The Other Morgan (Parallel Series, Book 5)

by Christine Kersey

  But Nick didn’t laugh at my comment, and he didn’t say anything about this being fake. He just stared at me like he was trying to figure me out.

  “Yes,” I finally said, the smile gone from my face. “I read the letter.”

  “Good. Because there are a few things we need to talk about before I bring you to your family.”

  “Okay.” What else could I say? I wanted to wake up and be back at the Candee’s cabin. The Candee’s. “I need to let my friend know where I am. I was staying at her cabin and her family is probably wondering where I went. Do you have a phone I can use?”

  Nick smiled. “I don’t think they’re wondering where you are.” He gestured to the letter in my hand. “It’s been two months since you were at your friend’s cabin. Billy explained everything to me.”

  A jolt of unreality pulsed through me. “Two months? How is that possible? What’s the date?”

  “Today is November tenth.” He said it as if he hadn’t just announced something earth-shattering.

  My world seemed to tilt on its axis. “But that’s impossible. It’s September second. I’m supposed to start at my new school in a couple of days.” I shook my head. He had to be wrong. “You must be mistaken.”

  He pulled out his cell phone, tapped the screen, then held it out to me. There it was, in a brightly backlit screen. Today’s date: Sunday, November tenth.

  I sank back against the couch. The letter had failed to mention the shift in time, and that I’d been in a parallel world for only a few hours while this other girl had been impersonating me in my world for two months.

  “Morgan,” Nick said in a gentle voice. “There’s more we need to talk about.”

  Still reeling from the news that I’d missed two months of my life during which a complete stranger had made a mess of things, I tried to focus on Nick.

  “In the letter,” he said, “did she talk about the things she experienced in the F.A.T. center?”

  “There’s not a lot of detail,” I said.

  “I guess she didn’t have time to write it all down.” He chuckled. “I guess she knew I’d have the video to show you.”

  “Video?” That sounded intriguing. A video of the girl who claimed to be me? “What video?”

  “When Morgan went back to Camp Willowmoss to help her sister—well, your sister—she wore glasses that had the ability to record what was going on.” Nick shifted in his seat like he suddenly felt uncomfortable. “She only recorded the times she thought would have the biggest impact on people—to get people to realize that they should be less complacent about what goes on in the F.A.T. centers.” He paused. “Do you have any idea what it’s like in the F.A.T. centers?”

  Of course I didn’t. I’d always followed the rules so I wouldn’t have to go to one of those places. “No. Not really.”

  He picked up a remote beside his chair, then looked at me. “In that case, some of this might be a bit . . . disturbing.”

  Foreboding washed over me. Somehow I knew that what I was about to see could have happened to me. Perhaps still could happen. “Okay.”

  “Are you ready?”

  No. “I guess so.”

  He pressed a button and the screen came to life.

  The face of a woman I’d never seen before filled the screen. Where was the girl? I wanted to see her. Then I realized that she was the one wearing the camera, so I wouldn’t be able to see her. Disappointment grew within me, but I pushed it aside as I focused on what was playing out in front of me.

  The woman was harassing the girl about her weight—I couldn’t bring myself to call her Morgan—and though I couldn’t see the girl’s face, I could hear her voice, and I had to admit that her voice sounded very familiar. Kind of like mine.

  That video clip ended, and the next one began. The image bounced, like the girl was running, and I could see exercise equipment in the picture. A man came into view. He made a rude comment about the girl needing to lose weight.

  Next I saw my sister Amy running on a treadmill. Even though the letter the girl had written had said Amy was put in a Federally Assisted Thinning center, it was still shocking to see her there. Then I remembered that Amy was only there because of what the girl had done. Anger at this unknown girl swept over me. Who did she think she was that she could come out of nowhere and put my sister in that position?

  My thoughts were interrupted by the words I heard the man say to Amy. It was the same man who’d been rude to the girl in the last clip.

  “You think you’re so cool,” the man taunted Amy. “Because your sister is the famous Morgan Campbell. Well, I knew your sister and she was as much of a loser as you are. In fact I’m not sure who is more of a loser—you or her.”

  The famous Morgan Campbell? What was that all about?

  I focused on Amy and it seemed like she was ignoring the man’s taunts—until he turned up the speed on the treadmill. I gasped as I saw her lose her footing, but she caught herself before she fell.

  The man continued to torment her, asking her what she thought of her sister—me. I was her sister, not some girl from another world. Amy ignored him, then without warning she placed her feet on the sides of the treadmill and shouted, “I hate her, I hate her, I hate her.”

  My baby sister hated me? The thought made me sick. Even though Amy and I weren’t super close, we’d always gotten along. Knowing she felt that way about me made my heart hurt.

  The man grinned at Amy’s words, then he stated that he hated me too.

  How can all these people hate me? I haven’t done anything!

  “I hate you too,” Amy said to the man.

  My eyes widened. Somehow I knew that was going to be met with punishment. If the man wasn’t an actual Enforcer, he was probably the closest thing to one at the F.A.T. center. And that could only mean trouble for Amy.

  My assumption was verified when I saw the man gesture with his head to someone out of view, and a uniformed Enforcer walked into the picture.

  “Oh no,” I whispered as my heart raced in fear. What is that Enforcer going to do to Amy?

  The Enforcer had a baton in his hand and he whacked it against his open palm as he stood next to Amy. He scolded her for the way she’d spoken to the first man, then told her to apologize. Amy looked terrified as her gaze went from the Enforcer to the first man. Then she looked directly at the camera—directly at me. I wanted to reach out and help her, but I was helpless to do anything.

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” the Enforcer said, then he hit the back of her leg with his baton.

  Amy obviously hadn’t expected the blow because the leg that the Enforcer hit collapsed beneath her and she almost fell onto the moving belt, but managed to grip the arms of the treadmill to keep from falling. Crying, she pulled herself back up, then grabbed her injured leg with one hand as she set her foot on the side of the treadmill to avoid the moving belt.

  Disgust churned within me. How can they treat people like that? Then I realized that I had no idea how they treated people in the F.A.T. centers. Had Dad experienced the same thing?

  I focused on the screen and saw the Enforcer telling Amy to apologize. Sobbing, she did. He told her to run for twenty minutes, then he and the other man walked away.

  “Do you want to stop?” Nick asked.

  Startled, I looked at him. I’d been so caught up in the video that I’d forgotten he was there. “Does it get worse?”

  He stared at me a moment, then he slowly nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

  Chapter Three

  Did I want to see more? No, I didn’t.

  “You have to remember,” Nick said. “There are only three people who know you’re not her.” He pointed to the paused screen. “You, me, and Billy. That’s it.” A sad smile curved his mouth. “And Billy is gone.”

  “But he’s coming back, right?”

  “No.” Nick shook his head. “No, he told me he’s going to attempt to cross into the other world. To be with Morgan.”

  W
hat? “He knows how?”

  “I believe so.”

  “How? How do you do it?” Maybe I could do it too.

  Nick frowned. “He refused to tell me.”

  My shoulders slumped. I felt very alone.

  “My point is that the things that happened to Morgan . . . well, everyone will assume they happened to you.” He paused, evidently waiting for me to catch up to his point.

  And then I did. “You’re saying that I have to watch that video. Probably multiple times.”

  “Don’t you want to know what Amy is talking about when she recounts the things you’ve seen? Or when other people ask you about your time in the F.A.T. centers? Don’t you want to be able to speak as if you actually experienced what Morgan did?”

  Fresh anger ignited inside me. My life had been going along just fine until that girl appeared and totally screwed everything up.

  “It’s not ideal,” Nick said, “but what other choice do you have?”

  “I could tell the truth.”

  He stared at me. “What do you think will happen if you tell people it wasn’t really you, but some other girl who has your exact DNA? A girl from a parallel world?”

  I thought about the Enforcer who’d hit Amy on the leg with his baton. I wouldn’t want him—or any other Enforcer—after me. And after that girl had escaped from them not once, but twice, I doubted they would accept my story and let me off the hook.

  “That Enforcer who hit Amy?” Nick said, evidently reading my mind.

  “Yeah?” I’d seen the terror in Amy’s eyes when he’d approached her, and I wanted nothing to do with him.

  “Morgan told me his name is Hansen. She said he has a special hatred for her.” His face was grim. “Which means you.”

  The letter had mentioned a man named Hansen—several times. He was someone the girl had feared, which meant I should fear him. Could this get any worse?

  “I’m sorry, Morgan.”

  I couldn’t think about my world anymore. It was a nightmare. “What is her world like?”

  Nick looked thoughtful. “All I know is what Billy told me. And all he knows is what Morgan told him.” He chuckled. “Although I suspect he’ll be experiencing her world for himself very soon.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  Looking wistful, Nick said, “In her world it’s not illegal to be overweight.”

  I found that hard to believe. But if it’s true . . . What would it be like to live in a world like that? What would happen if I crossed over? But how would I do it? Frustration at my utter helplessness flowed over me and I bristled again at the position that girl had put me in.

  “Are you ready to continue watching the video?”

  I didn’t see that I had a choice. “Yeah. Okay.”

  Nick pressed the Play button.

  A room crowded with tables filled the screen. A cafeteria. Off-camera a male voice asked, “Why are you sitting with this table full of rejects? Or are you a reject too?” He laughed. “You’re here, so I guess you are a reject.” He paused. “Who’s your roommate?”

  When the girl didn’t answer, the camera jerked violently, like he’d shoved the girl, then he said, “Look at me and answer my question.”

  Hansen’s face came into view and the girl said her roommate was Lori. After a few moments the camera panned to a table a short distance away where Hansen was talking to a girl—I assumed it was Lori. Hansen walked away from Lori and Lori glared at the camera.

  “I’m so sorry, Hannah,” Amy said, and the camera focused on my sister.

  For a moment I was confused why Amy was calling the girl Hannah until I remembered the letter explaining how the girl had impersonated someone else so that she could help Amy. She impersonated someone else while impersonating me. Can this get any crazier?

  That video clip ended and the next one began.

  “I’ve collected some power bars now, just so you know,” the girl said into the camera.

  My mouth fell open as I watched her. She looks so much like me. Then she pointed the camera at a small pile of power bar chunks.

  The clip ended.

  “Wait,” I said to Nick.

  He paused the video.

  “Can you go back?” I had to see the girl’s face again. Even though her hair was cut short and dyed a dark color, I recognized her face.

  He did as I asked, and when her face came into view, I asked him to pause the video. I stared at her as my mind frantically tried to work out what I was seeing. I had a sense of deja vu, except that I’d never experienced what she did. Seeing her face like that, feeling like it was somehow me I was watching, I felt an unexpected kinship with the girl from another world. Morgan. I formed her name in my head, disassociating the label from myself. Duplicate Morgan. That’s how I would think of her.

  “Why was she collecting power bars?” I asked. “We have them at school all the time.”

  “The ones at Camp Willowmoss are different than the ones you’ve had.” He pointed to the paused image on the screen. “Those ones have an addictive drug in them, as well as a drug that controls behavior.” He frowned. “They were testing them on the people in the F.A.T. centers.”

  “Oh.” As controlling as the government was, this information still shocked me. “How do you know there are drugs in them?”

  “We’d heard rumors, but when Billy first joined our group, he confirmed our suspicions. Morgan was collecting samples for another resistance group.”

  I nodded. This was a lot to take in. First to learn I’d been in another world for a few hours, then to discover Duplicate Morgan had been here for the last two months pretending to be me. And now to find out that the government was drugging kids.

  “Are you ready to continue?” Nick asked.

  There was no doubt I’d have to watch this video multiple times as I processed all that I was learning. “Okay.”

  He pressed Play, and a new clip began. The woman who’d been in the first clip—Mrs. Reynolds—appeared on the screen. It looked like she was in a classroom with chairs arranged in a circle.

  “Why are you here, Hannah?” she asked, clearly unhappy.

  Duplicate Morgan said she didn’t know, and after Mrs. Reynolds asked the rest of the group some questions, she turned her attention to Lori—Duplicate Morgan’s roommate. The woman coerced Lori into telling everyone why she was at Camp Willowmoss, and after an extended back and forth between Lori and Mrs. Reynolds, it came out that Lori had falsified Duplicate Morgan’s weight history to show a pattern of weight gain—or was it my weight history? And because of the false information, Duplicate Morgan had been sent to Camp Willowmoss.

  Stunned to learn that the girl Lori—whom I’d never met—had been the one behind the mess I now found myself in, a slow burn of hate flickered to life inside me. Why did she do that? The anger I’d been feeling toward Duplicate Morgan—DM for short—faded. If it wasn’t for Lori, DM would never have been put in the F.A.T. center.

  A sudden commotion on the screen grabbed my attention. Amy had jumped up and was facing Lori. “You lied,” Amy screamed. “You lied about my sister. And now I’m here. All because of you!”

  Then Amy did the most unexpected thing. She lunged at Lori and knocked her over. They fell on the floor with Amy on top, both of them screaming. A moment later a pair of Enforcers grabbed the girls and pulled them apart. I’d never seen my sister so angry before. Never.

  Mrs. Reynolds’ voice filled the room. “Amy, I understand why you’re upset, but what Lori did doesn’t change anything for you. You’re still here in your sister’s place because she stabbed one of our Enforcers, which is completely unacceptable.”

  Hansen. That’s who DM stabbed. A small smile lifted the corners of my mouth. From what I’d seen of him so far, he most likely deserved it.

  The next part of the video began with an Enforcer telling DM to sit in a chair in front of a table. After placing two straps around her chest, a blood pressure cuff on her arm, and two small clips on her fin
gers, the polygraph test began. I remembered reading in her letter about this, how her true identity had been discovered. But witnessing the experience for myself was much more frightening. Especially after all the video I’d seen which had led up to this. And especially when I knew what was going to happen.

  Mrs. Reynolds asked DM a number of questions which she answered calmly, but when Mrs. Reynolds asked her final question, my body tensed as if I was the one being asked.

  “Is your name really Morgan Campbell?” Mrs. Reynolds asked. The room erupted in chatter, but after shutting everyone up, she asked the question again.

  I expected to hear DM deny it, but instead Amy leapt from her chair and shouted, “No! She’s Hannah. Hannah Jacobs.”

  Love for my little sister blossomed inside me. DM had alluded to Amy’s loyalty and fierce defense, but seeing it for myself—particularly when I knew how severe the consequences of speaking out could be—amazed me.

  The video went on with Mrs. Reynolds stating that she had DNA evidence that DM was not Hannah Jacobs at all, but that she was Morgan Campbell. Again, the unreality of DM having the same DNA as me blew my mind.

  As the Enforcers approached DM, Amy once again showed her sweet devotion as she flung herself against her older sister.

  “I won’t let them take you, Morgan,” Amy cried out. “I won’t.”

  “It will be okay, Amy,” DM murmured, although I was certain she knew that was a lie.

  One of the Enforcers forcibly pulled Amy away and shoved her toward the rest of the kids, who watched in morbid fascination.

  “You’ll let my sister go now, right?” DM asked.

  Mrs. Reynolds said that they would release Amy the next morning, at the same time that DM would be transferred to a more secure facility. A few minutes later the Enforcers moved DM to another room. A room that she couldn’t get out of, based on her attempt to open the locked door. The camera panned the small space as if DM was turning in a slow circle. The room was a jail cell—concrete walls, a cot bolted to the floor, a metal sink attached to the wall, and a metal toilet in the corner.