I.D. (7 page)

“She never made it, huh?” Eve said.

Martina shook her head. “Mom and Dad are still devastated. And angry. And hurt. They couldn’t be with her. They couldn’t help. She died all alone. And in such pain.”

A sharp twinge shot through Eve.

And this is what she felt like. A body falling apart.

“You have to find him,” Martina said. “You don’t have much time—?

She stopped abruptly, cut off by the sound of thumping footsteps.

Heading up the stairs.

“Martina?” Mr. Forbes’s voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Four more. Today.

Deceased.

Two in North America—

Please. Later.

“G
O!”
M
ARTINA PUSHED.

Eve dived.

She landed on the closet floor with a soft thud. Martina shut the door behind her.

Pain.

Knifelike, searing pain. As if her brain had been smashed out of her ears.

Don’t scream.

Bite. Tongue.

Voices. Angry. Outside the door, arguing.

A metallic clank.

“…only a bike chain…” Martina’s words were becoming clear. “I need it, and Danielle would have wanted me to—?

“That’s not the point,” her dad interrupted. “These things are all we have of your sister. We’ve
asked
you to leave them alone until
we
could sort them out.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Now, clean up and come downstairs. And next time you need something, ask us first.”

Eve heard the bedroom door close. Footsteps down the stairs.

Then, silence.

The closet door opened. Martina poked her head in. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been better.”

“Anyway, you see why they can’t meet you? They’re still so attached. They would have heart attacks if they—?

“Martina,” Eve interrupted, “we…have to…hurry.”

Martina felt her forehead. “You’re feverish.”

“Jumping in the closet—I thought I broke my hip.”

“That’s not good.”

“I know it’s not. What am I going to do?”

“We,” Martina replied. “I’m with you, Eve. Just hang in there. Mom and Dad’ll be going to bed after the news. That’s about ten minutes. We’ll wait for them to fall asleep. Another twenty minutes.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll think of something. Just sit back and rest. And don’t worry.”

With that, she shut the door.

Eeeeeee…eeeeeee…

The stairway floorboards creaked beneath their feet.

As they reached bottom and tiptoed through the kitchen, Eve glanced at the stove clock.

12:07
A.M.

Martina pulled open the door of the attached garage.

“Are you sure this is all right?” Eve whispered.

“I’ve been to St. Louis a million times,” Martina replied, unlocking the family car doors.

“
Your parents
—aren’t they going to kill you for doing this?”

Martina gently helped Eve into the passenger seat. “Eve, I didn’t believe my sister when she told me about the clones. That’s why she snuck off alone—because no one took her seriously. I’m not going to let that happen again.”

Martina climbed into the car and backed it into the street. Then she took off, steering her way through the darkened town.

Within moments they were speeding along the freeway. Eve gazed listlessly out the window at the sleepy neighboring villages. The slanted roofs seemed to dance by, frosted by the light of the full moon. An occasional glowing window winked at her.

People still up. Watching a movie. Reading. Worrying.

She would change places with any of them in a minute.

“Why would he do it, Martina?” Eve asked. “Why the phony adoption agency?”

Martina shrugged. “To keep the clones a secret, I guess. So no one could trace him. Cloning is controversial. People think it’s
wrong.
Like messing with nature.”

“But if he’s afraid of being discovered, then why
four
of us? Why not stop at one?”

“Why don’t people stop at one atom bomb? Or one thousand? Once they make it, they have to do it again and again. Improving it.”

“How did he improve us? We’re all defective. We all die.”

Martina sighed. “Danielle thought he gave the gene to all of you. On purpose.”

“Why?”

“To observe you, then get you out of the way before you were old enough to figure out what happened. Sick, isn’t it?”

No. Not sick.

Worse than that.

Murder.

Eve gazed grimly back out the window.

That’s what I am
—
not just a scientific curiosity.

Worse than that. Worse than a nonperson.

A death experiment.

The wintry silence was broken only by the engine’s hum as Martina exited the freeway. She steered grimly through the outskirts of St. Louis, reading off the street signs.

Eve navigated the way to Laramie Drive, a long boulevard of commercial buildings.

“Slow down,” Eve said, reading off Danielle’s journal. “We need number one-seven-four-nine.”

Martina slowed down. “Sixteen ninety-seven…” she read.

Eve squinted.

1727 was a Laundromat.

1731, a flower shop.

Then a huge parking lot.

The next building was the Trueman Bell Hospital.

Number 1765.

“We missed it!” Eve blurted out.

Martina slammed on the brakes. “I didn’t see it.”

“Neither did I. Martina circled around the block and slowly passed the buildings again. She glided to a stop in front of the parking lot. “It should be here. Between thirty-one and sixty-five!”

Eve stared at a sign that stretched over the entrance gate:

PUBLIC PARKING

BRAND-NEW, SECURE FACILITY

REASONABLE RATES

“It must have been here,” Eve remarked. “They tore it down. For parking.”

“Okay. Okay. Don’t panic,” Martina said. “They didn’t tear down Dr. Black
with
it. We can ask at the hospital. Someone will know what happened.”

She pulled to a stop at the curb, climbed out, and began running toward the hospital entrance.

Eve squeezed the door handle. Her hands felt as if they’d burst into flames.
“Martina!”

The door flew open. Eve swung her hips, but her legs stayed in the car.

She fell, missing the curb only because Martina caught her.

“My joints…” Eve said through gritted teeth.

“Hang on,” Martina urged, lifting Eve to her feet. “It’s not far.”

Arthritis.

Eve thought of her grandmother. The way she used to totter around before she was shut up in the nursing home. The way she always complained about the pain.

This shouldn’t be happening to me!

Arm in arm, she and Martina walked up the ramp, through the sliding doors, and into the front lobby.

A man eyed them curiously from behind a reception desk.

“Dr. Black, please,” Martina called out.

The man punched the name into a computer and shook his head. “No one by that name here.”

“He used to be at the address next door,” Eve insisted.

“Well, he’s not here now,” the man replied.

“Well, give us somebody who would know him,”
Martina snapped.

The man shot her a dirty look, then spoke into an intercom: “Paging Dr. Rudin. Front desk.”

Eve’s ankle gave out. She grabbed Martina, nearly pulling her to the floor. “Owwwww…”

Cold. Hot. Freezing. HOT.

Eve’s body was short-circuiting. She pointed frantically to the seats near the wall.

By the time Martina settled her in, a crisply dressed, youngish woman with dark hair and glasses was walking toward them. “I’m Dr. Rudin, the night administrator. Can I help you?”

“Dr. Black!” Eve’s throat was burning now. The words hurt.

“Excuse me?” Dr. Rudin said.

“We know his old address—seventeen forty-nine—but the building’s not there,” Martina explained. “The guy behind the desk said you’d know him.”

“Who?”

“Dr. Black!”

“Dr. Black is no longer with us. But if you’ll tell me what’s wrong, I can direct you to any number of specialists—?

“You don’t understand!”
Martina said. “Look. I have a car. You tell me where Dr. Black is, and we’re there. If he’s in Bermuda, we’re on the next plane.
Just tell us
.”

Dr. Rudin put her hand gently on Martina’s shoulder. “What I’m trying to say is, you
can’t
see him. No one can.”

Eve knew what was coming next. It was a pattern.

Don’t say it.

Just don’t.

“Dr. Black,” the administrator went on, “passed away about six years ago.”

Her.

Rudin.

The file is linked.

She was there. At the beginning.

Does the girl remember?

How could she?

D
EAD.

Alexis, Bryann, Caroline, Danielle. And now Dr. Black.

“Did you know him?” Martina asked.

Dr. Rudin nodded. “No one did, really. I worked with him when I was just starting out, as an intern.”

The experiment is over.

Well, almost.

Just one more lab rat to go.

Congratulations, Dr. Black.

Eve slumped into her seat.

But Martina was pressing on, asking questions.

“…He spent most of his time at home,” Dr. Rudin was saying, “especially after the death of his two daughters. He had a lab there, and he loved doing research.”

Two daughters?

Eve thought back to Danielle’s news clippings.

There was only one daughter. Laura
…
“died three years ago under circumstances he did not specify.”

“What happened to the stuff in his lab?” Martina asked.

Dr. Rudin shrugged. “Thrown out, I imagine. Why do you ask? Are you girls related to him?”

“Well, no, not exactly.” Martina shot Eve a look.

It’s over.

Go home.

Be with your family. Don’t die alone, like Danielle.

“Let’s just go, Martina,” Eve said.

She suddenly felt a hand on her forehead.

“You’re feverish,” Dr. Rudin said. “Come with me.”

“No,” Eve protested. “Dr. Rudin, I—I have something you can’t cure.”

Dr. Rudin smiled. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“It’s the telomere thing!” Martina blurted out. “That weird disease, where the body ages? Have you heard of it?”

“Yes,” Dr. Rudin said, giving Eve a questioning look. “But there’s no reliable diagnosis—?

“Eve was
given
the disease, Dr. Rudin,” Martina said. “She’s a clone. I know it sounds ridiculous, but there were four of them. Dr. Black created them.”

Dr. Rudin narrowed her eyes at Eve. “What did you say your name was?”

“Eve Hardy. Look, I just need to get home—?

“Eve…” Dr. Rudin sat. She reached out and swept back Eve’s hair, examining the back of her neck.

The birthmark.

“Oh my lord…” Dr. Rudin muttered.

“My sister had that mark, too!” Martina said. “Her name was Danielle.”

Dr. Rudin nodded. “I…I know.”

“You
do
?” Martina exclaimed. “How?”

“I was there right after you were born, Eve,” Dr. Rudin said softly. “Danielle, too. He said you were both left at the hospital doorstep, anonymously. You must be…fourteen.”

Eve nodded.
No words. Please. Too much pain.

“Danielle died at this age,” Martina explained. “She was convinced Dr. Black was working on a cure for the disease.”

Dr. Rudin quickly took a prescription pad from her jacket pocket, ripped off a sheet, and began writing on the back. “This is the address. Go now. See what you can find. Notes. Anything. Call me when you get there.”

Eve felt an arm lift her on the right. Another on the left. She felt herself being walked outside. It was cold.

Cold.

Sleep.

She thought she heard “Good night.” But it might have been “Good luck.” She wasn’t sure.

By the time the back of her head hit the seat, she was unconscious.

“Eve, wake up! We’re here!”

Shoulder.

Pain.

Sharp.

Eve’s eyes opened.

“The new owners are the Feltons,” Martina continued. “Doctor Howard and Doctor Felicia. Both professors. I woke them up. They almost threw me out, but I told them what happened.”

Martina began pulling Eve out of the car. Pain radiated fiercely across her back.

The walk to the front door seemed like a mile uphill.

The Doctors Felton were a balding man and a trim gray-haired woman. Standing in the front door in their pj’s, they looked at Eve with concern and fear.

“I—I don’t know if we can help you,” Dr. Howard Felton said. “We turned Doctor Black’s lab into a dining room, which was its original function—?

To the left. Wood paneling.

He led them to the left, into a medium-sized room, paneled in oak.