Replication (22 page)

“No, JD. Leave him be.” Abby walked on her knees, reaching for Dr. Elliot’s pant leg.

As her fingers inched closer, Dr. Elliot suddenly screamed. Marty staggered away as the doctor slumped to the floor, face beet red, limbs trembling a moment before his body seized in a convulsion.

Abby forced herself to keep moving. She reached Dr. Elliot’s side and looked up at Marty. “What did you do?” It came out light as a breath.

“Only an experiment, Abby Goyer.”

Marty’s voice had a harsh tone unlike any she had ever heard before. She simply stared, not knowing what to do, as Dr. Elliot’s body continued to twitch and his face took on a bluish tinge. “What experiment?”

Marty shrugged. “Something that hurts.”

“I’ll give you something that hurts,” JD said.

Marty turned just as JD swung. Abby shrieked as the punch struck Marty’s ear. He tripped over Abby, nearly falling.

Abby waddled on her knees, trying to stay between them. The sprinklers came on then, spraying cold water over her and partially masking the two boys. “JD, don’t!”

But JD lunged past Abby and struck Marty again, only to have Marty hit back. The boys came together like wrestlers and fell to the floor, punching and choking and writhing until Abby could no longer tell who was who. One of the little Jasons began to cry.

A gunshot rang out, jolting Abby around. Dr. Kane stood in front of his desk, briefcase in one hand, gun in the other. The water from the sprinklers had plastered his graying hair to his head. The wall behind him was black now, with several gaping holes that provided a view into a room engulfed in orange flames. Swirls of charcoal gray smoke coiled along the ceiling. It was the most hellish image she’d ever seen. Another sprinkler came on over Abby’s head, spraying her with dirty water. Two of the toddler boys were wailing now. Abby wished she could go and pick them up.

Dr. Kane redirected the weapon from the ceiling to JD and Marty. “Stand up!”

The boys clambered to their feet, water soaking their clothes. One had a puffy bottom lip and his left eye was starting to swell. The other had scratches down both cheeks and on his neck. His mouth was bleeding terribly.

But which was which?

Abby studied their body language and posture, but at the moment, exhausted from the fight, they looked identical. She sought out Marty’s scratches from his run through the forest that afternoon, but fingernails used in grappling and defense had obscured any such evidence. She couldn’t be sure without hearing them speak.

A chunk of debris fell from the burning wall and landed behind Dr. Kane’s desk.

Dr. Kane flinched and yelled, “J:3:3! Step forward. Now.”

The Jasons looked at each other. The one with the scratches on his neck stepped away and crouched to pick up the syringe Dr. Elliot had dropped.

The other Jason mumbled, but Abby couldn’t understand him. He grunted and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then patted his pants and spun around, looking for something.

The Jason with the syringe turned to Abby. “Good-bye, Abby Goyer.” Then he furrowed his brows and plunged the syringe into his arm.

Abby felt as if her heart was being expelled along with her scream.

A small gasp left his lips. With apparent effort, he pushed down the top of the syringe, forcing the contents into his veins. At first nothing happened.

“Marty?” Abby started to go to him, but as soon as she inched closer, Dr. Kane pointed the gun at her.

“Stay right there, Miss Goyer.”

Abby paused, trembling, shivering because of the cold water. She stared at Marty as he sank to his knees, then to the floor, a faint whimper on his lips.

M
ARTYR BLINKED, UNABLE TO UNDERSTAND
what had just taken place. He knelt beside JD, whose limbs were trembling, and asked in a soft voice, “Why?”

JD whispered, “My whole life … lies.” His eyelids drooped. Water pooled on either side of his nose. “Besides, you’re not the only one … who can”—he closed his eyes—”play … hero.”

Martyr looked to Abby, hoping she could explain JD’s words, but she wouldn’t take her eyes away from JD’s face.

JD continued to gasp, but from what effects? Martyr searched again for the second dose of EEZ he’d lost in the scuffle, not sure which needle the other boy had used. Was JD suffering the effects of a deep sleep or a syringe full of EEZ? He had not turned blue.

“Let’s go, JD!” Dr. Kane waved the weapon as he jogged toward the door. “Pick him up. I’ll get the girl.”

The smoke still streaming from the computer lab was now thick in the room, causing everyone to cough. Martyr glanced at Abby and found her still staring at JD’s limp body, tears streaming down her cheeks. She turned her gaze to his and her expression changed. Her eyebrows sank low over her eyes, her bluish lips pressed together, and her eyes … Martyr looked away.

He spotted his second syringe—filled exactly to the twenty mark with the bright yellow liquid—just under one of the chairs surrounding the long table. He closed his eyes and thanked the Creator. JD was only sleeping.

“JD! Now!” Dr. Kane coughed and waved the gun. “The van is waiting.”

What would Dr. Kane do if he knew Martyr wasn’t JD? He needed to keep silent if at all possible. After a deep breath, he dragged JD toward the chair, pretending to straighten him and using his body for a shield. After discreetly tucking the syringe into his waistband, he heaved JD’s wet body over one shoulder and stood, buckling slightly under the weight as he walked toward the door.

Dr. Kane set down his briefcase, removed a pair of scissors from his back pocket, and snipped the bindings on Abby’s ankles, pointing the gun at her all the while. When he finished, he threw the scissors over the huge table, backed up, and retrieved his briefcase. “Stand up, Miss Goyer. Collect the boys, if you don’t mind.”

Abby stood and spoke to the Jasons sitting along the wall. “Come on, guys,” she said in a raspy voice. “Quickly. Let’s get out of here.”

As the boys ran, Martyr wondered why they were there. Three Brokens, two boys from Section Three, and three boys from Section Two, including Spot, a boy with a large red birthmark on his forehead. Spot’s tear-streaked face met Martyr’s.

Martyr winked, unable to help himself.

Spot smiled, then faced forward.

Abby shooed the boys toward the door and paused in front of
Martyr. She slapped his cheek, sending fire through his face. He cowered at the stinging and almost dropped JD.

“This is all your fault,” Abby said in a strangled voice. “If you would have helped—” She choked on her words, then coughed. “If you would have just listened … Now Marty is …” She sobbed, long and sorrowful, clapping her hand over her mouth.

He cringed at the mournful sound. He wanted to hug her and stroke her hair. “Abby …”

“To the elevator, Miss Goyer.”

She looked up at Martyr with narrowed, puffy eyes. Another chunk of wall fell behind Dr. Kane’s desk.

“Move it!” Dr. Kane waved the weapon Abby’s direction again.

She shooed the boys through the door and into the cloud of smoke.

Martyr’s throbbing cheek sent pulsing despair through his heart. Abby, someone he’d never imagined capable of striking anyone, had struck him because she thought he was JD. Martyr adjusted his grip on JD and followed Dr. Kane to the elevator. Mercifully, the smoke was not as thick there.

Dr. Kane patted his shoulder and chucked. “That was a close one, son. Smart move attacking him. Weakened his resolve, I think. Rolo feels the same way about physical punishment—have to remind subjects like J:3:3 who is in charge.”

Surely Dr. Kane would recognize Martyr’s tone of voice when he heard it, so Martyr nodded. He glanced at the door to Dr. Elliot’s office, not wanting to leave Dr. Goyer behind. He’d tried to rescue him earlier, after he’d seen Dr. Elliot take Abby into Dr. Kane’s office, but Dr. Goyer would not wake up. He prayed the Creator would make a way to rescue Dr. Goyer before fire consumed the Farm.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Dr. Kane held the door and waved everyone inside. Martyr watched as Abby crouched down beside the boys in the corner, pulling them close. Spot whispered in her ear and her eyes shot back and forth between Martyr and Dr. Kane, who had inserted a red card into the slot that seemed to activate the elevator on its own. Unaware of the
looks behind him, Dr. Kane pushed the L3 button and the elevator jerked down.

Level three was not the level Abby had claimed had a tunnel. Could she have been mistaken? Had Martyr sent the Jasons to the wrong place?

“Shame what he did to Dr. Elliot,” Dr. Kane mumbled to himself. “I had planned to sacrifice Dr. Elliot for my escape, anyway. His deviant obsessions were getting far too reckless. But I never intended to kill the man.” Dr. Kane sighed, as if Dr. Elliot’s death was a problem he’d rather not deal with. “I’ll need to call Dr. Parlor as soon as we’re in the van. I’ll have her meet us at Gunnolf. Dr. Parlor, now that’s one woman who’s never given me any trouble.” He glanced up at Martyr. “I’ll need your help, son. Understandably, most of my employees can’t be trusted at this point. I warned them yesterday we might be in crisis mode. Just wish I knew where my guards were.”

The elevator slid open. Dr. Kane stepped out and held the door, jerking the gun at Abby. “To the right, Miss Goyer, and make it quick.”

Abby and the boys trailed out of the elevator, and Martyr lumbered closely behind as Dr. Kane let the doors close. The temperature was cool down here. No fire. No smoke.

“It’s a relief you finally know the truth,” Dr. Kane said to Martyr as he walked after Abby, pointing the weapon against her back. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but your mother—”

“Freeze!”

Martyr whipped around and felt JD slide off his shoulder. He went to his knees trying to keep JD from falling onto the tile floor.

While he crouched, a police officer stepped out from the double doors leading to the track and pointed his weapon at Dr. Kane. “Put the gun down, Dr. Kane.”

Abby screamed.

“Stay back!” Dr. Kane yelled, holding Abby’s hair in one fist and pressing the
gun
against the back of her head with his other hand. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Get up, son. We need to get out of here.”

Martyr reached under his shirt and unclipped the last set of keycards from the belt. If he could somehow get them to Abby …

“Come on, now, Dr. Kane,” the police officer said. “We found your secret tunnel upstairs. There’s no way out. Put the gun down, and let’s all go up and talk things over.”

“I’ll kill her, I swear!”

Martyr hooked the keycard ring in his thumb and, tucking that hand around JD’s leg, grunted to his feet. Dr. Kane waved him back, sidestepping with him. Martyr chose each step carefully, inching back toward Abby, closely enough that Dr. Kane would not see him hand off the keycard ring.

“Easy.” The officer took slow, cautious steps forward, holding his weapon out in front.

Dr. Kane stopped at a large metal door at the end of the hallway. He fumbled to keep the gun pointed at Abby and pull the red keycard from his pocket; a flash of red flipped from his fingers and slapped onto the white tile. Dr. Kane swore. “JS:15:13!”—he waved the gun at Spot—”pick that up for me.”

Martyr nudged Abby and slipped the keycard ring into her hand. She tensed, then grabbed the ring and slowly moved her hand behind her back.

“Get it for me, boy, or I’ll shoot your head off!”

“It’s okay,” Abby said to Spot.

Spot picked up the keycard and handed it to Dr. Kane, who swiped it in the reader. The light turned green, and he pulled open the door. “JD, you first. Miss Goyer, you tell the boys to go next.”

Martyr stepped toward the dark opening, searching for a way to help Abby and the boys escape. He stumbled into Dr. Kane and cried out, faking surprise as best he could.

Abby had been ready. She jerked free from Dr. Kane. “Run!”

Over a dozen feet pattered across the tile. Martyr closed his eyes and pleaded with the Creator of Everything to keep Abby and the boys safe.

“You clumsy idiot!” Dr. Kane shoved Martyr out of the way and fired the gun.

Abby held out her arms, pressing the boys into a corner just past the elevator. She sent up a prayer of thanks that Dr. Kane’s shot appeared to have missed; even Wesley looked unharmed.

“Get up!” Dr. Kane’s voice drifted from the end of the hall.

She glanced around the corner, still in shock over which clone lay unconscious on the floor.
All this time it was JD
… Why would he have done such a thing? Had the truth made him suicidal? Or had he deliberately helped them, sacrificing himself? Both were so unlike him.

She winced as the last few minutes replayed in her mind, including her slap across Marty’s shocked face. Now he was stuck with Dr. Kane.

Please, God, let this end safely
.

“Just put the gun down,” Wesley said again.

“He won’t really shoot him,” Abby whispered.

“You sure?” Wesley asked.

“Positive. One is his son and he needs the other for a transplant.”

“It’s over, Dr. Kane,” Wesley said.

Bang!

Abby screamed at the gunshot. A door slammed shut.

Wesley holstered his gun and sighed. “They’re gone through that door, Miss Goyer. Must be another tunnel. You go on up. They’ll be thrilled to see you, and to see that elevator opened. Send me down those keycards and some backup, you hear?”

Abby tensed. She didn’t want to leave Marty, but her dad was still upstairs, strapped to the exam table in Dr. Elliot’s office. “Did s-s-someone get shot?”

Wesley shook his head as he walked toward the elevator and pressed the button. When the doors opened, he ushered her and the boys inside and spoke into his CB. “This is Officer Wesley. I’m sending up Miss Goyer and eight boys. Do you copy?”

“I got you, Wesley. Nice work,” Runstrom crackled in response.

“I’ve also got what looks like a second tunnel on the right side of the—”

The doors slid shut, cutting off Wesley’s words. Abby swiped the red keycard, pressed G, and the elevator started to climb. The
little boy with the birthmarked face slid his hand into Abby’s. She chewed her thumbnail as the elevator passed up through a smoky haze. Marty had just better be careful.

Martyr walked down a dim tunnel, his bare feet numb on the frozen dirt. Every so often a single lightbulb mounted in the ceiling cast a dull glow around them.

“It’s because you had a little crush on her, isn’t it?” Dr. Kane asked, still rubbing his jaw. “I don’t think you understand. She’s the only eyewitness who can testify against me, besides her father. The fire should take care of him, but something will have to be done about Miss Goyer.”

Martyr looked away. The only sound was the padding of their footsteps.

Dr. Kane no longer pointed the gun at Martyr, but walked alongside as if he thought they’d found freedom. He ran a hand through his graying hair. “Her meddling not only made me a criminal in the eyes of the authorities, it cost me my biggest breakthrough yet.”

Dr. Kane had made himself a criminal, but Martyr kept that thought to himself.

“In fact,” Dr. Kane said, “if I don’t get those boys back, I’m a dead man.” He glanced at Martyr. “Those boys were special. Three-million-dollars-a-piece special.”

Martyr knew very little of money, other than people who lived outside used it to purchase things, but
three-million-dollars-a-piece
sounded like a lot.

They came to a staircase.

“Wait here.” Dr. Kane climbed the narrow, wooden steps, stopping halfway up to open a door in the ceiling.

Martyr shivered. Once he saw the sky it would be time to get away. He felt certain they were almost there.

Something clattered above.

“Okay, JD. Come on up.”

Martyr climbed the stairs on shaky legs; he would not be able to carry JD much longer. Thankfully Dr. Kane was waiting with a stretcher, the same kind the guards took Hummer away on whenever he had one of his fits.

“Put him here,” Dr. Kane said.

Martyr crouched down and laid JD onto the stretcher. He wiped the water from the sprinklers off his arms and onto his pants, but it didn’t seem to help. They were in a small cell of some kind that was freezing cold and dark. Nothing like Abby’s house.

Dr. Kane ran across the cell and opened the front door. A pale beam of greenish light seeped inside. He crossed back to the hole in the floor and kicked the door shut, then squatted at the foot end of the stretcher. “Help me carry this out. Grab that end.”

Martyr hesitated. If he carried JD out, how would he get away?

Dr. Kane gripped the stretcher. “Come on.”

Martyr picked up the front and backed toward the open door. An icy gust of wind whipped around him, but it was nothing compared to stepping on the snow-covered porch. Martyr distracted himself by looking up. The sky was black, dotted with stars. Green slashed back and forth across the black, then a bit of hot pink, then more green, then blue. Martyr stared. It was like someone was painting on the sky, like Speedy painted on paper. The Creator perhaps?

“Look, son,” Dr. Kane said. “I know this has been a rough day. I promise we’ll talk when I’ve recovered from my operation, and I’ll take you to the other lab, then show you the program at Camp Ragnar. Because I’m not doing this only for my life. You’ll also need the work I’ve done, because no matter how many kidneys I grow, that girl was right. Age is something I can’t conquer … yet. You
will
contract lupus, and you
will
need my clones for kidneys and blood. Until I find a cure or a better body, you
will
become me someday.”

Dr. Kane’s words tore Martyr’s gaze from the night sky. He could do it now—he could inject Dr. Kane with the syringe and end it all. What frightened him was he wanted to. He stared down at JD’s pale face. He had forgotten about Gunnolf and Camp Ragnar. Were more Jasons kept there? More computer servers holding the secrets of creating clones? He needed to find out.