. With her in the car, it smelled like a stale, wet sock. From my vantage point, her hair appeared to not have been combed for days, or perhaps even weeks. The near-black strands had an undercoat of grease near the roots, the ends matted into snarled swirls.

  How in the world could this be my mother? How could she survive this lifestyle? What could possibly happen to lead a person to live this kind of life?

  My thoughts turned to our destination. I was about to meet my father after meeting my mother that very same day. I’d spent my whole life dreaming of this moment, all of those fantasies a varied version of the same theme—hugs, smiles and apologies for giving me up. This couldn’t have been more different from what I’d imagined.

  Who was he? How had Marcus learned of him, but I hadn’t? Had our father reached out to him, or did Marcus find him? There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I no longer trusted Marcus to tell me the truth.

  Our mother sat up tall and dignified in her seat, her back ramrod straight. Despite the rutty appearance of her skin, she didn’t look emaciated and unhealthy the way some of the others in the hotel had. However, her clothing was scraggly and dishevelled, her windbreaker-style jacket dirty and stained where it sat atop numerous other layers.

  I couldn’t wait to ask questions. It was under the worst possible conditions, with Marcus dictating the situation, but I’d waited my entire life to talk to her, and I didn’t know if I’d get another chance. “Genevieve, are you related to Virginia...” I turned to Adriana for help.

  “Virginia Godwin,” Adriana said.

  Genevieve bristled at the mention of the name. “Virginia. Is she still alive?”

  “No,” Adriana said. “She passed away. Two weeks before Marcus and Kalan were born.”

  Even though Genevieve’s expression didn’t change, I saw her chest heave and her eyes water. “Virginia deserved better than that.”

  “Mother,” I said, finding the term odd and out of place. “How is it that you and Virginia looked so similar? We were told you were nearly identical, despite being several years apart in age and having no known relatives in common.”

  She gave Marcus a sidelong glance. “This situation is precisely what I wanted never to happen. The two of you and me together. And to think there are more of us. More women with this cursed DNA.” She spoke directly to Adriana. “But it has happened. All those years of keeping secrets, hiding, all for nothing. Marcus, you don’t know what you have put in motion here.” Marcus glanced at her but didn’t respond. Genevieve turned to me. “Kalan, let me ask you, how old were you when you realized you had a twin?”

  “I was six.”

  “Is that the first time you knew?” she asked. “I’m not talking about the first time you and Marcus met, I’m asking you about the first time you knew you had a twin.”

  I shrugged. “I guess I’ve always known.” A muscle in Marcus’s neck twitched.

  “That’s right,” Genevieve said. “And let me ask you this. Is there any other way for there to be two people on this planet, who are not twins, but who have the exact same DNA?”

  I suddenly knew exactly what she was getting at. “Are you a clone of Virginia?”

  “I am.”

  Adriana squirmed and her mouth dropped open. Even Marcus turned back and gaped. Our mother was a clone. Of Adriana’s what… second cousin? We were… related.

  Adriana folded over in her seat, her head in her hands. My heart felt like it had shrunk, withered with a complete loss of potential. We were related. Could we even be together? I placed my hand on her now quaking back. Would there ever be an end to these miserable discoveries for her? How many more wretched things wer
e going to happen before Adriana’s psyche broke under the pressure?

  “Where are you taking us?” Genevieve asked, breaking the silence. Her voice had a familiar tenor, a vocal quality both me and Marcus shared. “To Malcolm’s lab?”

  Marcus rolled his eyes as he glanced over at her, contempt and disgust clear in the narrowing of his eyes, the downward curve of his mouth. “That’s not up for discussion, Mother.”

  “How well do you know him, Marcus? I’m venturing a guess that you know very little about what he is capable of.” Genevieve wrung her hands in her lap.

  “Malcolm. Is that the name of our father?” I asked.

  Genevieve nodded as she looked out the car window at the terrain whipping by. “Unfortunately, yes. But not by my choice.” She waved a hand. “I’ll get to that later. What you need to know right now is about his ambition. This is a man who is singularly focused on achievement, personal gain, at the expense of anyone around him.”

  Marcus sneered. “He’s a scientist. They’re all like that.”

  “No, Marcus. They’re not all like Malcolm.” Her hands suddenly stilled. “Malcolm’s father was an alcoholic. He was an educated man, a geneticist, with a side interest in cross-breeding animals. He had his own hobby ranch where he raised many… odd species.” She paused, her expression slightly disgusted, as if remembering something particularly reprehensible from that ranch. “Anyway, his father, Gene, was far more interested in his creatures and his drink than he was in your father. Malcolm was a straight-A student, on the honor roll every year, played the violin, graduated a year ahead of schedule, but his father never thought he was good enough. If Malcolm got a ninety-eight percent, his father would mock him for not getting one-hundred. He continually reminded Malcolm that he had graduated two years ahead, as if Malcolm’s one year was of little significance. Malcolm said he never stopped trying to impress his dad, and almost every educational and career choice Malcolm made was to please his father. But Malcolm was seeking something that he could never find. His father was incapable of giving Malcolm what he wanted: approval. Gene’s alcohol dependency worsened every year, until finally, when Malcolm was preparing to defend his Ph.D. dissertation in gene sequencing, his father fell ill. Cirrhosis of the liver. Malcolm went to his death bed, hoping his father would finally give him what he’d sought from him his whole life. Malcolm thought that surely when a person was facing death they would take a moment to reflect and appreciate their only son. He went to him, minutes before his last breath, and asked his father if he’d made him proud. Do you know what Gene said?”