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When we were inside, I looked at the map of the building for a decent place to stay for a while. Somewhere with access to a couple different exits, somewhere I could be close to.
I put them under a desk in an office, near the middle of the third floor.
“Be quiet, okay? Don’t make any noise,” I told Sarah as she scooted close to Chantel. She nodded her head.
Frank’s Point of View
I don’t know how long it’s been; hours, a day? The rope that held me down was beginning to bruise my wrists as I continued to struggle. A drop of sweat ran down my cheek and the fluorescent lights made my head pound. There were dry patches in my tongue that refused to moisten; the place in my arm where the needle had stabbed me was pulsing.
“Have you decided to join us, Frank?” The mechanical voice sounded from an intercom somewhere.
“I’ll never be a monster like you,” I snarled. The clone laughed coldly.
You can come any time now, Amber. I thought, wishing she’d hear it.
Amber’s Point of View
I had arranged myself in the parking lot next to one of the cars so that it looked like I had lost a fight-to-the-death battle with someone who was better equipped than I was and loaded up four or five needles with the clear liquid. I was a clone; if I had a tracer on me, it would only make sense that they came for “one of their own” first. I pulled all the stops, fake blood; I even took the padding off my arms through the torn fabric in my sleeves. With these gashes, you’d never need fake.
I heard footsteps approach a while later.
Game time, I thought as I shut my eyes lightly. I only heard one, but others could have been watching from afar.
It knelt down next to me and got close enough for me to feel its breath on my cheek. I held my breath, I assumed it was here to “collect” me, or see if I was alive.
I heard the uniform rustle as it turned its head. It took me less than a second to snap my eyes wide open and sink a couple of needles into its exposed neck. The clone let out a short gasp and flopped to the ground like a dead fish. I sat up and rolled the clone over to check its pulse. There was nothing under my fingers, but in school, they taught us that breathing could be too shallow to be detected without machinery.
I snapped its neck to be sure, struggling under dead weight.
“Do you still feel bigger than me?” I mocked, but it provided little sense of justice.
I took its uniform from it for one of us to wear. Its coat, its tracer, and the number ID tag.
"23293007556647" the tag read. Couldn’t they just have names? No, I suppose not. With names come personalities.
I would have to get contacts to complete the clone camouflage, our difference in eye colours – as much as I loved them, would give us away. But more importantly, I had one more clone to kill before our plan could be put into action.
Poking my head over the car next to me, I could see our car from where I was.
“No clones yet, none except you,” I spat at the disfigured corpse that lay on the ground. It wasn’t a clone anymore; it was a hollow shell. Its mouth gaped open, the remains of a last breath still on its lips. Its eyes were wide and grey, staring at everything and seeing nothing. In its own way, it was sort of a peaceful type of death. I mean, I could have pepper sprayed it first. I shrugged it off and crept closer to the white building with a large wooden eye, “Dr. Hopewell’s Optometry”.
This looks like the place; I said to myself as I swung the door open, listening to it whine in dissent.
Stepping inside, I was sheltered a bit from the cold, but I still shivered. At least a hundred pairs of glasses lay on the floor, some in perfect condition, others twisted, cracked and hopelessly broken.
If I were contact lenses, where would I be? I pondered, stepping over the crushed metal frames and tiny pieces of glass. I hated the sound glass made when you stepped on it. The crackling reminded me of the last day of school, when so may lives were lost. It made me feel as if the ground could collapse under my feet at any second.
I opened a drawer at the front desk, but I only found envelopes, scotch tape and staples. Office supplies, nothing that would be of worth to me. I looked what lay on the receptionist’s desk.
“Alaizabel York” Was the name on the rectangular plate in white against the black background, to make it stand out against the thick layer of cobwebs.
Pretty name, I thought, trying to put a face to it. Too bad she was dead.
There was a door next to the desk with chipped red letters on it, “LENS FITTING”.
The door creaked as I opened it slowly, obviously in need of oil. I wondered how long it would be until the hinges started giving out altogether.
To my right were a couple of plastic fold-up chairs, a huge bulletin board full of notes, some hand-written, some typed and a bunch of bulky looking machines ensnared in a mess of wires.
To my left were some plain white cupboards and a counter, holding nothing but a bottle of hand soap that had dripped into the dirty sink and some contact cleaner.
“May as well take this,” I shoved the bottle of contact cleaner into my bag, a separate pouch so that I wouldn’t get confused. It only struck me as creepy when the echo of my voice rang through the dry air. The silence was intimidating, I couldn’t hear anyone’s voice, I couldn’t hear the cold, ringing in my ears. It sent goose bumps up my arms.
Get the contacts and get out, I ordered myself as I pulled one of the cupboards open.
I walked out of the cheerless building with two small boxes in my hands, it was a wonder I could keep a hold of them; this clone outfit was heavy. It had good storage though. Made weapons more accessible.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and raised the arm with the loaded needle.
“Amber, relax!” Peace’s voice came from behind me and I breathed again.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” I exhaled and whirled around, heart ready to explode. Peace smiled,
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“Yeah, you look like a damn sympathy card,” I muttered, layering thick sarcasm in my voice.
“Well am I getting a costume?” Peace asked excitedly.
“Since you’re one of the only people on the team with black hair, yeah I guess you’re going to be looking for Frank with Gerard while Ray, Mikey and I draw attention away from you.” I explained, shoving the mass of clothing articles into his arms. Was I ever glad that wasn’t my problem anymore. Peace went back into his hiding place to change.
“But aren’t they normally like six feet?” Peace asked as I circled him, picking out any flaws in the overall outfit; the way a vulture might when scavenging for suitable prey.
“You can be a dwarf, say that they couldn’t stretch you out enough without killing you and that they’ll worry about giving you proper height when you put more meat on your bones.” I said almost as soon as the explanations came to mind. I came to face Peace again and remembered the contacts when I looked at the purple tinges in his eyes.
“Put these on,” I said, placing the small white box in his hand. It looked strange, watching him slip the plaster grey circles from their encasings and touch his eyes with them, changing their colour instantly. He blinked and rubbed his eyes for a minute. These things weren’t comfortable to put in; I know, but when his eyes had adjusted, he looked like one of them, like me, except shorter.
“What now?” Peace looked around.
“Well we still need Gerard’s costume, so you can go back into hiding. The tracer we’re wearing will show the clones that we’re not moving, and they will assume we’re dead. They will come for us, and when they’re not looking, you shoot unless I get them first. Don’t do any damage to the uniform, Gerard needs it and he needs to look like a healthy clone.” I instructed, “I won’t go far from you in case you need help. Understood?” I asked after I finished explaining. Peace nodded and darted off into the tiny space between the optometry office and another building.
We’re coming, Frank. I thought as I sprawled myself out on the ground again, playing dead.
It didn’t take long for me to hear footsteps approaching again. I dealt with this one much like I did the last, stabbing the last of my loaded needles into its lower calf. The clone wobbled back and forth for a moment, the way a telephone pole might if a strong enough wind hit it. It staggered forward and fell flat on its face.
I motioned to Peace’s general direction. A human silhouette formed in the shadows and he stepped out from his hiding place. Except it wasn’t Peace, it was taller.
You know the drill :) Thanks for reading!
-Atomice Monster out
