Perfect Specimen (6 page)

It’s something else,
he decided with a rush of conviction.
She doesn’t need a shrink.
Or
a Trekkie. She needs
you
. Wasn’t that obvious when she first got here? When she gripped her arms around your neck like she was holding on for dear life? Even without saying a word, she was begging you to help. To see through all her lies and find a solution to whatever’s bothering her. And that’s just what you’re going to do.

Chapter 5

When Randy Ryerson’s bizarre message popped up on Lizzie Canton’s Blackberry, she thought it might actually be a prank, especially given the hunky geek’s past behavior. But she also knew—from personal experience—that he loved rescuing wounded animals, human or otherwise.

After all, he had rescued
her
, hadn’t he? Invited her to join his group of crazy gamers even though she didn’t quite fit in with them.

Maybe Sara Kent—UFO abductee—was his latest project.

In any case, Lizzie wasn’t about to miss this, so she ditched her physics lab, hopped a bus, and headed over to Randy’s garage, where their group usually met for tournaments. Not that she was anxious to go there, given the possibility that she’d run into the shrink brother—Mark—who had a tendency to study her as though
she
were an alien.

Fortunately, there were only three cars in the circular driveway—Randy’s and two others, both of which she recognized as belonging to the other members of their group.

According to Randy’s cryptic note, Sara Kent wouldn’t be there, which was good news to Lizzie, who hated meeting strangers. But it was also bad news because if Randy’s story was true, the “gilled freak” could be hunting poor Sara at that very moment.

And apparently Randy totally believed it, because as she approached the wide-open doorway to the three-car garage, he was pacing and talking wildly, like he was completely adrenalized. She watched for a moment, enjoying the show. Not only was he charismatic, he was gorgeous with his wavy brown hair, electric green eyes and yummy shoulders, so nicely showcased by his black football shirt.

Clay Ryerson—a.k.a. Lawyer Bro—had the same good looks, Lizzie reminded herself. Too bad he always wore a suit. Shrink Bro on the other hand had very dark hair and those analytical brown eyes. Good-looking in his own way, but more slender, and definitely less exciting.

Then there was ER Bro. The doctor who looked like a rock star. Lizzie had basically had a group crush on all of them—except Shrink Bro—for months, but it was Randy who really made her drool.

He spotted her in the doorway and grinned. “Get in here! We need a female perspective on this.”

“Yeah, and you’re the closest thing to a female we’ve got,” said Mike Durgan, a smart-assed brain-waver who, like Lizzie, was a college freshman. Unlike Randy, who was a sophomore, and James “Skywalker” Harada—a senior and the oldest member of the group.

She rolled her eyes at Durgan, then parked herself in her usual chair—the one closest to the door. “What did I miss? And by the way, if this turns out to be a hoax, I’ll strangle you with my bare hands. I’m missing a physics test because of you.”

“It’s legit,” Randy assured her. “And totally worth it. My brothers think Sara’s delusional, but I totally believe her story. Didn’t you read the diary?”

“On my frackberry? All I could do was skim the highlights.”

“Yeah, I only skimmed it too,” Durgan admitted. “It’s tough to read and drive at the same time, even for an uber-coordinated guy like me.”

Lizzie groaned, expecting another retelling of how Durgan had demolished them all in the last tournament.

But Randy seemed determined to keep them on task. Pacing again, he told them, “Okay, here are the basics. This guy Ga’rag is from a race of cloners—”

“Humanoids, but with gills. Right?” Skywalker interrupted. “How cool is that?”

“Exactly.” Randy’s green eyes sparkled. “According to the diary—which is hearsay, since we can’t trust anything this creep tells Sara—the Ra-ahlian race used to be like us, meaning they had babies the old-fashioned way. Then they discovered cloning and figured it gave them better control over the product, so they banned sexual reproduction. The women thought they were nuts, and tried to form their own colonies with some willing guys, but the male-dominated government wiped them out.”

“And they call themselves males?” Durgan laughed. “I’m trying to get
more
sex in my life, not less.”

“Talk about delusional,” Lizzie drawled. “Dream on, loser.”

The guys laughed. Then Randy explained. “Ga’rag claims they had already evolved past the pleasures of the flesh, even before they perfected cloning. All brain, no bod, apparently. Like Skywalker here. So they were happy for centuries. Then an abnormality started showing up. In virtually all of them.”

“Because by now, they’re all clones?” she asked.

“Exactly. So they spread out across the galaxy, looking for generic material to reboot their DNA. Ga’rag comes here, scopes out medical records for healthy parents, IDs three newborn baby girls with great genes, and decides to test them. To see if they’ve got what it takes—physically and emotionally—to help him save Ra-ahl. The first thing he did was kill Sara’s mom in childbirth—”

“That makes sense,” Skywalker interrupted. “The mom would be the first one to notice problems.”

“Right. Maternal instinct. Meanwhile, the dad did his best, but hired a series of babysitters, et cetera. Which gave Ga’rag the opportunity he needed to pay visits to little Sara. And to threaten to kill the dad if she breathed a word to him about it.”

Lizzie was barely listening to this last bit of supposition. She was still back at Skywalker’s comment—a mom would be the first one to notice something wrong with a daughter.

Wasn’t Lizzie proof of that? Her mom had survived childbirth, had identified her kid as a freak, and done the only rational thing: ran off with a strange guy and left Lizzie alone with a well-intentioned by inattentive father.

The parallel was almost chilling.

Not that Randy and his stupid buddies knew it. Even if Lizzie had shared her painful past with them, which she had not, they were too insensitive to make the connection. Sure, they were up in arms about poor Sara Kent, but that was because she was supposedly such a perfect specimen that an alien had selected her out of all the females on Earth to be the mother of his future babies.

“He wears a military uniform and calls himself the Overlord and uses a whip on her when she disobeys,” Randy was explaining. “And he planted a device in her nose so he can make it bleed whenever he wants to, even if he’s hiding in another room and spying on her.”

“But he also wears a lab coat sometimes and calls himself Dr. Ga’rag,” Skywalker told Lizzie and Durgan. “Like he’s her friend. Or impartial. But he’s just playing with her head.”

“But the way he
really
manipulates her is with her three daughters,” Randy added.

“She has children?” Lizzie’s heart sank. “Your message said she made up the story about a husband and kids to scare your brother away.”

Skywalker’s face lit up. “That’s the best part. And it’s the reason me and Randy think he’s lying about the kids to Sara. He says he removed her eggs and fertilized them with his own stuff to make three babies. But why would a cloner do that? Wouldn’t he just take a sample of her genetic material? Then wait till he gets back to Ra-ahl to clone her, so he’d have a copy of Sara herself? Assuming she passes all his psych tests, I mean.”

“Wait!” Lizzie glared. “Now you’re saying there
aren’t
any babies?”

Skywalker nodded. “She claims she’s seen them, but I doubt it. The diary says that every time he takes her to his ship, he makes her put on a breathing mask. Then he beams her up. My guess is, there’s some sort of hallucinogen in the mask. Maybe he takes her to the ship, maybe not. But somehow, he makes her believe she’s seen her children.”

“He never brings them to Earth to visit Sara?” Durgan asked.

“He tells her the kids can’t breathe too long on Earth. Just like him. Supposedly, they have gills too.”

“Oh, no!” Lizzie’s fist clenched in her lap. “That means even if we can save Sara, we can’t save the babies? And
think
about it,” she added stubbornly. “Even if we could figure out how to destroy Ga’rag, we don’t dare hurt him. Not if the babies can only survive on his ship until they get back to Ra-ahl.”

Randy laughed. “Pay attention. There
aren’t
any kids. And even if there were, Sara’s brilliant. She made him promise that if she cooperates with him, and then he decides
not
to use her DNA, he’ll do surgery on the babies so they’ll look normal. They have complete respiratory systems from both parents, or some crap like that, so once the gills are removed, they’ll be okay here on Earth. So she’s happy. And he’s happy, because he has her under control.”

Lizzie relaxed a bit. “So it’s just Sara we need to help?”

Skywalker nodded. “My guess is, when the experiment is done, he’ll either kill her or freeze her, depending on whether he wants to take her DNA back to Ra-ahl.”

“That’s the part that worries me,” Durgan complained. “If Ga’rag knows
we
know, he’ll kills
us
too. So thanks a lot, Ryerson.”

“If you’re too chicken to appreciate this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, just go play your stupid Wii and forget about this.”

“It’s not
my
Wii, it’s my sister’s! And I’m in. Definitely. I just think we need to be careful. And”—Durgan inclined his head toward Lizzie—“you shouldn’t have involved emo-girl. What if she ends up getting zapped by some laser weapon? Or worse, what if the alien decides to experiment on
her
?”

“On Lizzie?” Skywalker chuckled. “I don’t think she’s his type. No offense, Liz.”

“Drop dead.”

“No one’s gonna get hurt,” Randy interrupted. “But Mike’s right, Liz. Maybe you should sit this one out. I was an idiot to drag you into it.”

“Either I’m part of this group or I’m not,” she protested. “And like Sky said, I’m not Ga’rag’s type. So? When do we meet Sara?”

Randy shrugged. “Hard to say, but probably not until tomorrow. I need to gain her trust first. And meanwhile, we’ve got work to do. We’ll start by scouring the Internet. See if we can find any other mention of this. Words like
Ga’rag
or
Ra-ahl
. Or any stories about cloners that fit this profile. Maybe one of the other victims blabbed to the press.”

“If she did, she’s dead,” Skywalker told him.

“Yeah, but still, if the story leaked—even if no one believed it—it’s corroboration. Right?”

They all nodded.

“We can ask some of our online-warrior allies about it too. But be vague. We don’t know if Ga’rag can trace stuff back to us.” Randy interrupted himself to turn to Lizzie. “Stay off the net. Got it?”

Perfect! I’m not female enough to attract an alien sexually, but I’m too weak and girlie to be a real part of your team?

She gave them an annoyed scowl. “If you won’t let me help, then there’s no point in missing my lab test. I had an A in physics up to today. I might as well keep it.”

Skywalker nodded. “School’s the safest place for you. I’ll give you a ride.”

“And I’ll pick you up after your last class,” Durgan offered. “Just don’t blab about this to any of your friends in the meantime.”

Lizzie sighed. Didn’t they realize that her only friends in the whole world were sitting in this very garage?

And that was definitely using the word “friends” loosely.

* * * *

As a child, Sara had dreamed of the day when she’d be free of Ga’rag. Now his absence was chilling. She had rushed home, desperate to talk to him, even knowing he would berate and torture her. She wanted to save the Ryerson brothers. And she
had
to save her daughters. But she had been pacing and calling his name for almost an hour now without a response. Even the messages she left on her own voice mail account—their formal means of contacting one another—had gone unanswered.

If this was a new tactic, it was effective. She imagined him in his spaceship, terminating their children’s lives then sneaking down to Earth to slip poison into Clay’s coffee. Clay, who had introduced her to wonderful, loving, mind-blowing sex. Who had looked beyond her slutty behavior to see something worth having. Worth saving.

Except she didn’t
want
to be saved. Not now. If it were just her, and no children, she might have accepted his bold, chivalrous advances. But now . . .

What if they’re already dead? All because you left that ridiculous diary on your desk.

She hated herself for putting him in danger, but at least there was a silver lining. Clay’s younger brother—the crazy one—had made one excellent observation. In fact, it was so brilliant, she knew she would adore him forever.

Ga’rag couldn’t come after the Ryerson brothers with guns blazing. He couldn’t breathe well enough on Earth to make so outrageous a display. Sure, he could make brief appearances in Sara’s apartment, brandishing his whip. He could also activate the pain chip in her nose whenever he wished.

But hurt a big, strong human male? All she had to do was picture Clay’s lean muscles and broad chest to know Randy was absolutely correct. Even Mark, the psychologist brother, was fit enough to crush a gilled freak like Ga’rag in a physical confrontation.

So he’ll poison them instead. Just like he did to Dad. And Mom. And Daniel Arroyo.