Armageddon (2 page)

Another wave of guilt went through her when she realized she’d been more interested in pleasing Morris in her choice of profession than because of any real sense of heritage. And the worst of it was, he hadn’t been particularly pleased--not when he discovered she would be employed by the gov he hated with a passion.

Morris snorted, but to her surprise dismissed it after that short spurt of disapproval. “I wish you hadn’t, but it’s done now and you’re stuck with it. If I catch you going down to that place again, though, I’ll tan your backside for you! You might think you’re too grown up for it, but you’re still my baby girl!”

Lena was torn between amusement, love, and indignation at the threat. “Just to see Nigel sometimes. I promise.”

To her surprise and alarm, his face crumpled. “Not even for that, Lena. Promise me you’ll stay away from that place. I know you think my hate has turned my mind, but there’s something going on there.”

In a general way, Lena tended to turn a deaf ear to all of Morris’ talk about conspiracy, but there was real fear in his eyes that sent a current through her. Anger followed it. “That guy that was here--he’s a rebel, isn’t he?”

Morris turned so pale Lena was alarmed. She jumped to her feet and rushed to him. “Morris?”

With an effort, he seemed to recover himself, but she was more alarmed than reassured when he pulled her down on his lap and cuddled her just as he had when she was a small child. “There are rumors.”

She was way too old to behave like a little girl, and Morris was too old now for her to be planting her weight in his lap, but he’d scared her when he turned so white.

She’d been certain it was his heart. Instead of struggling up, she settled against him, nestling her head against his shoulder. “There are always rumors,” she murmured soothingly. “I’m a historian, remember? I may not have been around until after the hundred years of storms and the famine riots, but I’ve read all of the documentation. It was nature that caused the famine. The gov did all that was humanly possible.”

10

Morris made a rude noise. “Sure they did. It was for our own protection that they rounded everybody up into camps. I taught you to think for yourself, baby girl, not to just believe whatever crap the gov decides to feed the public.”

“I do think for myself.
Everybody
was responsible for the imbalance of nature that caused the hundred years of storms. Maybe the gov had a hand in it because they were more focused on the economy than the environment and didn’t protect us like they should have, but they didn’t
make
the storms. And it was the storms that made it impossible to produce enough food to feed people.”

“The gov
was
responsible,” Morris said irritably. “They taught people to behave like children and let them make all of the decisions for them--and they made the
wrong
decisions! Those poor decisions were
directly
responsible for the imbalance that caused the storms. And they didn’t stop there. When the people were starving and fighting for survival, they turned our armies against us.”

“I know. You’re right,” Lena said quietly. “But that was a long time ago. Most of it happened even before your time. Things have changed.”

Morris stroked her back soothingly as he had when she was a child. “They have at that, but not for the better.”

11

Three weeks later

“You’re starting to scare the shit out of me, Morris,” Lena muttered, chaffing her palms along her upper arms as she paced his tiny living room and stared out of the grimy window at the streets below.

“Language, Lena Marie!” Morris growled.

A mixture of guilt, amusement, and irritation flooded Lena. She turned away from the window to study him. “I learned it from you! Quit trying to distract me. Are you in to something?” she asked, returning to the couch and sitting down to face him.

Morris frowned, studying the worn patches of rug beneath his feet. “When did you get to be the adult around here? You think I’m so old you can boss me around like a child?”

This time only guilt and irritation surfaced. She couldn’t tell if he was up to something or if it was just the same old Morris, still predicting the end of the world by gov conspiracy. It didn’t matter what happened, or who was responsible, or even if anyone was responsible. Morris always picked every event apart and discovered the gov’s hand in it.

She couldn’t decide why she felt like this time it was different.

She hadn’t been able to sleep easy since she’d visited him last. Morris had always been protective. Ever since the day he’d found her and her brother, mostly starved, and hiding in an alley because they were too scared to come out and even look for food, he’d been fiercely protective of them, especially her, either because she was the youngest, or because of his old fashioned views on ‘weak’ females.

There’d been something unnerving about the way he’d behaved the last time she’d come to visit him though, something she couldn’t figure out, but also couldn’t put out of her mind.

Ok, so she also couldn’t get that blond god out of her mind either and maybe, somewhere in the back of her mind, she’d more than half hoped she’d run into him again.

Morris wouldn’t be happy about her interest in him, though, and she didn’t quite dare bring him up.

It occurred to her that she had the perfect excuse for bringing the stranger up, though. “That guy that was here when I came last time--is he trying to get you mixed up in something?”

Morris gave her a wide eyed stare of innocence and then frowned, as if he was struggling to recall an elusive memory. “What guy?”

Lena gave him a look. “The one that manhandled me at the door. I’m not buying this, Morris.”

Morris gave up the attempt to pretend his memory was faulty. “Seemed to me you was doing a bit of wallowing there. What’s your interest in my neighbor?” he asked sharply.

12

Lena felt a blush rising in her cheeks in spite of all she could do. “Nothing as long as he isn’t trying to get you in trouble,” she lied.

“Liar. I saw the way the two of you looked each other over. I may be old, but I ain’t senile and I ain’t blind. Don’t even be thinking about it. The guy’s cauc, as pure as can be found in this day and time. You promised me you’d give me some beautiful neg grandbabies to dandle on my knee--you and Nigel both. The young shouldn’t have the ability to breed. They’re too thoughtless. Got nothing on their mind but hot blood when they ought to be considering what they’re passing down to their offspring.”

Full fledged embarrassment swept through Lena. Even her eyeballs felt hot.

“Morris! I never said I wanted to--uh--I’m not lusting over him, for god’s sake! I don’t even
know
him!”

Morris snorted. “It’s a chemical bonfire, baby girl. It ain’t got nothing to do with
knowing
somebody!”

Lena came to her feet and began to pace the room in agitation. Finally, finding herself in front of the couch again, she plopped down on it. It took an effort to paste a smile on her full lips. “Good try. If you’re not up to something, why won’t you come stay with me? I promise not to bother you. You’ll have your own room to yourself and I’m at work most of the time, so you’d have the apartment to yourself except in the evenings. You’re getting skinny. You need somebody to cook for you.”

Morris laughed with real humor. “You got somebody in mind? Cause the last I noticed cooking wasn’t one of your special talents, baby girl.”

Lena gave him a look. “I happen to think I’m pretty good.
You
taught me to cook!”

“Exactly!” he shot back at her. “So if my own cooking is making me skinny, yours ain’t going to help!”

Lena sighed, but when she’d glanced at her time piece, she got to her feet. “I have to go. But I’ll give you fair warning I’m not giving up on this. I’m going to keep on pestering you till you give in.”

Morris pushed himself from his chair, pulled the antiquated gun he carried around with him for protection from under the chair and shoved it into his pants pocket. “I’ll walk you to the terminal. You’d make me happier if you’d quit coming here at all.

You’re too pretty to walk alone around here.”

Lena didn’t argue with him. They both knew it wasn’t safe. If she looked like the south end of a north bound mule it would still be dangerous. “When you come to live with me I won’t have any reason to come here,” she pointed out as they headed out of the apartment and paused in the hallway for Morris to secure all of his locks.

Morris sent her a piercing glance. “I love you, too, Lena Marie. When I get too old and ornery to take care of myself, I might let you drag me home with you like a stray.”

They met up with the blond stranger when they reached the second landing.

Lena’s heart executed a peculiar little flip flop when she saw him mounting the stairs toward them. Her blood began to sing in her ears and disjointed thoughts collided in her head. Should she just smile politely and nod? What if he stopped Morris to talk? Could she say anything at all without making herself look like a complete idiot?

She was still scrambling for something clever to say when he looked up. Heat flashed through her and then cold, and then heat again as his deep blue eyes locked with

13

hers. A wave of dizziness followed. It was almost like hitting an invisible wall, stunning, completely disorienting.

His gaze flickered over her assessingly as they came abreast and then he glanced at Morris.

The two men nodded and moved past each other as if they’d never met.

Lena was still in a state of shock when Morris shoved her into the car of the shuttle and the doors closed behind her.

* * * *

One month later

Morris was smiling when he opened the door. Lena felt her jaw go slack as her gaze traveled over the neatly slicked back hair, his clean shaven face, and down the neatly tucked tunic he was wearing, to his shined shoes. “Baby girl! Come in! Come on in. Don’t just stand in the hall.”

Like a sleepwalker, Lena allowed him to lead her into the apartment. The sense of disorientation increased as she wandered into the living room and stood in the middle of the floor, staring around at it as if she’d never seen the place before while Morris secured the locks on the door.

It was spotless. The smell dominating the area was of cleanser, not the musty smell of dust and clutter, and the combined odors of cooked food from many meals.

“I’ve been giving a lot of thought to your invitation to come live with you and it finally occurred to me that that was the only way I could get you to stop risking your neck coming here.”

Lena turned and stared at Morris blankly. It looked like Morris. The man even sounded like Morris, at least his voice did. Nothing coming out of his mouth sounded like
her
Morris, though.

As stunned as she was, Lena noticed a flicker of something in his eyes that set warning bells to clamoring in her head. She forced a smile. “I knew you’d come around,” she managed to say, though her voice didn’t sound like her own, sounded distant to her ears. She licked suddenly dry lips. “You’re serious? You’re going to come with me?”

He grinned, gesturing toward the packed suitcase sitting on the floor by the bedroom door.

A hard wave of nausea washed over Lena. For several moments she thought she was going to throw up, or burst into tears. Moisture flooded her eyes. “I’m so happy,”

she murmured when he gave her a questioning look. “This is--this is so great! It’ll be like old times.”

She wished she hadn’t thrown that last comment in for good measure. It brought the urge to burst into tears so close it squeezed the breath from her lungs. Numbly, she watched as he hefted the suitcase and turned to look at her expectantly. “You’re ready?”

she asked blankly.

He looked around. “Nothing of any importance around here. I’ve got my best clothes packed, and grooming supplies.”

“What about the gun?”

Something flickered in his eyes, but he merely chuckled. “That old thing hasn’t worked in years. I tossed it.”

14

Nodding, Lena led the way out again. She had no idea what she said on the way to the shuttle terminal. Thankfully, the car was crowded when she and Morris climbed on. She fell silent, grateful for a respite, staring absently at the other passengers, at the blurred view beyond the windows that was little more than streaks of lights and the concrete walls of the tube until they surfaced beyond old city and shot skyward toward the skyline segment of the tube that traversed the newer areas of Grand City.

Morris, she discovered, was babbling about seeing the sights.

She smiled in what she thought was all of the appropriate places. A coldness had begun to creep over her that she couldn’t shake. Surreptitiously, she kept glancing at Morris--his hands, his build, his weathered face--his clothing, his neat hair.

Morris had never been slovenly. He was very particular about good hygiene and he bathed and groomed with regularity. Beyond that, though, he wasn’t a primper and he tended to be very careless in his appearance. He bathed. He raked the tangles from his hair every morning, brushed his teeth, shaved--thereafter, he didn’t give his appearance a thought. He wore whatever was clean, no matter how it clashed with other articles of clothing or how threadbare or ragged it might be. Once he’d combed his hair, he didn’t touch it, which meant it was all over the place within hours of rising, and he didn’t cut it until it began to be a nuisance--most often sawing it off himself with haphazard results.

Lena wanted, badly, to think that Morris had gone to so much trouble to groom himself so that he’d be a credit to her.

She didn’t believe it for one moment, though, simply because she knew it would never occur to Morris that he wasn’t.

Wild thoughts kept tumbling through her mind.

He hadn’t made one comment about the gov--not one, not even when they’d passed the building on the way to the terminal that had anti-gov sentiments painted all over it.

As the shuttle halted at her stop and she got up from her seat like a robot and followed the line of people getting off, something Morris had told her months ago popped into her head.

He’d said rumors had begun to circulate that the gov was replacing people with their clones, clones that had been carefully programmed to conform to gov policies.

She’d actually laughed when he’d told her that because it was just so ridiculous even to consider such a thing. In the first place, cloning humans was illegal. It had
always
been illegal, and it was unnecessary anyway for growing replacement organs. If anyone needed a replacement, they could grow the
organ
. They didn’t need to invest the time and money into growing a whole person, and the economy was still in horrible shape. Even after years and years of struggling, things were only just returning to normal. No way could the gov afford that kind of project. A private company, maybe, but not the gov, which had gone bankrupt during the famine riots and still hadn’t recovered.

And why would a private company want to do such a thing? Or feel the need for such a thing?

It would take years and years of research--illegal research that they would’ve had to keep secret all that time and there was no profit in it that she could see.

Besides, clones couldn’t be an exact replica of a person. People were too complex. Their personalities were developed and shaped by their life experiences. Sure,

15

she supposed with enough research they might be able to copy a person, and they could use the same accelerating techniques they used to produce mature organs to develop them before the person they were copying died of old age, but they’d still just be an imitation.

The moment they began talking and interacting with others, people who knew them well would
know
it wasn’t the person it was supposed to be.

She glanced at Morris again as they threaded their way slowly toward the people tubes.

He was old. Even she had no idea how old he was, but he remembered the famine riots. He even remembered the last of the great storms.

It was ridiculous. The thoughts tumbling through her mind were just plain crazy.

Why did she feel like weeping then? Why did she feel like somebody had just ripped her heart out of her chest?

Because she knew they’d done something to him. All these years she’d ignored his ramblings, certain that he was just paranoid, but he wasn’t the Morris that had been a father to her and her brother. They’d--somebody had--been fucking with his mind.

Or maybe
she
was just being paranoid? He
was
old. Maybe he’d had some sort of seizure?

Could something like that alter his personality?

She smiled at him again when they got into the lift tube and she’d pressed the 45th level. “How long since you had a check up?” she asked tentatively.

He frowned at her. “Why would you ask me a thing like that?” he demanded tersely.

Lena almost felt better. That sounded a lot more like the Morris she knew and loved.

Some of the shock was wearing off, but she didn’t feel a whole lot better. “You don’t eat right and you’re no spring chicken. I’m worried about you. I’d feel a lot better if you’d go in for a check up.”

He shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”

The urge to burst into tears assailed her again, stinging her nose and eyes.
That
wasn’t like Morris at all.

She managed a tremulous smile. “We’re going to have such fun together. It’ll be like old times.”

It wouldn’t, though. She had a horrible feeling everything that was important to her was already lost and she would never get it back.