Vitro (14 page)

A bullet pounded into a tree to his right, and his heart jumped into his throat. He ran doubled over, trying to make himself a smaller target, and he began weaving between the trees like a drunk, careening this way and that. He dropped back a step so that he was between Lux and the guns.
More shots whistled around them, and he had the feeling the guards weren’t taking much time to aim properly. Maybe they were just hoping a bullet would happen to bring him down, or maybe they were trying to intimidate him into stopping.
Suddenly the ground dropped off in what at first looked like a sinkhole, but when he looked down he saw it was a kind of hidden lagoon. Bright blue-green water shimmered at the bottom; he couldn’t tell how deep it was. There was no way around and it was just wide enough that they couldn’t jump over it. Jim looked back to see that the guards were gaining on them.
“Lux, listen to me,” he said, taking her shoulders and looking her dead in the eye. “Don’t fight them. They have guns and they’ll shoot you, understand? Don’t try to fight them off.”
“Yes, Jim,” she said amiably.
She wasn’t scared, he realized. She had no idea how much danger they were in. Her naïveté filled him with a sudden wave of frustration and he nearly shook her to try and make her understand. Instead, he pulled his hands away and clenched them into fists. We’ll just have to try to reason with them, he thought, his stomach heavy with dread. Reasoning with people wasn’t one of his stronger skills.
He turned to face the guards, who had reached them and were slowing down. They spread out, cutting off what few avenues of escape Jim had.
“Hey,” Jim said casually, as if they’d just met in line at the gas station instead of in the middle of a hostile island. “How’s it going?”
“The girl,” one said to another, as if Jim had never spoken. “What do we do with her?”
“Strauss didn’t say anything about her,” shrugged the other. “I guess . . . shoot him and take the girl.”
Jim swallowed. Hard. “Uh . . . guys? Come on, guys. Isn’t that a bit . . . hasty? Let’s just take a step back and—”
The guards raised their rifles, each one aimed at his chest, and instinctively he stepped backward—and the ground disappeared and Jim found himself free falling. So sudden was the fall that he couldn’t even shout; his stomach twisted as he dropped, air streaming around him. Then, with an enormous splash, he plunged underwater. He immediately began swimming, reaching for the surface. The water was deep and freezing cold and, he noticed with surprise, it was fresh.
Lungs burning, Jim clawed desperately at the water, blinded by bubbles. When he finally surfaced, he sucked in a deep breath and looked around. He’d fallen into the inland lagoon at the bottom of a tall cylinder of rock hung with ferns and vines. The water around him sparkled cerulean, and looking up, he saw the canopy of palms, their fronds golden in the light of evening. There was no way up; the walls around the lagoon were at least thirty feet high, and any possible handholds were obscured by thick, heart-shaped leaves that rolled in a wave over the ground above to pour down the sides of the rock. If he had time, he might use the ropy vines that hung straight down into the water to pull himself up, but time was definitely not a commodity he could afford. The guards appeared above him, their faces peering down. Lux’s face was among them; one of them was holding her tightly by the arm and, true to Jim’s orders, she wasn’t lifting so much as a finger to fight them. He had to remind himself that that was a good thing, that if she did try to fight them they’d kill her and him. At least this way one of them would survive.
When they saw him trapped like a frog in a bucket, they began to confer among themselves. Their voices were low and the rippling water echoed off the walls of the lagoon, magnifying the waves so that Jim couldn’t make out what they said. Whatever their conversation entailed, it seemed they all agreed on their course of action, because they began angling their guns at him.
Jim looked around, more desperate than ever. He was treading water, and the effort was quickly wearing him out. Then he noticed something he hadn’t seen before—a light under the water. He gulped down a deep breath and sank beneath the surface, swimming toward the light as bullets zinged through the water around him, leaving spiraling columns of bubbles in their trails. The light came from an underwater tunnel made of rock, and after a moment’s hesitation, he wiggled into it and pulled himself along. He was barely small enough to fit through. His shirt snagged on a root, and he thrashed and pulled until it ripped and he was free.
When he emerged on the other side, body aching for air, he pushed off the rock with both feet and shot out of the water, sobbing for oxygen. He was in a deep, narrow stream with high leafy banks on either side. The water rushed along, carrying him with it, and he let the current sweep him away. Looking back, he saw the spot where the stream poured out of the lagoon, with the land above it stretching upward. Jim started to relax, spreading his arms and legs so he could simply float to safety. He could feel his pulse in every limb, pounding frantically through his veins. His arms and legs ached intensely from running and swimming and pulling himself through the narrow tunnel. He agonized over Lux, wondering what they would do, if they’d change their minds and shoot her anyway. He heard no gunshot, but it didn’t assuage his anxiety.
The river coursed like a winding road, and he sensed it was slowing. Soon, it widened and grew shallow, and he was able to stand up and walk. Around him, the land had become flat and covered in tall grasses and short, twisting pines. The sky had turned from blue to scarlet as the sun set behind the island. He sloshed toward the sea, soaked and weary, and when he reached a long white beach he collapsed into the sand and lay on his back, eyes shut, breathing deeply of the briny air. The stream broke into a dozen narrow rivulets which cut through the sand and drained into the sea.
Jim lay there for ten minutes without opening his eyes, feeling his muscles relax and his heart rate gradually fall. His mind reeled at how close he’d come to death, hunted through the trees like a wild animal, like a deer chased by a pack of bloodthirsty hounds. He was alive, but he was no closer to rescuing Sophie and now he’d lost Lux as well.

Her heart throbbed painfully in her chest and she watched the water to see if he would reappear the way he had when he swam in the ocean, but he was gone.

Gone.
Panic and fear twisted in her stomach she could not see him but she needed him without him she was losing control was falling apart.
The men dragged her away away from Jim and she could not stop them because don’t fight them don’t fight them.
“What’s wrong with her?” someone said. “Is she having a panic attack?”
“She’s a Vitro, just woke up. Strauss said she imprinted on that pilot.”
“Christ. What a mess.”
“You’re telling me. Let’s get her back inside. Call Chad’s group, tell them to search this area. He won’t get far.”
“Think he drowned down there?”
“I’m not gonna find out. We’ll go down later and check, with the right equipment, see if he’s there.”
They marched through the trees and Lux marched with them, but she twisted and turned, trying to look back, trying to find him but he was nowhere. Drowned drowned drowned the man had said and Lux exploded inside couldn’t bear it couldn’t breathe.
“The hell’s the matter with her?”
“Separation anxiety, looks like. I’ve seen it before with the new ones. Sorry creatures can’t handle the stress of being separated from their, well, whatever you call them. Masters? Owners?”
“Whatever. I don’t want to know anyway. My contract’s up in three months, and then I’m out of here. It’s too weird on this island. Isn’t natural.”
The man holding Lux grunted. “You got that right. Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”
“But you have to know what it is you’re guarding,” a third man said.
“I already know more than I want to know. Take my advice, Thornton: stay out of it. Corpus pays well, but I’ll be damned if they aren’t the shadiest, prickliest employer I’ve ever had. And that includes Colombia.”
“You ran in Colombia? Hey, I knew a guy worked down there. Maybe you knew him . . .”
Their conversation wandered out of Lux’s grasp, and she gave up trying to listen. Her heart pounded in her ears. Without Jim to balance her, the world moved too quickly and confusingly, sucking her down and crashing against her like the waves.
Soon they reached a building on an open hill, and Lux gazed at it in wonder. It was huge and black against the setting sun. She didn’t want to go inside. She wanted to run back into the trees to find Jim. But the men dragged her along even when she dug her feet into the ground, and then she had to relent and go with them because don’t fight them.
Inside she found a strange new world, a world of walls and too-bright lights and solid floors that squeaked beneath the shoes Jim had put on her feet. Strange floor, hard and smooth beneath her feet. She stared at it and fought down the panic that battered at her brain.
“You found her!” cried a voice, and Lux looked up. A woman rushed toward her, a woman with tight black curls and blue eyes and a big white coat. She reached out and took Lux’s face in her hands, studied her all over. The men let go of her arms and she stood trembling as the woman turned her around, looked at her hands, at her feet, her scraped knees.
“Poor thing, she’s been all over the island in this state?”
“Found her with the pilot, just like you said, but he got away.”
“Come with me, Lux. I’ll get you cleaned up. Thanks, Thornton, I’ll take her from here.”
The men left and Lux was glad to see them go. The woman held her hand and led her into a room. She looked around in a daze, taking it all in, trying to make sense of the strange new objects and sounds and sensations.
“Sit here,” the woman said, patting a thing Lux suddenly knew was chair.
She sat.
“Let me take care of those hands and knees.” The woman moved around, picking things up, opening drawers and jars. She pressed a wet cloth to Sophie’s cuts. “I’m Dr. Moira Crue,” the woman said. “I’m going to take care of you, dear.”
“Where is Jim?” Lux asked.
“I don’t know. But we’ll find him, you’ll see. I’m sure he’s fine.” The woman’s voice was low and soothing and listening to it, Lux relaxed a little. I’m sure he’s fine.
“You’ve had a very stressful awakening,” Dr. Moira Crue said. “I know you must be very frightened and confused, but just trust me, all right? You’re safe here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“I want Jim.”
“I know.” The woman’s eyes pinched at the corners. “I know.”
She took a thing from her pocket—flashlight—and shone it in Lux’s eyes. Lux winced and tried to turn away, but Dr. Moira Crue held her chin and murmured that it was okay, she wasn’t going to be hurt, but Lux didn’t care about hurting she just wanted Jim where was he why did he not come why did he leave her—
“Lux!”
She blinked, her thoughts grinding to a halt.
“Lux, you’re panicking. You need to breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out.”
I do not want to breathe I want Jim I want Jim where is he where is he—
Lux yelped as pain pricked her arm. She looked down to see the woman sliding a needle into her skin.
“I’m sorry, Lux, but you’re having an anxiety attack. It’s common among newborns, but Jim isn’t here to calm you down, so I’m giving you some medicine. Do you understand?”
“Hurts . . .” Lux whispered, but then a warm, soft feeling washed over her and she swayed.
“There. See? Everything’s fine.” The woman held her up. “I only gave you a little bit. Can you walk?”
“Walk,” Lux echoed dreamily.
“Come on. Try.”
Lux locked eyes with the woman. “What am I?” she whispered.
Dr. Moira Crue’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “What?”
“What am I?” Lux gazed at her in anguish.
“Lux . . . you’re a Vitro. A girl. A . . . a human being—what a strange question.” She tilted her head, studying Lux closely. “Why would you ask that?”
Lux sighed deeply. The woman gave her answers, but none of them were right. There was still something missing. Something big, something so so important . . .

If Jim was murdered, his blood would be on her hands. There was no way around it. Her pulse pounded in her ears, beating out a steady rhythm by which she could mark time’s passage.

The room was lit by a fluorescent bulb high above her; it was covered by a grate wrapped in foam. The light flickered every few seconds, with a faint metallic click. Other than that, no sounds issued from the hall. She was, as far as she could tell, the only person on the entire basement floor.

Her mother had been silent as she led Sophie away. At first, Sophie had thought her mom might let her go. When they were out of Strauss’s hearing, Sophie had suggested they run for it. They could find Jim and Lux and Nicholas and flee the island together. She thought surely after Strauss’s display of power and menace that Moira would see reason, would understand that this was no place for either of them.

She should have guessed that her plea would do as much good as trying to dry a flood with a Kleenex. Moira had only given her a look, a look that said stop talking now before you get in worse trouble, and Sophie said no more on the matter. Her heart had sunk lower and lower, until she felt as if she were dragging it behind her on a string, and now it lay pathetically at her feet like a despondent pet.

She’d been silent as her mother opened the door to the padded cell, silent as the door shut behind her, silent as Moira’s footsteps faded down the hall. Hours had passed, as best as she could judge, and she hadn’t made a sound. She drifted in and out of sleep, but her dreams were filled with a chaos of voices and images that left her feeling less rested than she had before she shut her eyes. She wondered what time it was. By the ache in her stomach, she’d missed several meals.

When the door finally opened, she lifted her head just enough to see who it was. Moira was there, and Strauss, and Dr. Hashimoto peeking over their shoulders.

And there was someone else. She stood in front of Moira like a ghost, like a reflection in a pool: Lux.
Again Sophie was left breathless as if punched in the gut. But this time it wasn’t the physical resemblance between herself and Lux that had her reeling; it was the look in Lux’s eye: deep, hollow sadness, as if her heart had been carved out of her with an ice cream scoop.
Is that how I look? Sophie wondered. When I’m at my lowest, feeling most abandoned and hopeless?
Lux looked as wretched as Sophie felt. She wondered why. Then she caught on—if they had Lux, that meant they must have found Jim too.
“Well,” she said coldly, looking past Lux and her mother, to Strauss. “Did you shoot him?”
“Not quite. But presently,” Strauss replied. “Get up.”
“Why?”
“We have to tell Andreyev,” Moira said, her gaze vacant.
Sophie recalled what the consequences would be if Andreyev withdrew his funding of the Vitro Project: her mother deposed, the Vitros either exterminated or sold off. Sophie wasn’t sure which she would choose in their place. It seemed to her that living without control of your own will was hardly a step above not living at all. She would rather be shot than become an empty, voiceless vessel existing only as an extension of someone else. But that’s not a choice I can make for them, she thought. She knew, deep in her heart, that if the Vitros were killed by Corpus, written off as failures, some of the blame would fall on her. I never wanted any of this. She’d been played the whole time, led by the nose by Nicholas. But she couldn’t well shift blame on him—he was only trying to break free of the people who’d controlled and used him his entire life. She’d have done the same in his position.
Sophie stood and went to the door, her eyes drawn to Lux. Her mother handed her a sandwich wrapped in a paper towel, which she ate in five giant bites. They walked down the hall, toward the staircase leading up, and all the while Sophie summed up her twin, comparing herself to Lux from head to toe. Why you? She halted at the doorway to the stairs, letting Lux go first. Why did she keep you and not me?
She churned with a conflict of envy and relief. Lux was the daughter Moira had kept, while Sophie was the one she’d abandoned. On the other hand, Lux was the one she’d turned into a listless doll; at least Sophie had a will of her own even if, at times, it landed her in trouble. She knew she’d drawn the long straw between them.
They found Andreyev outside, where the afternoon was fading to evening—she’d been in the cell for nearly twentyfour hours, she realized with a shock; he was being looked after by two of his personal bodyguards and was hitting golf balls off the bluff and into the sea with a heavy driver. Several of his balls went wide and only narrowly missed smashing into the Corpus helicopter crouched off to the right; his bodyguards flinched whenever this happened. Dressed in a striped polo, khaki shorts, and an argyle tam, he looked like a harmless middle-aged tourist on vacation. But when he turned around and saw Sophie and Lux standing side by side and Moira’s and Strauss’s grim expressions, a dark look fell over his face that banished any such illusion.
“Let me explain,” said Strauss, but then she gave a short, bitter laugh. “Rather, let Moira explain.”
Moira did, succinctly. Andreyev listened without expression, looking down at his driver, which he swung absently at the grass. When Moira finished, Andreyev swung the club and Sophie flinched, thinking he was going to hit her mother with it, but he just propped it against his shoulder and turned a narrow eye on them all.
“A strange mess,” he said. “So my Lux has imprinted on this pilot instead of me. And where is he?”
Strauss cleared her throat. “He’s on the island. He has nowhere to run, so it’s only a matter of time before we bring him in.”
Andreyev nodded as if only half listening.
“We have other Vitros,” said Moira. “In just a few hours we can—”
“Is this atrocious disorganization indicative of all your projects, Victoria?” Andreyev asked, cutting Moira short as if she’d never spoken. “Or am I to lay all the blame on Dr. Crue here?”
Strauss and Moira exchanged challenging looks, as if each wanted the other to take the blame.
“Why don’t we go inside?” said Strauss. “We can discuss reparations in private.”
“Is there anything we can get you?” Moira asked. “Dinner? Coffee?”
Andreyev sighed and handed the club to one of the bodyguards. “Don’t try to coddle my goodwill, Dr. Crue. I am about finished with Skin Island and all of you.”
Strauss shot Moira a dark look. Sophie couldn’t take it any more; she stepped forward. “It’s my fault!” she said. “Stop blaming them—I was the one who got in the way. My mom has nothing to do with it.” Why she was standing up for her mother, Sophie had no idea—some lingering sense of filial duty? “But look at yourselves! Look at what you’re doing!” She took a step toward Andreyev and his guards closed around him menacingly, as if they expected her to throttle him. “This is wrong. Taking away people’s ability to choose their own lives, turning them into slaves—it’s abominable!” She nearly choked on the word, recognizing it as one of her father’s favorites.
“Sophie, stop this,” Moira said tightly. “None of this involves you.”
Andreyev’s gaze was fixed on Sophie, and the corners of his mouth sank lower and lower. He said nothing.
“There’s so much good you could be doing here, but instead of helping the world you choose only to help yourselves.” She wasn’t lecturing; she was pleading. She felt tears on her cheeks. Turning away from Andreyev, she went to Lux and took her hands, tingling with the eerie familiarity with which Lux’s fingers twined in her own. “You’re a person, Lux,” she said. “Your own person. You don’t have to listen to them. To any of us. Think, Lux. Think. Tell them what you want—tell them you want to be free.”
Hands grabbed at Sophie, pulling her away. Her mother dragged her away from Lux while Strauss closed her hands around Lux’s shoulders. Her twin’s eyes were serious, the blue of her irises almost gray, and restless as the sea.
“Get her under control or I will,” Strauss warned.
“Come inside, Sophie,” said her mother. “You’re not helping.”
“Mom, you have to see how wrong this is,” Sophie said, begging. She searched Moira’s eyes for some sign of regret, but Moira seemed more concerned with hushing her up than contemplating her life decisions. Sophie’s pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Strauss looked wrathful and Andreyev tired; Lux’s eyes were lowered, hidden behind the fringe of her pale lashes. Her brief flare of righteous anger fizzled into smoke, and Sophie let herself be led inside.
Her mother, Strauss, and Andreyev closeted themselves together in Moira’s cramped office while Lux and Sophie were put into Lux’s room. The door was locked from the outside and a guard took up station in the hallway. The girls were left alone with one another until, Sophie guessed, the adults worked out what was to be done about them. If Lux was useless to them, having imprinted on Jim, would they let her live? If they killed Jim, would her bond with him be broken? Would she be free or would she just imprint on someone else?
Sophie threw herself into a small wooden chair by the window, hooking one leg over the arm rest. Lux perched delicately on the edge of the bed and stared at her hands. Sophie watched her closely, wondering how deeply beneath the skin their similarities ran. If Lux was just a day old, she doubted they had much in common beyond appearance.
It was inappropriate and made no sense at all, but a small pang of jealousy struck Sophie in the chest when she looked at her twin. Of course she would never have wanted to be in Lux’s place, but at the same time . . . Was it because of Lux that Moira moved to Skin Island and gave up Sophie and her dad? It seemed a valid explanation. Her father must have rejected the idea of using Lux as a Vitro, and that’s why he left. If it hadn’t been for Lux, would her mother have left with them?
Sophie sensed there was something she was missing, some final, hidden stroke that would paint the complete picture of her life. Why did Moira Crue stay on Skin Island—and why did she allow such a terrible fate as imprinting to befall her own daughter, even if it was to save her life, as she’d claimed? No sooner did Sophie think she’d found all the answers than yet another question arose and shattered her illusion of truth.
“How did they catch you?” she asked Lux.
Lux didn’t lift her gaze. “I could not fight them.”
“What?” Then she remembered. “You’re a bodyguard, like Clive. That’s right. Why didn’t you fight free?”
“Jim said, ‘Don’t try to fight them off.’”
“Ah.” Sophie dug her finger into a chip in the back panel of the chair. “And you’ve imprinted on Jim, so you have to do whatever he says.” She looked at Lux sidelong. “When he tells you something, do you want to do it?”
“Yes,” Lux said.
Sophie didn’t want to believe her. There had to be a way around the chip. She couldn’t accept that Lux, or any of the Vitros, truly had no single independent thought, no preference as to the direction their life took. “Even if he told you to jump off a cliff?”
“Yes.”
“Even if he told you to push him off a cliff?”
Lux looked up then, her brows knitted together and her eyes pained. “I . . . If he said . . . but he didn’t say. The answer cannot be found. I do not understand.”
Sophie stared at her sister, trying still to wrap her mind around the word “sister” and apply it to herself. She had a stepsister, Emily, who was twelve, but they’d never gotten on well and she’d never really felt like a sister. Not that Sophie had anything to compare it to; Lux was too new and unexpected, too similar in appearance and too dissimilar in personality. In time, if she were given her autonomy, would she become more like Sophie? She wondered how much of herself was locked away inside Lux, or if there was a whole different girl in there, trapped inside the metal chip in her brain, forbidden her freedom.
Sophie sighed. “Look at you. Your gown is torn and dirty and those shoes are too big. Here.”
She went to the dresser and pulled out a clean pair of underwear, a white shirt, a sports bra, and a pair of athletic shorts, which she tossed to Lux. “Put these on. And there are shoes in the closet.”
Lux held the clothes and looked at them uncertainly. She tugged at the gown, only getting herself tangled up in it. With another sigh, Sophie helped her out of the gown and into the clothes. It was awkward and frustrating; Lux seemed at odds with her limbs and clearly had never put on a shirt before. But when she was dressed she stood in front of the mirror hung behind the door and stared at herself for a long while. Sophie sat on the bed, her legs folded beneath her and her arms hugging a pillow to her chest, watching Lux watch herself.
“You’ve never seen your own reflection, have you?”
Lux put out a hand and pressed it against her image. “This is me?”
“Yes.”
“I look like you.”
“That’s because we’re sisters. Or something.”
Lux turned around and looked at Sophie as if seeing her for the first time. “Sisters.”
“You know what it means?”
“Many meanings,” she said softly. “Many words.”
“Well, in this case, it means we have the same parents. The same mom and dad. Moira you’ve met. Our dad’s name is Foster. He’s a doctor too—or he was once. Now he’s a biology teacher and he’s . . .” She shut her eyes, picturing her dad, tall, lanky, his hair never brushed, his glasses always slightly askew. She saw him sitting at his desk in the family den, grading papers, one hand always in his hair. She saw him when they argued, when he’d snatch off his glasses and wave them around, his face red and his shoulders hunched with tension. “He’s a good dad,” she finished, and she echoed it with regret, wishing she had said goodbye before charging off on this mad venture, wishing they had been on better terms, wishing she had given his warnings about her mother and Skin Island more credence, wishing he had told her the whole truth from the beginning. She opened her eyes and looked at Lux, wondering if her sister would ever have the chance to know him for herself.
Sophie was seized with a sudden affection. “We’ll get out of here,” she said fiercely. “We’ll go back to the States and you can meet Dad and he’ll take care of you. I can find a way to free you from the chip. They have to let me take you, Lux. You’re no good to them now, not after you imprinted on Jim.”
“Jim,” Lux echoed sadly.
“Forget him. He can fly us out of here but after that, it’ll be you and me. I’ll be eighteen—uh, we’ll be eighteen—in three months. We can go wherever we want.” She tossed the pillow aside and walked to Lux, standing behind her and looking over her shoulder into the mirror. The resemblance was dizzying; she was seeing double. “We’ll be real sisters, Lux.” She hesitated, then put her arms around her sister, holding her tight, releasing the small seed of envy that had been wedged inside her and feeling lighter for it. “Would you like that?”
Lux seemed unmoved by Sophie’s affection. “I want Jim,” she said. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know!” Sophie released her. “He’s not your boss, Lux! He’s not your master. You can be your own person. I can help you. Please—let me help you be free.”
“I want Jim.”
“Jim isn’t here! I am!”
“He is.”
“What?”
“He is here.”
“Then I wish you’d point him out to me,” Sophie replied irritably. “So I can punch him in the eye for getting us into this mess.” It was an unfair thing to say, and she knew it, but she couldn’t help letting some of her frustration slip out.
To her surprise, Lux did point—at the window. Jim was there, waving frantically, and when he saw them looking, he hurled a rock at the glass and it shattered across the floor.