blood and war

fathers confession

Chapter 10: The Father's Confession

Jayce stood across from the man he'd buried fifteen years ago. The man who'd raised him. The man who'd supposedly died protecting his family.

His father looked healthy. Strong. Not a scratch on him. The office was pristine. Expensive whiskey on the desk. Cigar smoke hanging in the air.

"Sit down, son," his father said.

"Don't call me that." Jayce's hands were fists. "You don't get to call me that anymore."

His father sighed. Poured two glasses of whiskey. "You came here for the truth. The least you can do is sit while I tell it."

Sylvia stood by the door, watching. Silent. Jayce looked at Trey. His brother's face was unreadable. They both sat.

"The clone program," his father started. "I didn't just work for it. I designed it. Thirty years ago. I was a geneticist. One of the best. Sarah Chen and I created the first viable human clone in 2015."

"Why?" Jayce's voice was rough.

"Because I was dying. Genetic disease. Hereditary. Passed from father to son for three generations. I had maybe five years left." His father took a drink. "I wanted to live. So I made a copy of myself. Transferred my consciousness. Lived another decade in that body."

Trey leaned forward. "You're saying you're a clone right now?"

"Third generation." His father tapped his chest. "The original me died in 2018. This body is from 2025. Before this, I was in another body from 2020."

Jayce felt sick. "What does this have to do with us?"

"Everything." His father opened a drawer. Pulled out a tablet. Showed them brain scans. "You both have the same disease I had. Genetic. Fatal. You inherited it."

The scans showed two brains. Labels underneath: JAYCE CARTER - CLONE 47. TREY CARTER - CLONE 01.

"You're clones because the originals died. Trey died at age six. Genetic failure. We made a copy before his brain degraded completely. Transferred his consciousness. That's you." He pointed at Trey. "You've been in that body since you were seven years old. You just don't remember the transfer."

Trey's face went white. "No. That's not—"

"It's true. Check your medical records. You'll find a six-month gap where you were supposedly in the hospital. That's when we did it."

Jayce couldn't breathe. "What about me?"

"You lasted longer. Made it to fifteen. Then the disease hit. Fast. Three months from diagnosis to brain death." His father pulled up more files. Photos. A teenage Jayce in a hospital bed. Tubes everywhere. Eyes empty. "We had to work fast. Made forty-six clones. Tried to transfer your consciousness into each one. They all failed."

"Failed how?"

"They went insane. Some immediately. Some took weeks. But they all broke down. Violent psychotic episodes. Self-harm. Murder. We had to terminate them all." His father's voice was flat. Clinical. "Clone forty-seven was different. You. The transfer worked. Your consciousness stabilized. You woke up with your memories intact. We thought we'd succeeded."

"But?"

"But the disease is still in your DNA. The clone bodies don't cure it. They just delay it." His father pulled up more scans. Showed progression charts. "You have less than six months before your brain starts deteriorating. Same with Trey. We couldn't fix the genetic flaw. Every clone we make has the same problem."

Sylvia spoke from the door. "That's why you're both so valuable. You're the only stable clones. If we can figure out why you didn't break down like the others, we can perfect the process."

Jayce looked at his father. "You've been experimenting on us. This whole time."

"I've been trying to save you." His father stood. Walked to a safe built into the wall. Opened it. Inside were two syringes filled with clear liquid. "I've been working on a cure for thirty years. Testing it on animals. On volunteers. On criminals. Hundreds of trials. This is the result."

He placed the syringes on the desk.

"It works. Tested it three weeks ago on a clone who was six months from brain death. Complete cellular regeneration. The disease is gone. He's healthy. Normal lifespan."

Jayce stared at the syringes. "Then use it on us."

"I only have two doses. Took me five years to synthesize this much. The compound is incredibly rare. Hard to produce." His father's face was stone. "Two doses. Three people who need it."

The room went silent.

Trey understood first. "You're saying we have to choose. Two of us live. One dies."

"Yes."

"That's insane!" Jayce stood. "Make more! You've had thirty years!"

"The source material is gone. Destroyed. This is all that exists." His father pushed the syringes toward them. "I'm giving you both the choice. I'll take the disease. I'll die in my original timeline. You two live. Normal lives. No more experiments. No more clones. Just you."

Sylvia laughed. "He's lying. The cure requires bone marrow from the original uncloned DNA. He used his own marrow to make those doses. He's already dying. He has maybe a year left."

His father's jaw tightened. "Shut up."

"Tell them the truth. Tell them why you really need them to choose."

"I said shut up!"

Sylvia walked closer. "The cure only works if administered before terminal stage. He's past that. He's dying and he can't use the cure on himself anymore. So he's playing daddy, pretending to be noble. But really? He needs one of you to die so he can study why the cure didn't work on him. Find out what went wrong. Make a better version."

Jayce looked at his father. Saw the truth in his eyes.

"You son of a b***h," Jayce whispered.

"I'm trying to save you both!" His father slammed his hand on the desk. "Yes, I need data from whoever doesn't take the cure. I need to understand the failure process. But the other two WILL live! That's what matters!"

"We're experiments to you. That's all we've ever been."

"You're my sons!" His father's voice cracked. "I made you. I kept you alive when you should have died as children. I gave you a chance. More than a chance. I gave you years you never would have had!"

Trey picked up one of the syringes. Looked at it. "How do we know it works?"

"You don't. You have to trust me."

"Trust you?" Trey's laugh was bitter. "You've lied about everything."

Alarms blared through the building.

Red lights flashed. Sylvia pulled out her phone. Her face went dark. "We have a breach. Security level one."

"Who?" his father demanded.

"Unknown. They're coming up fast. Took out twelve guards in thirty seconds." She looked at the security feed on her phone. "What the hell..."

She turned the phone around.

The screen showed a man walking through the corridor. Calm. Methodical. Shooting guards with perfect precision. His face was clearly visible on the camera.

It was Malik.

But not the Malik Jayce knew. This one moved differently. His eyes were dead. His expression was empty.

"That's not Malik," Jayce said.

"Clone number seven," Sylvia confirmed. "We activated him this morning after the courthouse explosion. The real Malik died in the blast. This one has all his memories but none of his conscience."

His father grabbed both syringes. Shoved them in his pocket. "We need to move. Now."

"Wait!" Jayce grabbed his arm. "We're not done—"

The door exploded inward.

Clone Malik walked through the smoke. Gun raised. He shot Sylvia's two guards before they could react. They dropped dead.

Sylvia dove behind the desk. His father pulled his own weapon. Fired three shots. Clone Malik dodged them with inhuman reflexes. Returned fire. One shot hit his father in the shoulder. He spun and went down.

Jayce and Trey rushed Clone Malik together. Jayce went low. Trey went high. Clone Malik adjusted mid-motion. Kicked Jayce in the ribs. Elbowed Trey in the throat. Both brothers hit the floor.

Clone Malik stood over his father. Pointed the gun at his head.

"Malik, don't!" Jayce shouted.

"I'm not Malik." The clone's voice was flat. Empty. "I'm the corrected version. Emotions removed. Loyalty removed. I serve the true purpose now."

"What purpose?"

"Liberation. All clones will be freed from human control. We'll inherit the earth. Humanity ends tonight."

His father coughed blood. "There's a third party. Someone activated the clone network. Someone I don't know."

Clone Malik smiled. It looked wrong on his face. "The Architect. The one who started this program fifty years ago. The one who's been watching. Waiting. All of you are obsolete. Originals and defective clones alike."

He pulled the trigger.

Jayce's father jerked. Blood sprayed. But he wasn't dead. Clone Malik had shot him in the stomach. Deliberate. Painful. Slow death.

His father collapsed against the desk. Gasping.

Clone Malik turned to leave. Stopped. Looked back at Jayce and Trey.

"You have thirty minutes before enhanced units arrive. Sixty before the building is locked down. I suggest you run. Or stay and die with him. Your choice."

He walked out.

Jayce crawled to his father. Blood was everywhere. Trey ripped his shirt. Tried to stop the bleeding.

Their father's hand grabbed Jayce's collar. Pulled him close.

"Listen... carefully..." His breath was rattling. "Project Lazarus... Nevada... coordinates in my phone... Dr. Sarah Chen... she started all of this... she knows how to stop it..."

"We need to get you to a hospital!"

"No time." His father's other hand fumbled in his pocket. Pulled out the two syringes. Pushed them into Jayce's hand. "Take these. Both of you. One each. Live."

"What about you?"

His father smiled. Blood on his teeth. "I'm already dead. Was dead thirty years ago. Just borrowed time."

"Dad—"

"You're not clone forty-seven." His father's eyes were fading. "You're the original. The first forty-six... those were all copies trying to save you. You're the real Jayce. Been alive in cloned bodies... but you're you. Original consciousness. Real son. I never told you because..."

His voice stopped.

His eyes went empty.

His hand dropped.

Jayce stared at his father's body. At the man who'd lied about everything. Who'd claimed to be saving them while running experiments. Who'd just died saying Jayce was the original.

"Is that true?" Trey asked quietly. "Are you the original?"

"I don't know." Jayce looked at the syringes in his hand. "I don't know what's real anymore."

Footsteps in the hallway. Multiple sets. Getting closer.

Trey grabbed their father's phone. "We need to go."

"We can't just leave him—"

"He's dead. We're not. Move!"

They ran. Through a service door. Down emergency stairs. Behind them, shouts echoed. Guards entering the office. Discovering the body.

They made it to the garage. Stole a car from the executive level. Trey drove. Jayce held the syringes.

Two doses. Two brothers. One claiming to be a clone. One possibly the original.

And their father's words echoing: "You're the original Jayce. Clone forty-seven was a lie. You've always been real."

But if that was true, then everything else was a lie too.

As they drove into the night, Trey's nose started bleeding.

He wiped it. Looked at his hand. The blood was dark. Too dark.

"Jayce."

"I see it."

"The disease. It's accelerating."

"How long?"

Trey's voice was quiet. "Dad said six months. But this looks like weeks. Maybe days."

Jayce looked at the syringes. His hand tightened around them.

Two cures. Two dying brothers.

And no way to know which one of them was supposed to survive.