Cross (The Formicary Book 2), page 14
14
We continued to plumb the depths of Nick’s old associates, calling up a man named Smokey. We needed passports and licenses in order to travel. Apparently, he was the right man to make that happen. Gray floated the idea of getting a motel room and having him overnight the documents, but Smokey refused to use mail services. That meant we had a long-ass drive to North Carolina, but at least we had a destination. That was…something, I guess.
“He hasn’t said anything for a while.” Nick glanced up at me in the rearview mirror as he drove. We were coming up on hour two, and yeah, I hadn’t said much. I didn’t know what the hell there was to say.
“He’s processing,” Gray said.
From the way he was staring out the passenger window, it looked like he was doing some processing of his own. JoJo had confirmed that he’d picked up Ally and Erica, and they were confused as hell, but fine. They were also kind of ticked off. Ally was missing a soccer game, and Erica informed Gray that she’d better be able to go home before her next exam. Gray had talked to them for a few minutes, but I could tell it wasn’t enough. He had finished working over his bottom lip with his teeth and started in on his fingernails.
I was tempted to start in on mine as well. It was strange. I shouldn’t feel anything about Chaos’s death. Our relationship hadn’t been all that touchy-feely on the best of days. But strange circumstances make strange bedfellows. I’d known him a long time. Worked with him for a long time. It was like…losing a friend. A dangerous, unpredictable, potentially psychotic friend who’d once shot me in the head.
He was also a lethal, genetically engineered mercenary. I’d seen him fell a man with just one strike of that hammer-like fist. And yet, he’d been taken down by a redhaired, short stack of a computer programmer who’d never used a gun in his life. It didn’t seem right.
“I had no choice,” Nick said, even though no one had asked him anything. “So you can stop looking at me that way.”
I looked up to find him glancing at me in the rearview mirror again. If he kept that up, he was just going to wreck the damn car and kill us all…which would probably be best at this point.
“What way?” I finally asked.
“Like I did something wrong. I wasn’t about to be marched back into the Formicary like a lamb to slaughter.” Despite his bold words, his face was still a little pale.
“If you don’t like the way I’m looking at you, then stop looking at me.”’
“You’ve driven a car before, yes? Surely you’re aware of how rearview mirrors work,” he snapped. “You’re in my line of sight.”
“Your line of sight is supposed to be that way.” I jabbed both of my pointer fingers at the road. “Not back here.”
“You know what, Cross—”
“No one is blaming you for anything. And Christian, no one is looking at you,” Gray said absently without looking away from the passing scenery. He sounded like a mother breaking up a fight between two children. “Everyone just… relax.”
Easier said than done. By the time Nick pulled into a gas station two hours later, I had come to terms with our new reality. We were on the run. From the fucking Formicary. I lowered the back window before Nick turned off the car. We probably had SEP Titan on our tail. And depending on how mad Dobroslav was that we’d killed his favorite soldier, maybe he’d also released a couple of my clones.
I wiped a bit of cold sweat from my brow. Okay, maybe I hadn’t come to terms with it quite yet, but I was getting there.
Gray glanced back at me and noticed my window. “You’re not coming in?”
“Nah, I’ll pump the gas.”
“You sure?” His brow furrowed in concern. “This might be our last stop for a while.”
That suited me just fine. The longer we went without stopping, the more miles we could put between us and Dobroslav. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. He didn’t press. “I’m going to grab some drinks and snacks, and maybe a gas can.”
“Don’t we already have one back there?” Nick wanted to know.
“Yeah, but if we have two, we can go for a bit without stopping.”
It was hard to argue with that logic. Of course, that wouldn’t bode well if someone rear-ended us, but at this point, ending it all in a fiery crash was an upgrade. Double points if we didn’t see it coming.
Nick got out, hopping from one foot to another like a little kid. “You guys see the bathroom anywhere?”
Gray squinted around for a few seconds before he pointed at a sign near the carwash. “The side of the building.”
“Thanks.” He darted off and then backtracked back long enough to call out, “Cheetos and a Dr. Pepper, please.”
Gray watched him go with amusement. “Maybe I’ll add some pull-ups to the list. He seems like the type who would pee in an empty Dr. Pepper bottle.” He turned to me. “Any special requests?”
“Pop tarts,” I said. “Oh, and a fucking time machine would be great.”
He twisted around in his seat to face me, his expression sympathetic. “It’s going to be all right, Cross.”
I smiled faintly. He was so cute. Our tombstones were going to look so great together. I watched as he got out of the car and headed for the gas station. Much like Nick, he paused and doubled back after a few seconds. He came around the car instead of opening the passenger door and braced his arms on my open window.
I squinted at him, wondering what he’d forgotten. He scrubbed a hand over his blond beard, which was a little scruffier and longer than usual—he’d verged into Sons of Anarchy territory. Or at least he would have but for those brown eyes, now a little golden in the sun. They were gentle and kind, which was kind of Gray in a nutshell.
“What flavor Pop tarts?” he asked.
Maybe too kind. “Are you serious right now?”
“The world isn’t going to end if you take a few seconds to decide strawberry or blueberry, Cross,” he said. “The sooner you pick, the sooner we can go.”
Realizing that I was now the one wasting time, I said begrudgingly, “Strawberry.”
“You got it.” He leaned in and gave me a hard kiss. “I’ll be back. Don’t murder anyone else.”
“Really?” I demanded.
“Promise.”
“Fine. Jesus.” I sulked as he trotted off. You kill a couple of people a couple of times, and suddenly, you can’t be trusted. Besides, the last body was on Nick’s count, not mine.
I got busy pumping gas. By the time I put the nozzle back, Gray still wasn’t back from what should’ve been a simple errand. Nick wasn’t back either. And just thinking about the bathroom made me need to use it. Of course. I sighed and headed around the side of the building, which was slightly hidden by trees.
I unzipped and did my business, spacing out a little as I stared at the rough, peeling paint on the wall. I couldn’t get too irritated or impatient with either of them. A lot had happened in the past couple of hours. If Gray wanted to take a few extra minutes hemming and hawing over gas station snacks, he’d more than earned that right. And if Nick wanted to…well, I didn’t need to know what he was doing in there, but he’d earned it, too. Five more minutes. And then I’d have to drag them both out.
I finished by rote, tucking myself away and zipping, and feeling a hundred percent better. I was suddenly looking forward to my pop tarts and drink. Strange how taking care of basic human needs always made you feel that way, even when you were so fucked that even Iyanla couldn’t fix your life. And that’s when I noticed a certain stillness behind me…like something was blocking the slight breeze.
I didn’t turn—it was far too late for that. Instead, I trusted my instincts and ducked, a split second before a fist crashed into the wall where my head had just been. I spun around to face my attacker, hands loose and ready…and found myself face to face with a mirror. I sucked in a breath.
Even though I’d seen the row of clones floating in stasis, it was still shook me to my core. Standing over a pod in the Geneza room was a world away from seeing one in person, his gaze locked on mine. Our features were the same, right down to the strong jawline and crooked incisor. The eyes were the same shade of silvery gray. He even stood the way I did—on the balls of his feet, his stance wide. When I tilted my head, he did the same. A shiver made its way down my back and as if he could tell, he smiled.
“Echo,” I said.
“Isn’t that what I should be calling you?”
Shit, our voices were the same, too. “You can call me whatever you like,” I said, trying to pretend that talking to my clone wasn’t the mindfuck that it absolutely was. “As long as you don’t call me daddy.”
He snorted. “You really think you’re the original?”
His you’ve got to be shitting me face was a lot like my own, and that really pissed me off. “Yeah,” I said shortly. “I’m sure.”
“You tried to steal my life.”
“That’s exactly what I’d expect you to say.”
“Why do you think Dobroslav gave the order to put you down? He knew he messed up. He just didn’t think you’d survive a gunshot to the head.”
“Yeah, well. I’m kind of ornery that way,” I said dryly.
“The shot may not have killed you, but it damn sure scrambled you pretty good. Imagine a clone not knowing he’s a fucking clone.” He chuckled. “I don’t know if it’s sad or hilarious.”
My heart raced as I stared at him. I knew he could hear it, too, even before his mouth quirked slightly. He’d shaken my confidence. And now he knew it. I narrowed my eyes. “You’re full of shit.”
“I’d have a hard time finding out I wasn’t a real boy, too,” he said mockingly as he stepped closer. Automatically, I stepped back in response. “But your time playing in my life is just about over, Echo. Or should I say Oliver?”
No, no, no. He was a lying fucking clone, and I wasn’t going to listen to it anymore. Turns out, I didn’t have to. As if he realized the time for winding me up was done, he swung on me again. I leaned back far enough to miss the reach of his fist and then came forward with a right cross of my own. It was a good connection, snapping his face around with the power of the strike.
Unfortunately, he answered that strike with three jabs of his own to my stomach—a quick left-right-right sequence, the last hit of which sent me flying back into the wall. I grunted as my back and left hand took the brunt of the impact. I tried to hit him again but missed contact by a few centimeters. Now that I was trapped against the wall, he felt free to repeat that three-jab combo again and again to my sore stomach.
“I thought you were supposed to get my skills during the process,” he taunted, nailing me so hard that it made me wheeze. “From where I’m standing, the cloning project is an abject failure.”
I delivered a swift punch to his jaw that shut his smart mouth for a few seconds. He recovered quicker than I expected, returning the favor with a hard right cross to my lower face. I grabbed my aching jaw and moved it a few times. Not broken at least.
I eyed him warily as he walked a circle around me. I turned with him, so he could never get my back. Despite his bullshit taunting, we were evenly matched. He would be amazing to spar with. Unfortunately, that wasn’t our life, and I didn’t have that luxury. He decided to up the ante by pulling out a knife from a sheath on his thigh.
He lifted an eyebrow as I glanced at the gleaming blade. And then he was on me faster than a blink. I barely had the presence of mind to throw up my arm as he sliced through my skin like a hot knife through butter. Pain arced up and down my arm. He sank the knife into my shoulder, and I bellowed like a wild animal. He pulled the blade out with a sharp yank, causing me to cry out again.
The scent of the blood dripping down my wrist hit my nose, stronger than smelling salts. My mouth twisted. I knew the sudden blaze of fury burning inside wasn’t natural. I grabbed the hand with the knife and twisted it, hard. He grimaced but didn’t make a sound, even though I could hear the sick popping of his wrist as it dislocated…and then further as it broke. In a few quick moves, I had the knife turned around to his chest.
“This the way you want to end it, Echo?” he said through gritted teeth as he struggled against my hold. “You think you can take my place? I’m real. You’re something someone dreamed up in a lab. Something that should’ve never seen the light of day.”
My mind was almost blank as I slammed the flat of my hand against the hilt of the knife. His eyes flared wide as the blade sank into his chest. I could hear his heart flutter, interrupting that dependable lub-dup rhythm. It was supposed to be difficult to stab someone because it was up close and personal.
I felt nothing.
He struggled for a few more seconds, still strong enough that I started to wonder if I should stab him again. And then his movements grew sluggish and exaggerated. His breathing slightly labored, he slid to the ground, still feeling around for the knife. He managed to get his hand around the hilt before he went still.
I stared at him, emotions rushing back to me all at once. I could barely remember making any conscious decisions after he stabbed me. My only decision had been to kill, kill, kill. And that was Dobroslav’s combat initiative in a nutshell. I couldn’t take fire in a fight without returning the favor.
The clone looked fragile now, his neck exposed and vulnerable. There was something written on the back, and I squatted down to get a better look…and then sucked in a breath at the scripted P inked on his skin. Just like the one I had. Prototype.
You’re not a clone, I told myself fiercely. Maybe they all have the tattoo. They all had the brand of the formicary ant. Why not this one, too?
I tensed at the sound of a car screeching into the parking lot. I heard a door opening and some obnoxious pop song. Giggling and lots of loud conversation followed. Harmless. Still, I had to get moving, especially now that I’d added something to our already long to-do list of how to stay alive five minutes at a time—I had to get rid of this body.
I glanced down at myself. Considering I’d been in an all-out battle royale behind a fucking gas station, I didn’t look too bad. I wiped my bloody arm with the bottom of my shirt—it was navy blue, so I’d got a lucky break there. I smoothed down my hair and then walked casually around the building to the car.
When I slid in the backseat, Gray was guarding a bag of cheese crackers protectively from Nick’s roving hand. “You had your chance to say you wanted Cheez-Its. You asked for Cheetos, so beat it.” He glanced back at me, and almost dropped the bag. “What the hell happened to you?”
At that, Nick twisted around in his seat and gaped at me, too. “Holy shit.”
“I need you to drive around the gas station,” I said in lieu of an explanation. “Then maybe you can do something to fuck up their security cameras? If you need me to break into the back of the building, I think I can.”
“This is an older station, and I only saw two cameras,” Nick said slowly. “Hell, they might even be props. Even if they’re not, I doubt it’s anything more complicated than a hardwired feed that leads to a—”
“What is he trying to erase?” Grayson asked, his face grim.
“I might’ve…maybe killed someone.”
Nick’s mouth made a little “o.” They both stared at me in complete silence as they processed all the words that had come out of my mouth. “How do you ‘maybe’ kill someone?” Nick squeaked.
“Okay, fine,” I said impatiently. “I killed someone.”
Gray growled. “Christian Alexander Cross.”
“What?” I threw up my hands. “Why’re you full-naming me?”
“I told you not to fucking kill anyone.”
“Echo 1 tried to kill me first,” I said defensively. My logic didn’t seem to make things better at all, and I sighed. “You can yell at me later, but we need to move. Now.”
Nick blinked a few times before he nodded and put the car in gear.
15
At my direction, Nick drove down an access road that led deep into a wooded area. The lane grew smaller and less passable the farther we traveled, which was exactly what I was looking for. A passable road meant maintenance, and maintenance meant people. I didn’t like a lot of witnesses when I was burning a corpse. I could be strange like that.
I headed down the path on foot, the body in my arms a heavy burden. Nick had chosen to wait in the car, but not Gray. His footfall was soft as he followed me. He’d been extra quiet since he’d come face to face—literally—with the reality of the clones.
I couldn’t even begin to imagine where his head was right now. Not in a good place, if his protective guarding of the body was any indication. Not that I wanted to manhandle it. But carrying it over my shoulder would be a hell of a lot easier than this bride-over-the-threshold shit that Gray had insisted on. Not to mention less awkward than staring down at my own dead face.
Once I figured we’d gone far enough, I laid it—him—down in a patch of tangled weeds. Oliver. I wished I didn’t know his name. I wanted to just know him as Echo 1, something that came out of a pod. Not a flesh-and-blood human being.
I checked his pockets and found a wrinkled, smashed pack of cigarettes in his cargo pants alongside a half-used book of matches. I hadn’t smoked since college, and even then it had only been a two-year stint of rebellion. Dobroslav had thought smoking cigarettes—not cigars—was weak and unseemly. So I picked up the hobby to piss him off. Potentially making myself sick to piss off my grandfather started to seem like the idiotic idea that it was, so I gave them up. I’d never really enjoyed them all that much anyway. But sometimes….
I stuck one of them in my mouth, lit it, and took a long drag. I let the smoke out in a slow stream out of the corner of my mouth. Another two long drags and then I stubbed it out. Fuck, I was going to have to be careful with that—apparently, I liked smoking a lot more now than I did back then.
I continued to search his person for anything useful. Gray didn’t try to stop me, which spoke volumes. All he said was, “I didn’t know you smoked.”
