Wednesday, May 2
5:52 A.M.
Central Booking, Brooklyn
226 DAYS TO THE END OF THE WORLD
Sunny sat down next to Lyle on the bench outside the police station, rubbing his eyes with one hand and clutching his coffee with the other. “I’ve cleared up the robbery issue: they’re convinced, for now, that you were at work when the crime was committed, but the investigation is ongoing.” Sunny twisted his neck, stretching until it cracked quietly. “They’re somewhat more concerned about, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, alleged chemical weapons testing.” He looked at Lyle. “What in the bright blue hell do you do on your weekends? Is there anything else I should know about?”
“You and the entire executive staff,” said Lyle. “Can we go?” He had already called the hospital again, asking about Susan; her body was sloughing tissue from the chest and groin, which they had preliminarily diagnosed as leprosy. Lyle knew better. “We have a lot to do.”
“Yeah, we can go,” said Sunny. “Just give me a minute with this coffee first, okay? I’m a corporate legal counsel, not a divorce lawyer—I’m not used to these emergency police station visits at four a.m. And in Brooklyn, no less—why’d you have to get arrested in Brooklyn?”
Lyle stood up. “I know who it was.”
“Who what was?”
“The guy who robbed the house was named Tony Hicks. He was one of our test subjects for 14G.”
Sunny frowned. “The last ReBirth test? How do you know it was him?”
“Because he has a criminal record,” said Lyle. “And my DNA.” Lyle identified Sunny’s Mercedes and walked toward it. He stopped at the curb and looked back; Sunny was still standing by the police station doors. “I need your help on this, Sunny. You know they don’t listen to me.”
“Who has your DNA?” asked Sunny. “And how?”
“It’s the lotion,” said Lyle, “it’s ReBirth.” Lyle lowered his voice, glancing nervously at the police station. “We killed Jon Ford, do you realize that? The allegations of chemical weapons testing are not far off. Do you have any idea what ReBirth is doing?”
“I might,” said Sunny, walking toward the car, “if you’d cut the histrionics and just tell me.”
They climbed in the car, and Lyle scanned the parking lot nervously before saying it out loud for the first time. “It clones people.”
Sunny raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking.”
“I’m deadly serious,” said Lyle. “Somehow the plasmids in the lotion are getting into the test subjects’ DNA and changing it, literally overwriting it, so that your DNA becomes my DNA. You become a clone of me.”
“Why you?”
“I don’t know,” said Lyle, “obviously it has to get the DNA from somewhere, I guess it just got it from me because I was the first person to touch it.”
Sunny started the car. “You’re insane, Lyle. You’re talking about this lotion like it’s alive.”
“It is alive, in a way—it has self-replicating genetic matter, so it’s just as alive as any virus or bacteria.”
“But it’s not sentient,” said Sunny, pulling onto the street, “it’s not some kind of blobby lotion monster that’s going to eat everyone.”
“I’m not saying that,” said Lyle, frustrated. “I’m saying that it is cloning people—right now it’s cloning me. By my count there are currently six people who share my DNA, walking around right now in New York City.”
“Probably not walking,” said Sunny, “it’s six in the morning.”
“You’re not taking this seriously.”
“That’s because it’s ridiculous! You can’t expect me to believe something like this, Lyle, it’s … it’s unbelievable. It is not mentally possible to believe it.”
“I’ll prove it to you,” said Lyle, pulling out his cell phone. “I’m going to call the hospital.”
“Whoa,” said Sunny, catching Lyle’s hand in his own, “let’s not involve any hospitals just yet, okay? The last thing we need is for this story to go public, whether it’s true or not.”
“Don’t worry,” said Lyle, pulling his hand free, “that’s exactly why I’m calling.” He dialed Bellevue and hit send.
“Bellevue Hospital, how may I direct your call?”
“I need to reach a patient admitted last night,” said Lyle. “Pedro Trujillo.”