The ballerina’s nostrils flared as she paused to wipe away the tears streaming down her cheek. She wasn’t a nurse, but she was the closest thing he had to one. Logan wanted to tell her to stop crying, that he wasn’t going to hurt her and only wanted her to patch up his shoulder before he bled to death. But he knew it would only make her cry even more.
“Gah!” He bit his lower lip when the automated medi-gun stabbed him behind his right shoulder, injecting a million nanobots into his wound. He let out a slow gasp, wondering if he seemed squeamish or weak to her.
Why do I care? This isn’t the time for that. He glanced over at his tracker. The sleek, gray device, the length of the palm of his hand, stood silent and gave off not a single red blip on its screen. The Core Guardsman in black military fatigues had apparently left the area. It would be safe now to leave this point in time.
“I have fifty dollars in my purse. Take it.” The ballerina’s voice quivered as she placed the gun on the desk and reached for her sweater. She wiped her hands hastily as if being exposed to his blood would somehow infect her.
Logan rotated his nearly healed shoulder and reached for his soiled shirt. A dark stain marred the back shoulder area where his pursuer had shot him. He threw on his shirt and slipped off the large dark desk, hitting the floor with his heavy feet.
“I told you I don’t want to rob you. I’m not going to hurt you.”
He heard footsteps and a knock at the door. In a flash, he reached for his laser gun, and the ballerina quietly sobbed. Logan raised his index finger to his lips, gesturing for her to be quiet. He mouthed the words, “Who is it?”
“M-my students,” she whispered, just as a few more knocks and the voices of young girls filled the hallway outside. Why Doctor Simmons ever decided it was a great idea to hide an emergency access point behind a dance school’s wall was beyond him. Maybe it was a clever thing he didn’t understand about humans.
He motioned for her to go across the room to the door. Even when in abject fear, she knew how to move gracefully. Her willowy arm reached for the doorknob, and she halted and turned toward him with a questioning look. He nodded in response.
She turned the knob and cracked the door open just enough to stick her head through while blocking the rest of the opening with her lean body. “Okay, give me five minutes, girls. I’ll be ready.”
A few whiny voices protested. It sounded like one of them asked her if she had been crying. Logan’s stomach clenched, and he held his breath. The ballerina delivered a fake chuckle and said she had a cold.
Yeah, in damn July...he thought to himself.
Hmph. He wished Riley would’ve been here to hear that thought. The lab assistant would’ve been amused that the curse words he occasionally let slip actually stuck with Logan. The ballerina shut the door and slowly approached him. Her gaze seemed to go past him, as if she were looking for something. He nodded toward her.
“I’ll be out of your hair—or bun—soon.” He slipped his laser gun into his holster and pocketed the tracker. He walked over to the only wall in the room lined with mirror panels.
He gazed at his reflection, noting the wear and tear he had accrued on this trip. A black eye, swollen nose, a bulging knot on the head, and of course the laser gun shot that nearly bled him out. And he hadn’t a shred of useful information on the whereabouts of the man called Adam. Doctor Simmons would have a fit. Hell, with any luck, Simmons’s head would explode.
Logan scratched the stubble on his chin and turned his left wrist. The indicator on his access watch lit up, and a faint light pulsed from behind the mirror panel farthest to the right. He rushed over to the panel and carefully removed it, the sense of urgency growing in him as the little ballerinas outside began clamoring at the door again.
“What are you doing?” the woman asked. A strong, clear voice now replaced the shrill one she had used earlier, and it made Logan shift his position and watch her from the corner of his eye.
“I’m going home.”
He stood and waited for the sequence numbers on the screen installed in the wall to match those on his access watch. When the numbers read the same, he punched his code into the buttons beneath the screen. The pulses from the interface on the wall became a low hum, and though no windows were open, a strong breeze swept through the room. To his surprise, the woman didn’t cry or run in the opposite direction. She approached, startled, but oddly had a look of recognition in her eyes.
“Where are you from?” Her voice no longer quivered. Wisps of dark hair framing her face blew in several directions.
Logan watched a portal of light form in front of him. He turned to face her. “Another time.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? You want to kill Adam.”
Not quite the goodbye he was expecting. “Your leader is a murderer…a usurper.”
“Liar.” She rushed over to her desk.
“Hey—don’t call the Core Guard, lady. I’m leaving.”
Her hazel eyes flashed with anger as she brandished her own laser gun. Oh. So she wasn’t calling the Core Guard. He should’ve known better than to have been distracted by her emotional display.
“My name is Anika!”
She aimed at him. His adrenaline kicked in and his heart pounded in his chest as he dove into the portal of light. Far from being warm and safe, the portal thrashed him around like a rag doll—one that had been sucked into a large vacuum. Luckily, the unpleasant sensation and blinding light only lasted seconds. He lost his bearings and his legs folded beneath him.
The light vanished and the whirlwind quieted. He felt the familiar cold floor of the Time Access Chamber, or TAC for short, pressing against his throbbing face. He forced himself to his feet, and before he could even reach the door and use his access watch to open it, Doctor Simmons came in with his annoying aerial recorder. “Aero,” a mechanical sphere, hummed and flew in a tight circle around Logan before scanning him.
“Aero,” Simmons said in his gravelly voice, “begin recording.”
Ping! Aero ended its scanning and a green light flickered in its circular center. Logan never liked Aero. It always reminded him that he was being watched, and the irony wasn’t lost on him that the machine resembled a huge eye.
“Doctor Simmons…” Logan swallowed and forced the knotting in his stomach to quell. His eyesight blurred, but he knew Simmons wouldn’t want to hear about that. “The Free Army is closing in, and its advocates are winning more citizens over to our side.”
“I hear a but coming…” he prodded the knot on Logan’s head with his silver pen, which made him suck in a sharp breath.
“The Core Guard interrupted what should’ve been a meeting with my contact. If I can find Jeremy again, we’ll know where Adam is."
The scientist ran a hand through his curly brown hair. “Jeremy never showed up? He may have just taken the money and ran.”
“Or, he was scared. I can try again.”
“We’ll see."
Aero zipped dangerously close to Logan’s head. He had to resist the urge to swat it like a fly. “Doctor, if we’re done…I’d like pain medication and rest.”
Simmons waved his hand dismissively. “Next time try not to get into a direct fight with the guardsmen if you can help it. I can’t afford to lose you.”
Logan had seen old films where people would say that to one another with conviction. Simmons said it in a way a parent would tell his kid not to get a dent in the car because it was expensive merchandise. In fact, he was the merchandise. He was an enhanced clone, a class all its own. Close enough to human for most of them to tolerate his existence, yet not human enough to be treated like one.
“Thank you, Doctor.” Logan’s head throbbed again.
“And, before I end this recording…what year is it right now?”
“2062 AD.”
“And the year at the point of exit, right before you returned to us.”
Logan squinted. “2081 AD.”
Simmons’s eyebrows shot up. “Good. We got you in a year earlier this time. We’ll see if we can push for 2080. The quicker we can get to Adam, the sooner we can prevent the catastrophe—"
A rapping at the door interrupted them, and a young man with ketchup stains on his lab coat and hair as curly as the doctor’s slipped inside the TAC. “Uh…Doctor Simmons,”
“What is it, Riley?” Simmons snapped.
“My mom’s on the phone for you.”
“Aero, end recording.” The machine made another pinging noise, and the green light in the center faded to black. It flew over and hovered above the doctor. “Riley, administer 40 mg of propofol to Logan 6. It ought to take care of the pain and help it sleep. What does my sister want?”
Riley shrugged his shoulders. He adjusted his lab coat to hide the ketchup stains. “Something about her birthday next week.”
Simmons shook his head, probably regretting ever bringing his nephew on as an assistant. He turned and left the chamber. Aero followed swiftly behind.
“Logan…” Riley’s eyes widened. “You look like shit. What happened to you, man?”
Logan’s knees buckled, and Riley rushed to support him—which wasn’t easy since the kid was thinner than a pole. One thing Logan did like about being a modified clone was his strength, speed, and well-built physique. But that didn’t mean much when you’ve had your ass beaten and have been shot in the shoulder with a Raven-220 laser gun.
“Can I get my meds?” Logan winced when Riley tried to hold him and walk in step at the same time. He added a fractured rib to his list of injuries.
“Sure, buddy.”
Riley walked him out to the main corridor and down a few doors to the infirmary. Logan slunk onto the cot in the corner and let the young man administer the sedative. At first his veins were on fire, but the warm numbness that spread throughout had finally dulled the pain.
“Riley.” Logan closed his eyes. “Why do we have an emergency access point in the old town district—on 9th and Lincoln?”
“Did that propofol go to your head already? Logie, we don’t have an access point there.”
“Don’t call me Logie.”
Riley chuckled. “Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”
***
Logan awoke feeling groggy. His belly ached with hunger. Despite the infirmary cot feeling like a wooden plank, he wanted to lie there and savor the last few wisps of dreams that visited him. Sometimes he’d dream of hunting for Adam the Usurper twenty years in the future, or of Doctor Simmons sending Aero to burrow into his head and steal his most secret thoughts and desires. But at the first light of dawn, he had held the pleasant image of Anika the Ballerina. In his dream, she'd smile instead of weep at him. Her hair would fall in loose, dark waves, crowning her face and grazing her toned, bronze shoulders. She’d dance gracefully for him.
“Hey, buddy…wake up!” Riley came in cradling a change of clothes and clean towels.
Logan frowned and remembered that he hadn’t changed out of the bloodstained clothing from last night. He sat up and accepted the pile from the young man. He muttered a thanks.
“Don’t mention it. Connelly’s here today to evaluate you. He says to be in room 13 in an hour.”
“I’ll be there.”
Riley left, and Logan let out a frustrated sigh. He liked Ward Connelly, but he didn’t want to go through an evaluation today. He wanted to find out why his tracker led him to an emergency time access point where there shouldn’t have been one. He wanted to know why Anika didn’t have a break down over him saying he was from another time. And most of all, he wanted to know why today was different from any other day he’s had.
He took a quick shower and changed clothes, all the while pondering how he could wake up wanting something that he wanted, not what he anticipated Simmons or the General wanted. He knew his makers had strategically diminished some of his capacities—mainly his emotions—but it seemed the harder they tried to eradicate these faculties, the more they ferociously clung to him.
Did this mean he was more than a mere clone? Simmons had never referred to Logan in a personal manner. As far as the doctor was concerned, Logan was a high-functioning it that could speak, spy, fight, report events, and if need be, die. Although no one ever spoke to him about it, he had become convinced that there must have been a Logan 1 and 2, all the way up to 5. So, what happened to them? Did Simmons destroy them because they couldn’t complete their task? Or did they die in the streets of future Ithaca City?
These agitating questions swarmed in the back of his mind as he met with Doctor Ward Connelly in room 13. The psychologist had opened some of the blinds to let the sunshine in, and he had a cup of hot coffee waiting for Logan. He took his seat at the L-shaped white table across from Connelly. He wanted all the warmth the morning sun had to give.
“I hear you ran into some trouble, Logan.” Connelly covered his cough with his right hand. “Excuse me. It seems the older I get, the more this body of mine wants to break down.”
“I’ll probably break down before you, Doctor.”
“Just...Connelly. There’s only one man in this building with a stick up his ass who wants you to call him Doctor all the time.”
The comment elicited a smile from Logan. “I…had more dreams last night.”
“Oh?” Connelly arched a gray eyebrow. He listened to Logan explain yesterday’s assignment, of Simmons’s frustration with him, and of course, about meeting Anika. Well, as much as it could be called a meeting after bursting into her dance class demanding that she heal him with a medi-gun because he couldn’t reach the injured area by himself. He didn’t think making a woman cry garnered a good first impression.
“What is it?” Logan asked in response to Connelly’s piercing gaze.
The psychologist stood with the help of his black cane and went over to the open blinds. His leathery, dark hand gestured toward the outside world. “Tell me what you see down there.”
He joined the doctor at the window, noting the skyline of Ithaca City, with its lush trees that sprouted in its greener side, and the symmetric buildings, homes, and businesses in the urban sections. But what Connelly wanted him to see was the gate that separated the IthaCorp facility from the mob of protestors below, holding signs and shouting.
"Get Out of Bed With the Government, IthaCorp!" one read. Another said to “Free the Clones.” The majority of them, however, saved their damnations for Logan and those like him.
“Hmm.” Logan snorted, trying to control the strain in his voice. “Walking-Talking Toe Nail Clipping is a new one.”
“You’re angry.” Connelly stroked his white beard.
“Do you think I am what they say I am?”
“Only you can define who you are. So you didn’t start off like the rest of us, but you’re made of the same stuff, albeit enhanced. You’ve got the capacity to reason, and from the sound of your encounter with that young lady, you also know beauty when you see it.”
Logan decided not to acknowledge the last part of Connelly’s comment. He turned his gaze back toward the crowd outside. IthaCorp security began rolling out an armored vehicle and over a hundred overgrown Aeros, except these had been weaponized.
A collective silence hushed the throng of protestors. They dispersed on their own. And they were smart to do so. Among the many powers given to IthaCorp by the United Americas government, was that of lethal self-defense.
Connelly cleared his throat. "Those people out there were happy to accept clones going to war for them, and for taking dangerous jobs in our colonies, but the moment IthaCorp moved to make you more than their fodder, they no longer saw our destinies intertwined with each other.”
Logan turned away and headed for the L-shaped table. He grabbed his cup of coffee and took a sip. Connelly joined him, reaching into his right pocket and tossing a square, metallic object onto the table. No larger than an ice cube, he scooped it up and placed it into his own pocket. A smile flickered across his lips.
“What’s this one about?”
Connelly hid another hoarse cough beneath a chuckle. “It has adventure, peril, and some dancing.”
“Thanks.”
The doctor approached and stuck his hand in his briefcase sitting across from Logan. He took out his digital notepad, checking off a list for his report. “Don’t mention it. My wife would actually see it as you doing us a favor. She’s been nagging me about getting rid of those old movies for fifteen years now."
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“What happened to the other Logans?”
Connelly’s nostrils flared, and he eyed Logan up and down, sizing him up. “That’s a delicate question.”
The door opened from the far right. The General stepped into the room, trailed by Doctor Simmons. The stocky General looked like he hadn’t worn his faded gray combat suit and tactical vest in years. He probably only put it on for some of the news cameras outside catching the protests.
“I thought you were the one who’s supposed to be asking questions, Connelly.” The General gave him a cursory nod.
“I’ll do my job, General Wilde, and you’ll do yours.” Connelly coughed into his elbow.
The General sneered. “The three of us need to talk. Now.”
Doctor Simmons cleared his throat. “Logan, why don’t you go down to the TAC. We’ll be sending you off soon.”
He gave Simmons a blank expression, all the while shocked at hearing he would be sent back through time so soon. They usually gave him three days to recover. “Sure, Doctor.”
He stepped outside and closed the door behind him. He pressed his left ear into the door, straining to hear the conversation among the three men. He caught General Wilde’s voice first—his was always the loudest and most grating.
“…So I think you’ve proven it could be done with clones. Now I’m interested in starting human trials again…”
A hacking cough from Connelly followed. “It will kill a regular human.”
“We need a real person to go into the Time Access Chamber,” Simmons’s gravelly voice said. “Don’t give us that crap about time travel killing people when—”
Connelly cut him off. “You lost your say in the matter when you sabotaged Logan 5.”
Logan stepped backward, his hands trembling as he turned away and headed toward the TAC lab. He had suspected as much, but still, it was difficult to hear the truth. However, there were still pieces to the puzzle missing, and he needed to find out what they were—before he ended up like the other Logans.
“Good morning, Logan 6,” a dark-haired woman in a lab coat said with a smile. She came from the opposite direction down the hall.
“Good morning, Karen.” He gave a curt nod. He didn’t slow his pace, he needed to get to the lab.
“I’ve made some adjustments to your diet. I’ll let Doctor Simmons know.”
“Thanks.” He passed her, motioning toward the TAC lab to let her know he couldn’t stop to discuss meals.
He lowered his head when another doctor, an IthaCorp security guard, and a lab technician passed him in the hallway as well. He went into the TAC lab, eyeing not the door to the time travel chamber, but the man sitting at the control panel—Riley.
Logan cringed at the abrasive music blaring from Riley’s headphones. It was a wonder the guy could still hear. He tapped him on the shoulder, and the young man swiveled in a startled movement, removing his headphones.
“Oh, hey…hey.” He turned the ugly music off, thank goodness. “For a second, I thought you were my uncle.”
Logan grinned. “Lucky for you, I’m not. He’d let you have it for forgetting to put in the order.”
Riley ran a hand through his dark brown curls. “What order?”
“The flowers. For your mother’s birthday.” Logan hated lying to him, but he wanted the kid to have no part in what he was about to do.
“I don’t remember…”
“That’s why you guys invented me. Perfect memory. I thought I’d remind you, since it looked like you weren’t paying attention when he told you. You know how Doctor Simmons is when he opens his mouth.”
Riley chuckled. “Tell me about it. Thanks for the heads up. Where do I put in the order?”
“Le Fleur. You need to call in now, if you want it done in time.” When Logan saw the young man reach for the call button, he added, “Why don’t you call from Karen’s office?”
Riley’s bony index finger hovered above the red button. He gave Logan a crooked smile. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
“I just passed her in the hallway, and she asked about you. Pretend Simmons sent you to talk to her about my new diet. You can call the flower shop from there and talk with her.”
“Karen asked about me?” He was already on his feet and shedding his wrinkled lab coat.
“Well, are you going to stand here all day? Your uncle’s going to be out of his meeting with the General.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
Riley nearly stumbled through the doorway. Logan waited a few seconds before locking the door. He rummaged through the other man’s lab coat hanging on the chair. His fingers tightened when he grabbed the keycard. He slipped it into a slot and entered a code: 87543. He had seen Simmons do it before when updating records uploaded from Aero or when performing a manual entry.
The large screen above the control panel turned from black to white, and Doctors Simmons and Connelly stood side-by-side, facing the camera. Connelly let out a cough and spoke.
“When we started this, we had agreed to never do the past. We would observe the future, learn from it, and perhaps…avoid any cataclysms, if possible. It’s been two months since Logan 1 has been sent twenty years into the future. In that regard, our project can be considered a success—time travel, with an enhanced clone, is possible. However, the obvious disappearance of Logan is worrisome. Either something prevented him from returning through the TAC, or he is deceased.”
Simmons cleared his throat. “We’ve prepared Logan 2 and will be sending him in one hour. His instructions are to find Logan 1, or at least find out what happened to him."
The screen went to black and lit up again. This time, Simmons faced the screen alone.
"Doctor Connelly is in the infirmary. It seems his use of the TAC last year could prove fatal. We'll continue monitoring his health."
Logan's stomach tightened and he balled his fists. "Son of a..."
So, that was the source of Connelly’s mysterious illness. The old man had actually traveled through time. However, it took a toll on his body, unlike the Logans. He had to rewind the recording because he had missed what Simmons had said.
The recording of Simmons continued. "...and General, sir, I know you see the return of Logan 2 as a success, but we should treat his report about the future with the urgency it deserves. Logan 2 must return and terminate Logan 1. If the United Americas government ever found out about this..." He gulped, then instructed Aero to end the recording.
Logan ran through the subsequent recordings: Logan 2 never returned from his assassination mission. An updated Logan 3, with more enhancements and designed to be more obedient, returned, but had failed. Simmons had him “terminated” as a precaution. An appended recording, narrated by the voice of a distraught Doctor Connelly, showed Logan 2 finally returning through the TAC—but then attacking Simmons and inadvertently killing a female lab assistant who had been there. IthaCorp security rushed in and sliced up Logan 2 with their laser guns. Simmons held the lifeless woman in his arms, sobbing over her.
Logan drew in a deep breath, blood pounding in his ears, and played the last recording. Logan 4, who was as compliant as Logan 3 had been, returned from the TAC with a gaping, bloody wound in his side. It looked like the Core Guards from the future had done him in good. He didn’t make it, either.
In the last half of the video, Connelly faced the screen, pausing to cough up blood into a wad of tissue. He claimed the first Logan now went by the name of Adam, and had forged an impressive new society, where clones and humans could live together—but it was being held back by the Free Army and their sympathizers, and those who had financial and military interests in keeping clones as a sub-class. In a pained voice, he said Simmons would be absent from the lab while Logan 6 was being prepared; the scientist, in his grief, had sabotaged Logan 5 and gotten the clone killed. Logan 6 would be the last, and if he didn’t succeed, they’d have to dismantle the entire program and admit to the government’s Scientific Oversight Committee what IthaCorp had done.
The screen faded to black.
Logan didn’t need a hint as to what his fate would be if the program were dismantled. With sweaty palms, he slipped the keycard back into Riley’s lab coat pocket, reeling from the fact that all this time, he had been asked to go into the future and murder a clone brother—himself, in a sense—one whose only crime was being more than what some men wanted him to be.
It made him angry, as angry as Logan 2 who had returned from the future with bulging eyes and veins popping in his neck. Did he learn the truth, too? Was that why he came back here in a rage?
A pounding at the lab door ripped him from his thoughts and questions. He heard Simmons’s gravelly voice, an octave higher than usual, demanding that Logan unlock the lab entrance or else IthaCorp security would be called. When Logan heard the beeping of an override code being entered into the digital lock panel on the other side of the door, he bolted toward the TAC and turned it on.
He synced his access watch with the familiar light portal. A soft breeze caressed his cheek, as if welcoming him. Just as the breeze grew into a whirlwind, he looked back at the chamber’s window to see Simmons rush in with five IthaCorp security guards. A stunned Doctor Connelly joined them, but he gave Logan a subtle nod, as if saying he understood what was happening.
The speaker came on, and a seething Doctor Simmons spoke. “You piece of shit clone. Get back here, now!"
He kept his eyes on the window, eyeing the two doctors and the guards with apprehension. He backed into the portal, knowing that they wouldn’t risk coming inside the chamber while the access point was open. Not unless they all wanted to die.
“I’m sorry, Doctor Simmons. I’m sorry about what Logan 2 did."
Wisps of light, bursting with energy, slid along Logan’s skin and began pulling him toward the greater part of the access point. He met Simmons’s gaze and saw the scientist’s expression soften. He almost looked like a statue.
He suddenly leaned forward, face screwing up in rage. “Don’t ever talk to me about that. You don’t get to talk to me about her. Now, shut down the TAC and come out."
Logan shook his head. He no longer hated Simmons. He finally understood why he acted the way he did toward him, though it was no fault of his. Logan 2 was to blame. “I’m sorry."
Logan stretched out his arms and threw himself backward, into the light.
***
The old warehouse on 24th street still smelled like damp wood and rat droppings. Logan took a few seconds to rub his sore knees and recover from the head-spinning that overtook him from traveling through the TAC. When he was certain that he wasn’t going to vomit or swoon, he walked over to the south side of the abandoned warehouse.
He used the sunlight beaming from holes in the roof to guide him. He felt his way along the wall until he located the false wooden panel where he had stored clothes and supplies from an earlier trip. He quickly exchanged his simple lab clothes for an authentic Core Guard uniform. He had been saving it for an emergency, or for when he was able to actually catch up with Logan 1, who was apparently Adam. He still wanted to catch up with him, but this time, it wasn’t in order to kill him. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do next, to be honest. But he knew he needed to see Adam for himself, to speak with him face-to-face.
Logan walked briskly down the alley toward the main street, making a sharp right turn. He tensed when he saw a large crowd of people gathered, with several units of Core Guards strung throughout. They lined the sidewalks but kept the street clear. When the crowd began cheering at a motorcade of sleek black cars with the Ithaca United Core symbol, he realized that he had walked in on a procession.
He spotted at least three high-ranking Core members who served under Adam. They waved at the crowd and saluted the Core Guards as they passed. One of the members had an amplified speaker in his car, and he began rattling off phrases such as: “The Free Army isn’t for freedom, but slavery.” “The United Core will unite all people, whether natural-born or clone.” “We have no future, unless we learn from the mistakes of our past.” They even had a preacher in the motorcade, waving a worn, leather-bound Bible.
Hmph. Looked like Adam was smart. He knew who to surround himself with and how to speak to people. Did he really believe in all this? Or was this some type of battle tactic in order to win the greater war? This whole time he had been conditioned to believe that the Free Army were the ones standing for liberty and a safe future, but they were really the creation of military and corporate interests, and their foot soldiers the prejudiced and privileged who would send clones like Adam and Logan to war, work the coal mines or oil rigs, but never to sit next to them in a college classroom or pray next to them in a church.
He gave a curt nod to a few Core Guards as he followed the motorcade. His only lead to Adam would have to be one of the men or women in those sleek black cars. Just when the procession of cars turned at Lincoln to go past 23rd Street, a pair of bright hazel eyes, wide nose, and pouty lips emerged in the sea of faces. Logan’s breath caught in his throat.
Anika.
The dancer. The woman who had looked at him and knew what he was and where he had come from. What if she knew where Adam was? Despite his brain telling him to just follow the motorcade with the politicians and dignitaries, something deep within his gut pulled him toward Anika.
He approached her, almost entranced, and was within reach of her when she turned and caught a glimpse of him. Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened with recognition. Just as she turned to a neighbor next to her and shouted something to him, the bodies pressing against them in the crowd opened their mouths in elated unison and shouted “United Core, freedom for all!"
Anika turned in the opposite direction and snaked through the crowd toward a real Core Guard. Logan lunged after her, grabbing her by the wrist. She spun on her heel and swung her fist at him. She landed a hit next to his right eye. It stunned him. He ignored the throbbing pain and pulled her toward him.
“Where’s Adam?” He whispered harshly into her ear.
“You’re hurting me."
He loosened his grip. “Sorry."
A flash of pain and a fleeting vision of stars hit him again. Anika had broken through the crowd and was running down Lincoln Street before he realized she had whacked him again.
Logan cursed and pushed his way past a group of teenagers watching the procession. Who the hell was this woman? He never knew a dainty ballerina could land punches like that. At least, none he ever saw in the films Doctor Connelly had given him. He was torn between anger and sheer fascination.
He chased her down the street, pulling out his gun and firing a warning shot when she tried to hail a cab. The few people in the area who weren’t at the procession with the entire city assumed she had gotten into trouble. He thanked the stars that his Core Guard uniform came in handy.
In keeping with his disguise, he handcuffed her when he caught up to her. He pulled her along and walked her down the street, turning a corner. He took her another block before slipping into an alley with her. When he spun her around to face him, he waited for her to begin pleading with him. However, she just glared at him defiantly, in silence.
“You’re not going to talk now?” He wanted to massage the side of his face where she had hit him, but he resisted the urge.
“Why should I? You’re just like the other clones they sent. Don’t you think for yourself? Can’t you see that they’re using you to get to Adam? And when they don’t need you anymore, what do you think’s going to happen?"
He glanced at a few people walking past the alley. They didn’t notice him and Anika. He gazed at her. “I’m supposed to be the last. They were going to get rid of me too. I’m here because I want to meet Adam."
And he certainly had nowhere else to go. If he even dared go back through the TAC, he’d be sliced up like the other Logan. For better or worse, this time was where he had to stay.
“I don’t believe you.” Her nostrils flared, in the same way they did when he had barged into her dance class that day.
“If I were here to do their bidding, then you would be dead. Right? I told you, I don’t want to hurt you."
“Then un-cuff me."
“No way. I’ve learned my lesson."
She bit her lower lip. “It’s funny you’re looking for Adam, because he was right next to me when I spotted you."
Logan’s pulse began racing. “That man with the short blond hair, scar on his right cheek, wearing the green jacket, black boots, and a silver ring on his right hand?"
She nodded, unable to hide her amazement at his detailed description. “I told him it was too dangerous to walk around like that. But he told me he wanted to be among the people. He said he didn’t want to wait until the Free Army was destroyed—he wanted to be a leader for Ithaca today."
“Hmph. I’m starting to like this Adam. Did you know he was born Logan 1?"
Her eyes narrowed. “And which one are you?"
“Logan 6, but I’m not trying to kill him like the others were. It...was smart of you to break away, so I wouldn’t discover him."
“Just take me to my dance class. Adam will come looking for me."
“Why?”
“Just do it."
***
Logan slid out of the dark vest with the Core Guard insignia, leaving a black undershirt beneath. He muttered a thanks to Anika when she handed him a cup of cold water. He drank it down in a few gulps, then, suddenly, remembered that he couldn’t fully trust her.
She must’ve seen the expression on his face, because she smirked and waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, it’s plain old water."
“Well, you did punch me twice and tried to shoot me.” He ran a hand through his short, dark hair.
She crossed her arms, leaning against the edge of her desk. “What are you going to do when Adam gets here?"
“If he’s willing to talk…we’ll talk. If he wants to fight, I’ll be ready for that, too.” He grabbed his Raven-300 silver laser gun and checked its energy level. He shoved it into his pocket.
“I knew you were one of them. You might look different, but I could tell. It’s the eyes."
His olive skin tone and dark eyes contrasted with the first Logan’s blond hair and green eyes, but they had a similar muscular build and looked like they could be brothers, if not close relatives. Some of the other Logans had hair ranging from dark brown to fiery red; it seemed when they adjusted the mental faculties of each one, they decided to also tinker with physical appearance as well.
Logan motioned toward the glass panel where the time access interface remained hidden. “Who built that? It’s not ours."
Her eyebrows shot up. “My father built it. He’s one of the first of the Core Guard. You can thank him for teaching me how to fight. He believes in Adam."
“Who is your father?"
“Ward Connelly, Jr."
Logan raised an eyebrow. “I should’ve seen it. I know your grandfather, Doctor Connelly. Is he in the city?"
She shook her head and frowned. “He died, twenty years ago, when I was just a kid."
Damn. Connelly’s illness had destroyed him. So much for General Wilde’s human trials. With virtually no allies around, Logan began wondering if he were better off contacting his informant, Jeremy, and hitching a ride out of Ithaca City.
“I’m sorry to hear about Connelly. He was the only man who treated me like a person.” He may have been resentful over the doctor never telling him that he had used the TAC, but Connelly had done so many other things for him. His chest tightened with pain.
Anika gave him a grateful nod. “Thank you."
“What about General Wilde and Doctor Simmons?
“Your wonderful friends at IthaCorp made sure General Wilde took all the blame for what happened. They lied and planted evidence. They did whatever it took."
“I’m not surprised. And what about Simmons?"
The door to the classroom swung open. Doctor Simmons stepped in, flanked by four armed men in dark gray fatigues. Anika gazed at him in astonishment, and Logan could hardly conceal his surprise. The doctor he had known twenty years ago was barely recognizable. Wrinkles spread across his forehead and beneath his eyes. His face looked pale, and his once brown, curly hair was now white and sparse, and he wore thick glasses.
“Simmons is still alive and kicking, Logan. I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this day. Oh, wait, I’ve been waiting twenty years for this. Come in, Jeremy."
Jeremy, who was supposed to be Logan’s informant, stepped into the room, brandishing a red and gray laser gun. The short, pudgy man wore a lazy grin. “Sorry, Logan, but you couldn’t find me on your last trip here because I was meeting with Simmons. Met with him again after you ran from his lab twenty years back. What can I say? I have been, and always will be, on his payroll."
Simmons gave Logan a smug look. “You’ve become distracted. Jeremy was in the crowd, shadowing you, but you only saw her. You only cared about her.” He approached Anika and grabbed her by her arm, the tip of his laser gun pressing into her cheek. She let out a yelp.
“Let her go,” Logan growled. The four men trained their weapons on him.
“If Adam hands himself over without a fight,” Simmons said, “I’ll let her go. I’m not a monster, Logan."
“Liar!” Anika didn’t back down when Simmons snarled at her and tried to muffle her with his forearm. She bit him.
“You little…” He tried to slap her, but she slipped out of his grasp, dipped low, and delivered a kick to his stomach. She grabbed his gun just as the armed men aimed at her, but they seemed hesitant to shoot, since she now had control of the gun and was shoving its tip right into Simmons’s cheek.
“Doesn’t feel good, does it?" She tightened her grip on the gun.
“Anika, don’t!” Simmons pleaded in a shrill voice. “I knew you as a child, and now you’ve been poisoned by Adam and his nonsense. You can’t shoot me. You’re not a murderer.”
“Quiet.” Though she commanded him in a steady voice, her hand trembled.
Jeremy tossed his red and gray over to Logan at his beckoning; he already had his Raven-300 pointed at him. The four men slid their laser guns across the floor toward Anika before holding their hands up in surrender. Just when Logan was about to demand they also give up any backup weapons, two of the henchmen drew laser guns from inside their coat pockets and fired.
Logan dove to the side, but a razor sharp pain in his left leg told him that one of the laser shots had tore through him. He clenched his teeth, ignoring the pain and reciprocating with a shot of his own. It hit one of the henchmen in the chest, and he fell to the floor in a slump. Jeremy, perhaps to no one’s surprise, took off for the exit.
With a burst of desperation, mingled with adrenaline, Logan trained his gun at the other men, who would surely gun down both him and Anika. However, five men with laser guns rushed into the room and took out the rest of Simmons’s men with proficiency. Logan immediately recognized one of the newcomers as Adam. He had four Core Guardsmen with him. The fifth man, who wore a high-ranking Guardsman uniform and had the same eyes as Doctor Connelly, ran toward Anika.
“Anika, are you okay?”
“Yeah, Dad.”
Logan nearly groaned when he saw her sitting on the floor, leaning against her desk and nursing an arm wound. One of the laser shots had grazed her just above her elbow. He was thankful she was at least conscious. In a flash of anger, he forced himself to his feet when he saw the Core Guardsmen aim their laser guns at him. They only refrained from shooting because Adam told them to.
Adam at first seemed to care little for Logan’s presence. He only had eyes for Doctor Simmons, who had backed himself into the corner near the desk, gripping the laser gun he had won back from Anika. Logan wanted the other clone to acknowledge him, to at least tell the Guardsmen to lower their weapons, but Adam’s focus was on the scientist.
Adam spoke in a smooth voice. “It’s over, Simmons. Tomorrow evening, the Free Army’s going to enter negotiations with us. That’s what we were celebrating today. We don’t have to do this anymore; we don’t have to fight.”
The scientist threw Adam a contemptuous glance, ignoring Connelly Jr. and the other Guardsmen who now trained their weapons on him. He let the gun slip from his grasp just as a stream of blood flowed from his hand and splattered against the floor.
“You were my creation. A lab experiment. Who told you that you could do all this?” Simmons swooned.
Adam slipped his laser gun into a holster on his belt. “See, that’s the thing…no one told me. I chose this. Isn’t that what it’s all about? To have the free will to choose what we want in life? And you can choose something different--let us help you, Simmons.”
“It’s too late.” Simmons exhaled a painful breath and slumped to the ground. His eyes were still open, but the spark of life in them dimmed.
Adam looked shaken, but let out a sigh, as if relieved. Anika turned away, her father enveloping her in his arms. The Core Guardsmen lowered their weapons.
“Check the perimeter of the building, just in case any more of his men are around,” Adam’s deep, rich voice said. Logan, without even reflecting on it, had already moved toward Simmons.
Logan’s heart pounded in his chest as he knelt over the scientist’s body. He felt a lump in his throat and was torn between sorrow and pity. He stood and turned to face Adam when he approached. The other man finally acknowledged Logan.
“It’s your modifications.” Adam met Logan’s gaze.
“Excuse me?”
“They made you more obedient, more loyal, but it wasn’t perfect, was it?”
Logan glanced at Simmons one last time. His broken body just lay in the corner, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. “It was because of Logan 2. Simmons didn’t have to die like this.”
Adam nodded in understanding, his green eyes glinting with intelligence. “You’re right, but unfortunately, he did. What is your purpose now, Logan?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. The furthest I got was meeting you.”
Anika stood and approached him. “You can stay…help us. There’s still a lot of work that needs to be done.”
Connelly cleared his throat. “You may be built like Adam, but you’re also your own person. Yes, I said person.”
Logan’s sorrow and confusing emotions suddenly subsided. “So, you’re not going to arrest me? I’m free to do what I want?”
Adam sized him up. “It’s up to you, to live as you like, as long as you don’t break any laws. You obviously can’t go back to the past, and like Anika said, we still have work to do.”
“I…” Logan’s gaze went from Adam to Anika, then back to Adam. What if he just didn’t fit in?
The other clone raised an eyebrow. A smirk played around his lips. “Anika and her father are good friends of mine. You can trust them.”
Anika offered Logan her hand. “Are you with us?”
He took her hand in his. “Yes, I am.”