Finding Fiona (6 page)

But if she was the replica… that was
completely different. Elizabeth thought the replica wouldn’t have
memories. What would make her think that? They had never done it
before. It wasn’t as if memories were in a separate area from the
rest of the brain. Fiona knew that from the last four months. Small
things could spark a memory of a nameless face. Everything held
meaning, even if she couldn’t describe why. Some things had been
explained since she’d met James: why she wanted to go to Florence,
Italy; her reaction to Indian food; why she’d chosen the name
Fiona.

Fiona remembered the successful cloning of
Dolly the sheep, but the cells’ biological clocks, unable to reset,
gave the clone a short life. But this was obviously different. If
the Remus project sought true replication and achieved it with
Fiona, then her genes were identical to Elizabeth Normans’s genes
on the day the replication happened. What did that mean for her
telomeres, her biological clock?

“
We’re almost there,” James
said.

She saw the cemetery ahead as James looked for
a parking spot. It took up nearly two blocks, the statues and
tombstones visible through the brightly colored leaves. After they
parked, they approached the cemetery’s large iron gates and checked
in at the office.

“
This place is huge,” James told
her as they strolled onto the path. “It’s the only active cemetery
in Manhattan.”

When the breeze blew through the trees, leaves
sprinkled down onto the tombstones. The sun shone down in cracks
through the branches, spreading kaleidoscope designs on the grass.
The tombstones were old and intricate; on some of them Fiona
couldn’t even read the text. They followed a stone path, passing
tourists who stopped to take pictures of angelic statues, crosses,
and other monuments.

James led her to a free-standing building
where engravings ran along the stone in rows and aisles. There were
small cracks in them; there must have been niches for the remains.
She looked at him questioningly.

“
Walter decided to cremate the
bodies,” James said quietly.

“
Oh.” Fiona had expected a grave to
visit.

He cleared his throat. “It’s just… the fire
was so bad and it destroyed a lot, you know? Plus, the house cost a
lot of money, and we all tried to chip in, but, well…” James
motioned to one block of stone just below eye-level. Richard
Normans lay in the middle with his daughter and wife on either side
of him. They all had the same date of death, and Elizabeth was born
April 3rd, 1991, just as Fiona had remembered.

There were small vases along the wall, and
some of them were filled with flowers. Fiona wished she’d brought
something.

She had spent all summer wondering if she had
any family. Elizabeth was an only child and her parents were now
dead. Fiona fought back tears. She remembered that crushing weight
from her nightmares as she ran down the steps, the knowledge that
something was lost. Something irreplaceable. The hopes for a teary
reunion, cozy Christmas dinners, and embarrassing baby photos were
gone now. She had James, Hannah, a mysterious uncle, and her life
to fight for.

“
What were they like?” she asked
James. “My… Richard and Fiona?”

James put his hands in his pockets. “They were
great. Richard was protective of you at first, but we started
getting along. We’d watch these really cheesy science fiction
movies, things reputable movie theaters don’t even think about
showing.”

Fiona smiled. “I’ve seen a few of those this
summer.”

“
Your mom was great to be around,
everyone loved her,” James said. “She was the most amazing cook,
too. You have her smile. When you answered the phone, a lot of
people thought you were your mom.”

Yellow flowers rested in the vase next to
Elizabeth’s niche. “Do they get a lot of visitors?” Fiona
asked.

“
A few.”

She swallowed as tears trickled down her
cheeks. She wiped them away. She should have been here to help bury
them. No, the fire never should have happened. If the Alarias were
truly responsible, she’d never forgive them. She’d do anything she
could for justice. She couldn’t even remember the details of her
parents’ faces or specific memories, but when she thought of them,
she couldn’t help but feel love.

They stood in silence for a few minutes. James
moved closer to her and took her hand. “The last time I was here, I
thought you were dead.”

She squeezed his hand. He smiled at her. For a
moment, it looked like he might move closer, but he turned and
stared at the mausoleum.

Sniffling, Fiona said, “I need to get back to
Hannah.”

“
Where is she?”

“
Near Penn Station.”

“
Wow. You took the bus the whole
way to Elmscott?”

Fiona nodded.

“
Do you want a ride?”

She turned to him. “I want to go with you to
Elmscott.”

James didn’t respond at first, giving her a
hard look. “Give me two days.”

“
Two days?” Fiona let go of his
hand. “What am I supposed to do during that time? Sign up for
another appointment with the Social Security office so maybe this
time I can get a number?”

“
Come on, you trust me,
right?”

Fiona pursed her lips. She did, especially
after reading about him in the journal in nearly every entry. “Yes,
I do. Two days. I’ll be here Saturday morning whether you like it
or not.”

“
That’s one day.”

“
Today’s Thursday!”

“
I said give me two days, not come
here in two days. Sunday, okay?” James paused. “I
promise.”

She suddenly had a flash of memory: James
promising to call her. He was young, and he was looking up at her
from a football field. He wore a uniform covered in mud and dirt,
his black hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

She stared at the present James and slowly
nodded. “Okay. You still don’t want me to tell Hannah?”

“
No, please don’t,” he said. “I
can’t show you any proof that the Alarias are crazy without taking
you near Elmscott, but trust me. Just keep your head down,
okay?”

They walked out of the cemetery in silence. It
was a place that Fiona might find peaceful if her parents’ remains
weren’t kept here, reminding her of her loss. James drove her back
to Penn Station. She almost asked about her parents’ funeral, but
then she remembered it had been her funeral, as well. If she was
Elizabeth. She didn’t want to know about that yet. Maybe
later.

James pulled into a parking lot. “I’ll call
you tonight. I want you here just as much as you want to be here. I
just want to make sure it’s safe.”

“
All right,” Fiona said. “I’ll talk
to you later.”

She stepped out of the car and waved goodbye.
She watched his car fade away as it wove its way into the city
streets.

* * *

“
Hey, Fiona? Fiona, wake up. I know
it’s early, but I wanted you to see this.”

Fiona groaned as Hannah turned on the lamp on
her nightstand. “What?” she asked sleepily.

Hannah stood over her in her work clothes. She
handed her a newspaper. “The reporter ran the article.”

“
What?” Fiona
said, taking the newspaper and sitting up. Hannah had turned the
paper to the third page. The headline read,
Four Months Later: Amnesia-Ridden Fiona.

“
I can’t believe this,” Fiona said.
She skimmed the first few paragraphs about how Hannah found her,
helped her, and took her in. It talked about her summer in Boston,
mainly through their quotes. “I called them a dozen times and asked
them not to run this!”

“
What do you mean?” Hannah asked,
her brow furrowed. “Why would you do that?”

The last paragraph said anyone who may know
where Fiona’s family was should call the Boston police department.
It didn’t mention she hadn’t wanted the article written. “I can’t
believe this,” she repeated.

“
Can’t believe what? You wanted
this.”

“
I’m not a circus attraction,”
Fiona said with frustration.

“
What? Nobody’s treating you like
one. They’re just curious about, you know, what’s happened with
you.”

“
It’s an invasion of my privacy.”
Fiona reached for her phone and texted James. Her fingers shook as
she punched out the letters. All she could think about was the men
who dragged her out of the fire and forced her into that van. The
scars still on her stomach and arms. She hadn’t thought she
believed James about the Alarias, but when she thought of the
possibility of them finding her, it made her chest tighten in
panic.

“
What are you doing?” Hannah
asked.

“
I’m texting.”

“
Who?”

Fiona said nothing, not trusting herself to
speak.

Hannah crossed her arms. “Fiona,
someone may see this and try to find you. A lot of people read
the
Boston Herald
.
This is exactly what you told Troy.”

“
I don’t want people to find me.”
Her voice nearly cracked.

“
Why on Earth… what’s going on with
you?”

Fiona finished her text to James. She looked
at the article again, shaking her head. “I don’t want to talk about
it.”

“
Fiona.” Hannah sat down on the
edge of the bed and touched her leg. “What’s going on?”

Fiona swallowed. She folded the newspaper and
dropped it on the ground. Over the summer, Hannah had done so much
for her. She deserved to know, didn’t she?

“
You know when we
went to Mystic on Sunday? You went to your meeting, Troy went
shopping, and I went to the library…” Fiona trailed off. “I found
an article in this academic journal called
American Physics.
” She fished
out
American Physics
and showed Hannah the article. “These are my
parents.”

Hannah stared at her. “What? How do you know?
Did you remember?”

“
I recognized their faces,” Fiona
said, touching the black and white photos of Richard and Fiona. “I
knew it was them. This was a project they were working on. They
were trying to replicate human beings. I was about to go call this
magazine when I ran into this guy. He looked so familiar, and he
knew me, too…” She told Hannah everything: her conversation with
James in the car, what Elizabeth’s journal said, the article about
the fire, the profile, her trip to New York and her visit to her
parents’ graves.

Hannah listened quietly, her eyes wide, her
arms crossed.

By the time Fiona was finished, she was pacing
around the room, wiping sweat off her palms. “I didn’t want the
article published because I don’t want the Alarias to know where I
am,” she finished.

Hannah ran a hand through her hair. “So, you
think these people are after you… just because this James kid told
you they were?”

Fiona nodded.

“
But Fiona, what if he’s
lying?”

“
Why would he lie about that?”
Fiona asked, raising her voice. “What does he have to gain from
scaring me like this?”

Hannah picked up the newspaper. “But… I don’t…
cloning?”

“
No, it’s more like
replicating.”

“
Do you really think that’s
possible?”

“
I don’t know,” Fiona said. “I saw
Elizabeth Normans, she looks exactly like me, and I saw her grave.
Well, I saw where her remains were.”

“
You saw a profile picture on
Facebook?”

Fiona showed Hannah the profile picture and
the photo booth strip from the journal. Hannah turned the pages in
the journal, her hazel eyes the widest Fiona had ever seen them.
“This is your handwriting…”

“
It’s… either I was Elizabeth
Normans, or I was her replica, or some other girl died in the
fire,” Fiona said.

Hannah put a hand over her mouth. “But I’ve
never heard of anything like that.”

“
Like what?”

Fiona jumped from Troy’s voice. He stood in
her doorway drying his hair with a towel. “What are you guys
talking about?” Troy asked.

“
Do you always butt in on private
conversations?” Fiona crossed her arms.

“
Too early for you to be nice, hm?”
Troy asked. He threw his arms up and walked off. Fiona shut the
door.

“
You’re too rude to him,” Hannah
said, but it was halfhearted, not her usual defense of Troy. She
picked up the newspaper and stared at it again.

“
That doesn’t matter–what am I
going to do if the Alarias see this?” Fiona gestured to the
paper.

“
You really think they’re going to
come and kill you or something?”

Fiona walked to her dresser. More sleep would
have been nice, after all the dreams and nightmares she’d had, but
now her body felt like it was buzzing with electricity. “Like I
said, James has no reason to lie about this. And I wrote about it
in the journal–well, Elizabeth did. She said one of them just
showed up to their house once. They were fighting with her parents,
and there was something in there about a lawsuit.”