Thursday, March 26, 1998
Tommy paced the motel room, blinking his red-rimmed eyes fast to keep his tears from blinding him. He didn’t think he could cry so much, but once Jenny dropped to the deck and vanished, he’d caught a flashback of the torture she’d endured at the hands of the humans.
And now she was gone from his reach, and Roland had her on a boat, able to do whatever tests he wanted. Tommy had no way to get to her to help, and that knowledge dug a hole in his chest.
He spun at the sound of the door opening. The woman who walked in was Abigail, Henry’s alter ego, while the man behind her was Rory, Diana’s alter ego. They had switched personalities to take a day off, and neither had any clue of the trouble they were walking in on.
On a better day, Tommy might have observed how Rory resembled a shorter, stockier version of Henry, while Abigail could have been a tall, broad shouldered sister to Diana. Over time, the two alter egos had redefined themselves to match their companion’s dominant personality.
The alter egos were so perfectly in tune with each other that they reacted placidly once they sensed Tommy’s anguish. Instead of rushing up to the room, they walked with a calm, relaxed pace.
Rory shut and locked the door while Abigail moved to embrace Tommy. “Something happened to Jenny.”
It was all she said to get Tommy to go back over his memories, and while he did, Abigail urged him to move to the bed to sit down. Rory sat on Tommy’s other side, leaning in close to offer comfort with his presence.
He said, “Have you called Kevin to see if maybe she just switched personalities?”
Tommy shook his head. “No, I couldn’t think clearly.”
“All right, then I’ll call the house and see if Kevin can give us some good news.”
Using his cell phone, Rory called the house, and Laura answered on the third ring.
She asked, “Hello?”
“Laura, it’s Rory. Have you been able to sense Marcus?”
“Yes, and he’s in bad shape, emotionally. I’m…Rory, something is wrong with Kevin too. Every time Marcus comes out, he can’t stay in the pilot’s seat. I’m not sure if it’s because he can’t handle the grief Marcus is feeling, because he won’t look at me when we pass in the mental corridor.”
Rory rubbed his forehead. “Sweetie, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to handle one crisis at a time. So please, tell me which problem is worse now.”
“Marcus, for sure. He’s just found out about his mother being gone, and Jenny won’t snap out of flashbacks from her infancy. She’s so lost in herself that Marcus had to carry her back into her room. Otherwise, she would have laid in the mental corridor.”
“Is Roland turning the ship around?”
“No, they’re going somewhere in Mexico for a weekend trip, but Roland hasn’t said where yet.”
Rory relayed the news, and Tommy slumped over on his legs, his stomach deflating until he couldn’t hold himself upright.
His voice was a hoarse whisper as he asked, “Did Roland hurt Marcus?”
Rory relayed the question.
“No, Marcus stopped Roland from taking any samples, but now he’s under closer scrutiny, and Roland is able to read body language.” Laura paused, letting Rory pass the next burst of information before she added, “Marcus is in bad shape, but Jenny is devastated. Roland didn’t have to touch her to break her. It was that specific type of syringe that triggered the flashbacks, and now Jenny can’t break free from them. It’s like she’s suffering the same torture again. There’s something else. Whoever did this to Jenny wasn’t from the cult that tortured Tommy. This was a medical procedure, not a witchcraft test like Tommy went through.”
This news caused fresh tears to well up in Tommy’s eyes, and he began to shake his head. He’d been so certain that the same group who tortured him had tortured Jenny with their damned needles. But the religious cult members never used syringes, and they never tried to drain fat from him. The last few mental images that he’d got from Jenny were confirmed by Laura.
Something else had happened to Jenny, something much worse than the abuse he’d endured.
Rory listened to Tommy’s thoughts before he told Laura, “All right, I’m going to let you go now. I think Tommy is about to lose it.”
His observation was accurate. Tommy collapsed over onto the floor as the first sobs rattled his body. He wasn’t just crying over her abuse at the hands of the humans. He suffered for the abuse that he’d heaped upon her, and upon Marcus.
In his guilt, he did something very foolish, and he let himself fall into the same looping memory that was devastating Jenny. Pain flared from his chest and seeped out through his limbs, an intense cold pain that felt like death’s touch.
He drew in a deep breath, and then Rory telepathically punched him, knocking him out before he had a chance to scream.
***
Roland sat in a deck chair with his feet propped on the table. A tumbler of cognac rested on his thigh while he stared out at the water with a scowl creasing his leathery face.
The bottle was on the floor, allowing him to lean over for refills whenever he needed them.
What was the scam? Christine probably wasn’t a clone, but his efforts to collect a DNA sample and prove his suspicions had provoked something inside her, and what rose to the surface was older and angrier.
Then at lunch, there had been another change, and Roland thought that whoever was in control of Christine, that person was suffering through crippling anguish. He’d seen the same look in his own eyes, every time he’d looked in a mirror.
Roland thought, The name Jenny Wrigley could have been a code word, or it could be her real name. But who is the older personality? Is…is he sad because his mother died, or because I’ve killed Christine somehow?
He couldn’t approach Christine to ask what was wrong. That would only result in more hostility from the new personality.
Roland raised the glass to pull back a long drink. The amber liquor was smooth all the way down, and he barely tasted or felt it.
He’d drunk more than he should have, but he needed the alcohol to burn the bitter taste of guilt off of his tongue.
Sighing, Roland thought, Let this go. Just wait until the results come in tonight, and then I can decide what to do when I know the truth.
***
However useful the advice might have been, Roland couldn’t heed it at dinner. Marcus sat hunched over, sick with misery as he picked at his plate. Laura’s efforts to help could only do so much, and she had begun to drop out of the pilot’s seat in an effort to check up on Kevin.
Between his heartache for Carmen and his concern for Kevin, Marcus couldn’t fake an appetite. His few attempts to eat made his stomach turn, and he set aside his fork, opting to just sip water and stare at his plate.
Roland knew by then that it wasn’t an act. He said, “Christine, you should try to eat something.”
Marcus nodded, but he couldn’t think of food, not when his mind bounced between his thoughts of his mother, and then to Jenny lying in a near catatonic state, and then back to Laura trying to find out why Kevin was hiding out in his room with the door locked.
Marcus was also back to being the sole occupant of his body, but he wasn’t allowed to wear his own body. He felt like an alien inside Christine, and he had to lock his true identity away by acting “girlish.” (Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.) He was supposed to keep a lid on his emotions too, and he was failing miserably.
He couldn’t even fake the role long enough to take a meal with Roland. Pushing his plate away, he muttered, “I’m sorry, but I’m not hungry.”
He made his way downstairs in the main corridor that divided off into the main four master quarters. Opening the door to his room, he dropped to his knees, curling over as a shudder wracked his upper body.
He’d been crying to himself for five minutes when the door opened. Sniffling, Marcus said, “I want to be alone, please.”
Roland sat down on the bed with a groan, his face wrinkled with lines of thoughtful sympathy. “This is my fault.”
Marcus huffed, rubbing his eyes with one hand while he used the other to push himself up to a sitting position. “Don’t apologize. It doesn’t change anything, and it won’t make me feel better if you’re going to keep pushing me.”
“I don’t mean to now, but I have to talk to you, so you will understand. Christine, I don’t know why I agreed to this, but I didn’t do it to start my own cloning operation, and I didn’t do it to fulfill any kind of sick fantasy about my daughter. I never felt that way about her, and what happened earlier was a mistake on my part. I was trying to stop you from moving, and you took my intentions the wrong way.”
Marcus’ eyes narrowed into slits. “How about when you pulled out a syringe to stab me? Was that accidental, and I just misunderstood your intentions?”
“I’m sorry about that too. I had no idea what kind of effect it would have on you.”
“That’s beside the point. You still wanted to probe me and take a sample. You just can’t help but dig at me and my story. So how can you claim that you have no idea why you do it?” Marcus shook his head. “You know why you’re doing this, and you just don’t want to admit it.”
Roland shook his head, an objection rising to his lips before he quelled it.
He asked, “What will it take to get back the other you?”
Marcus sighed and shook his head. “She might not be coming back. You mindfucked me so bad that I’ve lost her, and it’s your fault. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home, but there isn’t a place for me. There’s no family for me to go to, no parents, no friends.”
His voice started to get too thick for him to stay in the right pitch, and he had to stop himself.
Roland watched quietly, his concerned expression fused with traces of bafflement.
Marcus dried his eyes and swallowed to make the lump closing his throat go away. “There’s no life for me to get back to, because I’m not in charge. This role was meant to be hers, something that she wanted to give to you. It was supposed to balance the scales and make things right between you and Walter. She wanted to make it so that you got what you paid for. And you destroyed her.”
Marcus ignored the stream of tears on his cheeks as he glared at Roland. “She’s younger than me, because she doesn’t get out as often. She likes to think of herself as open-minded, but she’s always been sheltered…I’ve always…” Marcus wiped his eyes. “But this was supposed to be her chance to grow up and do the right thing, and you…”
Marcus started to huff, and Roland looked away, unable to bear the bitterness flooding from his eyes.
Marcus said, “You bought her, and you broke her. But there wasn’t a warranty in the deal, and there isn’t a replacement. Walter won’t whip up another clone for you. So now you’re stuck with me because you’re a bitter old man, and this is what you deserve.”
“I know that. But I know you aren’t a clone, and…I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Roland debated with himself before he got on his hands and knees. He crawled over to Marcus and sat down beside him.
“I want to be alone,” Marcus said.
Roland shook his head, putting his arm around Marcus shoulders. “That’s the one thing you keep saying that sounds like a lie.”
Marcus wanted to object, but the loose hug helped to make him feel less lonely. He cried for some time before someone knocked on the door.
Roland got up, nodding to his butler. “Negative?”
The butler shook his head, his eyes wide with shock. “No, sir, it’s positive.”
He kept his voice too low for Marcus to hear. Roland turned to look at Marcus as he nodded. “I see. Thank you.”
He shut the door and leaned against it, folding his arms over his chest. “Christine, I don’t know what you are, but I’m done testing you. Tomorrow, I want to start with a clean slate, and to do that, my first goal will be to help you get over this pain you’re feeling.”
“Fine,” Marcus said in a low voice.
“I can’t help you without knowing what’s wrong, and if you won’t talk to me, I can’t help but ask more questions.”
“I know.”
Roland opened the door, stepping out of the room. “I’ll leave you for now, but let me pose a question to you, If I gave you some money to—”
“No,” Marcus said. “I don’t want any money from you, not after everything else that’s happened.”
“Christine, just listen. It’s a hypothetical question.” Roland waited until Marcus nodded. “If I gave you money in private accounts, what kind of life would you want for yourself? I’m not suggesting that I would take custody of you, but after you left, suppose I set you up with a fund, and you could take up any education path you like. I’m only offering you a hypothetical question, one that I hope won’t offend you again.”
Roland looked down at the floor. “I just want to know something about you. Is that so much to ask?”
Marcus shook his head. “No, not really. I can’t think tonight, but I will try to give you a proper answer tomorrow.”
***
Roland went to his quarters, and into the bathroom to wash his face. His face still wet, he tried to look himself in the eyes, and couldn’t.
But it wasn’t guilt that forced his attention to wander. He narrowed his eyes, leaning in to examine the wrinkles that formed at the corners.
Are they getting smaller? No, don’t be— He couldn’t complete the thought, because he noticed that his hair was looking more salt and pepper, though the salt was winning.
But the salt had already won fully one decade before, and Roland hadn’t been in the habit of hiding his grey hair with dyes. His eyebrows were darker as well.
Shaking his head, Roland raised his hand to rub the side of his face. What did she do to me?
... I write dark fiction in a variety of genres. My blog contains my rants and rambles, and some short fiction that can only be found here.
I can be pretty fucking offensive, so viewer discretion is advised.
I hope that Marcus feels better, but losing your mother can be a tough thing to overcome even for a short time.
And Roland is still seeing the effects of his healing, to bad he broke the one person that really wanted to help him.
And I actually almost feel bad for Tommy, but more so for Kevin since he didn’t want anything but a friend.
This is what I like to think of as the turning point for Tommy, where he begins to slowly develop a conscience.
Kevin’s problems will be explained soon, and are not quite as dire as they seem on the surface.
“And Roland is still seeing the effects of his healing, to bad he broke the one person that really wanted to help him.”
Yes, he can’t see past his own desire to recognize the gift he was given. It’s sad, but a lot of people are like this.