Finding Fiona (4 page)

God, I wish my parents would get
back from their retreat. They changed the security code, like they
always do the first Friday of the month, but I don’t know it. I
want to get into Remus. I want it to be finished already. I know
it’s crazy, but I keep thinking about what it would be like to have
a new James, one before he went to Virginia. But then he wouldn’t
remember anything, and what would that be like?

Fiona sat up, staring at the words in
amazement. A new James? What did that mean?

She found
American Physics
and flipped to the
article her parents had written. They thought human replication was
possible. It was a matter of manipulating the forces of the world
so they took on different forms.

She looked again at the entry in the journal.
A new James without memory. The new James was connected to Remus
somehow. She stared at the words. The Remus project had a
connection with human replication. It was some kind of machine or
something, one that Elizabeth thought could make a new
James.

Her mind hurt as she tried to consider how a
device like that would work. The human body had so many
intricacies, so many different elements, and one couldn’t create
those things out of nothing. It didn’t make sense.

But then he wouldn’t remember
anything
.

Reading the words again sent a shock through
her. She didn’t remember anything. It couldn’t mean…

She looked down at the journal for more, but
the entry was over. There were only two more entries.

March 15th

Gosh, I wish I could write about
everything going on here, but my dad says to keep it in our lab
notebooks only. Or on the video logs. It’s crazy, though, it’s like
nothing I ever thought was possible. The Remus Project–it works.
Never mind, I shouldn’t.

April 26th

I know I haven’t been writing, but
I just haven’t had time. I’m trying to stay up with school, but
there is a lot going on.

I think James and I might try
again. I’m really happy.

And that was it. Nothing else.
Fiona flipped the pages, yearning for more.
For Pete’s sake!
she thought. She
threw the journal on the ground in frustration.

She went to Hannah’s computer and
pulled up a search engine. She typed as fast her fingers
worked:
Elizabeth Normans.

She got more results for Elizabeth Norman than
Normans, but then she stopped. ‘3 killed in fire in physics lab,’ a
headline read. The article was dated May 6th 2010, the day after
Hannah had found her.

On May 4th, a fire killed three
people in downtown Manhattan. Richard and Fiona Normans, two
physicists, and their nineteen-year-old daughter, Elizabeth, were
found dead once the firefighters put out the fire.

Fiona read the sentence repeatedly until the
words blurred together. Elizabeth Normans was dead. No, no, no. She
was alive. She was sitting right here reading this
article.

She forced herself to read on.

Fire officials say the fire broke
out about 10 p.m. It destroyed most of their laboratory and home
but firefighters put it out before it spread further. Three bodies
were found early yesterday morning. Medical examiners identified
the remains yesterday afternoon.

The fire remains under
investigation, and Officer George Harver speculates a gas leak and
the contents of the lab fueling the flames.

Richard Normans worked for New
York University as a Physics professor, and his wife was an author.
The two worked in their lab, known for their experimental physics
and research. Their daughter Elizabeth was a student at New York
University and had been planning to study abroad this summer at
their campus in Florence, Italy.

The laboratory at
2673 Elmscott Avenue in Manhattan was built in
1902 as a bank, but closed during the depression. In 1942,
Christopher Normans, father of the deceased Richard Normans, bought
the building and turned it into his laboratory. When he died in
1997, it passed onto his son, Richard, who made it his home with
his wife and daughter.

The funeral for all three victims
will be held at 1:00 p.m. on May 7th at Holy Trinity Cemetery &
Mausoleum.

Fiona sat back, taking a deep breath. Three
bodies. One of them identified as Elizabeth. She looked at the
journal by the keyboard. If Elizabeth Normans was dead, then who
was she? If she was Elizabeth Normans, then who was the girl who’d
died in the fire?

She put her head in her hands,
thinking back to the article in
American
Physics.
Human replication. The Normans’s
had said it was possible. Elizabeth had written that it
worked.

This was what the Alarias had wanted. A device
that replicated people. They must have found out it was working.
But why would they kill the people who had the information they
needed? And how… this is what James had kept from her. He must
think she was a replica of Elizabeth Normans who had truly died in
the fire, and he didn’t want to tell her. What a coward. He should
have told her.

She took out her phone, but didn’t think she
could call him. She had no idea what she’d say: angry, horrible
things, maybe. She didn’t trust herself.

She went back to the search results page, but
couldn’t find anything related to a nineteen-year-old Elizabeth
Normans. She searched for Richard and Fiona Normans.

She found articles from other science journals
and magazines, links to a short online encyclopedia about physics,
and more articles about their deaths. Their names were on an NYU
alumni page, but after the first few pages, there was nothing
related to them.

Fiona went to Facebook and clicked the friend
finder. She typed in Elizabeth Normans. Only a few profiles came
up, but one of the profile pictures was clearly her. A mirror copy
of Fiona, standing next to James. Her biography just had math and
science jokes, most of them physics related. Her interests were the
same as Fiona’s: old horror movies, classic rock, and thriller
novels. She soaked up as much information as she could, trying to
memorize details as though she might take a quiz
tomorrow.

Troy called from the kitchen, “You two ready
for an awesome dinner? It’s almost ready.”

The smell of spaghetti floated through the
house. Fiona got off the computer and walked into the kitchen, the
journal in her hand. Hannah sat at the island, watching Troy stir
the sauce into the pasta.

The kitchen was sleek and black with
stainless-steel appliances. Hannah’s expertise with cooking
extended mostly to picking up the phone and calling out, so much of
the kitchen was unused.

Fiona wanted to tell Hannah everything, but
she knew how outlandish it all sounded. She thought she was
Elizabeth Normans, even though the firefighters had pulled her body
out of a fire. It couldn’t be possible. There was some mistake.
There had to be. She was Elizabeth Normans, and some other girl had
died in the fire.

“
When’s the next time you’re going
to New York?” Fiona asked Hannah.

Hannah shrugged. “Not sure. Probably not long,
it’s been two weeks.”

“
I want to go whenever you go,”
Fiona said, trying to sound casual.

“
Yeah, that’d be fun.”

Troy watched them, but when Fiona looked at
him, he averted his eyes. She didn’t want to say it in front of
Hannah, but she hoped Troy didn’t come to New York. He’d nearly
ruined the trip today. If James hadn’t shown up, the only good
thing that would have happened was the article.

Fiona’s heart slammed against her
chest. She’d completely forgotten about the article. It would run
in the
Boston Herald
this week. The reporter said it could even be tomorrow. Would
the Alarias see it? She started to walk back to her
room.

“
Dinner’s ready!” Troy called after
her.

“
I’ll be out in a second,” Fiona
said.

She shut the door to her room and called
James. He answered on the second ring. “Hey,” he said.

“
Hi. It’s me.”

“
Yeah, I know.”

Fiona’s breath caught in her throat, and
neither of them said anything. She closed her eyes, exhaling.
“Which one do you think I am?”

“
I think you’re Elizabeth,” he said
quickly.

“
Why? What makes you think that? I
have no memories.”

“
You have some,” he said, urgency
in his voice. “You do remember things, Fiona, just not
everything.”

“
I could be the replica,
though–wait, no. No, this machine isn’t even possible. I mean, it’s
insane to think of a machine just duplicating living things. That
goes against so many laws of physics it’s not even
funny.”

“
Well, you definitely know more
than I do.”

“
It’s not possible,” she whispered.
She couldn’t think about it right now. “Look, today, I talked to a
reporter. It was a follow-up piece on my amnesia. She said it could
run this week. Do you think the Alarias will see it?”

“
Oh, god,” James breathed. “What
paper?”

“
The
Boston Herald
.”

He swore. “They definitely could. Daniel works
at NYU. They have all kinds of papers in the library. You should
call them and ask them not to run it.”

“
Are you sure? I mean…” Fiona
trailed off. Her argument with Troy didn’t make sense anymore.
She’d found someone from her past. She didn’t need the article
anymore. “Okay, I’ll call them.”

“
Okay… I wish I could see you
again.”

Fiona smiled. She wished the same thing. She
wanted to talk with him about the past until her throat hurt.
“Hannah might go to New York soon.”

“
Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good
idea. The Alarias are here. They could be watching the
house.”

“
It’s a huge city.” She and Hannah
had gotten lost there plenty of times, but Fiona usually got them
out by instinctively knowing which streets to take.

“
I just don’t know, okay? The last
time I talked to the Alarias, they threatened to put a restraining
order on me if I told anyone about the Remus project.”

“
Really?” Fiona was starting to
trust him, but maybe she shouldn’t. She kept bouncing between the
two: trust him or don’t, trust him or don’t.

“
Yeah.”

Pounding on the door made Fiona jump. Troy
shouted that dinner was ready.

“
I should go,” Fiona told James.
“I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up before he could say much
else. She didn’t want him to say something like, ‘I love you.’ She
had no idea how she’d respond to that.

She swung open her door, glaring at Troy.
“You’re very concerned about my nutrition.”

“
Just come eat,” Troy said with
exasperation.

* * *

The next day, she called the medical
examiner’s office in New York. She paced around her bedroom as the
phone rang. She tried to piece together what she might
say.

“
Hello?” a female voice
answered.

“
Hi,” Fiona said, “I’m looking for
records on someone who died four months ago in
Manhattan.”

“
I see. Are you on the list of
authorized individuals for this person?”

“
Um, I don’t know.” Fiona couldn’t
explain she might be Elizabeth Normans when Elizabeth Normans was,
according to them, dead.

“
What’s your name?”

Fiona swallowed. “Sarah Roland.”

“
Okay, and the
deceased?”

“
Elizabeth Normans.”

“
Her birthday?”

“
April 3rd, 1991.” Fiona gasped,
putting a hand over her mouth. She’d seen the month and day on
Elizabeth’s Facebook profile, but she remembered the year on her
own. That made her twenty years old. She grinned.

“
Let me check while I put you on
hold.”

Fiona had accessed Elizabeth’s Facebook
account after finding an e-mail address that looked familiar. It
took nearly an hour of her morning to guess her password, but when
she logged in, she couldn’t believe how familiar everything was:
her friends’ names, including Sarah Roland; the status updates; the
pictures. She felt sure this had been her profile once, but she
couldn’t escape the body the medical examiner had identified as
Elizabeth Normans.

There was a knock on her door.
Fiona opened it a crack to see Troy standing in the hallway. Was
he
ever
at his own
house?

“
Hey, you want to see a movie with
Hannah and I tonight?” Troy asked.

“
Uh, yeah, sure,” Fiona said. “What
are you going to see?”

“
I don’t know yet. Who are you
talking to?”

“
The Social Security office. I need
to make another appointment.”