Clone One Page 4

  The idea the Shambles are aware is somehow the epitome of tragic.

  Giant nods. “Not smartie, like us.” She taps her chest with one fist, then my leg. “But know. Trap us.” She kicks the back of my seat. “Hate losing.”

  How many has she lost in the past in her attempts to reach the food source? My heart breaks for her, this powerful little bundle of dirt and fire. I want to help her, wish there is something we can do, but she needs a permanent solution and there’s just Duet and I.

  From the way Giant looks at Duet, she thinks she's found her solution.

  “Let's go then.” Duet is out of the truck, stomping her way down the road before I can stop her. I go after her, the kids chasing her too, bouncing along like filthy squirrels, fleet footed and swift despite the rough terrain.

  “Wait!” Giant calls out to Duet and, to my surprise, she stops, turns, faces the little girl. Giant comes to a halt at Duet's side, half my sister-clone's height and size. And yet, in the daylight, after a night spent in our company, Giant doesn't seem afraid of Duet any longer. “You kill the dead ones?”

  Duet grunts, shrugs. “Need killing,” she says.

  Giant hugs her fiercely before letting out a piercing whistle. We're surrounded again, but this time the little faces are full of hope. Giant chatters on to her people so fast I don't catch much in her garbled language, but when she's through the kids are cheering.

  My sister’s arm quivers under my hand as I pull her close, whisper in her ear. The words I speak are hard, so hard, knowing if we leave these kids they are doomed. But we have a task and I can’t allow either of us to be harmed or even killed in some foolish attack on a pack of Shambles.

  “Duet,” I hiss. “We can’t.”

  She meets my eyes, and for the first time ever I see compassion in her gaze, something close to real love. “We have to.”

  Giant stands, waiting. This entire situation is impossible, ridiculous. I want to run away and forget we’ve met these tiny warriors. But they are warriors, all of them, no matter their fear. They’ve fought their entire lives just to survive this far. How can I possibly say no to them?

  Duet nods, smiles. Kisses my cheek.

  Very well, then.

  I follow Duet with a sense of dread pressing down on me while she marches on with a small army of skinny, filthy kids at her back.

  But she’s right. As dangerous as this might be, do we have a choice? I can't just leave them like this, knowing what I now know. To slowly starve to death with food close by. Giant said the Shambles are everywhere. And intelligent, able to plan. And while both my sister and I are strong, are we strong enough?

  The warehouse is close off the interstate, a small town hunkered around it. It looks like some kind of manufacturing plant from the distance, just visible across a meandering river. A low bridge crosses the span, leading into town.

  Giant grasps Duet’s hand, points. I can just make out black marks on the edge of the bridge. “Tried fire,” she says. It comes out as “fur” but I know exactly to what she’s referring. She leads us to the edge of the bridge, stands and stares across the span, face a mask of anger. “Tried water.” She points ahead. My boots make hollow sounds over the pavement, chunks of the structure missing, a guardrail hanging down over the flowing water as I step forward to investigate. The kids behind me gasp but don’t try to stop me. A glance over the edge and I see the cause—the wreck of a tractor trailer lies in the river bed, twisted hulk embedded in the stones at the bottom of the river.

  I turn, meet Giant’s eyes. “You did very well,” I say. She shakes her head at my attempt at praise.

  “Not good enough.” She releases Duet’s hand, crosses her arms over her chest while Tire comes to stand next to her. Is he her second in command? It seems that way as he whispers in her ear, gestures to me.

  “Off the bridge,” he says at last.

  I turn, look into town, then back at the kids. “Why?”

  Something moans, the barest whiff of putrid stench reaching me on the breeze rising to ruffle my ponytail. I spin again, this time with my heart in my throat.

  A line of Shambles has appeared, just a few for the moment, coming to stand at the edge of the bridge. Their terrible wailing and deep-chested groans make my skin stand out in goosebumps. But they don’t come any further, shuffling their way back and forth, as though the bridge itself serves as some kind of barrier.

  “Water,” Giant says, coming to stand next to me, Duet at her side. “Hate water.”

  The river rushes by below, not raging by any means, but at a good clip, enough the water is white and slightly frothing over protruding rocks. Is it true? Is the water holding the Shambles at bay? Despite the bridge? One of the growing pack, a boy with long hair and empty, staring eyes, steps out onto the cracked asphalt only to howl and step back again while the rest of his group wails in answer.

  I wish there was a way to raise the river to the banks, to sweep these Shambles away. But there is no sign of a dam nearby, no reservoir. And though I know we could search for one, the likelihood of finding what we need is as slim as these kids surviving reaching the warehouse alone.

  In fact, from the growing number of Shambles watching, I’m starting to doubt even Duet and I will make it.

  Duet grunts and turns around, walking back the way she came and for a moment I wonder if she’s given up. Giant’s thinking the same thing I am from the look on her face. But Duet stops at the first car, jerks open the gas cap and bends to sniff.

  “Fire,” she says. “Then killing.”

  Giant’s eyes light up as if she’s the one in flames.

  It takes about a half hour to find the tools necessary to drain a few tanks. Kids scramble under Giant’s orders, fetching old gas cans out of trunks of abandoned cars, hoses ripped from radiators in old model trucks. Once everything is gathered, Duet quickly creates six gasoline bombs, sticking rags into the mouths of the cans.

  All the while the group of Shambles across the bridge grows and grows. I can’t help but hear them, old fear rising inside me, my stomach clenching against the terror of memory. Of being down a dark hole with Shambles all around me, fighting and fighting, but knowing they will kill me eventually. Most of the time we work I have my back to them, skin between my shoulders twitching. All it would take would be one Shamble to risk it, to push his or her way across the water, across the bridge, and the rest would follow.

  I’m certain of it.

  Whoever or whatever has instilled a fear of water in them might not last forever.

  I have to shake off my nerves, and I know the best way. The calm envelops me, devours me further as I welcome it. Suddenly everything is crisp, clear, flawless despite the quivering excitement from Giant and her people, the groaning and cries from the Shambles watching, their skin oozing, bodies jerking in need as their hunger draws them out.

  Underground, in the dark, they are terrible, powerful, devouring machines relentless in their pursuit of flesh. And were I forced to descend into darkness to battle them I'd be long gone, I'm certain of it, calm or no calm. But out here, in the daylight, with plenty of room to maneuver, the calm at my command, I know we have the advantage. They might have enough of their minds remaining to be able to put together some sort of rudimentary planning, but clearly their self-preservation doesn’t appear when prey is in sight.

  Duet grasps two of the gas cans and meets my eyes. “Ready.”

  Yes, ready. I grab two more, see Giant take another and Tire the sixth. I can only hope what we’re about to do is enough.

  Duet leads us, marching fearlessly across the bridge, stopping within ten feet of the horde of Shambles. I join her, hold my breath against the stench, knowing it’s about to become infinitely worse.

  A spark from the tip of Duet’s metal hand, fed by the green ichor of her blood, lights the first rag. She doesn’t wait, turning sideways, the can in one hand like she’s preparing for an Olympic throw. With a soft grunt, she spins forward, the can flying into t
he crowd of Shambles, well back toward their rear line. Duet doesn’t wait, lighting the next, sending it to the left, into the center of that group.

  Fire blazes instantly, spreading over the twitching, moaning crowd. They don’t scream, don’t try to escape, which makes this all the worse. Just blunder into each other, lighting up their neighbors as if they are only confused. My two cans find the right side then the center of the pack.

  Duet pauses, eyes narrowed, calculating while Giant and Tire jump up and down, clapping their hands and laughing as the pack of Shambles go up in a rush of flames and greasy black smoke. I have to cover my mouth with the neck of my t-shirt, tears standing in my stinging eyes as some of the horrible stuff drifts toward us.

  My heart aches for the helpless creatures, despite knowing they would have eaten us, given the chance. And yet, this isn’t their fault. They didn’t choose to become what they are. Were at one time normal people, kids, children, with hopes and dreams even in this wretched world.

  Duet holds off on the last two cans, gesturing for Giant who caps them carefully as if they hold the most precious thing in the world. Now they have a weapon, one Giant is clearly excited about. She’d been smart enough to try fire, but had no idea such destruction as this was at her fingertips.

  As the majority of the Shambles fall, a way opens through them. Duet doesn’t hesitate, though I worry about the children with us catching fire. The few Shambles who remain are easy to avoid, their staggering steps clumsy and reaching hands slow. I fight without conscience, without fear, though anger rises as I see a few kids fall. They shouldn't have come, crossed the bridge. Duet and I can deal with this. But Giant's defiance as she shrieks and strikes with a length of metal she’s found, killing Shambles with a determination I recognize in myself, is enough to tell me she needs to be here, to give her people their sense of accomplishment no matter the cost. So they will be stronger in the future.

  I wish she could meet Poppy. They would get along like best friends.

  We leave a path of smoking bodies, the last of the first group to attack us falling as we enter the parking lot outside the factory. The doors to the plant are closed, though Duet makes short work of the locks with her powerful metal hand. I avert my eyes from the dead Shambles we’ve killed by hand, bodies moldering on the ground, disgusting liquids pooling in the dirt. A few kid's bodies lie with them, but I can't think about that now. Nor are they my responsibility, although I can shake the feeling deep down, this is all my fault.

  Giant's grim expression tells me she's trying not to think of them either. I can only hope we’ve killed enough of the creatures the kids won’t have to worry any longer.

  It's dark inside the warehouse, but that doesn't stop Duet, or me. She slams the door shut behind us, pausing to weld a seal to keep it closed while we explore. I have hope this place is empty of more Shambles because of the locks, but there are no promises in this world and only one way to find out if I'm right.

  A cannery. It's clear from the first large room we enter this place used to can goods. Giant lets out a whoop almost making me lose my calm, but she's excited, not afraid. And when I pass the threshold of the huge sliding doors at the other end of the factory floor, I see why.

  Stacks and cases and pallets full of food. I look up at the stockpile, the calm fading in favor of joy, as the twenty or so kids climb over the hoard, laughing and chattering like monkeys who've found a tree full of fruit.

  Giant hugs me, hugs Duet, before she turns back her prize.

  “We live here,” she says, beaming. “We safe here.”

  I fear for them suddenly, living in the dark despite the plexi-glass skylights offering illumination. But if I were them, I'd want to stay where the food is, too. My eyes scan the piles, calculating even as the starving group of kids begins to devour their find, empty cans with pull-off tops already raining down to rattle against the concrete floor. Like caterpillars slowly decimating a leaf. I shake my head as I realize I have no idea how long this stockpile will last them.

  Hopefully until they’re old enough the Sick kills them off. Or I reach New York . If I am the fix for all of this, it’s possible these wild children will be safe for long enough.

  We explore further, find a string of small offices. Every door in the place is sealed after all. Shamble free, perfect. And even better, a second floor window overlooking the river. Some rope and a scavenged plastic bucket lowered and retrieved supplies the kids with fresh water. Giant watches Duet rig a pulley, nodding slowly as she examines what my sister has created. She pulls two kids forward, chatters at them in their twisted language, points. Shows the two boys what Duet has rigged. They are grinning suddenly, chattering back, pulling the bucket up and splashing each other with the precious water. Giant grins at me, bobs her head.

  Brilliant, this girl. Who could she have been if she'd been allowed to live in a normal world?

  Duet and I leave them there without ceremony or saying goodbye. I can't bring myself to make a big deal of our departure. This group of children are finally safe, or will be if they are careful. And they have weapons now, the two cans safely tucked away and more possible on the other side of the river. Part of me wishes I could bring Giant with us, but she's needed here, with her people, and I know my need only stems from missing Poppy. And from wanting to give these children a chance at a better life.

  My clone sister pauses at the door she'd welded shut, listening for sounds outside, but I hear nothing.

  She grins suddenly. “Well done,” she says.

  It makes me laugh. She hadn't wanted to help these kids, after all. But I'm grateful to her, wonder how much of her heart survives, if my guess she's free of empathy is right after all. “You too.”

  Duet breaks the seal and leads me out into the sunshine. The clouds chasing us have gone on, leaving the day bright and full of promise. As Duet turns to reseal the door, it opens and Giant and two of her friends emerge.

  “Coming too,” she says, clutching a bag of cans in her little hands. “Have our own food.”

  I should say no, send her back into the warehouse. “They need you,” I say.

  Giant shakes her head. “Not anymore,” she says. “Safe now. Tire cares for them.” Yes, the small boy with the dark eyes and fuzz of black hair is missing. “We go on, see what we see. With Trio and Duet.”

  Adventure. She wants adventure. Of course she does. Is this the first time she's aware there's more world out there? I doubt it. Whoever taught her to speak, offered her love and affection when she was smaller, must have nurtured the leader inside her. Told her of the way things used to be. She's grinning like she can't wait to see what's beyond this tiny patch of life.

  I suddenly feel better, though the selfishness of my need to have these kids with us does occur to me. I'm certain my sister will argue, refuse to bring them along. But Duet simply shrugs and grunts before welding the door more solidly shut behind her.

  “Fine,” she says. “Let's go.”

  ***

  Chapter Eight

  I turn to leave, heart lighter, pass the large container truck parked near the entrance, my mind on travel and reaching New York with new companions.

  The moment I clear the obstruction, out into the open parking lot again, I feel something grab my arm. On instinct, the calm long gone, I shriek at the smell, the pull, as something jerks against the thick fabric of my jacket. My eyes are drawn downward, to the Shamble who used to be a girl, her teeth embedded in my sleeve, dead eyes staring straight at me.

  My scream is primal, uncontrollable as I try to pull away, reaching out to shove her aside, to free myself of her touch, her scent, the putrid mess of her skin. Flesh touches flesh, my warmth flinching from the cold, spongy feel of her.

  She's not alone, not by a long shot. A horde watches us from where they hid behind the truck, now ambling forward, coming to kill us, to devour us. My mind registers it’s true, they aren't completely lost. Their rudimentary form of planning and thinking process almost m
akes my reaction worse, combined with the shock of their attack. And even though I know I have to fight, I have to escape, the calm won't come.

  Terror surges through me, into the Shamble attacking me, and for a moment time stands still. When the awareness returns to her eyes, I'm so shocked I can't move, can't breathe. As her skin firms, softens, fills out, smooths to normal human flesh, I find myself gasping for air. And when she pulls away from me, mouth open, a scream of her own emerging, I finally grasp the calm I need and pull it around me, desperate for the control it offers, no matter the pieces of me it takes over each time I embrace it.

  A quiver runs through the pack as the girl comes to life and screams. The watching Shambles stop advancing, freeze, stare as though they are aware something remarkable has happened, something meaningful. I back away, calling on my anger, pulling the now healthy girl with me, but she won't come. She jerks free of me, staring at her own hands, touching her face, shuddering with wonder, sobbing softly.

  Strong hands grasp me, pull me away and I know it's Duet, not a Shamble, but I still fight her.

  I've healed this girl and I can't just leave her here to die.

  But Duet isn't giving me a choice and neither is the Shamble pack. They advance on the girl, surrounding her, ignoring us completely as they close in slowly, as if some wonder has penetrated their illness. Duet forces me to run, to escape with her, even as I watch behind me, soul yearning, wishing I could help the girl I just saved from the terrible fate awaiting her now.

  But I can't. I see the Shambles break the moment it happens, watch the pack surge inward, hear the girl’s screams chase me as we turn and run at last across the bridge. Giant, Gps and Rope are far ahead of us, smarter than I am it seems. They are trained to run where I can only grieve.

  The other kids in the warehouse. There are so many Shambles still remaining, many more than I expected. But they are safe, I have to believe it, with their gas can Molotov cocktails and their food and water supply. Safe inside a prison. Maybe the Shambles will kill each other off at last, or the kids will decide to risk it to wipe them out. At least they have some time to figure it out.