by Anthology
by Patricia Gilliam
Originally Published in The Immortality Chronicles (Windrift Books, 2015), edited by Carol Davis and part of The Future Chronicles anthology series created by Samuel Peralta.
Outside Raleigh, North Carolina * February 5th, 2079
Nick opened his eyes and squinted at the alarm clock. It was ten past noon. He groaned and pulled his comforter over his head, but sunlight filtered through the pattern of moons and spacecraft. Even facing the wall, it was no use. He needed to get up.
“Dad?” he called. He rubbed his eyes and walked down the hallway. His father’s bed was made, and no one was in the kitchen. Nick stretched to open the door to the carport, recoiling as a freezing blast of wind hit him. Their truck was gone. “Must be at work…”
After dragging a chair to reach the countertop, he discovered the frosted flakes were down to their final sugary crumbles—his favorite part. The milk didn’t cover everything, but it was fine after a few bites. He turned on the display in the living room and switched its input to the video game system.
The doorbell rang a half-hour later. Nick jumped and faced the door. A short dark-haired woman cupped her hands around her face to see through the living room window. Her breath fogged the glass, and she stepped back.
“Hi,” she said. Her voice was muffled. “I’m Mrs. McFerrin—Josh’s mom. We live four houses over.”
Nick had met Josh McFerrin at school, but Josh was two grades above him and had different teachers.
“My dad said never to open the door for strangers,” he replied, unsure if she could hear him. He tried to speak louder as he approached the window. “If you want something, he should be back soon.”
“Honey, your father was in an accident.” Mrs. McFerrin paused as Nick’s eyes widened, but she kept her voice calm. “He’s been taken to the hospital, and you can’t stay here alone. Do you have any other family I can call for you—maybe an aunt or uncle?”
Nick shook his head. “It’s just us. Is my dad all right?”
“We don’t know yet.” She took her phone out of her coat pocket. “My husband and Josh stopped to help the police search for you. Your father must have been confused and believed you were in the truck with him. I’ll let them know you’re all right, and the police can take you to the hospital. I’ll wait until they get here.”
The wind picked up, and she huddled closer to the house. Nick walked to the living room door and unlocked it. Mrs. McFerrin eased it open and then shut it behind her.
“It’s really cold out there,” Nick said. She nodded and ended her call. “I’m Nick—Nick Mathis.”
He held his hand out to her, something his dad had taught him. She shook it and crouched to his level.
“Nice to meet you, Nick Mathis,” she said. She forced a smile, but her eyes were watery. “What can you tell me about your dad?”
Abbot-Mathis Industries * Chicago * Thirty-Four Years Later
“You need to be angrier about all of this,” Nick’s business partner William Abbot said. Nick sighed and shook his head. “You dated that woman for three months, broke it off, and she pops up two years later with a book deal about your entire life. How is that right?”
Nick surveyed the lobby as their elevator descended. During product launches or charity drives, two dozen reporters would be considered a great turnout. This crowd appeared closer to two hundred and growing. “I knew Bianca was a biographer when I met her, so it’s my own fault for trusting her. I just wish people would quit acting as if I’m already dead. According to how my treatments go, I can at least consult for another two or three years.”
“I hope it’s longer than that,” Abbot said. “Are you sure you want to hold a press conference now? In a few months, it may not be a major story.”
“People need to know you can hold your own, especially the board,” Nick replied. “The sooner we make the transition, the less likely any vultures will try to move in on you and the McFerrins after I’m gone.”
Abbot frowned but nodded. “Have you spoken with them about your will?”
“Josh and Debra? No, I want to tell them in person. I’ll schedule a trip once all of this settles out.”
The elevator dinged, and its doors opened. Nick took a deep breath and jogged ahead of Abbot—in part to annoy any tabloid journalists attempting to portray him as weak and suffering.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Nick said into his headset. He tapped a file on the podium’s display, hesitating when it showed old financial statements instead of his talking points. He backed out to the main menu and forced a smile. “Let’s begin with a few questions and then save my statement for the end. Who wants to start?”
The crowd shouted over each other. Nick pointed at random to a reporter in the third row.
“Hello, sir,” he said. “I just finished your biography released by Bianca Reynolds—”
“I apologize for my driver’s license photo they stole for the cover,” Nick interrupted. “Sorry, go on.”
“Your father, Dr. David Mathis, developed Alzheimer’s in his early forties, correct?” the reporter continued. Nick gave a reluctant nod. “Given the hereditary aspects of the disease, is your decision to step down as CEO in response to this being made public—and do you intend to stay at AMI in some capacity until—”
Someone screamed, but Nick had no time to react. His vision faded, and the last sensation he felt was falling forward.
***
Nick gasped and sat upright in a bed, finding himself in darkness. A tangled mass of wires tugged at his skin, and he scrambled to remove them.
As his eyes adjusted, he noticed a small shaft of light outlining a doorway. A stray wire snagged his arm as he stood, but he managed to reach a wall and then feel his way to a door handle. It didn’t budge, and he felt too dizzy and weak to force the door open.
“Authorization required.” The voice was mechanical, and the speaker above his head popped and crackled.
“Is this a hospital?” he asked. It hurt to talk, but the feeling of being trapped was worse. “I’m awake. Can anyone hear me?”
No one answered, but he heard the door unlock. He opened it, expecting another room or hallway.
Instead, the night skyline of Charleston greeted him.
BlueHealth Hospital * Raleigh * February 5th, 2079
Two police officers dropped Nick off with a social worker, a young woman in her twenties who already seemed disheartened by her job. She took his hand and led him through the hospital’s lobby. The linoleum tiles glinted as if they had just been mopped, and the smell of floor cleaner made Nick feel nauseous. The woman pressed the call button for the elevator.
“We’ll need to wait until the doctors can talk to us,” she said as the doors opened, and she pulled for him to go with her. Nick resisted and slipped free from her grasp. “Nick, you need to stay with me.”
“My dad died, didn’t he?” he asked. Mrs. McFerrin and the police officers hadn’t told him, but he had seen it in their expressions. Before the social worker could answer, Nick turned away from her and ran for the exit. He could hear her heels clacking behind him, but they slowed her down.
“Nick, please! Come back!”
He’d almost reached the exit doors when a man caught him with one arm and lifted him from the floor. Nick started hitting him to no avail, but by that point he was crying, too.
“I just didn’t want you to get hit by a car, kid.” The man’s voice was quiet despite the fact he seemed to be seven feet tall. “Is this your sister?”
“I’m his caretaker,” the social worker replied. “Thank you. His father just passed away.”
“David Mathis?” the man asked. The social worker nodded. The man placed Nick in a chair but stood between him and the exit. “I’m Jack McFerrin. My son and I found David’s truck this morning. I wanted to come by and offer his family our condolences and find out if they needed anything. Are they on their way?”
“There isn’t anyone else, I’m
afraid—not that I can find, anyway.” The social worker reached for Nick’s hand again, but he scooted back into the chair and gripped the plastic cushion. “Did you know David?”
“We waved at each other in passing—spoke a few times when they first moved into the neighborhood,” Mr. McFerrin replied. Even when he crouched, he was almost as tall as the social worker. He turned his attention to Nick. “I know it’s hard, and it’s okay to cry. Your dad loved you. Josh and I didn’t talk to him long before the ambulance came, but he was more worried about you than he was about himself. I promised him I’d make sure you were all right.”
“I’m not,” Nick replied. He closed his eyes, and tears ran down his cheeks. “I don’t want him to be gone.”
“I know, buddy,” Mr. McFerrin replied. He hugged Nick, and Nick cried on his shoulder until he went limp in exhaustion. “You won’t be alone. I can promise you that.”
Ectotech Labs * Outside Raleigh, North Carolina * Thirty-Four Years later
“Josh, we will pay for your time and travel expenses if you’ll just—”
“What I need is time to think, Mr. Abbot,” Josh McFerrin said into his headset. He wiped his eyes, thankful Abbot and the rest of AMI’s board couldn’t see him. “The police and IBI still have no leads on who killed Nick, and you’re asking me about selling stock we don’t even own yet!”
“I’m not advising you to sell,” Abbot replied, clearly backpedaling. “Taking the company from public back to private may be our best option to recover from Nick’s death. I miss him, too, but this isn’t something we can put off without it affecting thousands of employees and their families.”
“I understand what you’re saying. Deb and I will talk it over with our lawyer and get back to you. Is that fair?”
Voices in the background seemed divided on this, and it took a minute for Abbot to answer.
“Is there any way I could I meet with you there in Raleigh?”
“We won’t turn you away if you show up.” Josh stood, and his golden retriever Dakota began to follow him around the lab with a stuffed giraffe toy. “Just be sure to call first. Our current guard dog is kind of ferocious, and we wouldn’t want you to return to Chicago with missing limbs.”
He ended the call before Abbot had time to respond. Looking over the support suit parts on his lab table, Josh picked up a wiring harness and began to lay out the configuration he needed to attach it. His headset buzzed again, and his shoulders slumped. To his relief, it was his brother-in-law Clint.
“Are you in the middle of anything? I’m about to meet with the new team leader of the Chicago IBI office. I wanted to make sure you’re available if she has questions.”
Josh laid the harness down and walked away from the table. “That’s fine. I’m about to lock up here. I can’t concentrate long enough to get anything done.”
“Are you all right?”
“William Abbot called again,” he replied. “That’s seven times since Nick’s funeral. Deb won’t even answer anymore.”
“That’s probably for the best. I don’t know if Deb has had a chance to tell you, but Nick’s death has been reclassified a contracted hit. You’ve been cleared, but they’re looking into Abbot and several other board members as possible suspects. Debra is still on the list, but it’s a formality due to her past employment.”
“Seriously?” Josh asked. Debra had been out of the CIA for over ten years, but it still came up at odd times. “I’m beginning to think she married me for cover and stayed for the kids.”
“And the free lifetime tech support,” Clint added. “I’ll call you back if I find out anything. Take care of yourself, Josh.”
“I will. Thanks.”
As Josh grabbed his coat, Dakota barked and began scratching at the main door.
“Deb, is that you?” Josh shouted. Dakota’s barking became more frantic. Confused, Josh checked the security cameras. A tall man in a hooded overcoat was on the other side of the door. “Hey, I can see you! What do you want?”
“Not being shot would be nice!” the man shouted back. He sounded like Nick. “I know this is crazy, Josh, but give me a chance to explain.”
Outside Raleigh, North Carolina * February 6th, 2079
“You’ll need to pack for the next two weeks.” The social worker hadn’t slept the entire time they were at the hospital and had put her car into auto-drive. Nick looked away from her and out the passenger window. “The McFerrins will need to go through classes and have their home inspected. I’ll try to push things through as fast as I can, but the process takes time. You’ll be staying with a very nice family in the meantime.”
Nick noticed a dark cloud of smoke long before they reached his neighborhood, but it wasn’t unusual for people to burn dead trees and brush during the winter. As they got closer, he sat up higher in his seat. Two fire trucks were parked in front of what remained of his house. The roof was smoldering, and several rafters had collapsed.
“Did you leave something on before you left?” the social worker asked. Nick shook his head, but she sighed as she got out of the car. “Wait here.”
She approached one of the firefighters, who gestured at the house and shook his head. Anything the fire hadn’t damaged was most likely soaked. Nick opened his door and coughed as smoke hit his lungs.
“You both need to go,” the firefighter said. Nick hurried back to his seat and shut the door. Instead of being angry like he’d expected, the social worker drove them to a store and helped him pick out some clothes and a toothbrush. At the checkout, she paid for everything with no mention of whether it was her personal money or not.
“Thank you,” Nick told her. She forced a smile, but her eyes were sad. Nick wondered if this would be the reaction of every adult he met for the rest of his life.
His father’s funeral and his time with his first foster family—the Wilsons—passed quickly. By the time Nick moved in with the McFerrins, they had converted their spare bedroom with extra bedding and toys from Josh’s bedroom. The two boys would be across the hall from each other.
“Dad has to travel sometimes with his job, but Mom works from here,” Josh explained as he gave Nick a tour of the rest of the farmhouse. It was old, but the McFerrins had modernized most of the interior. They sat down on a sectional in the living room. “I’m sorry about your dad—and your house.”
The front door opened, and Mr. McFerrin walked in carrying a cardboard box.
“This was in the back of your father’s truck,” he said to Nick. He opened it, revealing a pile of servos and metal plates. “It looks like a model kit, but it’s pretty heavy for a toy. I can put it in your room if you don’t want it right now.”
Nick nodded. He’d seen his father sketch and build incredible things for his work, but in that moment he didn’t want the reminder. Mr. McFerrin lifted the box and took it upstairs.
IBI Field Office * Chicago * Thirty-Four Years Later
“How’s your family holding up?” Agent Nina Johnson placed her right palm on a scanner, unlocking the office door. “I wish you could help us in the field, but a good defense attorney would rip us apart if they found out you’re Debra’s brother.”
“I don’t want to cause you any problems,” Agent Clint Rossetti said and followed her inside. The building’s interior smelled like bread from the sub shop next door, and it was more noticeable after being gone for several months. “Deb seems to be handling it all right, but she’s worried about Josh. Nick was practically his adopted brother when they were kids.”
“I’m sorry,” Nina replied. “We’re doing everything we can, but you know what it’s like here. I may be able to pull in help from Indianapolis and Cincinnati, but I can’t guarantee for how long.”
Clint nodded and sat down at his old desk. Nina had granted him full access to the case file via her account, and he didn’t want to waste her time. He bypassed most of the autopsy photos, but something in one of them caught his attention.
“What are these fragments?”
he asked. Nina walked behind him and looked over his shoulder. “They look like shrapnel, but everything I read said it was a single shot.”
“They’re medical implants,” she replied. Clint’s eyebrows rose, given the number of them. “I spoke to William Abbot at AMI about them. Nick Mathis was mapping the long-term progression of his disease so the data could be used to help other patients. The coroner found nanotech in his blood and brain tissue, too—same function, according to Abbot.”
“I bet transport security loved him,” Clint replied. “Where’s all that data being stored now that Nick’s gone?”
“Abbot wouldn’t tell me. Unless it was relevant to Mathis’s death, we wouldn’t have legal access to it, anyway.”
Clint was about to reply when his phone beeped. He read the message and then stood. “It’s Josh. Sorry, I have to go to Raleigh. Thanks for allowing me to look over the file. If you ever need anything on another case, call me.”
“Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know if you’ll believe me,” he said. Nina crossed her arms. “According to Josh, Nick Mathis cloned himself.”
Ectotech Labs * Outside Raleigh, North Carolina
“One moment I’m at AMI in Chicago and the next I’m waking up in an automated lab in Charleston.” Nick sat on a barstool and leaned to pet Dakota. The dog rolled to show his belly as if nothing was wrong. “I know it sounds insane, but I didn’t set this up.”
“Maybe Nick created you as some sort of clone backup,” Josh replied. Nick frowned. “He died over a month ago. How long have you been awake—active?”
“A couple of days, I think.” Nick shook his head. “I remember everything, Josh—growing up here, you, your mom and dad, my dad…”
“I believe you,” Josh said, but he held his hands out in front of him. “We’ll wait here for Clint and get this sorted out, okay?”
“Are you afraid of me?” Nick pointed toward Josh and Debra’s house across the road. “If I left and tried to walk through your front door right now, what would happen?”