The Hawkweed

by Candace J Thomas

  I would know them anywhere.

  I had found him. I had found Jaren.

  Verona

  Petra’s Lab

  “Where is your spot?”

  Every fiber burst alive. My brain waves went wild on the screen. “What do you mean?”

  Petra got out of his chair, walked over to the door and locked it. “It’s remarkable how much you look like him. You could fool anyone here, but me.”

  I reacted and pulled out the knife in my pocket.

  The doctor didn’t flinch. “Who are you?”

  I stood frozen, contemplating my actions. The doctor stood calm, staring. Something about his manner with me, the way we analyzed my expression, as if he knew my pain, he knew my questions and he had the answers I looked for. He would be my savior.

  “Jaren. Jaren Iniav.”

  “You are the brother,” Petra stated. “So, you found out our secret?”

  I didn’t know what to answer. I hadn’t found out anything. “Why Seven?”

  The doctor’s smile looked corrupt. “Seven times. Seven successes.”

  “At what?”

  Petra wasn’t intimidated by my threatening. “Jaren, we are not enemies. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Put down the knife.”

  My hand shook and I gripped the knife tighter.

  “This is my job. This is what I am assigned to do. My life depends on this work. You understand that, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you will understand that though my job is not pleasant, there is some pleasure in it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The doctor took a seat across from me, still looking at my shaking hand. “Bringing something back to life is an amazing achievement. But the government looks at this accomplishment with a single greedy eye.

  “I do not know identities, but I do get a briefing of the subjects. We have tried seven times to reanimate. Our first was not as successful, but had potential. So, the government kept an eye on the family he left behind.”

  I felt the cold sweat run down my back. “What are you saying?”

  “Your father was the first,” Petra stated. His calm tone irritated every nerve in my body. I didn’t know what to think or how to act. I never knew a father and lived without a thought of or care for him. But Spen knew something about it, he must have known.

  Petra saw my dazed expression and continued. “Seven, your brother, received his assignment and I don’t think he liked what he read. When he refused, the government took matters into their own hands. Can you imagine someone refusing what they had been assigned? That’s why they shot him.”

  The painful details resurfaced. Spen was strong, smart, willing, brave, everything the army would love on their side. Details starting knitting together. The fight wasn’t about Melina—it was about life.

  Petra sighed. “They handed him to me and I fixed him.”

  The knife slipped from my hand. So many details shot out. I couldn’t think straight. “He’s alive? Spen? My brother’s alive—”

  The man held up his hand silencing me. “Reanimating tissue is a tricky business. I didn’t save his life. The Spen you know isn’t alive. His body is alive. I used his body.”

  Shocked. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I sat there with my mouth open, stunned.

  “The government takes what they want. They wanted your brother’s body. A calculated shot to the head preserving the body and making the brain unusable. In a hypothermic state, the muscles and tissue can be preserved. A cold winter added a good cover. His proved easier than some of the others. We were so impressed with how fast he woke up and functioned normally.”

  I recovered my speech. “So, what about his brain?”

  Dr. Petra smiled. “I grew it. I cloned it. When it passed all inspection I placed it in your brother’s body. But this brain is fragile. It has no memory except what has been programmed in it. When I asked you what you were remembering you said a mother. Seven should have no memory of his mother. He knows all about emotion, but has never felt them. New cognition needs to be formed in order to understand that. He has no remorse, no cognitive neuro-connections between what is good and bad. That’s what makes him so dangerous, so brilliant.”

  My own brain lit again. The information I sought after filled my thoughts. This confirmed to me why I came to Verona. And here I sat in the chair with the perfect weapon. “My brother truly is dead. I understand that. Where is Seven now?”

  “His assignment.” The doctor stood and came forward, picked up my knife and handed it back to me. “A package arrived from Petersboro tonight on the evening train.”

  I gulped. “What? What kind a package?”

  “The government doesn’t like loose threads.”

  “But there’s nothing in Petersboro besides a big hole in the ground. If Seven doesn’t remember a mother then she’s not in danger. Clearly the government knows I’m here. Right? What else is in Petersboro? Nothing. Only Melina—” I stopped taking it in. “Tell me. What does she have to do with this?”

  “Do you understand who her father was?” The doctor asked, tapping on his screen. A picture of a gray-haired man came up on the screen. “Dr. Ilov Gershan helped with finding the secret to nuclear fusion, the explosion that tipped the axis. His family has a target on their backs and the government put it there. I know that his daughter scored way above average on her aptitude tests.”

  The shock took my breath. I felt the shame wash over me, stripping me wave upon wave. I’ve been so stupid, selfishly thinking about my own revenge on the world, while Melina suffered without me. My brain kept thinking of other possibilities. “Please tell me. Did Spen find this out before?”

  Dr. Petra’s mouth turned thin. “Yes. In his own assignment. The Tundran army knew he had ties to the family and given the assignment of a government spy.”

  “But they killed him.”

  “Yes,” Petra smiled. “Because he refused.”

  Spen knew this. He knew she was the link. I knew she loved Spen, possibly more than me, and I felt stupid for fighting over it. She is who we should have protected and I left her alone. “What do I do?”

  “Do what you must.” The doctor unlocked the door and opened it. “I’m here if you need me. But don’t breathe of this to any living soul or we both die, understand?”

  “Yes. Where is she?”

  Petra moved back over to his screen and fingered through until a map came up. He pointed to a building far on the south side, the abandoned sector.

  I left, following down the stairs and across the large white room. Looking back, I saw Dr. Petra leaning on the railing. I couldn’t read his expression; sad, tired, justified. He looked as if his burden had been lifted, but something unknown stood ahead of him, a new darkness to discover. I turned and left the room.

  Verona

  Abandoned Sector

  My heart skipped. Shock took all my movement away from me. I stared, frozen.

  I knew that face, I loved that face. I hadn’t prepared for this. I didn't expect to find Jaren here among the army. I began to panic. So many thoughts rushing in my head; so many questions came to my mind.

  Six months. My life changed so much in six months.

  I found myself staring at him, not realizing that the sleigh master held the door open for me. I stood without blinking, without breathing.

  But my breath returned, and with it came a fresh wave of anger. I should hate him. I should march over to him and slap him for leaving. He left me alone to mourn. He left, too afraid of the emotion that waited there, too afraid to face me and all the guilt I wore for Spen’s death.

  I wanted to push the anger away. I wanted to forgive him, but with every small second the color returned to my face and I forgot that I loved him. Right now, I hated him.

  Jaren stood alone looking at me. He sensed my emotions. Our eyes connected and within that glance I no longer hated him. I couldn’t hate him, never.

  The cold wind carried my
hair away from my neck, I felt the prickled heat rise to my cheeks. His face, hid mostly in shadow, veiled something else, something I couldn’t figure out. He didn’t smile or waver or blink, and there I stood completely raw—the girl he left behind.

  My breathing evened. I couldn’t help but say his name, “Jaren.”

  “Jaren?” a voice from beneath the hood spoke in hollow tones, foreign to me. “That will do, sleigh master.” He nodded the dismissal. The man felt hesitant to move, but left.

  There I stood alone with Jaren. I grew frightened, but why? I shouldn’t be afraid of Jaren.

  The cold swept past me wakening my senses. I felt frozen.

  “Jaren?” The word exited my mouth, but more of a question now, not an exclamation. What had happened to him? Did the pain eat him away like it had me? I stood there waiting for him to speak. His face came closer. I could see the long tendrils of his brown hair falling into his face. His mysterious eyes never lost sight of me.

  I couldn’t breathe again. He walked forward as if in slow motion and stopped right before me. I stared, unbelieving, his head still buried in the hood. My hand trembled as it slowly grazed his face.

  His hand grabbed my wrist squeezing it tight.

  Then I saw it, and couldn’t believe it, there like in dreams, and in my nightmares. Above his beautiful cheekbone lay a small brown spot.

  I gulped. “No.” I didn’t mean to speak it out loud. I could hear the words form without my control. “No . . .”

  The man I thought of as Jaren flashed a wicked smile. My other hand came up and covered my mouth. This wasn’t possible. Physically possible. Spen was dead. He had died. I had killed him. This couldn’t be real. My trembling took over and soon my vision disappeared.

  . . .

  I ran as fast I could through the corridors. No one stopped me, no one asked any questions. I made it back through the doors without a single eye in my direction.

  The sky darkened with night approaching. I rushed toward the barracks. The bunks were still empty. Everyone, even Fenwick, must still be down at the Hydric. I wished he were here to help me. I never thought plans through. I rushed full into situations I never prepared for, exactly as I planned on doing now. Fenwick acted as a counter-balance to my stubborn impatience. I didn’t think about changing and just slipped on my fur coat and ushanka as I flew through the doors.

  The wind whipped my face and hands with biting cold. Blowing snow clouded my vision as I tried to find my bearings on the grounds. I saw the flashing on the gate ahead. With my head down I ran as fast as I could. I could see a deep red sleigh exiting the grounds and followed the tracks it left.

  The small building stood like a sentinel against the approaching dark. The world slowed as I staggered upward, each step becoming heavier in stride. No training could prepare me for what I might find. All rational thought escaped me as I continually marched forward toward the entrance. the My heart pumped as I reached it, driven to the point of confusion.

  I heaved on the heavy door. The thick cement walls absorbed the low creak as I entered a narrow hallway. Only the light came through tiny square windows, reflecting the hazy blue-gray light from the outside. I searched around and found the hallway empty. I needed a weapon—something to fight with. Along the wall I saw a cold torch lantern without fire, but nothing useful.

  I couldn’t think straight. Images of Melina passed through my mind, smiling and happy. But then I remembered the image of her in the corner. I ignored her. The pain of that image seared through my chest making my determination stronger. I didn’t care anymore. I had to find her. Seven had Melina and he would kill her. Spen and I were evenly matched in a fight, same stature, build. I had beaten him before in wrestling. I could do it again.

  The hallway ended in a large, dark room. Only the fading blue light of the night came through a window near the back wall. I felt around the darkness and found something long and slender—a broom. I slid my finger tight around it and moved it in front of me like a sword. I slowly crept in the dark looking for any movement.

  It did. A shadow moved near the window. I focused and saw the form of the person lying on the ground. He had already killed her.

  Sadness welled up in me—sadness and anger. I wanted to strike, but I couldn’t move my body any closer.

  “Seven!” I cried. “Seven! I know you’re here.”

  A shadow moved again, but I couldn’t see the form.

  “Seven. I talked with Petra. You are released from this mission.”

  The sound of my voice resounded into a hum then silence.

  “No.” A voice I recognized cut through like a knife. It felt like ice in my veins—Spen talking to me from the grave.

  “Spe. . . Seven. Listen to me. You don’t want to hurt this girl.”

  The shadow emerged and stood silhouetted by the eerie blue light. His dark cloak hung around his head gathering at the neck and waist, a true assassin. “Who are you? Who commanded you?”

  “I’m a soldier like you.”

  “There are no soldiers like me.”

  “Trust me.” My voice shook as I said it. I knew he would not.

  “Death for death,” Seven stated as he unsheathed something long and silver. A cool gleam of light reflected down the assassin’s blade.

  “No!” I ran toward him before he could do anything else. With the broom lifted over my head, I swung with all the force I could at his hands. The blade met the wooden handle with a strong, clean cut, nicking the tip.

  I held my position, trying as I could to see his eyes, his features.

  He swung again, but I blocked it with as much force as I could. Again and again I defended until the broom snapped in half. I ran out of ideas and took the broken broom and smacked him as hard as I could in the face, pushing him to the ground.

  The blade clanged on the floor. I watched the anger rise in his body as he scrambled to reach it again. I had a small chance.

  I stepped into the light. “Look at me!”

  He did not.

  I dropped the broom, defenseless. The echo reverberated around the empty room. “Spen. Look at me,” a plea, not a shout. I pleaded for him to see me as his brother.

  He turned with the blade stretched at me. He also stood in the light. Within a second, he pulled back his hood. I could see him now. My mirror, my twin standing at our exact height. His eyes met mine and didn’t find a connection.

  His eyes hardened. “A clone?”

  “No. A brother.”

  The love disappeared from his eyes, left with confusion and loathing, as if he had been tricked. “There is no brother.”

  “You have no memory of a brother, but I promise, I’m real.” I took a step closer. “She . . . she is real.” I fought the words that came to my mouth. In this moment I only thought of her. “She . . . she loves you. She always has. I-I tried to steal her from you. I thought I had her, but then . . . but then . . .”

  The emotion that I held back, the pain that I refused to feel came forth with crushing honesty.

  “You died.” I stumbled in my words. “You died to save . . . her.”

  Seven stood tall, but the blade never quivered from his hand. “You are mistaken, soldier,” he spit the words at me. “I am not a man. I am a vessel. I am a machine.”

  “No, you’re not!” My voice echoed on and on off the walls. “You are a brother . . . my brother. A twin.”

  He looked over my face again in the half-light. “No. A deception. A way to save the girl.”

  Neither of us noticed until now that Melina’s eyes were opened. Relief filled my chest only to be replaced with panic. Seven lunged toward her.

  Without a thought of anything else, I tackled him, wrapping my arms around his neck and wrestling him to the ground. His strength had increased. He turned quick, the blade grazing my arm, cutting through my uniform and slicing my flesh. I felt little pain. I grabbed for the hilt, each of us struggling for control.

  In a glance, I watched Melina curl back agai
nst the wall.

  I tightened my grip on his wrist, bracing it against the stone, slamming it again and again until the blade loosened and dropped to the ground. The clink silenced the room.

  I watched Melina scurry over to the sword. I kept my knee shoved into Seven’s chest, his armed pinned.

  “Come back to me, Spen.” The plea left my mouth out of desperation. “Come back to me.”

  Seven breathed in deeply, watching with calculated glances at Melina and I. “He can never come back to you.”

  “Then come learn of him.” It was Melina who spoke. I turned to her in surprise. Tears ran down her sweet face. After all this fighting, she still preferred Spen.

  Seven glanced to her. “The government will not allow it. The last Gershan must die.”

  “Then I die,” she returned. “No one needs to know that you didn’t kill me. Let me live here as a free person and a new name. Tell them I am dead. I feel dead inside. Let them think that.”

  Seven’s eyes looked wild. “A direct violation—”

  “Yes,” I broke in. “No one would know any different. Go back and tell Yenki and Petra that it is done.”

  “And come home,” Melina added. “To Petersboro. You have a mother there.”

  Seven no longer struggled and just glared at me. Moments passed in pure silence as he contemplated the offer. Finally he spoke. “I am not Spen. I will never be. I will never love. I will never understand. Your Spen is dead and I am killing him again.”

  I understood his words though I didn’t believe them.

  “I have no compassion for your hearts—” he broke off and looked back at Melina. “But I will not kill you. You must run and never come back.” He looked up to me. “And keep her safe . . . from me.”

  My chest hurt. I wanted my brother back, wanted him here. To know that his face, my face, still roamed around the earth pained me. Here he offered me life, but I didn’t want to live without him.

  Seven turned his head toward Melina. “I am programmed. I will never stop hunting you. Your survival depends on me not finding you.”