The Clone
The Invincibles, short story #1
I’m not human.
This is a truth that
has been pounded into my head since the day I was born, created, built. I have
no mother, no father. I don’t have a childhood. I came into this world, a
thirteen year old girl from day one.
They say I’m one of a
kind, that nothing like me has ever been created. They say I am completely
unique. They say that no one else has the technology needed to create something
like me.
I wouldn’t know. I’ve
never been given the opportunity to explore that for myself.
They keep me locked
away in here, left to the darkness. I crave sunlight, a summer’s breeze, the
harsh cold of a winter morning. But I know those are things I will never get.
My creator has deemed that far too dangerous.
Most of my time is spent
wandering the tunnels, when I’m not too busy being a lab rat. They’re always
checking up on me, making sure my body doesn’t start deteriorating or anything
else that could be considered catastrophic.
I wander through the
darkness, exploring the hallways. No matter how often I walk through these
tunnels, I never make it through all of them. This place is a labyrinth of
steel.
I pause, clicking my
tongue. The sound reverberates off the walls, sending images across my vision. There’s
a man to my left, two corridors down. There’s another man in the hall to the
right, and a woman strides down another hallway four corridors down. I avoid
all of them.
As I walk, my mind
drifts. I’ve been here so long. It has to have been years, even if it’s
impossible to know how much time has actually passed. I find myself remembering
those first few moments of existence.
“Is she functional?”
His voice reaches me
from far away, as if there are layers and layers between me and him. It’s a low
voice, empty and cold and dead. There is no curiosity in his question. Not a
trace of emotion.
“She should be awake
soon,” another, smaller, voice says. “She formed properly.”
“So the cloning process
was a success?”
“Yes,” the smaller
voice answers. “She will need a name. What would you like to call her?”
“Zandra.”
“Like your—?”
“Yes,” the cold voice
answers curtly.
There is silence for a
moment. I think about what I’ve heard. Clone. What does that mean? Are they
talking about me? And the name, Zandra. Is that my name? Everything feels so
uncertain. I don’t know who or what or where I am. I can’t recall anything.
There’s nothing to remember. This is my beginning. There is nothing but now.
I can hear a soft
pounding, the fading of footsteps. I wait, unsure why I’m so unwilling to open
my eyes to an audience. I don’t want them to know I’m awake quite yet. I don’t
even know what’s going on but I feel unsafe. There’s something in the air that
screams danger.
When I’m sure I’m alone
in wherever I am, I open my eyes. Immediately, I’m blinded by—what is
that?—some kind of bright light. I blink, trying to adjust.
I’m surrounded by
glass. Above me is open but everywhere else is glass. It’s some kind of
cylinder that I’ve awoken in.
“Zandra Glass.”
My gaze flickers,
noticing the man standing over my cylinder. It’s the man with the small voice.
He’s wearing a white coat over his clothes. He looks down at me, standing tall.
“Welcome, Zandra.”
I stop, standing before a dark door. I
click. There’s no one in the any of the hallways near me. I push open the door,
slipping into the room. If anyone catches me, they could decide I’m better off
dead. After all, they say the point of making me was to see if cloning was a
possibility. They know it works now. They don’t really need me for anything
else. I’ve already been deemed a failure in the two years I have existed.
The room is empty,
except for stacks of boxes. Curiosity gets the better of me. I tear open the
first box I see, peering inside the small crate. Then, slowly, I pull out the
silver whip. It’s beautiful, shimmering under the fluorescent lights. There’s a
black belt with it and the whip itself ends in barbed strands. I touch the
strands, suddenly jumping as it shocks me. It’s an electric whip. This could be
a powerful weapon.
“Zandra?”
I hear the voice in my
ear, coming into the small ear piece I am required to carry at all times. I
press a finger to my ear, out of habit. “Yes?”
“The boss wants to see
you.”
I sigh. “Okay, I’m
coming.”
I take the whip, going
back to the wall and sliding it into the small crevice. No one will think to
find it there. No one will even realize its missing. But there may come a day
when the boss realizes I’m no longer useful and it will be on that day that I
will need the whip, just long enough to escape the terrors I have been born in.
********For you that haven't heard, I will be releasing a novel called TRAPPED this March. Over the next five weeks, I will release short stories about the characters to help you get to know them better. Hope you enjoyed this first one! There will be another February 6.*********
