Imitation (30 page)

“
How many of you are
here?” Linc asks.

“
A lot.” Linc opens his
mouth, probably to argue for specifics, but Anna shakes her head.
“I’m not giving you that kind of information without assurances.
Talk to Morton first. Alone. Then I’ll tell you what you want to
know about the others.” Her voice is firm, her gaze unwavering as
it holds Linc’s. No one breathes. The silence echoes around us. I
squeeze Linc’s hand.

Finally, Linc exhales and his
shoulders relax. “All right, Anna. Take us to Morton.”

A darkened hallway winds to the right.
Anna leads the way, our steps muffled by a thick coating of dirt on
the floor. The air becomes heavier the farther we walk. Even the
silence seems muffled. We pass several open doorways leading into
small, boxy rooms. They must’ve been offices at one time. Now
they’re empty, save for the second-hand sunlight filtering in
through high windows. Anna stops at the last door. It’s open
halfway and she pushes it wide with her knuckles as she
knocks.

“
Morton,” she says, though
I can’t see over her shoulders to who she’s addressing.

Furniture creaks and feet shuffle as
someone rises. More shuffling and then Anna moves aside and I see
him.

I blink and force myself not to step
back. The man before me is dark-skinned and tall. He is easily the
largest man I’ve ever seen. Not large like Marla—large like someone
has taken boulders and placed them underneath his skin. There are
defined mounds where his shoulders and biceps should be and sinewy
veins running the length of his forearms. Through the fabric of his
shirt, his chest is broad and hard like the rest of him. Despite
his formidable size, he is smiling.

“
Ven,” he says in a deep
baritone. “It is an honor to meet you.” His voice is accented with
something I don’t recognize. It makes him sound only slightly less
scary than he looks.

He holds out a hand three times the
size of my own. I take it gingerly, expecting to be crushed under
his grip, but he is surprising delicate with me. Rough calluses
line his palm and scrape against my skin. He drops my hand, the
smile still in place though somewhat smaller, like a secret, when
he turns to Linc. “And you must be the bodyguard I’ve heard so much
about.”

“
I am with Ven,” Linc says
in a clipped voice. The words are meant to be a simple agreement to
Morton’s statement but a ripple of pleasure goes through me at what
else he’s inferred.

Morton nods. “Please, come in and
sit.” He gestures to a faded loveseat underneath a high window.
“I’m afraid our accommodations aren’t the nicest in town. But
they’re the least threatening, I assure you.”

He doesn’t wait for Linc
or me to comply before he turns to Anna. “How’s the arm,
mon ami
?”

“
It’s fine,” Anna
insists.

“
Let me see.” His tone is
a gentle rebuke. Anna, head hanging, lifts her arm to Morton. He
peels away the bandage that covers the place where her GPS should
be. His face scrunches as he inspects the raised wound. “When was
the last time you changed the dressing?”

“
Yesterday,” Anna says,
her voice high-pitched and not at all believable. Morton
sighs.

“
I’ve told you about
taking care of this. My equipment, this facility, isn’t sterile.
The procedure is risky enough without adding to it the fact that
you aren’t cleaning it properly. It’s on the verge of
infection.”

Anna sighs. I suspect she’s heard all
this before. Morton presses the bandage back into place. “Go see
Rudy. He’ll help you clean it and apply a fresh
dressing.”

“
But Ven—”

“
Will be all right,” he
finishes. “Come find us when you’re done and you can show them
around.”

Anna promises she will and then slips
out. I scoot closer to Linc so our legs press against each other
and take his hand again. Morton’s done nothing threatening but it’s
difficult not to take notice of how much he fills empty
space.

Morton lowers himself into the creaky
desk chair and links his fingers, resting his hands over his
abdomen. “I am not sure what Melanie told you about us but I am
very glad you’ve come.”

“
She said she’s been
helping to hide you from Titus and the rest of the Authentics,” I
say slowly.

“
True enough. She’s helped
us a great deal.” It’s obvious from the tone of his voice there is
more he isn’t saying.

“
But?” Linc
prompts.

“
Melanie’s what I call …
an aggressive thinker. She would like to see more action, I think,
than the rest of us are looking for just yet.”

“
What are you looking
for?” I ask. It is a bottom-line question. One that, depending on
the answer, will decide whether I can matter here.

“
The same thing we’re all
looking for. Freedom.”

I don’t answer. I can’t think of what
should come next now that he’s said it.

“
But you don’t want to
fight?” Linc asks. Morton shifts to look at Linc and I can breathe
again.

“
Fighting offers the sad
consequence of dying all too often. I want to live. To enjoy my
freedom.”

“
So you hide here? In a
vacant warehouse? Doesn’t seem much like living to me.”

“
Linc,” I say.

“
No, he’s right,” Morton
says. “It isn’t. But it’s better than Twig City. And it’s better
than playing a role for the Authentics.”

I nod. Even though this place is dank
and dirty and makes me itch, he’s right. I’d rather live here than
with Titus any day. I ask the second-most important question. “How
did you get away?”

Morton rubs a hand over his cheek and
chin. I hear the scratch of stubble against his rough palms. “From
my earliest days in Twig City, I remember feeling … conflicted. I
would act all of the right ways in front of the overseers. Give my
best effort during physical activity. Eat right. Say all the right
things to my examiner. ‘I was created to serve.’ I had the whole
spiel perfected. But something inside me was drifting another way.
I doubted. I didn’t like my purpose. I didn’t like being told what
to feel—or that I couldn’t feel. I wanted to be more. Do more. I
wanted a choice.”

He pauses long enough to catch my eye.
His expression is deadly serious. “Do you have any idea what I
mean, Ven?”

“
I think so,” I say, my
voice barely above a whisper.

He continues. “They call it a
deviation. I was the first. Or the first to deviate and live,
anyway. I was four years made when I received my note from Marla.
It was the scariest piece of paper I’d ever held. I think even my
bones shook on that walk to her office that day.”

Linc squeezes my hand. Maybe he
suspects how hard this is.

“
My Authentic is a
professional athlete. Apparently he’s also prone to a bad temper
and overindulging in his drink. One night, he argued with the wrong
person and was subsequently stabbed. My mission was to take his
place in the hospital so he could recover safely, without the
threat of someone coming back to finish the job. I must’ve done a
hell of a job playing my part in the City because when I got here,
I was shown to my hospital room and left alone except for medical
staff. Four days later, in the middle of the night, I got up and
walked out.”

“
What about your GPS?” I
ask. “And the kill switch?”

He shows me the underside of his
forearm. A small white line mars his chocolate skin. “They are both
built into one device. I used the hospital’s tools to remove
it.”

My jaw opens. I am a little disgusted
but mostly impressed. “You cut it out yourself?”

“
They injected me with
pain medication for a stab wound I didn’t have. I didn’t feel a
thing. At least not right away. I managed to keep infection out and
eventually it healed.”

“
Then what?” I can’t help
being enthralled with his story. With the courage it took to walk
away—to deviate, as he calls it.

“
I found my way down here
to the outskirts. The people here are poor but they have heart. Not
like the people in uptown. Still, I was repeatedly recognized,
mistaken for my recovering Authentic. I sought out vacant apartment
buildings and warehouses, and I stayed there until something—or
someone—made me move on.”

“
How long ago did you
leave?” I ask.

“
Five years.”

“
You’ve been hiding down
here for five years? Alone?” I am awed and saddened by such
long-term loneliness. In my case, it is a lifetime.

“
I haven’t been alone for
some time. Although we are always looking for new friends.” He
smiles and it is an encouraging sort of smile, though I can’t help
but feel he’s searching for something.

“
You want to be friends
with me,” I say, my words somewhere between a statement and a
question. “Why?”

“
You can help us obtain
our freedom.”

“
I don’t see how there’s
anything I can do. Titus watches me—”

“
The creator is evil. He
wants to use us and if he cannot, he wants to crush us. Don’t you
want to be free of him?”

“
Yes. I want that more
than anything.” I stare at the white scar on Morton’s
arm.

“
Good, because I don’t
think we can do it without you.”

His words are off. They don’t sound
like what I am hoping for. “What is it you want me to
do?”

“
Melanie was the last
Authentic among us. Now that Titus has her, it’s only a matter of
time until he finds out about this place. I know we must move, but
I am out of locations large enough to accommodate.”

“
I don’t see how I can
help. I’m not Authentic.”

“
True. But they think you
are. And we need someone on the outside. Someone who can move
freely. Someone with access to the creator himself.”

I’m not surprised. Only disappointed.
I know what he’s asking of me. He wants me to go back. To play my
role. My chest sinks into my stomach. It is not what I’d hoped for
in coming here. I realize that now. I’d hoped for instant freedom.
I’d even braced myself for the idea of allowing someone to take a
blade to my arm. I would happily never go back. But this … this is
asking so much more.

Linc twists his body so he’s facing
me. His free hand cups my cheek and he leans in. “I know you want
to run, Ven. That you thought this was your chance. I know you
don’t want to go back, but …”

I give myself three more seconds of
disappointment before I blink the wetness away and stick my chin
out. I look at Morton first, then Linc. “But I want to matter,” I
whisper.

Linc’s jaw tightens and I know it’s
determination for what we’re both agreeing to. “I know.”

I face Morton again. “I’ll do it until
I can’t anymore. That’s all I can promise.”

His tone is a mixture of pleasure and
regret. “That’s all I can ask.”

“
How many are there?” Linc
asks. I appreciate that he gets right down to logistics. It leaves
me less time for hating the fact that I am leaving here with a GPS
in my arm and a destination of the one place I hate most in the
entire world.

“
Honestly, I don’t know,”
Morton tells him. “Our numbers have grown so much in the past few
weeks. At the end, Daniel brought home a new Imitation every couple
of days.”

“
I still can’t believe
that asshole is one of the good guys,” Linc mutters, shaking his
head.

“
I know what he tried to
do to you,” Morton says quietly. “Both of you. And while I don’t
condone his actions, I don’t think good and evil are that black and
white. The methods always look muddy to bystanders. I would do
anything to protect my people. To some, that might paint me as
evil. To me, it means standing up for the ones I love.”

I decide Morton must not know the
entire story of Daniel’s actions or he wouldn’t be so quick to
defend him. Or if he does, maybe Morton isn’t entirely good,
either. It’s something to consider but it doesn’t change my
decision. Because he is right about one thing. These are my people.
And I will do what I must to protect them.

“
Everyone here has had
their GPS removed?” I ask.

“
Yes. Before they are
allowed to enter. But yours …”

“
Will have to stay,” I
finish, hating the way the words taste on my tongue.

“
For now,” Linc adds. I
send him a grateful half smile.

“
Will Titus know you were
here?” Morton asks.

Linc and I both shake our heads. “No,
I’ve already redirected the tracker. It will look like she was
shopping downtown all morning,” Linc says.

“
Excellent.”

Someone raps on the door and pushes it
open. Anna walks in, a fresh bandage on her arm. “Oh, good, you’re
still here,” she says when she sees Linc and me on the loveseat.
“So, are you going to help?”

“
I’ll do my best,” I tell
her.

She smiles and I am reminded of our
morning interactions back in Twig City. Something in my chest yanks
sideways. “Morton,” I begin slowly. I select my words carefully
because the question matters just as much as the answer. “Do you
think … I mean, when you say freedom, are we speaking only of the
Imitations on the outside, or the ones still in the City as
well?”