Clone Chronicles

Chapter 4: Streetscape

I emerge in a narrow street, a sagging fence before me, the bulk of the school behind. Night has fallen, but it isn't dark, at least not completely. A single street light buzzes above, casting its cold white light over me. Sound crunches in the dark beyond the reach of the light, coming closer. I turn, prepared for more teen boys with evil intentions and feel a renewed surge of panic at what I see.

Creatures of some kind, are they? In a square vehicle rolling into the light. Strips and panels of beaten metal cover it, though beneath I see the grill of an ordinary minivan. The creatures hang from it, alighting as the machine comes to a halt just inside the pool of illumination. They watch me silently, their rounded heads shining, bodies as rigid and plated as their van.

People then, but in some kind of uniform. One approaches me, silent, though the boots he wears are as noisy and solid as mine. Here perhaps is an authority. My mind flickers, shows me images of police officers in uniform, soldiers, too. They may have answers.

I must have answers.

Before I can reach the soldier, the door behind me opens with a whoosh of air, slamming against the side of the building in an echoing clang. The four boys tumble out, panting and reaching for me. Only one notices we're not alone, recoils-the nervous one.

I turn to ask for help only to see I'm still in danger.

The approaching soldier holds a weapon and points it at me. The small black box shudders, a line of light jumping from one point to another. Some kind of taser. And his friends are no longer in the van, but coming toward me even as the first of the boys from the school reaches out to grab my leg.

I scramble backward, falling against the fence, feeling the chain link give beneath my weight. I fall further than I expect, off balance, but it saves me from being caught. One of the bullies collapses beside me with a grunt, on his knees, still reaching for me. Someone screams. The sound of the taser discharging making my ears hurt, the smell of ozone and singeing flesh flood my nostrils. Not a gentle charge then.

Life threatening.

I roll sideways, using the fence for support, spinning to face it, leaping up and forward. I grab the top, my weight tumbling it flat to the ground. My feet are under me, the fence snapping back as I let it go, turning to see two of the bullies fall against it, crying out in pain as it hits them. The uniformed ones are right behind and it seems, for the first time, the boys notice them. Turn. Scream. Leap for the fence.

My pounding heart tells me this has taken less than thirty seconds. I spin, looking for an escape route.

And hear a hiss. My eyes find the source of the sound. She is tiny, a blot against the ground, her upturned face peeking out from under a rusting car. She gestures quickly, motioning for me to follow and I do, without thought. I do not know her, but I trust her from the moment our eyes meet.

She slides out from under cover and runs down the street, dodging from one pile of debris to the next. I can barely see her to follow, but I can feel her ahead so I don't worry she'll escape me. Not that escaping is her plan. She pauses from time to time, waiting for me to catch up before darting off again.

I stumble and curse many times, my shins and thighs battered as I run into obstacles I cannot see in the dark. My guide sticks to the shadows, out of the light. Smart. I know I must do so myself from now on. Whatever has happened, it's clear I'm not safe here.

The sounds of the fight fade quickly behind us, though I pause once, certain I hear the thud of sneakers on pavement. But after a moment of listening and more hissing from the girl I move on.

I almost run right into her when she stops suddenly and ducks down under a sagging canopy. She is panting, but her eyes shine in the distant light of a street lamp and I can tell, my eyes adjusted to the very low light, she is smiling.

"Nice running." She pats my knee. "You're lucky I found you though. Those Crawlers would have had you for sure."

Crawlers? "Thank you."

She shrugs as if she's done nothing special. "Where you from?"

"I wish I knew." I sigh then, sagging a little. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

Her little forehead comes together, a very grown up expression on a terribly young face. "What do you mean, here?"

Perhaps not the best question at the moment. "I'm trying to find out where I'm supposed to go."

Am I that odd? Probably. But she stays with me, so I know I don't frighten her. I'm glad. There is something about her I adore already.

"Well," she says, "if you don't know where you're from or where you're going, I guess it's really lucky I found you." She shakes her head and giggles, both little hands pressing to her mouth as if laughter is something to be hidden and protected. "I'm Poppy. What's your name?"

"Clone Three." It sounds odd to me, speaking my name like that. It feels wrong.

She agrees. Her little nose wrinkles, another giggle escaping. "What kind of name is that?" Poppy grips my face between her hands and stares into my eyes. "I'll call you Trio, okay?" She winks. "Three, trio. Get it?"

Trio. I like it.

"Now, Trio," Poppy says, climbing to her feet even as she looks out of our hiding place. "My brother is going to kill me if he finds out I'm out here by myself. So I have to get back. It was really nice to meet you."

I don't want her to go! The sudden need to keep her with me is overpowering. I reach for her, take her hand. She looks down, then up into my eyes. Poppy very gently pats my cheek. I suddenly feel like she's the older of the two of us.

"Want to come with me?" Poppy tugs on my hand. "It's okay. Beckett won't mind."

"Beckett." The name rolls around in my head.

"My brother." She heaves a little sigh, rolling her eyes. "You know what big brothers are like. But he's all right. And you shouldn't be out here alone, I guess, if you don't know anything."

I want to laugh. Going with her is the easy choice.

We walk together after she tells me the coast is clear in her whispering, secret voice. She almost skips, still holding my hand, her fingers hot in mine.

"You shouldn't be out here alone." Of course she shouldn't. If it's dangerous for me, how could it not be for her?

She shrugs again. "I like to explore," she said. "And Beckett won't let me. He thinks I'm still a baby." She stresses the word baby, makes a soft crying sound like an infant. I do laugh this time. "But I'm not," she grins. "I'm eight, last birthday. That's pretty old."

I nod in agreement even as my heart clenches. Eight. The need to protect her is powerful, overwhelming and almost freezes me in my tracks. I am seized by the compulsion to guard her with my life and have no idea why.

We cross a street, but only after Poppy checks and double checks the way is safe. I am happy to hold her hand and be with her, though I am also on alert to any threat. I can't help staring at the destruction around me, though. The entire city is in shambles, and the devastation isn't new. It's not war, clearly. Skyscrapers still stand above us in the distance, looking more sad and forlorn than destroyed. Some kind of natural disaster? Has to be. And at least twenty years ago from the state of everything.

"What happened, Poppy?" I whisper my question, more to myself really than her. "Who or what did this?"

She squeezes my hand, looking very confused. "You really don't know anything," she says.

I don't get a chance to ask her more. I hear her gasp, the sound of a footfall, soft and stealthy and know I've been more distracted than I thought.

Figures melt out of the dark and surround us.

***