The Mirror Speaks

The Mirror Speaks (Novel- Work in Progress)
Brandon Aaron

          Devin Gage entered the lobby of SciLab International and headed directly to the automated greeting terminal. After completing a retinal scan, he checked his weapons in a security box. A recorded voice spoke from above said Devin Gage, Vermont Law Enforcement, make yourself comfortable, and your presence will be announced. Devin wondered how comfortable one could get as he looked at the row of orange plastic chairs. As he sat down, the table before him lit up and an entertainment menu appeared in the air. Above the selections was a scantily clad woman in a top hat that said Care for a game? “Life is a game,” Devin said as he motioned to the ‘off’ icon.
          Across the hall, a man and woman were arguing as they looked through a digital catalog. The woman was saying something about the clone he picked out being ‘too pretty’. Devin tried to ignore them, instead studying the design of the room. The ceiling was dizzying in height and covered with softglo lighting made to look like old electric lights. The acres of floor were covered in a faux marble that matched the taupe walls. The centerpiece was a large redwood tree surrounded by ferns. Mechanical birds made busy work of flying around the trees and landing on the many limbs. That’s what I hate about this damn place he thought. Nothing here is real.
          A moment later a life-size hologram man appeared and invited Devin to follow him to conference room B. “I know the way,” Devin said as he walked through the hologram, ignoring the mindless chitchat it was making, and found his way to the conference room. Inside the bright white room he found the Director of Cloning Sciences for SciLab, Harlan Bigelow, and a tall, thin man he had never met before. Alongside them were two identical looking men that he knew were clones. Both had shaved heads and black eyebrows over piercing blue eyes. Blue suits covered their athletic frames.
          “Devin,” Bigelow said as they shook hands. “Good of you to join us on such short notice. That’s a lovely suit. When’s the funeral?”
          Gage smiled at him and said, “You tell me. I figure I’m here because someone is either dead or about to be.”
          Devin was introduced to the other men as he sat. One was Dr. Thomas French, lead doctor for the H-145 clone project, and the clones John Urban and John Vic, prime specimens of that product line.
          “Forgive me if I don’t shake,” Devin said the clones when they extended their hands.
          “You come highly recommended,” Dr. French said. “You have made quite a name for yourself in the world of privatized law enforcement. I have been studying your files, Mr. Gage. I admire your dedication to completing a task by any means necessary.”
          “Thank you,” Devin said. “What exactly is your dilemma?”
          “We have a rogue clone,” Bigelow said. “So we need you to re-acquire it for us.”
          “Nothing new there. I have located plenty of people, including clones for Sci-Lab before. What’s the story on this one?”
          Dr. French spoke up, “This one murdered a woman, and now he has fled the state. He is one of our specialty lines, an H-145 model like John Urban and John Vic here. These are some of the most advanced clones we have ever produced, revolutionary in design. They are groomed for high-risk security purposes, and are prototypes for a branch of the government. The H-145 is the future of security for all government officials.”
          “Which government are we talking about?” Devin said.
          “Don’t be smart,” Bigelow said. “The United States. You know how sensitive that issue is here. If the Republic got hold of this clone, SciLab would be ruined.”
          Devin knew exactly what he meant. SciLab was based in Vermont, which had one of the strictest trade regulations of all the remaining states, and it would sink the company if one of their products made it over the Rockies into the Republic’s hands. “I understand how sensitive an issue this is, and I assure you the subject will be re-acquired quickly and quietly. Even if it does make it to the border.”
          “I am sure you will,” Bigelow said. The big man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small mem-chip. “Here is the dossier on your subject. His name is John Ross.” He passed the mem-chip to Devin, who in turn loaded it into his wristpack. He confirmed the upload of the data and handed the mem-chip back. “Ross escaped two days ago, and we traced him as far as the Vermont border. As you know, Federal law limits our tracking capabilities to the state boundary. To do an expanded search requires paperwork, and paperwork brings unwanted attention. I know you are a man of resources that can overcome legal restrictions.”
          “I have my contacts,” Devin said. “Why isn’t the Bureau in on this?”
          “The woman murdered was also a clone, so they have no jurisdiction,” Bigelow said. “Legally, this case is destruction of property, not murder.”
          “The H-145 is unlike any clone you have dealt with before,” Dr. French said as he took off his glasses, wiping them on his handkerchief. “Due to the extreme circumstances surrounding this assignment, I have elected to send John Urban with you. I think you will find his knowledge and abilities very useful.”
          “This is bullshit, Harlan, you know I work alone,” Devin said. “No way I’m taking this walking doll with me.” For the first time he looked at John Urban, who raised one eyebrow and stared back at him.
          “I am afraid this isn’t negotiable,” Bigelow said. “If you want the job, that’s part of the deal. John Urban has been fully updated with all available data on Ross. Think of him as a tool, Devin.”
          “He medicates himself. There wont be anything for you to do. Once you get to know him, you might like him,” Dr. French said.
          “I don’t like real people, so what makes you think I would like this freak?”


          The two men boarded Devin’s yellow Yamaha cruiser and left SciLab.
          “Where are we going?” Urban said.
          “Scene of the crime. I like to get to know my subjects before I begin the chase.”
          “Shouldn’t we be tracking him now? He gets farther away with every minute that passes.”
          “We can’t get an updated tracer on him until the bureau’s satellite makes another sweep, Devin said. “After they get a lock on him, the real fun begins. Until then, just listen and learn.”
          Less than an hour later, they arrived at the home where John Ross murdered Leila Soneji. The Yamaha circled the walled estate and landed on the helipad, where a transport was waiting for them. Devin noticed the transport was programmed to take a less-than-direct route to the estate, no doubt to show of the spaciousness of the meticulously maintained grounds. As they exited the craft, they were met by another H-145 clone, which introduced himself as John Key.
          “Jeez,” Devin said, “are all you guys named John?”
          “The H-145 line all share the John first name, in honor of the DNA donor, John Mott.” John Key said.
          “Well bully for him,” Devin said. “I’m sure he appreciates that.”
          They followed Key back to the security office beyond the garage area of the great home. Another H-145 sat at a console of monitoring devices that were tied in with the support system of the house. As they walked by, Devin slowed to watch the images of rooms on the screens. Hell of a house he thought, counting the different monitors.
          “So, who owns a place like this?” Devin asked.
          “This is the family home of Senator Ledford Ragland,” John Key said.
          “Never heard of him,” Devin said.
          “Don’t you vote?” Urban said.
          “No, do you?” he said. “Oh that’s right, you guys can’t vote. Sorry about that.”
          Further back was John Key’s personal office. The windowless room was stark and void of any personal items. What a life Devin thought. Welcome to the world of the bland.
          “I understand you’re here investigating John Ross,” Key said.
          “Yes,” said John Urban. “We would like to see the recent work schedules you have on him.”
          “Hold up, mate,” Devin said. “This is my investigation and I would appreciate it if you would follow my lead. If you don’t mind, just sit back and be quiet. I’ve already told you I work alone.” Devin looked hard at John Urban, who stared back.
          “This is just as much my assignment as it is yours,” Urban said.
          “You’re grinding your teeth, Johnny. Did I upset you?”
          “Gentlemen,” Key said. “I think we are all here for the same thing. Mr. Gage, where shall we begin with this investigation?”
          “What can you tell me about the victim, Leila Soneji?” Devin said.
          “She was employed in house keeping from February 14, 2293 until her demise two days ago. She mostly worked in laundry and cleaning. She was never on and outdoor or kitchen duties. To our knowledge, she did not know John Ross.”
          “And where did she live? Here or off campus?”
          “Ms. Soneji stayed in the help quarters adjacent to the security depot. Her apartment is on the second level.”
          “Who found her?” Devin asked, taking notes on his wristpack.
          “John Ross. He was the first on the scene. He reported the incident.”
          “Now why would he make the report if he was the one that killed her?”
          “I’m afraid I don’t follow you.” John Key said.
          “Exactly, and that’s why I am here. I need the video of the victim. I want to see everything she did the day she was murdered.”
          “I will have the technician pull that up for you,” Key said.
          “I also need you to take me to John Ross’s room. I want to see where he lived.”
          “His room has already been cleared. I didn’t find anything of importance in there,” Key said. “The SciLab investigator didn’t see any evidence, either.”
          Devin stood up and said, “I’m not interested in SciLab’s investigation, Mr. Key, or yours. I’m actually surprised you haven’t been replaced after letting a murderer loose in the house.”
          “Very well, Mr. Gage, have it your way. Follow me to his room.”


          John Ross’ room was small and neat, containing a twin bed and a dresser. The room was dark and Devin went to the window and pressed the menu button that adjusted the tinting. As the tinting lifted, the room filled with light. “Where are his personal belongings?” he asked.
          “He owned nothing but clothing. They have been packed and sent back to the laboratories. There were a few books under his bed, but we could not connect them to him. There is nothing here now that belonged to John Ross.”
          “Did Leila Soneji ever come here?” Devin asked.
          “No. Why would she? No one but security personnel is allowed here.”
          “Did John Ross ever go into her room?”
          “I don’t think so. John Ross was assigned as a driver and pilot. He spent most of his time in the garage areas. I can’t think of a reason he would be near her apartment. The day of the murder was also the first time I have any record of him entering the home.”
          “But he was in that area,” Devin said.
          “Obviously.”
          “I would also like to speak with the Ragland family. Maybe they could…
          “I’m afraid that is impossible, Mr. Gage. The family is in Ohio on a family emergency, and they know nothing of this matter. I believe it is in everyone’s best interest to keep it that way.”
          “So no one from the family was here at the time of the murder?”
          “No one,” Key said. “Let us return to the depot. Your data should be ready to collect now.”
          As Key turned and walked out of the room, Devin put his hand out to stop John Urban. He motioned him to the window, through which they saw the heating and cooling system for the house. Resting on this was a gold hosta plant in a small pot.
          “I don’t understand,” Urban said. “Why is there a plant outside his window?”
          “I don’t know,” Devin said. “Have you ever heard of a clone owning a plant or books of any kind?”
          “No.”
          “Me either. We need to find out what books they were, and where he got them.”

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          The barroom was in a converted warehouse on the waterfront. Devin landed the Yamaha a half-mile away and drove the rest. He parked in front with two wheels on the sidewalk, and put his car on ‘guardian’ mode, keeping it on alert.
          “What are we doing here?” John Urban said.
          “Discussing the case and having a drink. An old friend from the bureau is meeting us here at 7:00. You do drink, don’t you?”
          “No. I would prefer you didn’t either. Perhaps we can go to a restaurant instead of this place. I am afraid I don’t feel very comfortable here.”
          “I am afraid you have no choice in the matter. Get out, and lose the tie.”
          As they exited the car, it rolled into the street and lifted off. It perched on the rooftop parking area, and kept the flight systems engaged. Devin held his wristpack to his mouth and said, “Look alive up there.” As they entered the building, the Yamaha replied with one confirmation beep. Looking back at John Urban, Devin said, “It’s easy to get into trouble here, so stay close to me, and keep quiet.”
          The room was large and rectangular, surrounded by dozens of booths and private rooms. The center was a bar circling a large stage, where several nude women danced. Urban followed closely behind Devin, trying to withstand the pulsing rhythm of the music as it pounded in his head. They came upon a booth and Devin drew back the curtain to find three women and a man inside kissing. “Taken,” one woman said, and held her hands out to cover her exposed body.
          Devin closed the curtain and tried the next booth. Inside a man was slumped over the table, lost in his own private party. He was dressed in the blue jumpsuit of a day laborer, no doubt working temp jobs to keep up the steady flow of drink and drugs. Devin rapped his knuckles on the table and said, “Wake up, time to go. I need this booth.” The man moved his head from side to side, lacking the strength to raise it. He mumbled something Devin took as an insult. This time Devin rapped his knuckles on the man’s head. “I said time to go, doper.”
          As Devin reached down to grab him, the man leapt out of the seat and onto the table, knocking Devin backwards. The man’s eyes were red-rimmed and wild. Devin drew his weapon and zapped the man twice on the leg. The man fell off the table and landed unconscious on the floor. Another man came up from behind, grabbing Devin. John Urban punched the man in the ribs. He grabbed the man’s head and jerked it hard into his knee. As Urban looked up three more men were on them fast, also dressed in blue jumpsuits. Devin swung on the closest man, connecting with his jaw. Urban sprung at the second man, one hand on his chest, the other on his crotch, lifting the man and pinning him to the wall. He executed a perfect sidekick into the third man’s stomach, doubling him over. In seconds all three men were on the floor.
          A large bearded man with a stun-stick ran to the booth. “No fighting in here. Fighting time over. You go to jail now,” he said as sparks burst from the stick into the air.
          “Vermont Law Enforcement, dirt bag, beat it,” Devin Gage said as he flashed his badge. “Touch me and you die in jail.”
          The man backed up a step, and said, “Begging pardon, sir.” He motioned for help with the four men lying on the floor. “They cops,” he said. “Leave these men be.”
          John and Devin sat in the booth as the bearded man cleared their table with a sweep of his arm. He smiled and nodded as he backed out of the booth and closed the curtains. Devin reached behind him to a keypad on the wall, pressed a series of buttons, and the music outside went silent. “Diverts the sound waves,” he said to John Urban. “Now we can talk in peace. Had a brawl in under five minutes, that has to be a record, even for this place.”
          “What is wrong with that man? Is he mentally disabled in some way?”
          “Drugs, maybe, but my guess would be the sitacycline that leaked into the water supply after the war with the Republic. The ones that were lucky enough to live produced offspring like him. That’s why we have you guys now, though, isn’t it? To cover all the jobs that morons like him can’t.”
          “Interesting way to look at it, albeit incorrect. Clones are used in situations where men such as you would fail. We possess all your strengths, without the weaknesses. Clones are ideally suited for the tasks we are trained for.”
          “So Leila Soneji was ideally suited to be a dead housekeeper?” Devin looked at the holo menu on the table and ordered a round of drinks. “Where did you learn to fight like that? I have never seen a clone move that way.”
          “All H-145 models are programmed for combat. That was the first time I’ve ever used it, though.”
          “So John Ross is trained to fight?”
          “Yes, to fight, but he specializes in flying and driving. That is how he escaped the authorities. They couldn’t catch him in the underground city.”
          The drinks arrived and Devin downed his. Not one to let a drink go to waste, he took the glass from John Urban and finished it off. Urban said, “Who are we meeting here tonight?”
          “An old friend I knew from the bureau. His name is Clyde, and he has been very helpful on past cases. I sent him the dossier on John Ross this morning after we left SciLab International. I asked him to do a satellite tracer on Ross. He said he will hook up with us here with the info.”
“So he still works for the bureau? Isn’t what he is doing illegal?”
          “Yes he does, and no it isn’t. It is his job to put tracers on people. It’s illegal to give us that info, though. Sometimes there are good reasons to break the law. Clyde is a good man, and I miss working with him.”
          “You were fired from the bureau for breaking the law. You failed a drug test, didn’t you?” Urban said.
          Devin looked at him, and the smile slid off his face. “Yes I was. I tested positive for liquid Q, and that ended my government career. I guessed you had read my files, and was waiting for that one to come up.”
          “Why did you do it when you knew it was wrong?”
          “I was undercover in Milwaukee for 7 months working narcotics. I had to do Q to infiltrate the ring. That was the first time in my life I tried drugs. I was tested, and they knew I would fail, and I was pulled off the case and fired. The whole thing was a setup. So it is true, but it’s also bullshit. Don’t believe everything you hear, John Urban.”
          “Director Bigelow said he thinks you were dismissed because of your use of violence.”
“He wouldn’t be the first one to think that. The bureau was trying to reinvent its public image, crack down on corruption, to get more funding from Congress. A few of the agents didn’t fit into that image, so we were ‘retired’ as a part of the changes.”
          “I find it strange that you had to break the law in order to protect it.”
          “That makes two of us.”
          The men sat in silence a few minutes as Devin finished the drink. He ordered another round; this time getting bottled water for John Urban. “What do you think about the video?” Devin asked. “I am dying to hear your interpretation.”
          “I have thinking a lot about that, specifically John Ross’s movements. Ross appears to be unfamiliar with the layout of the house, and he goes room to room looking for something or someone. He appeared to be getting more and more frustrated until he finds Leila Soneji. When Ross enters the room, you can tell by her reaction she didn’t expect him. He moves to her immediately, like he went there with that one intention. There was little verbal exchange, so I would say it was definitely premeditated.”
          “I agree. But you are telling me ‘what’ happened. A good detective has to look at things and find out ‘why’ they happened. Why would Ross choose to kill her in the house where he knew he would be on video? Why did he call in the report, instead of running?”
          “He didn’t run until after they interrogated him, as he was being transported to SciLab,” Urban said. “He denied killing Leila Soneji, even after viewing the surveillance video.”
          “Do you think the video could be a fake?” Devin said. “I got some weird vibes from John Key, and I’m not talking about your regular creepy clone vibes either.”
          “No, that is impossible. H-145 clones are bound by the truth, and cannot deceive. Our adherence to honesty is the basis of our development, and a significant selling point for the government contract. John Key could not alter the video without telling someone.”
          “If you guys cant lie, then why did Ross deny the murder charges?”
          “That is perplexing to me. I also find it interesting that John Key has not informed the Ragland family of the incident. This seems like a conflict of interest.”
          “Yep,” Devin said as he finished the drink. “I think there is more here than meets the eye. Sci-Lab hasn’t told us everything about this case. Perhaps Ross will be a little more forthcoming with us after we pick him up. ”
          “Our objective is the apprehension of John Ross, not investigating the murder of Leila Soneji. Don’t lose sight of that fact. I think it would be best to leave the questioning to Sci-Lab, and concentrate on finding Ross.”
          “Well spoken,” Devin said. “I bet you stayed up all night memorizing that one.”


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          John Ross woke to the dim light of a candle and the distant sound of a piano playing. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized he had no recollection of the place. He sat up in the bed and surveyed the small room. The walls were covered in printed wallpaper, a rug on a real wood floor, and heavy drapes over the window. He was dressed in sleeping clothes made of soft cloth with plastic buttons. He stood, putting most of his weight on his right leg, and hopped to the window. He pulled back the drapes, peering out the window and over the vast desert plain. The moon cast enough light that he could see there was nothing out there to look at.
          John turned and looked at himself in a cheval mirror that stood in the corner. He reached out to touch fingertips with his reflection, and thought about how different he now looked. The skin on his face had darkened and peeled. He was thinner, and a short growth of hair now circled his head, and a rough beard covered his lower face. I look old he thought. He knew he would age much faster without the medicine, but didn’t realize how fast until now. At this rate I wont last a year.
John searched his memory for clues to where he was. He remembered being tired and hungry and cold. He remembered making himself walk to stay warm, forcing his feet to work in the loose sand and gravel. He remembered a windstorm that covered the night sky, seeing the light of a distant house, and collapsing in the dirt. He remembered nothing else.
          John walked outside the room, being careful with his injured left leg, and into the hall. The floor in the hall was wooden, cold to his feet, and creaked as he made his way to the top of the staircase. He took one step at a time, and leaned heavily on the baluster. The sound of the piano grew louder as he reached the bottom step, and he followed it to the parlor.
          The room was exquisite, adorned with rich fabric curtains and a large oval rug. Antique furnishings filled the room, and near the far wall was an upright player piano. John walked to it, mesmerized as the keys moved to the music. The music was hypnotic, and he was so moved by its beauty that he felt a swelling in his chest as it took his breath. A voice called from the doorway behind him, “That’s a waltz,” the man said. “Written by Frederic Chopin.”
          John turned to face the speaker and found a white haired man in a red sweater standing there. He was holding a thick book to his chest, and smiling at John. “It works off vacuums and electricity. When I found it, it was covered in green paint and missing several keys. It took a great deal of time to scrounge the parts to get it working again.” Just then the song ended and John heard the data sheet being pulled through as it rolled back to the beginning. “Come, my friend, and have a seat here by the fire. I have some supper on the stove, and we will eat soon. For now, let’s sit and warm ourselves.”
          In front of the fireplace was a matching pair of Queen Anne chairs covered in a burgundy flame-stitch fabric. John joined the old man, sitting across from him, and looking into the fire.
          “Where am I?” John asked.
          “You’re in the wilds of west Texas, son. This is my home,” the old man said, gesturing with his arms. “This house and the surrounding property has been in my family for several generations.”
          “It’s very nice,” John said, his body soaking in the heat of the fire. He had never seen an entire floor made of wood. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he sat quietly.
          “Before the war with the Republic, it was used as a retreat, a Bed and Breakfast set in the past, if you will,” the man said. “Some of these things are family heirlooms; some are pieces my Grandfather acquired. He came up with the idea of using this place as a retreat, and catering to honeymooners and such. Most of the items are from the 19th and 20th centuries.”
          John was silent, sitting motionless in the chair, feeling a dull ache returning to his left leg. Through the pants he could see the outline of bandages over the busted knee where someone had doctored it.
“During the Big Split, the house was abandoned for some time. I am amazed it’s still standing after all the fighting and carrying on. Everyone in my family left Texas during those years except my Grandfather; he refused to leave this place. He defended it from looters and scavengers until his death in ‘87. We moved in 2 years later. I was just a boy then.” The old man stood and stretched, and as he left the room he called back, “I hope you like stew.”
          During the meal neither man spoke. John ate the stew heartily, and the old man was quick to bring him seconds. The man put another log on the fire, and started reading his book. John slumped in the chair and felt his eyes close.
          “How long have I been here,” he asked.
          “Two days,” the old man said.
          “Why are you helping me?”
          “Because that’s what people do, they help one another,” he said. “Are you in trouble?”
          “Yes,” John said. “I am in trouble, and the men that pursue me are very dangerous. I bring danger to you by being here, so I will be leaving tomorrow.”
          John opened his eyes, and for the first time looked directly at the old man. Beneath the white hair he saw piercing blue eyes and long nose. The man looked hard at him, and said, “You won’t be able to leave tomorrow on that leg. You need a week of rest. I insist you stay on at least a few more days.”
          “I cannot burden you any more.”
          “You are no burden, my friend. You are the first visitor to stay here in many years. That piece of highway a mile out used to be part of route 66. They repaved it and put it back to use years back, and this place was a favorite stop on ‘nostalgia road’. The road is in pieces now, as is everything else in Texas, and I haven’t seen a vehicle on it years. There is nothing out here but sun and sky, and dry riverbeds. The men looking for you will not come here. After the dust storm, there is no trace of your tracks left to follow.”
          “They use satellites and sensors,” John said. “They implanted a chip inside me, and it sends a distinct signal.”
          “That wont work either. I scramble all signals going to and from here. As soon as you stepped on my property, they lost track of you. Not everything here is an antique. I have some newer technology that helps run the place.”
          “I hope you’re right,” John said. “But I fear that wont stop these men. These men are dangerous.”

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          John Vic and two H-43 clones brought Ross to the paddock, where Dr. French waited in the Sci-Lab transport. It was the same shuttle that brought Ross to the house weeks before.           “Good evening, my boy,” Dr. French said as Ross ducked in and sat. “Everything will be alright now. Lets go back to the laboratory and talk things over.” He had a half-smile on his face that made John Ross uneasy.
          The pilot looked back and Dr. French gave the signal to lift off. The two H-43 clones sat on the bench seat behind Ross, and John Vic sat next to Dr. French facing him. Ross looked at the wave generator pistol John Vic was holding.
          “Don’t even think about it,” Vic said.
Ross had been stripped of his weapons. John Key had removed part of the uniform that contained armor, including his jacket and shoes. Ross had been brought into Key’s office for interrogating, but John Vic called and said he was to be questioned at Sci-Lab. Key wasn’t very happy with this, and decided to soften Ross up a bit while they waited. Ross’s ribs and stomach ached from the severe blows from Key and another clone. No marks on the face Key had said when he started punching. Two members of the security detail had held his arms down, and Ross had no choice but take the punishment.
          “I didn’t do it,” Ross said. “I didn’t kill that woman.”
          “Of course you did,” Dr. French said. “You just don’t remember it. Don’t you worry; we will take care of everything from here. After a few treatments, you will be a new man.”
          “I don’t want to be a new man,” he said.
          The craft lifted off the ground as nozzles directed forced air at the ground. John Vic smiled and said, “Listen to the Doctor, Ross. I promise you wont feel a thing.”
          The craft shook as it made its way out of the paddock area and started climbing. John Ross had a hard decision to make, and little time to think. He watched for an opportunity, and made his move when John Vic averted his eyes to look out the window. Ross kicked Vic’s right hand and the gun went flying. He dropped to his knees and rolled into the aisle, avoiding the stun-sticks of the other two clones. Ross grabbed the emergency release handle on the hatch door, and twisted it. The door popped open and slid back, and an alarm went off. The transport driver fought with the controls to stabilize the descending craft. John Vic leapt on John Ross and rolled him over. He pinned his hands to the floor as Dr. French approached with a needle of meds. Ross smashed his head into Vic’s and rolled him into the needle. John Vic went limp as the meds took immediate effect.
          John Ross pushed himself backwards and rolled out the door. He grabbed the left landing skid as he fell, and swung under the transport. The pilot was trying to return to the paddock area and land, and was 30 feet over the house. One of the clones climbed out onto the landing skid and tried to stomp his fingers. Ross reached up and grabbed the clone’s ankle, swung out into the air, and pulled him down. They fell together, Ross grabbing him in a headlock on the way down, and using him to break the fall when they hit the rooftop. The man made a sickening thud as he struck the plastic shingles, and never moved again. John Ross made his way across the roof to the front of the house.
          The other clone shut the door to the transport, and the pilot regained control. He spun the craft around and followed Ross as he ran down the sloping roof. “Shoot him,” Dr. French said as he climbed into the cockpit. The pilot reminded him that this model Hyundai had no weaponry. “Then run him down.”
          Ross saw the craft flying low over the rooftop and knew it was coming right at him. No time to think, just move. He looked at the drive and large fountain, a two-story drop to the concrete below. Ross knew it would be a long jump to the fountain, and if he missed he would dead. He backed up a few steps, ran, and leaped off the roof. The craft narrowly missed him as he descended the two stories to the water below. The fountain was only a few feet deep, and John hit hard, striking the fountain statuary with his left kneecap.
          The transport landed nearby, and the remaining clone jumped out and ran to the fountain. He grabbed Ross as he was climbing out of the fountain and tossed him on the ground. He kicked John hard in the shoulder, and leaned down to subdue him. Ross came up hard with a left fist and struck him in the face, rolled twice, grabbed a decorative paving stone, and brought it full force into the clone’s chin. The man went limp and fell into the fountain. “You are out of your league, H-43,” he said, as he took the clone’s shoes.
          John Ross stood and made his way to the paddock and the red G.E. single-seater cruiser. Pain shot up his leg as he tried to walk, and he found himself limping wildly. The craft was only a short walk away, but he had to stop twice to lean against the wall before he got there. Looking more like a fighter jet than a personal transport craft, the cruiser was sleek and low-slung. The last thing he remembered before finding the woman was sitting in the G.E., reading the control manual, and wondering what it would be like to pilot it. He hit the access switch and climbed in the cruiser as John Key and his security team exited the depot and ran towards him. Don’t let him leave he heard someone say as he closed the cockpit hatch and started the engines. The cruiser rocked when he ignited the engines, and the loud whine of the turbines drowned out all other noise. When he gunned the jets, the men closest to the plane fell to the ground, burned by the hot vapors. The red cruiser shot out of the paddock area and lifted off in less than 50 feet. John Ross was gone.

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