Replication (14 page)

“I hope you were able to work on it some last night. I was a little busy at the
police station
. They questioned me for hours after some girl accused me of breaking into her house and attacking her. They wouldn’t say who it was.”

Abby turned down the west hallway and wove her way toward American Lit. A tinge of hope flooded her. If JD didn’t know she’d been the girl who’d spoken to the cops, maybe it would all go away.

JD caught up and slipped his arm over her shoulder, walking alongside her like a boyfriend. “I had no clue what they were talking about.” He suddenly stepped into an alcove where the doors to the shop class cut into the wall, pulling Abby with him. “I tried to tell them that, but they didn’t believe me.” He spun around and pushed her up against the cool, cinderblock wall, his eyes inches from hers. “Why would you tell them that, Abby? Do you hate me that much? Am I so awful to be around? The other girls like me—
all of them
. Why don’t you?”

Abby’s heart pounded in her ears. So much for hope. She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes at the pain of JD’s thumbs boring into the tender muscles of her rotator cuffs. If he murdered her, the mortician would find bruises there.
Only I would think about gross anatomy at a time like this
. She shook the tangent away. “He looked just like you, I swear.”

“Just like me, huh?”

Abby swallowed and looked over his shoulder to where Kylee stood watching.

Are you okay?
Kylee mouthed.

“No,” Abby said answering both questions. Kylee vanished.
Abby looked up into JD’s dark eyes. “I told them it wasn’t you. Because he was bald.”

“They thought I was wearing a disguise.” His gaze boiled into hers, and heat seeped all the way to her toes. “Why do you have to be such a self-righteous little snob, huh? Why does everything have to be your way?” Then he kissed her. Hard. She dropped her books, reached up, and pushed at his face. He jerked back and flashed an angry grin. “Does he kiss just like me too, Abby?”

“Stop it!” She stomped on his suede sneaker and tried to slap him.

He dodged her assault easily, but his face flushed red and he kept her pinned.

“Let go of me!”

“Jason Dean!”

JD stepped back instantly at the sound of his mother’s voice and swiped the back of his hand across his lips.

Mrs. Kane stood behind him to the left, arms crossed, expression smoldering. “To class, Miss Goyer!”

Abby didn’t have to be told twice. She crouched to gather her books and ran to Mr. Chung’s classroom without looking back. She slid into a desk in the back row—a place she never sat—buried her head into her arms, and burst into tears.

When she arrived in calculus class, JD was already sitting in his assigned seat to the left of hers. Abby slid into her desk and scooted it a few inches to the right.

“Abby—”

“This
self-righteous little snob
doesn’t want to talk to you.”

He slumped back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. “You deserved it. I was there for
three hours
with that man-hater detective, Jackson, ripping me a new—”

“I
said
I don’t want to talk to you.”

He growled to himself. “Mom said I’m not allowed to talk to you anyway. She said your dad is trying to cause trouble for my dad, and you only came over to snoop in Dad’s office.”

Abby stared straight ahead, trying not to show that JD’s words had any meaning. Did Dr. Kane suspect her of something? Did that mean he didn’t believe the story she told the cops? Had he seen the footage of her snooping around the barn? Did he think she knew where Marty was?

JD leaned across the aisle. “Abby, if you know something about my dad, please tell me. I know he and my mom are keeping something from me.”

Abby looked at him then, not knowing what to say. Clearly he’d been raised by two maniacs. Was he telling the truth? Or had his parents put him up to this to see what she knew? She couldn’t trust him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why don’t you just take no for an answer and leave me alone?”

He combed his fingers through his hair again. “Come on. Don’t think about it like that. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s way too late for
that
apology, JD. No one deserves to be attacked.”

“I didn’t attack you.”

She turned her head toward him in slow motion and folded her arms.

“Fine.” He sat back again and started scribbling the math problems on the board into his notebook. “Try to leave the cops out of it this time, will you?”

Abby sighed. “Just—” She prayed she was doing the right thing. “Just go to work with your dad sometime and see what goes on at Jason Farms.”

“They kill cows.”

Abby let out a fake laugh. “They kill more than that.”

M
ARTYR SAT IN THE FRONT SEAT
of Pastor Scott’s car, which he called a
van
. Pastor Scott had driven to Abby’s
high
school. The building was not a skyscraper, though. It was only two levels, very long, and the color of pancakes.

“School is out, so they should be coming any minute,” Pastor Scott said.

He’d parked his white van that said “Fishhook Community Church” on the side, next to a blue truck. Pastor Scott had explained the different types of vehicles to Martyr on the ride over, and Martyr was still amazed at how many kinds and colors there were. He especially liked the shiny, blue truck sitting beside the
van. Pastor Scott said it belonged to JD Kane. For some reason, Pastor Scott had hoped Martyr might recognize it.

He did not.

Two students left the high school facility together—two women. Martyr’s posture straightened. They looked so different from Abby. One had hair the color of corn, long and straight. The other’s hair was cut short like Aliza’s but was hot pink—like the inside of Abby’s sleeping bag—and stuck up all over in a way that fascinated him. He wanted to get out of the van to look closer, but he’d promised Pastor Scott he would stay inside.

Suddenly people were everywhere. Boys and women of all shapes and sizes, wearing many colors. Several boys wore matching coats that were blue with white sleeves, but other than that, everyone looked different. And they all had hair.

How could everyone be so unique?

A tall boy approached the van. Martyr cocked his head to the side and examined him. He had a familiar gait, a familiar posture, a familiar shape. It came to him suddenly. It was the boy in the painting in Dr. Kane’s office. The Jason who had hair and did not live on the Farm.

The Jason stopped at the blue truck. As he went to open the door, his eyes flashed toward Martyr’s. The Jason froze, his mouth hanging open like Baby’s did sometimes when he was having a frozen fit.

“Unbelievable.” Pastor Scott’s voice shook slightly, making Martyr jump. “Marty, lock the door.”

Martyr studied the door, unsure of where the locking device was.

“The button thingy. Push it down!” Pastor Scott leaned over Martyr and swatted at the button, but the door swung open.

“What the …?” The Jason leaned his face close to Martyr’s. “Are you the creep who’s been harassing Abby?”

Martyr’s chest swelled. “What happened to Abby?”

The Jason grabbed the front of the thick shirt that Pastor Scott had loaned Martyr and dragged him from the van. The cold air gripped Martyr as tightly as the Jason did.

“Hey, now!” Pastor Scott yelled. “Let’s not do anything stupid.”

The Jason squeezed Martyr’s shirt in his fist. “Why’d you go in her house?”

Pastor Scott appeared at the Jason’s side. “JD, let him go. Let’s talk this out.”

Martyr straightened. JD? Yes. This was the boy Abby knew. She liked his hair. Martyr looked at JD’s hair and wondered if his would look the same if it ever grew out.

“Answer me, you freak. Why’d you attack her?”

“I would never hurt Abby. I have love for her. I want her to be my wife.”

JD drew back a fist and punched Martyr’s face.

Martyr’s nose burned. His legs collapsed out from under him, and he fell onto the cold, gray ground. JD crouched over him, still clutching the front of his shirt. He struck Martyr again, this time hitting Martyr’s left eye. Martyr rolled onto his side and curled into a ball.
Perhaps this Jason is similar to Iron Man
.

JD grabbed the back of his shirt and tried to pull him up. “Not so tough now, are you? You only pick on girls? Huh?” JD kicked Martyr’s back.

Pastor Scott’s voice floated somewhere above. “Come on, that’s enough. Break it up.”

“Listen up, freak.” JD’s voice was so near Martyr could feel warm breath on his ear. “You stay away from Abby, you hear me? If you lay a hand on her, I’ll kill you.”

“JD?”

Martyr’s heart leaped at the sound of Abby’s voice. He scrambled to a sitting position and forced open his throbbing eye. Abby stood at the front of the van, face pale, lips parted. Martyr hoped she wasn’t angry with him.

“Don’t you worry about this loser anymore, Abby,” JD said, strutting toward her. “He’s nothing I can’t handle.” JD reached out and pulled Abby into an embrace.

She shoved him away. “Don’t touch me!” Her eyes, wild with fright, jumped from JD to Martyr.

Martyr didn’t want to move for fear of what she might say. The
power of her words amazed him. She held all that mattered in her hands.

From the look on JD’s face, it was the same for him.

“Marty?” Her voice was soft and unsure. “Pastor Scott, is that Marty?”

“I’m sorry, Abby,” Pastor Scott said. “I just wanted to get a look at JD. I shouldn’t have parked so close to his truck.”

“Get a look at me? Who are you people? Abby, what is going on? Who is this freak?”

Abby pushed past JD and crouched beside Martyr. She turned to look at JD. “What did you do?”

“I was helping you,” he said. “You said some bald JD look-alike attacked you. Well, here’s a bald JD look-alike, so I attacked him first.”

“You didn’t!”

“The dude stole my face. He attacked you. Be mad at him, not me.”

But Abby turned back to Martyr and touched his cheek, brushing her warm thumb under his throbbing eye. He closed his eyes and relaxed at her contact.

She whispered, “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.” She stood up and faced JD. “I didn’t mean for you to get in trouble when I talked to the police. I hoped you had an alibi.”

“What are you talking about?” JD said.

Pastor Scott helped Martyr stand.

“I only talked to the police because I was trying to help Marty,” Abby said.

JD sniffed in a long breath, his chest swelling. “My mom grounded me for a month! She thinks I did it. She thinks I’m obsessed with you.”

Martyr had to agree with JD’s mother. JD looked quite obsessed.

Pastor Scott opened the van door and helped Martyr inside.

JD’s angry eyes flickered from Martyr. “Why does
he
need your help?”

Abby turned to look JD straight in the eye. “He escaped from
your dad’s lab. Your dad’s been cloning people, and here’s the weird thing: I think you might be a clone too.”

JD stared at Abby, eyebrows crinkled, then laughed. “You can’t clone people.”

Abby’s serious expression didn’t change. “Your dad has lupus. It’s getting bad, and I think he needs a kidney transplant. Problem is, all his clones have lupus too.”

JD’s face relaxed into a frown.

Pastor Scott pushed down the locking device on the door and slammed it shut, muting Abby and JD’s conversation. Martyr strained to hear what they were saying. He could no longer hear Abby, but he could hear JD loud and clear.

“That’s not true!”

Abby yelled something and poked JD in the chest.

“You think he’s better than me? He’s a weakling!”

Abby responded by shaking her head and gesturing to the van. Martyr felt useless. He wanted to protect Abby, but what could he do?

“I was right the first time!” JD yelled. “You are a self-righteous snob!”

Abby slid open the back door to the van and climbed in.

JD stepped closer. “He said he wants to marry you, just so you know. You think I’m obsessed? Must be my DNA.”

In one swift yank, Abby slid the door shut. Pastor Scott started the van.

JD stood by the blue truck, staring after them as the van drove away. Martyr felt sorry for him.

“Move back here by me, Marty. I want to look at your eye.”

Martyr unclasped his seatbelt, stepped awkwardly to the long seat, and buckled himself beside Abby. Her black coat was unzipped, and he could see that she was wearing a purple shirt today.

She touched his cheek again, staring at his face with furrowed brows. Martyr copied her, not meaning to at first, but it was easy to keep his face in that position when he realized what had just happened.

“Will JD speak about this to Dr. Kane?” he asked.

She released his face and slouched down in her seat. “Probably.”

“What must I do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Send me back to the Farm. I don’t want to bring danger to you or Dr. Goyer. Besides, Baby needs me. I should never have abandoned him.”

She trained her green eyes on his. “Did you tell JD you wanted to marry me?”

He saw Pastor Scott’s eyes in the tiny reflecting glass, looking at him. Martyr was suddenly very warm. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you are love. I read it in One Corinthians. And Pastor Scott said when a man finds love he asks the woman to marry him. Did I understand correctly, Pastor Scott?”

Pastor Scott chuckled. “Well, sort of. But Marty, you’ve only known Abby for what, two days?”

Martyr felt like he was falling inside himself. “That’s not long enough to know love?”

“Not really,” Pastor Scott said.

Shame washed over Martyr. He was a fool to think that someone like Abby would love him. What if he expired before he knew love?

“It’s just that usually the girl and guy date for a while before getting married.” Abby took his hand in hers. “Let’s slow things down just a bit, okay?”

Martyr squeezed Abby’s hand and breathed until his heart settled back into its normal cadence. Her smell filled every breath, and Martyr ignored his disappointment at having misunderstood love and enjoyed simply sitting beside her.

But Abby had more to say. “Still, even a second is long enough to experience what’s described in 1 Corinthians. I’m thrilled that you see me as a personification of that kind of love, Marty. Many would disagree with you there.” She huffed a wry laugh. “JD being first in line.”

Martyr could not imagine how anyone could see Abby as anything but love.

They sat in silence as Pastor Scott drove away from the school, but instead of looking out the window, Martyr focused on Abby’s hand, which still was wrapped around his. He found it very hard not to think about what she had said.

“It’s just that usually the girl and the guy ate for a while before getting married. Let’s slow things down just a bit, okay?”

Slow down and eat?

“I think we should go to the cops,” Abby said suddenly, pulling Martyr back to reality. “With the whole truth this time. We need to get Baby and the others out. I don’t know what will happen, but we have to try.”

“Okay.” Martyr would do whatever Abby thought best.

“Are you sure?” Pastor Scott asked. “They won’t believe you at first. I sure didn’t. Unless they see JD and Marty together, they’ll think you’re making it up.”

“What else can we do? JD saw Marty, and as soon as he can he’ll tell Dr. Kane that we’re with you. So Marty shouldn’t go back to your house. He isn’t safe anywhere. The police have to help.”

“The police might just call Dr. Kane to come down and pick up his son, thinking he’s drugged out. Marty looks like JD. It’s what I’d do.”

“Will you drop us at my house, then? We’ll see what my dad thinks.”

“You got it.” Pastor Scott said. “And Abby, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. It’s still so odd. Let me know when you decide to go to the police and I’ll come with. The more people you have to corroborate your story, the better.”

When Pastor Scott dropped them off, Dad wasn’t home, which raised a lot of concerns Abby didn’t want to deal with. She was tempted to call Pastor Scott and ask him to take her back for her car at the school—the scientists could just as easily come to her house as to Pastor Scott’s apartment. But with no cars in her driveway, maybe they’d assume no one was here. Plus, she needed time
to think. She hung up her coat in the front closet. Marty took off the green and brown plaid quilted flannel shirt he was wearing and hung it next to Abby’s coat.

“Where did you get that?” she asked.

“Pastor Scott loaned it to me.”

How very Fishhook, Alaska.

Marty’s eye was swollen; she needed to get some ice on it. But first, she had to know where dad was. “Do you have my phone?”

Marty dug it out of his front pocket and handed it to her. She left a message on Dad’s cell, then ordered a pizza.

“Why don’t you go lie down on the couch? I’ll get something for your bruise.” Abby went into the kitchen, took a package of frozen corn from the freezer, and wrapped it in a dishtowel. She walked back to the sofa and kneeled down. “Hold this on your eye. It’s cold, but will help the swelling.”

Marty placed the wrapped corn on his face, and Abby sank to her rear on the floor and leaned her head back on the edge of the couch. What a day. Her mind spun with the bizarre events. She felt sorry for JD. Not for how he’d treated her—the creepazoid—but for the trouble her accusation had caused.

She wasn’t really a self-righteous snob, was she?

Something tickled her scalp. Marty was touching her hair.

What to do with him?

He was so sweet and naïve and innocent—like no other boy on the planet. He might have the same DNA as JD, but he was not the same person. And he wanted to marry her—because she was the first person ever to show him kindness without an agenda. Marty knew how to love instinctively, but she doubted anyone had ever truly loved him. No mother had kissed him good-night, no father had played catch. No wonder he wanted to stay with her.

He was feeling her hair by the handful now. It actually felt kind of nice. What must he feel to have been raised in captivity all his life? To have never seen a girl? It must be confusing, especially since he was a boy. Teenage boys had more hormones raging than anyone. That was a biological fact.

And JD’s mom wouldn’t let him date. Probably because she
was afraid someone would find out he was a clone. As a result, the poor guy didn’t know what to do with himself. Attacking girls in the hallway was the best plan he could come up with.

Poor, dumb boy.

Marty had stopped touching her hair. Abby rose onto her knees and turned to check on him. He lay with one hand holding the corn to his ear, the other dangling off the couch.

Sleeping.

He looked so peaceful. His long, dark eyelashes fell softly against the rosy skin of his swollen face. His cheeks, chin, and upper neck were scruffy with brown hair. Did Marty know how to shave or had the groomers taken that bit of his independence?