The nine, p.23
The Nine, page 23
And say what? We could be luring them into a trap.
Weejy frowned. “I’m sure it will all turn out.”
I just wish I felt that way.
Weejy ripped off the calendar page they’d scribbled on, tore it into tiny pieces, and flushed it down the toilet.
Though deeply troubled, exhaustion trumped fear, and sleep hit hard.
Weejy had that dream where the harder she tried to run, the heavier her legs got, and she realized she was slogging through waist-deep molasses. In the distance, Bert stood on the deck of a ship, waving his arms. He yelled something to her, but Weejy couldn’t hear it, and he kept sailing farther and farther away as the goop got deeper.
Weejy startled herself awake just as she sank in over her head, unable to breathe.
Didn’t have to be Freud to unpack the meaning in that dream.
The clock read 3:33, and SoJo snored softly in the bunk above her.
Weejy tried to find sleep again.
Then she heard it. A sound, coming from somewhere in the compound. Faint, but familiar.
“Baaaaaaa. Baaaaaaaa.”
A sheep?
Weejy propped herself up on an elbow and held her breath, not trusting her ears because it made no sense.
“Baaaaa-aaaaaaaa.”
That’s definitely a sheep.
She tried to imagine why there would be sheep in the compound.
Food? Wool? Someone’s pet?
Weejy considered waking SoJo up, because this was so bizarre, and then she went rigid when a high-pitched scream cut into her ears.
It sounded like a terrified woman. Or one in agonizing pain.
The sheep? Is that a screaming sheep?
The cry ended abruptly, cut off in mid-breath, and Weejy found herself sitting up in the bunk, clutching the blanket to her chest.
There were no more noises.
After a few more minutes of silence, Weejy wondered if it had really happened. Or if it she had been dreaming.
After a few more minutes, she fell back to sleep.
When Weejy again opened her eyes, the clock informed her it was 10:48.
She swung her legs out of bed and noticed some beige clothing, folded on top of the footlocker.
That wasn’t there last night. Someone came in while we slept and put it there.
It was creepy, but also perversely considerate, since the clothes she wore, and slept in, were far from clean.
She padded over to the door and tried the knob. It opened.
Maybe we’re no longer prisoners.
Weejy considered waking SoJo and figuring out a plan, but the bathroom called to her. The shower seemed clean enough, and their late-night visitor had also left fresh toiletries. Weejy showered, avoiding her hair so she wouldn’t have to unbraid and rebraid it, brushed her teeth, and put on deodorant before dressing in the beige fatigues. By then SoJo was awake, flipping through the Playboy calendar.
“Would you ever pose nude?” SoJo asked.
“I don’t think I could.”
“Why not? Your body is tight.”
“Confidence. I’d be embarrassed.”
“You never texted a naked pic?”
“Nope. Have you?”
“Girl, that’s the whole reason there’s a camera on your cell. It’s like fishing. You cast it out there, reel in the hungry ones.”
“Aren’t you afraid the pics will get out?”
“And do what? Hurt my political aspirations? If those snaps got out, they’d get me votes. I got presidential titties. And my ass was made for the Oval Office. I’d take some topless selfies on that Resolute desk, it would set the stage for world peace.”
“I wish I had your confidence.”
“No one has confidence. We all fake it. Our brains are nothing but a soup of emotional electrical chemical bullshit. Fear is like celery. Don’t eat it.”
“You lost me on that last thing.”
SoJo rolled her eyes. “No one likes celery in soup. It’s bitter and stringy and has this crunch like chewing cartilage. But when you see it, floating there like a vegetable booger, you can avoid it. Same with fear. Acknowledge the feeling, be aware of it, then avoid it. That way you don’t have to eat it.”
“And that’s the secret to nude selfies? Don’t eat the celery?”
“Girl, that’s the secret to life.”
I’m pretty sure it isn’t that simple.
Or maybe it is.
And maybe she should be POTUS. I’d vote for her.
SoJo did a hundred push-ups, cranking them out like a machine, then hit the shower, and Weejy dressed in the provided clothes. Men’s size S, still baggy. She rolled up cuffs on the pants and sleeves and did some quick stretches to check for any restriction of movement.
I can fight, and run, if I have to.
But maybe, if we’re careful, we can walk out of here. And then get very, very far away.
Weejy had no delusions that Ziggy was anything but a psychopath, and the best way to deal with him was to flee. Maybe, when they were safe, they could press charges. There were many to press: assault with intent, kidnapping, false imprisonment, criminal threats. But first they needed to get somewhere safe.
“Water pressure is pretty good.” SoJo dabbed herself with a towel, not appearing self-conscious of her nudity.
“Yeah. They should list this place on Airbnb.”
A knock at the door, and Weejy froze.
“Whoizzit?” SoJo yelled.
“Charles. Can I come in?”
“I’m getting dressed. What do you want?”
“Ziggy has invited you both to lunch. I’m supposed to bring you there.”
“You can wait until we’re ready.”
“Okay. I’ll wait.”
“Like a puppy dog,” SoJo cupped her hand around Weejy’s ear and whispered. “You really think he’s got four advanced degrees?”
She returned the whisper. “I don’t know. He seems like he might be smarter than he lets on.”
“Yeah. Like he’s got secrets.”
“They’re not good secrets.”
“Maybe he’s a billionaire and at night he puts on a bat suit and fights crime.”
“Maybe he kills prostitutes.”
SoJo pulled away and made a face. “This world needs to wake the F up and start protecting sex workers. World’s oldest profession should be respected and highly paid. Instead it’s reviled and dangerous. But I don’t get that vibe from Charles. He’s more like one of those World Series of Poker dudes. Can’t tell what he’s thinking.”
“You’re not describing boyfriend material. Or even regular friend material.”
“Don’t need to be friends to get freaky.”
There wasn’t much to put on, so it didn’t take SoJo long to dress. When she opened the door, Charles was sitting in the hallway.
“Hey. You guys sleep okay?”
“We’re touched by your concern, Charles.” SoJo folded her arms across her chest. “After all your lies and bullshit.”
“I’m sorry about all that. I’m on your side. Really. You look nice.”
“Yeah I look nice. I look nice in everything. You gonna just sit there, or take us to lunch?”
Charles immediately stood up, eyes sheepish, and he led them down several subterranean hallways. Weejy kept track of the doors, turns, and overhead lights. They wound up in a large mess hall, with six tables and enough chairs for fifty. Ziggy and another man were already seated at a center table, place settings for seven. Weejy was grateful Tork wasn’t there.
That guy scares the shit out of me.
Ziggy stood as the trio approached, putting on a big smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Sojourner. Sacagawea. Good of you to join us.”
SoJo struck a power pose, hands on her hips. “We didn’t have many dining options.”
Ziggy’s smile dimmed a fraction. “I’d like to introduce you both to Nikola Tesla.”
A thin, unassuming man with dark hair stood up and nodded. “Call me Nick. I heard Ziggy treated you with his trademark hospitality. It’s not his fault. He’s just an asshole.”
SoJo laughed.
Ziggy’s brow furrowed. “Nicky has been working around the clock. Getting very little sleep. His manners are a little ragged.”
“Maybe instead I should have zapped them with the pain wand,” Nick shot back.
“The pain wand that you invented, Nicky.”
“At your insistence. Ziggy can be quite persuasive.”
These two aren’t buddies.
Ziggy chuckled, and it sounded fake. “We’re already off to an unpleasant beginning to this lunch. I’d like to start over, if I may. Would you ladies please have a seat?”
Weejy forced herself to take the chair next to Ziggy.
Avoid the celery. Don’t be afraid. Ignore the fear and be bold.
“How are your balls?” she asked. “Did they swell up to the size of grapefruits after I shot them?”
Nick guffawed. Ziggy’s ears became a bright red.
“I deserved that.” He touched his sleeved wrist. “And the bite.”
“And the ear?” Weejy stared at the bandage on the side of his head.
“Yes. And the ear. We thought you were trespassers, and our intent was to scare you into telling us how you found this facility. We never would have harmed you, by the way. But the nature of our work here; it is of the utmost importance, and security is paramount. If we had known you were our sisters, we would have treated you in a much more welcoming manner. It was a most unfortunate situation.”
Bullshit. And that’s not an apology.
“Apology accepted,” SoJo chimed in.
“Before we get into this, you ladies wouldn’t mind if we saw your bona fides?”
Weejy didn’t understand what Ziggy meant. Then she figured it out.
“Our number tattoos.”
“Yes.”
“We’ll show you ours if you show us yours.” SoJo winked.
The quintet removed their shoes and revealed the numbers on their feet, tattooed there at birth.
This is so weird. As if we’re doing some ancient, secret ritual.
Ziggy appeared especially pleased.
Like a cat, watching birds.
“It seems we’re all authentic.” Ziggy put his sock and wingtip shoe back on. “Quite extraordinary. We tend to think of cloning as something futuristic, and yet they had the technology to do this so many years ago. But humanity split the atom in 1932. Created the first computer in 1945. Discovered the structure of DNA in 1952. Landed on the moon in 1969. I suppose us beating Dolly the sheep by years isn’t that extraordinary.”
SoJo didn’t seem interested in talking science. “Charles says you’re working on a billion dollar secret project.”
“Billions. Maybe trillions. Free energy for the world.”
“How does free translate to trillions?”
“We will license the technology to countries, which in turn will release it freely for their citizens. Like getting free Wi-Fi at hotels. But this will be free electricity for everyone under the cloud.”
“Like cloud computing?”
“Like the clouds floating above our heads. A layer of charged particles in the atmosphere that can wirelessly power electronics. Not just free energy, but clean energy. Completely green. It can work on an interplanetary scale. Power to the people, to quote an old saying. Even the poorest will have access to electricity, without wires or power plants. And no carbon footprint means we can reverse global warming.”
“Sounds too good to be true,” Weejy mused.
Because it is. Ziggy isn’t the kind of guy who wants to share with the world. He’s the type who wants to make the world kneel before him and lick his boots.
Two guards came in. They didn’t appear to be eating. They just stood in the background, staring.
“So where do we fit in?” SoJo asked.
Ziggy shook his head, doing a poor imitation of sadness. “Unfortunately, I have no family.”
“I thought your mother was still alive,” Nick offered.
“We are estranged. I was adopted, just as all of us were, and the woman who raised me was, regrettably, abusive.”
“I did some research and found out your mother was given the Presidential Medal of Freedom.” Nick clearly relished conveying the information. “The highest civilian award of the United States. For her work teaching literacy.”
Ziggy raised his voice. “She was abusive, neglectful, and a terrible parent. We won’t speak of her ever again.”
Charles cleared his throat. “Let’s move along.”
“Yes. Well, because of my wretched upbringing, I developed trust issues. Then I discovered, through extensive research, that I was part of a secret government cloning experiment, along with nineteen others, each of us with DNA donors that are among the most famous and incredible people to ever walk the earth.”
“How did you find out?” Weejy was genuinely curious. “That you were a clone?”
Charles stared hard at Ziggy.
“Um, the Freedom of Information Act,” Ziggy answered. “Lots of digging. Lots of government requests. But much of the information concerning us had been redacted. For example, I still don’t know who all twenty donors were, or who and where they currently are, or who is even still alive.”
“How did you even know what to look for?” SoJo began to roll and unroll her napkin. “Seems like a pretty specific thing to stumble across in government papers.”
Ziggy chuckled. “I was actually researching government files on Nikola Tesla. This eventually led me to Nicky and the cloning experiment, which was quite the happy coincidence. It also pointed to Tesla’s original notebooks for harnessing free energy.”
SoJo pushed the napkin away. “What does this have to do with us?”
“Right. I have wandered away from the original question. The mind is a fascinating organ. I was saying, I have trouble trusting people. My unhealthy relationship with my mother prevented me from being able to form lasting friendships during my adolescence.”
“Which lasted through puberty and into adulthood,” Nick added.
“As unfortunate as it is, Nicky speaks the truth. But the five of us here, we were born with a built-in kinship. We are like siblings. Children of the same experiment, raised by strangers, never told our true nature and potential. You are my brothers and sisters, who have shared the same challenges as I have, and we are bound together by the secret revelations that our creation ordains.”
“We’re both clones, so you’re like my brother?” SoJo asked.
“Exactly.”
“And so is Charles?” She gave him a sidelong glance.
“He is.”
“So I was making out with my brother? Because that shit is nasty.”
“I’m not literally your brother.” Charles appeared irritated. “Ziggy means we all share bonds that are just as strong as if we shared the same blood. We can hire security guards. We can bribe local police and politicians. But we can’t truly trust anyone. Except for others like us. The clones of extraordinary people. We share the same background. The same secret. The same origins. We’re a tribe, and the tribe protects the tribe. Isn’t that what you’re getting at, Ziggy?”
“Exactly, Charles, exactly. Well put.”
“So what do we have to do to get a fat payday, brothers?”
Ziggy tented his fingers and bounced the tips together, looking like he was plotting an invasion. “The man you came here with. He’s a clone of Albert Einstein.”
Weejy had already mentioned this in the car, so she saw no reason to deny it. “Yes.”
“This would have been so much simpler if we had known that at the beginning.”
Ziggy and Charles exchanged an intense look.
It feels like my parents fighting.
Charles stood up. “I have to run into town.” He hooded his eyes. “Business. Carry on without me.”
Nobody told him goodbye, and he walked off.
Charles is acting strange. Or, more precisely, stranger than usual.
“I need you to call Albert,” Ziggy continued. “Get him on our team. Nicky has run into some small, technical difficulties, and we could use a man with Einstein’s brainpower.”
“And what do we get paid for calling Bert?” SoJo asked. “A fat million dollars like Charles?”
“A million is just for starters. We’re all going to be rich.”
“Rich enough to buy super yachts encrusted in jewels?”
“Possibly.”
“Then let’s get Bert’s ass on the phone. I’ve always wanted a diamond yacht.”
Weejy gave SoJo an uneasy glance.
Is she still on my side, trying to escape from here? Or is she willing to drag poor Bert into this mess for the false promise of a big payday?
Weejy fought to avoid the celery. “I… uh… need my phone.”
“I happen to have it here in my pocket.” Ziggy handed the cheap cell over.
A burner phone. Weejy and SoJo had left their expensive cells back at Bert’s ranch.
Bert’s paranoia about not bringing anything to Area 57 that could identify us had turned out wildly prophetic.
Weejy used the unlock code, then locked eyes once more with SoJo, who was impossible to read.
Okay. Let me quickly think this through.
Bert must have gotten away. Someone had been shooting at Ziggy’s guards, and that person hadn’t left Bert behind. If Ziggy truly bribed cops and the government, they would have already checked local hospitals.
Which means Bert has probably been in touch with his friends, Tom and Joan, and told them we were being held here. Tom was a former cop, and supposedly has a lot of capable friends.
All signs point to Bert plotting a rescue mission. And for that he needs intel, so he can be properly prepared. Especially since Ziggy already seems to know that Tom, Abe, and Joan are coming.
But how do I tell Bert anything important without alarming Ziggy?
“Call him,” Ziggy ordered. “Be smart about it.”
This soup is chock-full of celery. Seems like I’ll eat some no matter where I put the spoon.
Weejy tried to ignore Ziggy’s implied threat and in her mind she pushed away all the fear, entered her passcode, and dialed.
Nothing happened. She squinted at her screen. “I don’t have any bars.”
