My Life as a Clone

By K.D. Van Brunt

I AM NOT HER

My name is Willa. I don't remember much beyond my name. My parents are complete strangers. Every day I wake up and pretend I'm their seventeen-year-old daughter, but this is a lie. So who am I?

 

I AM A CLONE

I am a clone of a dead girl. It's the only explanation that works. I was birthed in a laboratory and then embedded in this family. But something went wrong. I should have memories, but other than a few tantalizing fragments, I know next to nothing.

 

I WILL FIND MY PURPOSE

One thing I do know is that I was put here for a reason. Buried in my subconscious is the certainty that I have a mission, I don't have much time to complete it, and something terrible is going to happen if I fail.

 

I WILL SAVE A LIFE

For now, my task is clear. Figure out where I came from and why I'm here. I'm not alone in this journey. I have a dog named Rin, who was placed here with me for some strange reason. He is a central part of all this and holds the key to finding my purpose. I also met a boy, Derek, who seems to know more about what's going on inside me than I do. With their help, I will find my answers and do what I was sent here to do. Because if I don't, people are going to die and one of them will be me

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.D. Van Brunt
• Release date: Apr 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9780991374755

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The Monster, Part I

S tay together, Dad commands. He glances briefly at Sam, my older brother, and then locks eyes with me, as though I’m particularly at risk of getting separated from him and Mom because I’m a girl.

I know, I reply, irked he thinks I’m such a weak link.

Sure, he’s right to be concerned. We’re standing among a throng of people all jammed together almost shoulder to shoulder, everyone jockeying for position. It reminds me of a giant mob of bodies lined up on the subway platform in a Boston T station at rush hour, all waiting to crush forward when the train finally arrives. But this isn’t Boston. It’s Henticot Island, North Carolina, during the height of the summer beach season.

I’m in charge of Rin, the ugly tan and black German shepherd we named after Rin Tin Tin, and he’s a real chore. Rin is afraid of the crowd, and he keeps pulling back on his leash, making it a struggle for me to keep up with my family.

Sam, I need help, I beg.

My brother ignores me, as he usually does. The sky, bright and sunny earlier, is now dark gray and ominous, as the winds are picking up and rain begins to fall. The breeze strengthens, lifting pieces of paper and other debris into the air and swirling them about. People gaze around with nervous expressions on their faces, as if waiting for something terrible to happen.

A loud whistle splits the air, shrill and piercing, and I cover my ears in a futile attempt to shield myself from the grating sound. As if the screech is the signal for a race to start, the horde of bodies around me rushes forward like a human tidal wave. The crowd surge spins me in a circle, immediately cutting me off from Sam and my parents. Disoriented, I’m knocked to my knees and this causes Rin to panic and yank backward harder than before. The leash handle is about to dislocate my wrist when it goes slack.

Rin! I yell. I try to get to my feet, but people keep slamming me back down. Rin!

When I manage to stand and reel in the leash, I stare down at Rin’s collar. It broke. I have no idea where my parents are, but I must find my dog. If I don’t, no one will. After several minutes of shoving through the mob of onrushing people, I finally break into the open and jog in the opposite direction.

Rin!

Let me help you, a red-haired boy says, rushing over to me. You take the right side of the street; I’ll take the left.

Thank you, I blurt out before he turns and darts off. I recognize this boy, but I can’t remember his name, although somehow I know that he’s the same age as me.

Glancing about, out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of a flash of fur disappearing into a darkened doorway. It has to be Rin.

Stupid dog, I mutter.

I race after him, but by the time I reach the spot where he disappeared, there’s no trace of him. Pausing at the threshold of the doorway, I study a set of concrete steps that leads down into a gloomy hallway. What is this place? The dark doesn’t scare me normally, but a blast of icy cold air from inside hits me full on in the face and causes me to hesitate. Should I go after Rin or find my parents? I choose Rin and plunge down the steps at a run, descending into the blackness, my nose assaulted by a rotting smell.

Rin!

I’m walking down a hallway with my hand dragging against the wall to my right to orient myself in the blackness. At first, a thin layer of cold water covers the floor, soaking through my sneakers in minutes, but soon the water level rises to my ankles. The cool air causes me to shiver. This morning, the hot August sun signaled another day in the nineties, so I dressed in my jean cutoffs and a pink-and-white-striped tank top. Down here, wherever here is, it feels like I’m inside a refrigerator.

I pause several times to listen for the sound of something else, but each time, when the splashing sound of my footsteps ceases, only total silence follows.

A faint amount of light penetrates the gloom up ahead, and my eyes are adjusting to the blackness, allowing me to make out the dim shapes of doors. Trudging on through the increasingly frigid water, I enter a door to a large room, where couches and tables sit half-submerged in water. Rin is sitting on one couch, staring at me with his head cocked to the side. I rush over to him.

Rin, where have you been?

I wrap my arms around his neck, but he doesn’t lick me on the face like he usually does. Instead, he sits rigid and tense, staring back down the way I came. His fur is wet and matted, and he’s trembling. Rin lets me pull him into a tight embrace, and as I stroke the top of his head, loud splashing sounds explode from behind—the sounds of something big stomping toward us. I have no idea what it is, but instantly a strange knowing comes over me: I must run from it.

Come on, Rin.

A short tug on his fur is all it takes to get him up and moving. We dash out of the room through a different door and jog down another gloomy hallway, splashing through the now foot-deep water. The sounds from behind intensify. Something is chasing us. Panic surges inside me, making it hard to breathe. A desperate urge to get out of sight seizes me, but there is no place to hide. We must keep running, so I pick up my pace, turning right, then left, then right again, as we come to different intersecting hallways.

This maze of passageways seems endless. Raw fear shoots through my veins threatening to paralyze me. I can’t give in to it or the thing chasing us will catch me.

We stagger on, our unseen pursuer steadily gaining on us. We’ve passed several doors during our slog through the flooded hallways, but we haven’t tried to open one. With the creature almost on our heels, my hand clasps the handle of the next door we come to and yanks down on it. Expecting it to be locked, I’m surprised when it opens. We stumble inside. It’s another large room with more chairs and couches. As I’m slamming the door shut, I gaze back down the hallway, where I see an onyx-black mass rumbling toward us. It’s huge, and murderous evil radiates off it the way a bad odor emanates from an army of unwashed bodies.

I slam the door shut and twist the lock in the same instant the thing crashes against it, causing it to shudder so violently I’m afraid it’s going to explode open. A second crash against the door rocks the entire room, sending me to my knees. Then, a booming roar reverberates through the room so loud my ears erupt in pain.

A scream tears out of me and my hands fly up to cover my ears.

CHAPTER TWO

I am a clone

My eyes shoot open and I raise my head off the car window I am leaning against, as our car barrels down I-70 in Maryland north of the town of Frederick.

What a freaking nightmare. I suck in a deep breath, my shirt damp with sweat. I’ve had this scary monster dream before, but never this intense or lasting this long. Where does this psychotic dream come from?

Blinking rapidly, I need a couple seconds to remember where I am while pushing the frightening vision into a closet in my mind and slamming the door shut on it. I’m in the back seat of a car with three other people: a middle-aged man with dark brown hair who’s fighting a losing battle with baldness; a woman with frizzy mocha-colored hair; and an ultrathin, wiry boy with my toffee-colored hair.

How was your nap? the woman asks me, twisting around in the front passenger seat to gaze back at me.

She says she’s my mother.

You’ve been out since we crossed into Maryland, the man adds, looking at me in the rearview mirror.

And this guy claims to be my dad.

I glance over at the gangly boy beside me on the passenger seat, the one with Gollum arms. It’s his turn to comment.

Best two hours of the day so far, my alleged brother says. His face is twisted in a mixture of contempt and disgust. He is Sam.

So here I am zooming down the interstate with Dad, Mom, and brother. At least, this is who they say they are. I have come to accept these claims, but I have no memories of them beyond the last few months.

As for me, I know my name: Willa. My pseudoparents tell me that my last name is Laleigh, as in la-LAY, but it feels alien and fake. Willa, on the other hand, is real. It belongs to me, and I’m about as certain of that as I am of anything else in my life.

Other than my name, I have no memories before the first week of May, and today is the last Wednesday in August. For stuff that happened before May, I know only what people have told me, what my psychiatrist has told me. The one thing Dr. Bazely has drilled into my brain over and over and over again is that these people, these strangers, are my family.

Okay...I guess. If you say so. Whatever.

Odd, though. I remember lots of background stuff that I must have learned years ago, like how to read, how to ride a bike, and that brussels sprouts are the most disgusting vegetable on the planet. I also remember movies: Avengers: Endgame, Black Panther, Spider-Man: Far from Home, others. I think I’m into the Marvel universe, although I don’t actually recall when it was that I saw these movies. So I’m not quite a newborn infant. I have muscle memory of a kind, and flashes of a past I don’t recall experiencing do pop into my head from time to time.

It’s all very confusing and beyond weird.

Yeah, so what is my major malfunction?

Very good question. It’s taken me a while, but I finally have worked out the answer to that question.

I am a clone. Let me repeat...I am a CLONE.

I have no memories beyond three months ago because I didn’t exist before then. I’m not even a year old. How is this even possible? I don’t know the details of the scientific process, but I was created over a period of days, maybe months. I went from fertilized egg to adolescent female in a biological blink of an eye. Mad scientists engineered me inside a giant vat filled with fluorescent green fast-grow sauce. My laboratory womb. Well, this is how I imagined it happened anyway.

I’m not a scientist obviously, but here’s my origin story. I am a clone of a seventeen-year-old girl. In addition to having her DNA or genes or whatever that stuff is that makes me physically identical to her, I also inherited some of her subconscious memories, but only a few.

Who is, or was, this girl? I’ve sort of figured that out too, but apparently it’s all top secret, hush-hush, because no one will talk to me about her.

Anyway, these people who call themselves my family were actually my body double’s parents. My theory—which, I stress, is only a theory—is that my doppelganger died tragically, possibly in a car crash or from a rare fatal disease. Her death devastated her family, left a hole in their lives as big as the Ted Williams Tunnel in Boston.

Wait. What is the Ted Williams Tunnel? I don’t know. An image of its massive gaping entrance suddenly materializes in my brain.

Never mind.

Back to my clonal origins.

The government cloned my dead body double as part of a secret experiment. People in white lab coats with stern faces persuaded my pseudofamily to participate in this highly classified operation, and my fam-bam reluctantly agreed. Why? Simple. They grieved for their lost daughter and would do anything to get her back, even if that meant getting me as a replacement.

Now, drum roll, please. Who was my alter ego?

Reese. Her name was Reese...as in Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups or Reese’s Pieces. About a month ago, this name began floating into my mind at random times, and I recognized it as a name I knew and cherished. It must have been mine back in the day.

This is the only explanation.

I am a clone of a girl named Reese.

So, putting it all together, what then is my story? I was created three months ago in May in a secret research facility. I was embedded in my current family as a replacement for their lost daughter, Reese. The stink of heartache and loss fills the air wherever my new family gathers, like smoke from a grilled cheese sandwich left to burn on the stove. No matter what I do, I can never replace this Reese chick. Not really. But apparently I’m supposed to try for some reason. I say apparently because the lab melvins forgot to give me the user manual, so I don’t really know what I’m doing.

This brings me to the question of why.

Why am I here? What was I created for? What is really going on with me?

I don’t have answers to these questions. All I can say is that I am here for a purpose. There is a reason for all of this. I feel this in my bone marrow. I have a mission. I’m here to do something. But holy crap, I have no idea what. Not yet anyway. I will figure it out, though; I have to. Deep inside me, I have this ominous, pervasive sense that a clock is ticking and that I must complete a task before it runs out.

What happens if I don’t? Not really sure, just that it would be bad and my brief life as a clone would be judged a complete failure.

You do know what they do to clones who don’t work out, right?

Actually, there are two options. One, the clone program overlords have my mind wiped and start over again. Or two, I go to the scrap heap. The overlords could toss me onto the clone junk pile where I’ll probably get parted out. Say, who needs a kidney? What do you bid for the right eyeball? Got a nice lung over here. Anybody? It’s fresh and pink with no history of smoking.

It doesn’t matter to me which option they choose. Either way I cease to exist.

So, the long and short of it is—fulfill my mission and live; fail and die. But, hey, no pressure, right?

CHAPTER THREE

And then there’s this dog, see

Back to the long, really long, car trip to Maryland. This journey began at six in the morning outside Boston. We’re moving to a new house in a small Maryland town for some reason. I’m just along for the ride. No one tells me anything.

The last time we stopped was a few hours ago at a drive-through burger place with a bathroom that smelled like a dungeon in which prisoners had died and been left in chains to rot. I couldn’t bring myself to use the facilities...if I can even call them that. But after hours in this car, I can’t wait any longer. I have to pee.

I have to go to the bathroom.

Willa, we just stopped, my dad reminds me, as if this observation solves the problem.

We’re cruising down the interstate in our roomy SUV and the ride is pretty smooth. I know how to get him to stop. It’s time to repaint my nails. Removing a bottle of nail polish remover from my purse, I dab it on my nails, starting with my index finger. It doesn’t take long for the chemical smell to fill the car.

Jesus, Willa! Sam exclaims, pinching his nose shut.

I shoot him a tight smile. Sam lowers his window and waves his hand in front of his face.

Sam, Dad says, roll up your window. The air conditioner is running.

Then the smell hits Dad’s nose. He glances in the rearview mirror to glare at me, his nostrils flaring in disgust.

Fine, Dad announces. One last stop. We’re only thirty miles away, you know.

One last stop, one last exit, before we get there. There is Middletown, Maryland, a very tiny town, at least compared to Boston. We’re relocating our entire life to this place. Even though I carry around only a few months of memories about Beantown, the town feels like an old friend. I believe Reese loved Boston.

Anyway, Boston doesn’t matter. It’s gone now, all because my parents want a change. I hate change. I would have preferred to stay in Boston. Sam too. However, the move wasn’t up for a vote. It wasn’t even up for discussion.

When we finally roll into Middletown, after my last-minute bathroom break at a highway rest stop, my first impression is how hot and muggy the air is. On the way into town, we passed farms with fields of corn before turning onto a small main street lined with quaint shops. This town is so different from Boston, which is packed with people and jammed with buildings. Here, businesses have big parking lots, and there are lots of homes with giant front yards that only the uber rich could afford in Boston.

As the car coasts to a stop at a red light, I wrap my arm around Rin’s neck. Well, boy, at least I have you, I whisper to him.

Rin is my German shepherd. We are bound together like two blocks of wood welded to each other with epoxy glue. But it’s more than that. Much more.

Rin licks me on my cheek. He’s exhausted and as tired of this car as I am. He needs to get out of this vehicle before he barfs everywhere, but Dad won’t stop for my dog. Both Dad and Mom ignore him most of the time. They don’t know he’s special. They don’t know about our unique connection. Few people do.

If you have to hurl, I tell Rin, aim at Dad first, then Mom. Sam and I are friendly fire, remember that.

Got it, Rin answers. Projectile vomit—aim at parental units.

But if you can hold it for a few more minutes that would be awesome.

I’m hungry, Willa. And this car smells from too many—

I get the picture.

So...surprise! My dog talks to me, and I’m the only one who can hear him.

Yeah, yeah, I know, I must be crazy. Give me a break, right? Teenage girl with problems converses with her dog, but only she can hear the dog talking. Puhleeeeaasse.

Stop right there. Don’t be judging yet. Hear my story first.

The first few times Rin spoke to me it freaked me out. I mean, not only am I hearing voices, but I’m hearing a dog voice. Seriously? My first reaction was oh my God, my brain is fried. But my psychiatrist, Dr. Bazely, is adamant that I’m not crazy.

So yeah, I have a psychiatrist. He seems harmless. My guess is that he’s funded by the clone program and charged with assessing the emotional stability of clones. Can they handle the stress of being used by the government as a special weapon?

Anyway, at one of our sessions I asked him, If I’m not crazy, then what’s wrong with me?

Give it time, Bazely answered. It will all sort itself out.

What am I supposed to do in the meantime?

Next time Rin says something, talk to him.

So I did...and here I am talking to my dog all day long. If this isn’t mental illness, then what is it? I’ll tell you what it is. In the latest version of my clone theory, when the lab gronks were busily growing me, my developing brain established a telepathic link to one of the lab’s research dogs. Realizing that this was like Elliot linking with E.T., the shadowy head of research insisted that Rin come home with me, fearing that to do otherwise would break our bond and kill us both.

Just a theory, but it fits the facts.

Wait...when did I see the movie E.T.? Never mind.

I’m brought back to the moment by Mom’s voice. What did you say, honey? She twists around to look at me.

Nothing, I reply with a sigh.

Here we are, Dad announces, turning onto an asphalt driveway.

Finally, Sam mutters.

I’ve reviewed photos of our new house, but it’s different seeing it in person, and it’s way bigger than our walk-up apartment in Boston. Rin will love the large, fenced backyard. The house has two stories, and it’s painted eggshell white with sea-blue shutters and a bright red door. An interesting, if loud, color scheme. Situated on a slight hill, the house boasts a large wraparound porch with thick columns.

I like the place. If only I could lose the town.

In his haste to get out, Rin bumps me aside when I open the car door, drawing an annoyed hiss from Sam when I stumble against him. It feels awesome stretching my arms and getting the blood circulating in my butt again. Rin shakes vigorously like he does when I give him a hated bath.

A wooden telephone pole on the corner of our property catches my attention. At least six different flyers are stapled to the rough surface, some white, some colored, and all with pictures. I walk over for a closer look. Each piece of paper is a plea for help finding a lost pet—two cats and four dogs. Most offer a reward, one as high as $1,000. Glancing up and down the street, I see other telephone poles plastered with lost pet posters.

Good Lord. A shiver tingles down my back.

Rin comes up and nuzzles my palm, seeking attention. Although Rin is supposed to be on a leash when we’re outside, I never bother. He’s trained to walk at my side, and he won’t leave without my permission, even if a cat jumps out of a bush in front of him.

Rin nuzzles my hand again, more insistently.

Will, we got incoming, Rin says.

What? I murmur.

Turn around.

I do and find myself face-to-face with a boy and a dog standing a couple yards away. Where did they come from? The boy is dressed in gray cargo shorts and a Baltimore Ravens T-shirt. He has auburn hair that hangs like an upside-down mop on his head, reaching down to his shoulders. He’s tall and lanky and can’t be much older than me. My gaze drops to his dog, a gorgeous golden retriever. I hold out my hand to her, and she licks my fingers.

Hi. What’s her name? I ask.

You’re new, he announces, a curious expression on his face.

Yep, I’ve been here a total of four minutes.

Gilda, he replies. Her name, he adds when I arch up an eyebrow, confused. How did you know she was a she?

How’d you know I was new?

One side of his mouth edges up in amusement. This is a really small town, new girl. The population of good-looking girls my age is carefully monitored twenty-four seven.

I can’t help grinning back at him. With his hazel eyes and lopsided smile, he’s really easy to look at.

I’m Willa.

I hold out my hand expectantly, but he only stares down at it with an amused expression.

If you go out with me, I’ll tell you my name.

This catches me off guard, and I blink stupidly for a second then shake my head. Sorry. No name, no date.

Part of me is annoyed, but another part is attracted to this guy and wants to say yes. Probably the annoyance is coming from the residual pieces of Reese inside me, while the clone side of the house wants to have fun.

Willa! my mother hollers from the porch. Come see your room.

Oops, got to run.

I glance back briefly as I enter the front door, and the boy is still standing there staring at me.

Once inside the house, Rin and I follow Mom up the stairs. Boxes litter the hallway, but our furniture is all in place, thanks to prior instructions from Dad. I will enjoy sleeping in my own bed again, after a week of motel rooms and eating fast food for every meal. Mom stops beside a door and gestures for me to enter first.

The bedroom is larger than I expected, with hardwood floors and a window seat. Wow. This will be a fun place to read or curl up in. The walls are bare, and the drapes are a boring beige, giving the space an institutional, asylum feel. I must get my art and posters up, find new curtains, and, oh yeah, unpack the stacks of boxes in the center of my new room. And I need to do this in four days before the school year officially starts...at least, that’s when I’ve been told it starts.

Rin immediately jumps up on my bed and collapses on his side for a nap. I wait patiently for Mom to scold me about Rin sleeping on my bed, but she ignores him. I feel sorry for Rin. I’m the only one who pays attention to him anymore.

Honey, Willa! I need you! Dad yells up the stairs. We have guests.

Come on, Rin, I hiss at the motionless lump of fur. "If I have to go, you have to go."