Chapter Twelve

“His name is Travel Lee Carson III.” Dr. Little’s wrinkled jowls shook, and I shivered. Meeting the father of my child made me more nervous than I thought I would be.

The third? Apparently clones kept the old traditions. It wasn’t about bloodlines and biological relations anymore. It was all about being related by marriage and adoptions. Preserving last names and titles gave them a past even though they didn’t really have one. I’d seen it one too many times in the soaps.

“Why do I have to meet him?” I asked, rubbing my wet palms against the tops of my thighs.

“He wants to meet you. He and Dr. Bennett will be here any minute,” said Dr. Little, glancing at his L-Band.

“So, Dr. Bennett is going to be here, too?”

“He is.”

Oh gosh. Talk about awkward. Michael was the last person I wanted to see. The pulse in my neck pounded as my anger toward him mixed with my anxiety.

“Last night, I told you that one of my top priorities is to make you happy. I think giving you something from your world will make you happy.” He smiled, and his cheeks puckered, pulling his wrinkles.

What could he possibly give me from my world? Claus?

The door to my right slid open. He stood, and I did the same, following his cue. A guy entered first, smiling nervously. Michael came next, his head down, his hands in his pockets.

“Cassie, I’d like to introduce you to Travel Lee Carson III,” said Dr. Little. “The biological father of your child.”

Biological father—the words plunged through my heart, my soul, and just as I semi-recovered with a deep breath, that pang of familiarity that I felt with Magnum ran through my body in a wave that made me gasp. Travel Lee Carson III looked very familiar. My cheeks burned as I studied his profile, his straight, perfectly proportioned nose, and his sideburns trimmed and neatly slanted at the bottoms.

“Hello,” he said, offering a hand for me to shake.

Our eyes locked, and I sucked in a short breath, my hand falling away from his. I stumbled backward, grabbing the arm of my chair to steady myself before lowering slowly to my seat.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, looking from Travel to Michael for a silent explanation, but Michael’s eyes were on the floor, his lips tight as he sat down in the chair farthest away from me. As Travel took the chair at my right and our eye contact resumed, an eerie, cold prickle ran up my spine, because Travel Lee Carson III was none other than the clone of my first crush, David Casper. This had to be more than just a coincidence.

Travel’s gaze in my direction was almost palpable, momentarily sending me back to my last day at Central when David and I said our goodbyes, and he gave me my first kiss.

Brown eyes, deep brown wavy hair that hit at his shoulders, and a parade of light freckles that ran across his cheek, over his nose, and down the other cheek. Broad shoulders, a small waist, and a distinct jawline. Travel and David were identical down to the way they wore their hair.

And just like David, his features were boyish but rugged, and there was a youthful recklessness about him, like he would accept any dare and make any bet. But there were two differences: this version of David was older by two if not three years, and though the tone of his voice was the same, his accent was weak, marked by just a touch of the Australian drawl I loved. When David died, he must have been buried back in his home country.

For a moment, he made my insides tingle, my skin goose pimple, and my heart quicken, but I knew what I immediately felt for him was superficial, born from the fact that he looked like David.

Magnum said that clones were different people with their own souls, but how true was this? Could Travel and David have more in common besides their looks? This clone struck me differently than Magnum. James Dean was simply a pinup from an era gone by, the era of hula hoops, poodle skirts, and car hops. Dean’s image was immortalized in merchandise and movies. Over time, he slowly lost his individual identity until he was just an icon, a mascot of the Hollywood glamour days.

I never knew James Dean, but I knew David Casper. For this reason, it was different with Travel. Magnum was Magnum, but when I looked at Travel, I saw David.

He was it—my present from the past? But how did Dr. Little know about David? Did Travel know I knew him before, in the form of a guy who was intelligent and sincere, someone who had almost become my boyfriend? Did Travel know he was selected to be the donor simply because Dr. Little wanted to anchor me to this world with a familiar face from 2022? And this was supposed to make me happy?

I was pregnant with this guy’s child.

My sweaty palms met the arms of the chair as I caught my breath and crossed my legs, first one way and then another. I tried to appear calm, my thoughts collected, when in truth, my insides twisted. The reality of my pregnancy and the father of that child gnawed away at my core.

“As of tomorrow, Travel will be calling GenH1 home,” said Dr. Little. “His belongings are being moved to an employee housing unit on the fifteenth floor, the first floor above the hospital. Another unit on that floor has been reserved for you.”

“I made that request. I hope you don’t mind,” said Travel. Travel’s cheeks were pink like mine probably were, flushed with anticipation and a bit of fear.

And then I looked at Michael. His cheeks were pale and taut, appearing oily in the dim lights of Dr. Little’s office. Michael still hadn’t looked at me, and I was totally okay with that. I had some choice words ready for him, but now was not the time.

“I’d like us to become friends and raise our daughter together,” said Travel as he nervously wrung his hands in his lap.

Raise a baby with someone he didn’t even know?

I gulped, and an empty spot grew in the pit of my stomach. “Um, actually, I haven’t had a lot of time to think about this. I haven’t decided what I want to do. I’m not sure I want to be a mother. I haven’t—”

“Please raise our baby with me. I want us to be like a real family.” He blinked anxiously, and I remembered the seventeen-year-old boy who took my hand and said, “Cassie, I think we could be more than just friends. What do you think?”

That was the day I planned to tell David the bad news. My mom was on a flight back to the States, and I’d be back in Arizona in less than two weeks, preparing for a dig. He let go of my hand when I told him we’d probably never see each other again. And with his gaze fixed on the horizon, he said slowly, “Oh, then I guess there isn’t any point.” I locked myself in my room that night and cried in my pillow, refusing to answer when my grandfather knocked on my door.

“We’re stuck here at GenH1, so we might as well make the best of it.” He laughed.

“We’re stuck here?” I said, raising my voice.

“Travel,” Dr. Little interrupted. “Cassie’s commitments to the project haven’t been fully discussed with her yet. But I have her contract right here. It’s identical to yours. Cassie, all we need is your final approval,” he said, as if I even had a choice. What a phony.

He set his Liaison in front of me. “Cassie, you and Travel are invaluable to us. We can’t risk losing either one of you, so we need to keep you at GenH1 for your safety, health, and well-being. This program is also highly classified. We can’t risk a security breach.”

“So I can never leave this building?”

“You can’t leave the GenH1 compound—at least not until it is deemed safe. It’s for your own protection.”

“And when will that be?”

“That date has not yet been determined, but the time will come. It’s all here in the contract.”

While Dr. Little spoke, he kept his fingers interlocked and his hands on the table, but every so often he’d smile from one side of his mouth, look at me, and then nod toward the table behind him like he and I had some kind of inside joke about Claus. It made me sick.

“Travel understands,” he continued, “that at times, being part of this process will be, let’s say, an inconvenience, but he also understands that the outcomes exceed the cost of his independence during all phases of the program. We’re currently in Phase I. Phase II begins our surrogacy program, during Phase III—”

“How many phases are there and how long will each phase last?”

“There are currently seven phases. Each phase is dependent upon the last, and there are many factors involved, making it difficult to establish an accurate timeline, but at some point you’ll be allowed to leave the compound. And at that point in time, we have no objection to you starting a career or even getting married to whom you choose.”

“So basically I’ll be a prisoner here until you decide I’m not.”

“Miss Dannacher, you have to understand that—”

“What is there to understand? I was impregnated against my will, and now I’m being forced to stay here until you see fit.” My volume half doubled.

Travel drew in a deep breath. Raising my voice made him uncomfortable to say the least, since his outlook on the program and mine were in sharp contrast.

“It’s not like you don’t have any choices. Like I’ve told you before, your budget is unlimited, and you’ll have full access of the GenH1 compound.”

“Then I want to move into my housing unit today. And I want permission to explore the GenH1 compound and visit the botanical garden any time that I want.”

“Done,” said Dr. Little. “You know your happiness is of the utmost importance. We just need you to sign the contract.”

“Can I please have a few minutes to talk to Cassie alone,” interrupted Travel.

Dr. Little and Michael stood abruptly and walked to the door. Michael kept his head lowered, his hands in his pockets, but that didn’t stop me from glaring at the two men until the door slid closed behind them.

Travel bent forward until his face was a mere three inches from mine. He took my stiff hands in both of his, cupping them lovingly like we’d known each other for years rather than a few minutes. His eyes glistened, and though their intensity was at odds with our situation, since I was a mere stranger, something about them put me at ease.

“Cassie, right now inside of you, our joined DNA is producing a child whose body is unique. Not a reinvention of an ancestor’s bone marrow, but a living, breathing piece of you and me combined, connecting us in a way I never thought was possible for a man and a woman.”

His words were melodic, his breath well-seasoned with peppermint, but my hands remained rigid in his with the thought of a baby—his baby—inside of me.

“We’re creating a new, one-of-a-kind life from our own DNA, proving that the preservation of mankind through reproduction can still exist even with clones. It is such an honor to participate in this mission to save the world, but I need to do it with you at my side. I want you next to me, hand in hand, through all phases of the program. Can you do this for me?” His voice was desperate, his breathing quick, making me almost pull away.

By his side? He didn’t know me, and I didn’t even know him, though I did feel some kind of strange connection. His mannerisms, his gestures, the way he pushed his hair behind his ear and tilted his head to one side when he was listening intently—all of that was David.

I didn’t grow up in an infertile world, a world where the prospect of having a biological child was unconceivable until now. I’d never be able to understand any clone’s unending yearn for this type of bond with another human being. For him, this link to me was almost as strong as marriage, and who was I to ruin this thought for him? He wasn’t the one who’d forced me to become pregnant.

“I’ll try,” I whispered. Right now he wasn’t Travel. Right now he was David. My hand relaxed in his.

“This might be hard for you to believe, but I feel like I’ve known you for months. I saw you before you were awakened. I asked to see you. I never expected that the woman destined to be the mother of my child would be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. After that day, you were all I could think about.”

The lighting above formed soft shadows across his face as a lamp at the back of the room cast an aura of bright light at the base of his head and shoulders. Wow, he was hot—totally, indiscriminately hot. His strong, tall build, asymmetrical, manly facial features, and raw unbridled sexiness made my heart beat just like it did for David Casper.

“When they told me you were pregnant,” he continued, “I wished so badly you were awake, so we could share the news together and celebrate.”

“So you know I was inseminated before I was conscious?” I said, pulling my hand from his.

“Yes, and I know you feel deceived. I’m sure I would, too, if I were you, but I also know those feelings wouldn’t last because I’d understand that what they did was for the greater good of the world.”

With his finger, he gave Dr. Little’s Liaison a push until it was directly in front of me. “Please sign the contract. I understand why you’re reluctant, but I trust Dr. Little. I trust the team. This contract will protect your rights.”

What a joke. Protect my rights? Those contracts were nothing more than a couple of props to make the project appear ethical. Travel wasn’t the one who was violated. He wasn’t the one who was misled. He was a willing participant.

The contract was shorter than I expected. I read through each provision I was required to follow, such as refraining from activities that could jeopardize the baby’s safety or mine and remaining within the confines of the GenH1 compound. Each phase of the program was outlined along with my required participation and an understanding that the projected timeline was subject to change. There was nothing there that I didn’t already know or hadn’t been told.

“Okay, I’ll sign it.”

Travel guided my thumb to a rectangular box on Dr. Little’s Liaison, and I pressed down harder than necessary, nicking the screen with my thumbnail.

“Thank you,” he said, squeezing my hand.

The door slid open. Michael and Dr. Little entered, Michael still keeping his gaze on the floor. “So,” said Dr. Little, “I see that you’ve approved the contract.” He pretended to lift a champagne glass. “Gentlemen, and lady,” he said with a smile in my direction and a nod at Claus, “a toast to the Van Winkle Project.”

From under the table, Travel set his hand on mine, and I repeated these words in my head: the Van Winkle Project, VWP. But there was one big difference between Rip Van Winkle and me. He didn’t wake up after one thousand years to find that he had been betrayed by the entire world.