Cloneward Bound

by M. E. Castle

  “Uh … thank you, but no,” Dr. Devilish said. “This requires a lot of, um, delicate work and precision.”

  “I promise you, I can be very delicate,” Ms. Snapper replied, not budging from his side.

  “Sooo!” Dr. Devilish said, swiveling quickly away from Ms. Snapper, who continued to gaze at him longingly. “I think I’ll ask the studio audience a question! Who can guess what I’m going to be assembling?”

  Fisher wished Dr. Devilish were assembling a giant catapult; then he could use it to shoot himself to the moon.

  “It looks kind of like a vacuum cleaner,” said Sarah Westbrook, running her many-ringed hand along the pink spikes of her hair.

  “Very good!” Dr. Devilish said. “That is exactly what I am creating. For the suction force I’m using this ordinary, household lawn mower engine,” he said, lifting up a small motor that had been set into a large, plastic drum. He began outfitting it with various pieces of plastic and rubber tubing. “Now, for the most crucial part—the filter. What if you haven’t got one on hand? You may be surprised to find out what you can use instead.”

  “Ooh, I love surprises,” Ms. Snapper said, winking.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” Dr. Devilish coughed nervously and backed away toward his animal cages, pulling the homemade vacuum with him, casting nervous glances at Ms. Snapper, as though worried she would follow him. He raised his voice to the class again. “Certain animal furs have evolved to be particularly good at picking dust and debris out of the air.”

  “Oh, Dr. Devilish!” Ms. Snapper clapped her hands together, making her extra-long, beaded earrings jangle. “How do you know all of these things?”

  Ms. Snapper’s eyes were locked on him. Dr. Devilish backed up like a trapped antelope under the watch of a lioness, still struggling to make it through his demonstration.

  “Education, Ms. Snapper!” he replied with false cheer. “Beauty is an educational thing. I mean, education is a beautiful thing! Anyway …” He cleared his throat and smiled at the audience. “As I was saying! Vacuums! Filters! The rabbit is a creature whose fur is perfectly suited to filter debris. Behold, nature in action!”

  He tripped a switch, and the motor came to life. With one hand, he groped behind him. He just missed the rabbit cage and plucked up a raccoon. Before he saw what he was doing, he dropped the animal into a small chamber in the vacuum.

  The audience gasped. The machine began sputtering and whining. Fisher could hear the raccoon scrabbling around, clawing and biting at the chamber around it. The vacuum slid forward, then began hopping and bouncing back and forth as the raccoon struggled desperately to escape its plastic prison.

  The tubes flailed crazily, lashing through the air with frightening speed. Dr. Devilish barely managed to duck and dodge around the vacuum cleaner as it knocked over lighting and sound equipment, sending showers of sparks through the air. Ms. Snapper screamed and had to dive under the table as an out-of-control vacuum arm lashed in her direction, snapping her purse off her shoulder.

  The crew rushed in, trying to get close enough to turn the vacuum off, but the flailing rubber arms were spiraling so fiercely, they were forced to take cover.

  “Shut it off! Shut it off!”

  “It’s heading for camera A!”

  Microscopes and flasks went sailing through the room as the infernal machine traced a slow path of destruction around Dr. Devilish’s lab.

  Fisher was so transfixed by the sight of the vacuum and the crowd of people trying to reach it that he didn’t notice Amanda had left her seat until he saw her hurtling onto the stage, dive-tackling the vacuum to the floor and pinning it into a wrestling lock. She was able to hold the vacuum’s arms long enough for Lucy Fir to jump in and turn it off.

  A dizzy raccoon stumbled out of the plastic body, scampering in loops before collapsing.

  “Oh, Dr. Devilish!” Ms. Snapper said, rushing to his side and clutching his arm. “Are you all right?”

  “No,” he said, taking a deep breath and softly but resolutely prying her arm from his, “but I will be, if you would do me the honor of leaving me alone. Permanently.” He dusted himself off as Ms. Snapper jerked away from him.

  “Thank you!” Dr. Devilish said as he turned to Amanda, who was breathing hard and wiping sweat from her forehead. “You’ve got some impressive skills. I don’t suppose you might be interested in becoming a Strange Science assistant, would you?”

  Amanda was about to reply when Ms. Snapper stepped in, her forehead creased in a tight frown, her lips drawn thin.

  “I remind you, Ms. Cantrell, that we are returning to Wompalog tomorrow,” Ms. Snapper said coldly. She glared at Dr. Devilish. “I’m afraid that will be impossible, Dr. Devilish.”

  “Thanks, Dr. D,” Amanda said, shrugging, as Ms. Snapper walked her back to the risers. “But science is my worst subject, anyway.”

  He leaned in and gave her an exaggerated wink. “Mine too.”

  A man stumbled toward Fisher. One of the plastic tubes that had been used to construct the vacuum was stuck on his head.

  “Mmmrrrff! Mrrrf!” was all that Fisher could hear. Worried that the man might be running out of air, he took a folding chair from nearby, stood on it, and barely managed to pry the plastic tube off. The face of Henry, the ever-troubled sound man, was revealed.

  “Henry!” Fisher said. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” said Henry, breathing hard. Fisher hopped down from the chair, and Henry collapsed next to him. “You haven’t seen Wally running around, have you? We lost track of him.”

  “A minute ago he was playing with my pig.…” Fisher said, trailing off as he looked around. “FP? FP?” There was no sign of Fisher’s pet anywhere.

  “Molly?” At the same moment, GG McGee’s high-pitched wail pierced the studio. She dropped to her hands and knees, searching under the risers. “Has anyone seen my Molly??”

  Filming shut down completely, as all the crew members of the Strange Science show, as well as all the Wompalog students and even Dr. Devilish, conducted a thorough search of the studio. But all three animals had vanished. It was getting late. The crew of Strange Science assured Fisher and McGee that they would search the lot and the neighboring lots immediately, and swore that FP and Molly would be found before midnight. And if they weren’t found before mid-morning the next day when the class was scheduled to return, they promised to alert the LAPD immediately—a promise that gave Fisher little comfort.

  Fisher reluctantly agreed to return to the hotel with the rest of the class, despite feeling nauseous with worry. McGee, teary-eyed, said she would return home, too, to get some rest.

  Now there were two people—technically a person and a pig, but Fisher thought of FP as a smaller, pinker person—that Fisher had to find, somewhere in this giant city. And all the while, somewhere out there, somebody else continued to look for him. And the longer he took with his finding, the closer he and Two would get to being found.

  CHAPTER 14

  People threaten to destroy me all the time, so I try to take it as a compliment. If someone threatens to destroy you, they think that you’re important. It can actually make you feel kind of special.… Unless you get destroyed. Try to avoid that.

  —Vic Daring (Issue #45)

  At dinner that night, Fisher used his fork to separate the star fries into their separate points, then cutting the points in half, then rearranging them into various geometric patterns on his plate.

  He had never believed in karma before. Now, for the first time, he wondered whether he was being punished for creating Two. Fisher had wanted a clone because he wanted to avoid attention. Two had been in LA for barely a week, and already he was on the verge of becoming honest-to-God famous. People fawned over him. Older girls swarmed him. Kevin Keels himself stopped to say hello to him. GG McGee acted like she wanted to be his mother.

  Meanwhile, Fisher was slowly but surely losing Veronica to a pop singer who didn’t even really sing his terrible songs. He was being
hunted by spies across the length and breadth of California, and now his best friend in the world—and at this point, probably his only friend in the world—had vanished. He knew it would be foolish not to think that FP’s disappearance was unrelated to the spies who were pursuing him, but figuring out what to do about it was a whole other matter.

  One way or another, he was going to have to take action, and he was going to have to do it tonight. He would have to strike out on his own, with no help from Amanda or anyone else. That meant braving the wilds of Los Angeles after dark. At the same time, if the Strange Science crew called Ms. Snapper to report that they’d found FP, and Fisher wasn’t there, she’d find out that he’d left the hotel without permission and that would make things even worse. He was treading on a narrow ledge above a two-thousand-foot drop.

  Even though Fisher hadn’t eaten a single bite of the fries and special sauce congealing on his plate, his stomach felt as heavy as a cement block. Now he knew what people spoke about when they said “rock bottom.” Things couldn’t get any worse. Two could be anywhere. FP could be anywhere.

  Fisher wanted to think that the agents after him wouldn’t hurt an animal, but if they’d chase a little kid in broad daylight, who knew what their limits were?

  And then Kevin Keels strutted through the door, and Fisher’s low got 100 percent lower.

  A chorus of shouts and cheers filled the room. Keels was surrounded by his usual retinue of followers, managers, bodyguards, and agents screaming into cell phones. GG, Fisher was happy to see, was not among them.

  Fisher saw Veronica’s eyes light up instantly. As a table was quickly cleared for Kevin across the room, Fisher looked back and forth between the pop star and Veronica, then sighed to himself. He had somehow alienated his only ally, he had lost his clone, and his doom seemed imminent.

  It was all over for him. He had failed Two. Sooner or later, the clone’s existence would come to light, and he’d be dissected like a bio class frog, and it would be Fisher’s fault. And when the secret of Two was discovered, his parents would kill him before the government agency could get to him. Or lock him in a tank with the musical octopus. Which was pretty much the same thing.

  The least he could do with the little remaining time he had was to try to make Veronica—beautiful, wonderful, totally out-of-his-league Veronica—happy.

  Fisher got up from his seat, walked down the table, and grabbed Veronica’s hand. He tried to ignore the shock that the touch alone sent through him.

  “Follow me,” he said, forcing a smile onto his face. He didn’t look back as he led her over to Keels’s table.

  “Basley, my man,” Kevin said as Fisher walked up next to him.

  “Hey, Kev,” Fisher said, trying to match the singer’s cool tone. “I thought I’d introduce you to a friend of mine. This is Veronica.” Fisher stepped aside as Veronica, loose-jawed, waved and giggled. “She’s got a real way with words,” Fisher added. “Might be able to help you out with some lyrics. All right, I’ll see you both later.”

  He turned away, feeling his heart boil away into vapor. Almost instantly, it seemed to recondense into a ten-ton brick. I know what you are, you lousy fake, he thought as hard as he could, imagining that Kevin Keels could hear him. I’m only doing this because it’s what she wants. You’d better not let her down.

  “That was quick,” Trevor said, walking up to him as he went back to his table.

  “What was?” Fisher asked.

  “I saw you walk into the bathroom, like, ten seconds ago. Were you just checking out your hair or something?”

  “I wasn’t in the …” Fisher’s pulse stopped entirely, then came hammering back like his veins were full of pebbles. Two. “Um, yes, actually,” he corrected himself, taking a slow step back, then a quicker one. “My hair. I should check it again, in fact.” He turned and broke into a full-on sprint.

  He shoved the men’s room door so hard it cracked a tile on the wall. The noise startled the bathroom’s only occupant.

  Without having to look into the mirror, Fisher was looking at his face.

  “You!” Fisher said barely above a whisper.

  “Yeah,” Two said, his expression hard. “Me. I’m here because we need to have a little talk. I’m tired of your lies.”

  “What … do you mean?” said Fisher. He shot a nervous glance at the door behind him, praying no one would have to use the bathroom.

  “Amanda confronted me last night,” Two said. “She asked me to come back.”

  “You should come back!” Fisher shouted. “We’re very close to being—”

  “I’m not done,” Two cut in. “I asked her how long she’s been fighting our enemies. About what steps she wants to take against Wompalog and its overlords. About the guards and how we might escape them.”

  “And?” Fisher said, holding his breath and hoping that the next words out of Two’s mouth would be anything other than what he expected them to be.

  “And she looked at me like I was crazy,” Two said, exactly the words Fisher had been dreading he would say. “Oh, she tried to play along after that, but she couldn’t cover up her initial reaction. What side is she really on? Who are we really fighting?”

  “Look,” Fisher said, “I told you people were coming after us, and now you’ve seen it for yourself. We can discuss the details after we make a getaway. For now, we need to focus on getting back home without being caught!”

  “I’m not going anywhere just yet,” Two said, walking past Fisher and putting a hand on the door. “First, I’m going to find out what’s going on, with or without your help.” With that, Two pulled the door open and stormed out.

  “Wait!” Fisher said, on the verge of bolting after him. “This could be our last—” The bathroom door slammed closed an inch from Fisher’s nose. Fisher realized what would happen if his classmates saw them both at the same time. Helplessly, he hid in a stall, stewing.

  Two was taking matters into his own hands. Fisher would have to do the same. He might be lying to Two, but he was doing it for the sake of both of their lives. Wasn’t he? He clenched his fists tightly as he stood up from the stall. He was tired of being followed. He was tired of sneaking around. He was tired of explaining himself to Amanda. But most of all, he was tired of being ignored.

  He was out of time. Two was coming home … one way or another.

  CHAPTER 15

  PEOPLE WONDER WHY I LIKE TO JUST SIT AROUND FOR HOURS AND THINK ABOUT THE UNIVERSE. I WONDER WHY PEOPLE WATCH TV SHOWS WHERE CONTESTANTS RUN THROUGH GIANT LEGO OBSTACLE COURSES FOR MONEY. WE’VE ALL GOT OUR MYSTERIES.

  —WALTER BAS

  Fisher threw the bathroom door open when enough time had passed that he thought it would be safe.

  Moving deliberately and with confidence, he strode right out of the King of Hollywood, across the entrance plaza, and onto the sidewalk, moving at a quick pace.

  Other hotels and large restaurants dotted the street near the hotel, and Fisher wove through the thick crowds. He had an idea of where Two was staying and felt confident he could track Two down at his home. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he got there, but he was getting Two to come back with him if he had to hog-tie him and throw him in a duffel bag.

  He would track FP down, too, even if it meant he had to break into every warehouse and basement in Los Angeles to do it.

  He still wrestled with the question of what he was going to do in the long term. The people coming after him weren’t going to stop until they either recovered the missing AGH or were satisfied that Fisher wasn’t responsible for its loss. There was no more AGH for him to return. The only thing he could think of was keeping Two completely hidden until the agents left his trail. But then what? He couldn’t just parade the clone out again. And it really didn’t look like Two felt like being a hermit for the rest of his life.

  What had Two said? We can’t keep a lid on this thing forever, you know. Fisher knew that he was right. When he had created Two, he had been thinking only
of immediate possibilities and consequences. What would happen in two years, or five years, or ten years? What would happen when Fisher left home to go to college? Could he really expect to keep the world in the dark about Two for that long?

  The only other way to maintain the illusion of a single Fisher, was for the original to leave Palo Alto himself. If Fisher-2 wouldn’t disappear, then Fisher-1 would have to. But even if the plan had been vaguely appealing, he didn’t think it would actually work. His parents were bound to notice the difference.

  Which left him the option of telling the truth.

  Which brought him right back to the spy problem.

  In other words, things would be just as bad as they’d always been.

  The King of Hollywood was close to Melrose Avenue, a major boulevard that ran for miles through LA. If he walked it for long enough, he would eventually reach the little spur of Melrose Place, where GG McGee had said he’d be able to find Two.

  So he’d walk. He knew that he might be late getting back, but if a lecture from Ms. Snapper was the harshest thing he’d have to face tonight, he’d count it as a giant win. With Two gone renegade and FP kidnapped, he no longer cared about chaperones, schedules, or curfews. Besides, if he failed and his pursuers caught up to him, chances are nobody at Wompalog would ever see him again, let alone be able to send him to detention.

  Fisher thrust his hands into his pockets as he walked. His left hand brushed against a piece of paper that was starting to feel old and torn. He pulled it out and unfolded it. The glaring lights of a rodeo-themed barbecue restaurant tinged it a dull red.

  It was his sheet of first-kiss calculations. He stopped in his tracks, staring down at the long series of numeric sequences, variables, and multipart equations, which all contributed to the eventual value of the final variable K. K was probably about equal to the number of stars in the sky by this point. Veronica’s affection had settled firmly on a pop singer who wasn’t even a real singer. Despite the events of the past weeks, Fisher realized nothing had really changed. He was still just as big a nobody as ever.