Replication (12 page)

Be still
.

When Dad looked up, his eyes were moist. “One of the last things your mother ever said to me was, ‘Please don’t kill to avenge my death.’” Dad put his glasses back on. “I told myself she was very sick, that she didn’t really know what she was saying. That the disease had …” Dad squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed. “I don’t understand a lot at Jason Farms, but I’ve run enough tests this week to know that most of the boys are perfectly healthy. I can see no reason for them to … expire.”

A chill ran over Abby. Dad would help. Jason Farms had gone too far, even for him. It was a start, one she would accept for now.

Thank you, Lord, for helping him see that much
.

Dad stood. “They’ll come looking for him. We need to get the tracker out of his ear, or it will lead them straight here.”

“Tracker?” Abby swatted her dad’s leg. “When were you going to mention this?”

Marty looked from Abby to Dad and back to Abby. “What’s a tracker?”

Dad walked to the door. “Come on into the bathroom, son.”

Abby stood, took Marty’s hand, and helped him up. Marty didn’t let go of her hand, so they trailed after Dad together.

“Wait here,” Dad said. “I need a razor blade.”

Once Dad left, Abby stared at the reflection in the mirror above the sink. Was it bad that she liked how they looked holding hands?

She bumped her shoulder against his arm. “Red looks good on you.”

Marty’s face tinged pink and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. His presence made her heart start up like a generator. He turned his head to look down on her. She made eye contact. Big mistake. His hot chocolate eyes heated her to the core. Like JD, he was so intense, but about different things. Marty was just plain curious about life.

Dad returned with a little pile of first aid supplies and a pair of wire clippers. He set his goods on the counter and shut the toilet lid.

“Put your right foot up here.”

Marty complied but wobbled. Abby let go of his hand and slid against his side, wrapping her arm around his waist. To keep him steady, of course.

He turned his intense eyes on her again, then settled his arm around her shoulders.

Dad took the wire clippers to the ring on Marty’s ankle. “I don’t think the taser will work this far from the lab, but better to be safe.” He squeezed the clippers and emitted a tiny grunt before a crack rang out. Dad set the clippers on the floor, wrenched the ring off Marty’s ankle, and tossed it on the counter.

Marty put his foot down, so Abby left his side and picked up the taser. A plastic shell coated the outside of the ring, but inside, pairs of electrodes were evenly spaced.

Barbaric.

“Go ahead and sit down,” Dad told Marty.

Marty obeyed. Dad placed his hand on the back of Marty’s head and tipped it forward. “Hold very still. I’m no surgeon.”

Dad folded Marty’s left ear forward and ran a finger over the top edge. Abby could see a black line through the skin.
Eww
.

“It’s going to hurt for a second,” Dad said, putting the razor into position. “One … two … three.”

Abby winced as Dad carved along the black line. Marty twitched. Then Dad tossed the razor into the sink and pushed at the black line with his thumbnail.

Marty’s breath hitched.

“Got it!” Dad held a bloody black chip in the palm of his hand. He snapped it in half with his fingers and set it on the counter. “I’ll take that into town and drop it somewhere just in case.”

Dad moved to the sink to wash his hands, and Abby took over. She swabbed Marty’s cut with an alcohol wipe and covered it with a bandage.

“All done,” she said.

“Thank you, Daughter Abby.”

“She’s not daughter to you,” Dad said. “She’s just Abby. Abby Goyer.”

Marty looked from Dad into Abby’s eyes. “Thank you, Abby Goyer.”

How sweet was that? Abby beamed. She liked the way he said her name, without the baiting intonation JD used.

Dad turned the water off. “They hadn’t known he’d left the building until just before I went home. All day they thought he was hiding somewhere. Martyr has a lot of little hiding spots, don’t you?”

“I help Baby hide, and sometimes Hummer.”

Dad patted Marty on the shoulder. “Dr. Kane was out of the office all morning and by the time he arrived, the guards had started to suspect you’d gotten outside somehow—mostly because of the missing keycards.”

Marty’s face flushed.

Dad went on. “When Dr. Kane demanded to see the surveillance tapes from last night, the lab went into an uproar. I guess he hadn’t asked for surveillance tapes in so long no one remembered how to do it. Then he wanted them to pull Martyr’s code up on the tracker system, which is something they’ve
never
had to use. They didn’t even have the computer software set up. Got spoiled with the video surveillance, I guess. Dr. Kane put a guy on it, but he’d barely started when I left. The lower levels were on lockdown. Dr. Kane sent everyone home who wasn’t necessary.

“Long story short, we’ve got to get him out of our house. If the parking lot has a surveillance tape, and I’m sure it does, we need to find someplace else for him before they see it, otherwise—”

“I can take him to see Kylee’s brother. He’ll be able to help us, I think.” Didn’t all pastors take vows to help the orphans and widows or something?

“We can’t drag more people into this,” Dad said.

“But we need someplace to keep him outside of our house, in case anyone from the lab comes looking. Kylee’s brother is a pastor. He’ll keep everything confidential.”

Dad groaned softly, so Abby kept going. “And I think you should call the police—after Marty is safe, of course. Tell them Marty came here in the back of your truck, but you didn’t know.”

“I
didn’t
know.”

“Exactly. But then we say I freaked out when he snuck inside my room, and you came running, then called the police. We make it seem like this just happened.”

Dad tipped back his head. “That way we won’t look involved.”

Marty’s eyebrows sank. “What are the police?”

“Police are people who enforce order and safety and laws,” Abby said.

“Like Rolo and Johnson?”

“Kind of,” Dad said. “But police aren’t … They don’t … They’re nicer. They’re on our side.”

Abby squeezed Marty’s hand. “It’ll be okay. Then Dad can call Jason Farms and report it, saying he didn’t realize it was you until after he called the police.” She turned to Dad. “You should ask them what you should do next. Make them think you’re still on their side.”

Dad shot Abby a withering glare. “I never said I wasn’t on their side.”

Marty looked terribly confused. “You want them to find me?”

“No.” Abby took Martyr’s hand. “But we don’t want to look suspicious. They won’t find you at Pastor Scott’s place. Trust me.”

“I trust you, Abby Goyer.”

She smiled. Cloned boys were way nicer than the regular ones. Cloned JDs, anyway.

M
ARTYR HAD NEVER RIDDEN
inside a car. He liked the red color of this one very much, but the
seatbelt
reminded him of the restraints on the exam tables at the Farm. He shifted in his seat, pulling at the confining strap across his chest and staring at the surroundings flashing by. The only thing that made it bearable was the fact Abby’s car smelled sweet like her. He gripped the handle above the door as she steered around the curves in the road. The car moved very fast over the hard snow, and twice, when Abby slowed at a red sign that said STOP, the car skidded over the white line.

Martyr wasn’t convinced this was normal.

Abby steered the car into an open area with many other cars
of different sizes, colors, and styles. She stopped and climbed out. Martyr followed her toward a tall facility with many windows. The sky was starting to grow dim, and the lights shone brightly from the glass panes.

Martyr slipped on the icy ground, not used to the boots Dr. Goyer had loaned him. He was glad to have them, as they—and the red
Christmas
socks—kept his feet from touching the freezing ground, but they were tight, pinched his toes, and felt awkward to walk in.

Abby grabbed his arm. “Careful. It’s really slick here.”

Martyr wanted to answer, but her statement seemed so obvious, he wasn’t certain she sought a response. As she drew him closer, her sweet smell reached his nose. It was harder to detect in the cold air, but still pleasant. He liked how she worried over him. No one had ever worried over Martyr like this. Not since Dr. Woman, anyway.

“Kylee said he’s in apartment 5C,” Abby said. “Try to remember that in case you leave for some reason. But don’t leave unless I come for you or tell you otherwise.”

“5C,” Martyr repeated as Abby pressed a button on a silver box attached to a black gate.

“And keep my cell phone in case you need it.” She held out the red device.

Martyr took the device from her, running his fingers over the smooth, red top.
Cell phone?

“Hello?” The voice came from the box.

“Pastor Scott? This is Abby Goyer. Kylee’s friend? She said she called you. Is this a bad time? We really need your help.”

“Not at all, come on up.”

The box emitted a metallic buzz, one Martyr wasn’t sure he liked. Abby pushed open the gate, took Martyr by the hand, and went inside, towing him along. Her touch—even wrapped in the black glove—sent a wave of heat through his body. Her hand was small and always seemed to know what to do. Her hands would never hurt anyone, either; Martyr just knew it.

A tall man with dark brown skin answered door 5C. His hair
was very short and black, and a short beard shaded his chin. He opened the door wide enough for Abby and Martyr to enter. Martyr tried not to stare, but the man’s skin was even darker than Dr. Max’s.

“Have a seat, guys.” The man motioned to a long, brown, L-shaped
sectional
, similar to the one shown on TV. This room also had a TV, much smaller than the one at Abby’s facility.

Abby sat in the center of the sectional. Martyr sat beside her. A woman with short, curly black hair stepped out of a doorway at the back of the room. Her skin was lighter brown, like Dr. Max’s. And there was something wrong with this woman: her stomach protruded out in front abnormally, making the fabric of her shirt stretch tight over her belly like she was hiding something. She took her time lowering herself onto the end of the sectional, as if her body were injured.

The woman’s smile took up most her face. “Hi, I’m Aliza, Scott’s wife.” She leaned over and held out her hand.

Martyr stared at her hand. Was he supposed to do something? He turned to Abby and whispered, “What’s
wife
?”

“I’ll explain later.” Abby reached across Martyr’s lap and grasped Aliza’s hand briefly. “I’m Abby.”

Martyr whispered again, “Is she a broken?”

Abby gave him a curious smile. “Why do you ask?”

Martyr touched his stomach. “She has an abnormal growth.”

Abby giggled, her green eyes sparkling. “Aliza’s pregnant. I’m sure she’s perfectly healthy.”

Martyr wanted to ask what
pragment
was but figured now was the wrong time.

Pastor Scott sat on the arm of a recliner across the room. There had been many recliners “on sale now” on the TV as well.

“You’re JD Kane, right?” Pastor Scott asked. “I saw you play against Colony at regionals.”

Again Martyr looked to Abby, not knowing what to say.

Abby scooted to the edge of the sectional. “Pastor Scott, something amazing has been going on in this community for a long
time. Completely unethical, but amazing. Did Kylee tell you anything about my dad?”

“Only that the two of you have some major differences of opinions.”

“My dad’s a molecular biologist. For years he’s been seeking cures for diseases via embryonic stem cell technology. It’s a pretty controversial line of work, but my mom had cancer, and even though Mom disagreed with Dad’s line of work, he was desperate. Anyway, this is the first job Dad has taken since we lost Mom last year. I had hoped he was working someplace … normal.”

Martyr had no parents, but he could imagine that losing a mother must be horrible. Losing Dr. Woman and the J:1s and J:2s had been hard enough.

“JD Kane is my lab partner at Fishhook High,” Abby said. “He was at my house last night studying. Kylee was there too. When they left, I went up to my room and found Marty.” She placed her hand on Martyr’s thigh, causing his stomach to lighten. “I thought it was JD, playing some weirdo prank, until JD called my cell phone from his truck. He’d forgotten some of his books and wanted me to run them out to him since my dad didn’t seem to like him much.”

“JD was on the phone, but this guy”—Pastor Scott pointed at Martyr—”was in your room?”

“Exactly,” Abby said. “I ran out to give JD his books—he really was out in his truck,
with
hair—and when I came back inside, Marty was still in my room. He said he stole my dad’s keycard, got out of the lab, and rode to my house in the back of Dad’s truck. I guess I should explain my dad works at an underground lab called Jason Farms, which is run by Dr.
Jason
Kane. According to Marty, there are fifty-five Jasons on this
Farm
. I think they’re all clones of Dr. Kane.”

Pastor Scott’s lips twisted in a small smile. “Real cute, guys. Did Danny Chang put you up to this? ‘Cause I’m gonna get that guy good.”

“You have to believe me,” Abby said. “Marty is in danger—the scientists want him back. Please, can he stay here for now? Just
until things calm down? Dad is worried they’ll come to the house any minute.”

Pastor Scott glanced at Aliza. “Abby, we’ve just met JD—I mean, your friend. I don’t think—”

“Marty’s the nicest guy in the world, I promise. You don’t have anything to worry about. May he sleep on your couch, at least for tonight? He has a lot of questions about God that I don’t know how to answer. The Bible doesn’t really talk about cloning, so—”

“Okay,” Aliza said. “He can stay while we sort this out, but if his dad comes looking, we have to let him go. We want to help, but we can’t harbor a runaway.”

“O-kay. Good. Thank you.” Abby closed her eyes for a moment. “But he’s
not
JD Kane. Look, if you stop by the school tomorrow at lunch, I’ll sit with JD, so I can prove it to you. Trust me, I wouldn’t offer to sit with him unless it was important.” Her voice rose. “If we don’t help Marty, they’ll kill him. If he dies, the other fifty-four boys will likely die too.”

Martyr tensed. Could that be true? Only the J:3s were scheduled to expire soon.

Pastor Scott raised his hands. “Okay, okay. Calm down. We’ll keep an open mind.”

“Can we talk to your dad about this?” Aliza asked.

“Yeah,” Abby said. “I’ll have him call you after we deal with the police.”

Aliza raised an eyebrow, and her voice squeaked out, “Excuse me?”

“Don’t worry. It’s only to throw off Dr. Kane’s guards.” Abby stood, and Martyr stood with her. She turned and looked into his eyes. “I’d better go before they change their minds. You’ll be safe here. I’ll call when I know what to do next.” She bit her thumbnail, then leaned up on her toes and pressed her lips against his cheek. Martyr’s body tingled with electricity, like when the ankle taser was activated but without the pain.

Abby pulled away too soon, and the pleasantness of her touch faded into a sensation of fear. She was really going to leave him with these people? She said she would call, but how? He followed
her to the door, still clutching the cell phone in his hand. Perhaps she meant for him to talk into the device like she had. Would Pastor Scott or the pragment Aliza show him how to use it? “Will I see you again?”

Abby grinned, but her eyes did not sparkle. “Of course, silly. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Then she threw her arms around him, like she did before leaving that morning for school. Martyr felt another small burst of electricity. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled, hoping to commit her scent to memory.

“Don’t worry, okay?” Abby said. “I’m really smart about these things. Once I get a project, I never fail. You’ll be okay, I promise.”

Then she was gone.

When Abby walked into the house, the first thing she saw was the box on the counter. She peeked inside, wondering why Dad had brought his things home.

“Abby, honey? That you?” Dad walked down the first two steps from upstairs and paused when he met her eyes.

Abby motioned to the box. “I meant to ask you earlier. What’s all this?”

“Dr. Kane asked us to take home any personal belongings, just in case.”

“In case the cops came snooping around?”

Dad sighed and walked down the stairs. “Looks that way.” He sat on a stool at the counter. “I know you’ve always disagreed with my work, but—”

“Dad, can we not do this right—”

“You’re right. About a lot of things. I’m not saying you’re right about everything, but a lot, okay? What Dr. Kane is doing with those boys is wrong.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

She put her arm around his shoulder, and he pulled her close. “Thank you, for not letting me lie to myself about it, honey. You ready for me to call the police?”

Abby took a deep breath. “I think so.”

Dad placed the call, explaining how his daughter had found an intruder in her room and scared him away and that Abby wasn’t hurt. They promised to send a car as soon as possible.

Abby went up to her room to pray. She went over the situation with God, hoping to feel some validation about their plans, but instead her prayers drifted from Marty to her dad’s involvement in a cloning lab, then settled on her mother.

Mom would have known exactly what to do.

Tears streaked down Abby’s cheeks. People always said you never know when it might be the last time you do certain things in your life. Most of Abby’s final memories with her mom hadn’t been that way. They’d known Mom was dying and had plenty of time to fit in a last trip to various places, but the memories weren’t completely joyful because they all knew it had been the last: The last trip to Niagara Falls. The last trip to New York City. The last time standing together on the Empire State Building. The last time making cookies. The last time sitting in church. The list went on and on. Abby relived them all, forgetting that she had been praying. Dwelling on the loss that now felt so fresh. So raw.

Why had it happened? In her heart, Abby knew she didn’t need to know; she trusted God. Still, her heart ached for what could have been. She longed for the moment when she would see the good in this loss, how God had made beauty from ashes.

For just a moment, Abby indulged herself in trying to make an answer fit, trying to understand God’s plan. If her mother hadn’t died, Dad might not have quit his job at GWU, because he wouldn’t have been as desperate to try and save Mom. They all would still be living in Washington DC, and they wouldn’t know Marty existed. Marty might not have even managed to escape, for surely the scientists who worked there for years knew better than to leave their keycards lying around.

The bittersweet reasoning eased some pain in Abby’s heart. A new sorrow overtook her mind: the idea of Marty living underground, never seeing the sun or sky, never breathing fresh air, fifty-five of him, all different ages, some strong, some broken, all
prisoners in the name of science. Baby and Hummer and the one without legs …

Abby spiraled into another wave of emotion, pleading to God that he would expose the wrongness and protect the boys. If it wasn’t done just right, the government might take the boys away to a new prison to be studied by different scientists. The doorbell jolted her back to reality. She snapped out of prayer mode, said a quick amen, and peeked out the window. The cops were here.

She smoothed her hair and went into the bathroom to rinse off her face, which didn’t bring down the swelling as much as she’d like. She ran cold water over a washcloth and held it against her eyes. It seemed like she stood there forever. She turned the washcloth over and put the cooler side on her eyelids. What was going on downstairs? Would Dad even involve—?

“Abby, honey?” Dad’s voice called from downstairs.

Finally. She draped the washcloth over the towel rack and took a deep breath. “Coming.”

Abby descended the stairs and found two officers sitting on the couch in the living room—a man with a thick brown moustache and a woman with a long blonde ponytail. The woman’s crystal-blue eyes made Abby think of a human lie detector. She hoped her perceptions were wrong.

Dad was sitting in the armchair across from them. “Here she is.”

Abby walked over to her dad and perched on the arm of his chair.

He put his arm around her waist. “Abby, these officers have come to ask some questions about the intruder.”

Abby forced a small smile and glanced from one cop to the other. “I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be.”

“I’m Officer Jackson,” the female cop said. “This is Officer McNear.” She gestured to the guy with the mustache. “Were you hurt at all?”