The Book of Eva: Clone, Book One Read online

  The first time Eva met General Michael Axis was at her keeper’s—my mother’s—twenty-fourth birthday party. She’d been given the task of serving the meal and had performed the function flawlessly, without attracting attention, or so she’d thought.

  Sometime during the night, General Axis excused himself to use the facilities. He’d bumped into her in the hallway outside the lavatory. She’d tried to quietly maneuver around him, to continue the assigned task. Instead, he grabbed her arm and shoved her inside the tiny room.

  Two months later, her keeper discovered her pregnancy. They allowed Eva to carry her child for a while, feel it move inside her and become animated. Then they took it away. Her baby was aborted, its brainstem cells and tissue harvested for me.

  It was not the last rape she would endure. She’d never understood what she’d done to draw his attention and often thought back to that night, trying to sort through the events, so it wouldn’t happen again. But it did. Over and over, and she could do nothing to stop it. To try would result in her execution.

  Shortly after the first attack by Michael, my father also noticed her, and used her whenever he wanted. Several times she became pregnant, and they would do the same, let the child grow, and then take it from her. Murder, yet they didn’t see it that way. If I had not been an infant, I would have stopped them. I did not want to be the reason for the death of another—even those they called clone.

  To Eva, I was a leech, a cannibal of human life. I was my mother’s only child, and too sickly to provide the material needed to make a clone of my own. Or maybe my mother lied, and somewhere out there my duplicate existed and she had suffered as Eva had. It was a mystery I would never have the answer to. All I was certain of, was for years, Eva endured painful procedures that took marrow, blood, and tissue from her body, all for my sake, all to save a child who should have died at birth.

  She did not like me.

  I could not blame her.

  Eva took another bite of her stew and stared at the clone of Michael Axis. She did not like him either. It angered her to see his chip had been removed. When she touched her cheek again, fury rose inside her. All the suffering had come back, all the things she couldn’t forget. It had bothered her Dante had left the chip in, that he didn’t trust her.

  She jumped to her feet and screamed, sweeping her arm over the table and sending the bowl of stew to the floor, where it was dashed to bits. The room went silent. Everyone stopped eating to stare.

  She didn’t understand the anger, only what had happened didn’t feel just. She’d tasted a small bit of freedom, and it was so precious to her. The thought some of what she could have was being denied, overloaded her emotions, and all the hate and fear she’d stowed from the past exploded to the surface.

  Guards rushed through the open doors to the dining facility. She spun around and raised her hands to en garde, taking up a fighting stance. In a split second, she made a choice. It would haunt her until the day she released herself to death. All her life, she had not been able to fight. Dante had taught her for a reason, and now she knew how, she would not cower. This was not practice. And like that wild tiger, she bit.

  When it was over, the guards were dead on the floor, in pools of blood. She calmly examined her handiwork. She didn’t feel shame or regret, but a surging power as it moved through her. She could fight. She wasn’t helpless and would never be again.

  The fork had been well placed. It stood up from the now empty eye socket of a guard, where she’d ground it in deep, surely embedding it in his brain. The other’s neck was bent and twisted around backward. Blood dripped from his mouth into a pile of vomit he’d expelled in the spasms of death.

  Certain they would offer no more resistance, she stepped over a body and walked to the nearest table to take a seat before wiping her hands on the front of her pants and picking up an apple. It was firm, red, and it would be a waste to leave it uneaten.

  As a clone, she’d never been allowed the luxury—here it was normal to have one from time to time. The cost of one apple in Aeropia could feed a family for a month and, in the United Regions, they ate them like candy, not realizing how precious fresh fruit could be. She certainly had not forgotten, having lived on nothing but clone feed before she’d arrived there.

  Eva closed her eyes and savored the sweet juiciness, aware several people watched. She wouldn’t explain to them why. If they’d forgotten their former lives, it was not her fault. She never would. Eva raised the apple to her mouth again, stopping short of biting into it. Sheep. They were sheep. They’d had their chips removed, and they’d become complacent.

  She then understood why Dante left hers in, and was no longer angry at him. Eva opened her eyes, rose from where she sat, and sauntered from the room. Never a victim again.

  Never.

  * * *

  “You can’t kill the guards because they come to restrain you,” Dante yelled.

  He was so animated when he was angry. She smiled, finding humor in the fact that no amount of yelling would change anything. He expended unnecessary energy over something he could not alter. And he demanded restraint?

  “What are you smiling for?” he raged on.

  “Did you see how efficiently I dispatched them? Like you’ve shown me.”

  He looked at her, and she was certain the vessel at his temple would explode. It had begun throbbing with his pulse the moment he came into the room. Instead, Dante sat down on her bed and cradled his head in his hands. “Eva, you can’t kill whenever you want. They’re talking of putting you down.”

  That was not the reaction she’d expected. He’d taught her to defend herself, he’d given her freedom and hadn’t let her forget how valuable it was, and suddenly his anger made sense. “They attacked first. I defended myself.” She dropped down next to him. “Will they take my life for defending myself?”

  “You didn’t need to kill them.” He sighed. “You’re lucky the Institute needs you.” He lifted his chin and stared into her eyes. “That you fit into their plans.”

  “Do you need me?” She hoped the next word from his mouth would be yes, but as silence sat between them for what felt like hours, she knew it would not be.

  The muscle in his jaw twitched. The tension crept from him into the four walls surrounding them. The room collapsed in on her and she needed comfort, to hear from his mouth that he was still her friend—that he hadn’t stopped caring for her.

  Eva reached out to touch his face, and he knocked her hand away. “Not now.”

  The adrenaline from the fight had left her wanting more. Her heart ached for it. She reached out again, desperate for contact, to know things would be okay between them.

  Dante grabbed her wrist. “You’re dangerous, Eva. Such behavior can’t be condoned.” He dropped her wrist. “Or rewarded. I’m done with you. I’ll continue to train you, but don’t ask me for anything more. I wish they’d never found you. God, this is a bad idea, turning you loose.” He stood. “If you mess up in Aeropia, you’re dead. If you kill any more guards, I will finish you myself.” Dante turned his back to her and walked out, locking the door behind him. For the first time in her life, silence bothered her.

  Two months passed, and Dante spoke to her little. He continued to show up to train her, as he’d promised, but his words were always few. His distance hurt. She did not like it, but she didn’t know how to fix it. Relationships were not something she had practice with.

  Now, she found herself at the underground station in the Imperial city. Dante and the organization had smuggled her back over the border for a meeting. She’d gone in disguise, wearing lenses to darken her eyes and a wig that buried her features behind thick hanks of hair.

  She could see the woman from across the landing. The vivid red dress, the only flash of color in the crowded train station, announced her as a stranger better than saying it out loud. Not a good choice for someone who wanted to blend. But the color became her, so Eva let it go.

  The Gatekeeper glan
ced around the area. She clutched her purse tight and stepped back to avoid two adolescent clones running by. She wasn’t been fast enough, and they bumped her, sending her back into the wall.

  “Watch it!” She recovered and brushed off her arm where they’d made contact. Her lip curled, and her eyes narrowed on their retreating forms. “Disgusting. You better not have given me lice!” She rubbed her arm again, as though she could scrub the brief touch away.

  Here words were wasted. They were long gone before what she’d said could reach them. She shifted on her feet and looked at her wristwatch before turning to glance in the other direction. Clearly, she didn’t want to be down there.

  The clones in the crowd looked like fireflies in the dimness of the underground. The pulsing chips in their cheeks flashed as they moved about with tasks for their keepers. They would not speak of what they saw, but it was obvious they’d made the woman nervous, and Eva was certain some of the contact they’d made wasn’t as accidental as the woman would like to think. In their silence, they were still rebels.

  They wore security girdles that would knock them out or kill them if they tried to run or show any resistance. She knew the fear contained them and why they completed their missions with haste, not pausing to watch or take notice—not in front of witnesses. The only way they would be free, would be if someone released them. In that dirty underworld, Eva’s purpose became clear, and she resolved that nothing would stop her.

  Most keepers avoided the underground station, a filthy and ordinary mode of transportation. Not seen as fit for humans, it had been a perfect place for a meeting—a perfect place to plan a coup d’état.

  The Gatekeeper reached into her purse and pulled out her cigarettes and lighter. The woman slipped the stick between her red lips and cupped her hand around the end, keeping the gusts of air generated by the trains from extinguishing the flame. Banned along with most drugs and alcohol, her actions spoke to Eva. Some things about them were alike—both rebels. But that was where the similarities ended.

  Since they’d removed Eva’s chip, they had no guarantee she’d come back. Dante warned her if she ran, they’d hunt her down. They couldn’t risk the exposure of their plans. The threats did not settle on her. If she wanted to disappear, she could’ve, and they’d never have found her. But since they controlled the keys to everything she desired, she agreed to play along.

  The woman drew on the cigarette, causing the end to glow like a hot coal. Lovely. In the dimness of the underground, her hair appeared to be a dark red and her eyes like burnt chocolate. She scanned the area again and took another drag. She wasn’t a clone, but close. The pretty woman in red was the president’s lover, trading sex for wealth and power. A mistress. Whore. Eva did not envy her, even though she’d retained her freedom.

  At first, Eva thought it would be a pity to kill her when she finished her mission, but she had to cover her tracks, and the mistress had become a liability the moment she’d become part of the plan. The Institute wanted her dead, and so, when it was over, she would be.

  Eva made her way through the crowd toward the woman as she took another drag. Carmen turned her head slightly, and her eyes stopped scanning. For a moment, revulsion crossed her face then quickly faded, as though it had never been. Even the whore held herself over a clone.

  Eva reached out and handed her a bill. “Have you change?”

  She nodded and tossed the cigarette down onto the concrete, crushing it with the toe of her pump. “You’re late.”

  “Not late—detained.”

  “Don’t be detained again.” Her lips pursed as though she’d tasted something disgusting. Eva may not had had her chip installed anymore, and she spoke her language without the clone’s gutter accent, but the mistress had been briefed who she really was. It seemed to displease her to stoop to communicating with a clone.

  “I wondered if lovely looked as beautiful without life.” As Eva said it, I thought my father’s mistress would never look lovely. All she was, she wore on her countenance like a theater mask. False smile. False concern. There had never been anything pretty about it.

  “What?” Carmen snarled.

  “Nothing.”

  The mistress snorted, reached into her purse, and pulled out a small packet. “Everything you need is in there.” She passed it and a lighter to Eva. “Go into the ladies room. Memorize and burn it.”

  Eva closed her fingers on the envelope like a gift, and if they’d discovered her true intent, what she planned to do with the information, they never would have released it to her. She snatched the envelope from her contact’s hand, accidentally brushing her fingers. The woman yanked away and wiped the offending germs on her skirt, her face taking on a green hue.

  Ignoring the blatant show of horror, Eva turned her attention to what she’d handed her. With her photographic memory, it wouldn’t take much to commit the information. Only moments of reading. The woman crammed two tens into her open palm, careful to avoid touching her again. Eva looked down at the bills and back up to her face. The mistress would be waiting for her at 2:10 a.m., the next week.

  Without further exchange, they parted company. Eva walked in the opposite direction, winding her way through the clones to the ladies room. Broken tiles littered a floor covered with rat carcasses, dirt, and toilet paper. She opened a stall and looked down at the brown-caked bowl, unused for years, or at least not cleaned in the last decade. No one would come in, but she decided not to take a chance. She stepped into the stall, shut the door, and locked it behind her.

  Tearing the packet open, Eva studied the information. Schedules, maps of the estates, and a silver key with alarm codes. She didn’t need the map. The layout of the different homes had been embossed in her brain from childhood. But the key, the codes, those were what she needed to take Ana’s place.

  The Gatekeeper had opened the way, and she had not been careful about who she let in. This was the moment in our history when the power shifted, though no one would make record of it, at least not until she told me. No one knew. Eva closed her eyes, leaned back against the stall, and planned her attack.

  4

  Life was never fair, especially for clones. Carmen had more than Eva had ever dreamed of holding, and yet she chose to be a slave, had given up her freedom for temporal things. Eva didn’t want any of the material items that drove the Gatekeeper. There was one thing she’d craved, one thing she’d always dreamed of, something money or power could not buy.

  When her keeper was four, Eva had come into existence, as clones were never born—they became, and were assigned a creation date that would forever pulse from the chip in their cheek. As an infant, she’d been treated with quiet stoicism. The caregiver would swaddle her, set her in a cradle, and leave her alone. Eva only saw her for feedings and diaper changes.

  Other than that, she hadn’t experienced human affection. Clone babies were not developed to be loved or cared for. They were not human, only products of an artificial womb and unnatural creation.

  When she’d started to crawl, they placed her in a cage and allowed her the one small mercy of activity. She’d learned to walk by pulling herself up on the bars and moving around the cage as any other human child, proof she wasn’t the animal they believed her to be. But nobody celebrated her first steps or her first word. No one ever clapped or cheered when she reached a milestone, nor had she ever heard the words, I love you.

  The caregiver always remained a few feet away, should she need food or other necessary items for survival. She could often overhear her conversations with the others, and this was how she learned to speak. Eva would repeat all she heard like a parrot, even as the woman continued to ignore her.

  She recalled the day she met her keeper. Her mother brought Ana to visit, to see her clone. The pretty girl stood next to her mother, clutching her hand, staring at Eva. Ana’s eyes were luminous and round, full of the awe of the world children often have. They held no prejudice or hate, merely curiosity.

  “Mama,
” she’d said. “Why does she look like me?”

  Eva had been only three at the time, and it confused her as to how she could look like such a tall and elegant child.

  “That’s because she’s your clone.”

  Most people said clone the way they’d spit on the sidewalk to dislodge an unpleasant lump in their throat, but the woman had said “clone” softly. It sounded pleasant coming off her tongue, and it should have been a warning. Eva, in her innocence, did not take it that way. She’d moved closer, her interest triggered and unrestrained.

  The girl let go of her mother’s hand and drew toward the cage.

  “Not too near. She’s soulless,” her mother warned. “Unclean.”

  Eva shuffled to the bars, reaching through, fascinated with her visitor. Not a clone, the girl dressed different, smelled sweet, and had a friendlier disposition than the other keepers.

  Her mother snagged the back of Ana’s jacket, pulling her away. “Don’t touch. They’re not good to touch. They’re unholy creatures.”

  “Mama,” the child said.

  Her mother turned her until they were face to face and smiled a most beautiful smile. Eva’s heart ached for a smile like that. She reached through the bars again, but this time she reached for the woman. “Ma—ma,” she’d said, pleased with her ability to speak. She stood there, waiting for that smile to be presented to her, but all she got was a look of horror.

  “Take Analise out of here,” her keeper’s mother ordered the caregiver standing in the background. The caregiver took her hand and led a pouting Ana from the room, shutting the door behind her.

  Eva smiled again at the woman before her. “Mama,” she repeated, louder.

  The woman retrieved a leather strap from the wall and unlocked her cage. Eva had never seen or been a victim of violence or she would have cowered in the corner. Her innocence became her downfall. The evil woman stripped her clothes away without care, until she stood naked, bare to the cold room and woman’s scrutiny.