Runaway

I suppose if it was anything that drew me to her, it was the scars on her face. Four parallel lines on one cheek. Too precise to be accidental, I assumed, but too faint to be on purpose.

Like she’s fallen asleep on a bread cutting machine or something.

I probably wouldn’t have noticed them if it wasn’t for the lighting in the club. The purple ‘black’ light near the bar lit up the scar tissue on her cheek differently from the rest of her face. Four straight white lines stood out on her cheek.

Too far apart to be a bar code, and just near enough to each other to look like four years on a prison wall without the fifth crossing them yet.

Yeah, she had beautiful eyes. Yeah, she had great skin. Yeah, her body was killer. We were all hot back then. Every single one of us. It was that kind of place and most of us had fake ID. It would have taken a deformity or a severe accident to change our appearances for the worse.

Not that we knew that back then. We all had flaws, we thought.

That made her scars stand out all the more to me. They could easily be covered with a little make up. They were light enough to be removed with plastic surgery.

It wasn’t until I saw the other three of her that I realized just how rich she must have been. She was obviously slumming it here.

The one with no scars must be The Prime. I was sure that one of her had two scars and one of her had three.

I like the four-scar one. Maybe it was just that I saw her first but I like to think it was because there was something reckless in her eyes.

The other three of her were dancing in a circle around their purses. They were wearing identical dresses. Every guy was watching and every girl was jealous. Her bodyguards were sure to be hovering in the crowd. They were in no danger.

The show of wealth was obscene. She was here to rub our noses in the copies of her she could afford.

Even the wealthy could only afford one clone with a memory dump and that clone would only be awoken in case of an emergency.

Two was whispered for the richest.

I’d never heard of more two.

There was no way that they were quadruplets with today’s fertility laws.

To this day, I’m not sure how I got the courage but maybe it was something in her eyes.

I walked up to four-scar and said hello. Her name was Angela.

-

We left the club. That was two days ago in LA. I’m in a motel with her in Uganda now. She knows her Prime’s secret accounts. We drained them. We are off the grid. We use cash. We’re in a part of the world that doesn’t need IDs. She cut out the tracking device. They’re still hunting for us.

I know it won’t be long until they get to us but looking at her, sheets pulled up around her as the dawn sun comes pouring in the through the window and across the most expensive runaway in the history of planet Earth, I know that my probable death will be worth it.



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Waking Underwater

Waking up underwater is a curious sensation.

I wasn’t struggling and the water was warm. I had a mask on around my head that let me breathe. The sound of me inhaling and exhaling was loud in my ears.

I had no idea how I got there. I’d never taken a scuba diving lesson in my life. The water was dark. I didn’t know what direction I was facing. I couldn’t see any lights outside but there were lights attached to my helmet.

They stabbed out into the water around me. I couldn’t tell how deep they were penetrating. I had no sense of scale. I could see little particles in the beam of light like flecks of dust in a sunbeam.

Slowly, the fear crept in. I had no idea how much air I had left or which way was up.

I must have been drugged. There was no other explanation for how I could have gotten here. It would also explain why I was being so slow to panic.

The voice in my ears almost made me scream.

“Everything okay down there Danica? We lost you for a second. Over.” Said a male voice inside my helmet.

I said nothing. Were these my attackers? I was becoming terrified. I could hardly move. Was I miles underwater? I starting thinking of sharks. I could feel a scream building inside me.

Whoever this voice was, it didn’t sound like it intended me harm. It was all I had. It might be my only way out.

“Danica? Over.” Said the voice, a little bit of concern starting to rise in the undercurrents of the voice.

I wanted to shriek but my voice came out as a whisper.

“H-help. Help.” I breathed. “Who are you?” I asked the voice.

“Danica? What’s going on down there?” said the voice. I could hear the feet hitting the floor. Whoever he was, I had his full attention.

“Get me out of here.” I said. I had the sudden need to claw at the bodysuit I had on, to smash the glass in my faceplate, anything. Any way to end this.

“Danica! Stay with me! Guys!” his voice moved away from the mike. I heard others in the background. In my speakers, I could hear an alarm start up.

“We’re losing her. It’s happened again.” He came closer to the mike again. “Danica! Listen to the sound of my voice. Don’t move! Stay with me!” He said. I heard the slapping of feet on decks in my headphones.

I felt a pulling at my back. I was being reeled in by something.

That’s when I started to panic.

I thrashed around on the end of whatever safety line I was attached to. I was even imagining that it was the tongue of a monster pulling me into its mouth. I screamed. I wet myself. All rational thought left me. I lost control.

“Danica, listen to me! This has happened before! It’s your secondary personality rising! You can fight it! You must not panic!” said the voice into my ear.

Somewhere, I found the ability to stop screaming. I took deep, whooping breaths. I went totally still.

“Thatta girl, good girl, thatta girl. That’s right. Deep breaths, no movement. You’ll be home soon.” Said the voice.

I let the line tug me through the water.

Somewhere in the back of head, I understood that I must now be in shock.

I waited to be back at this ‘home’ the voice spoke of.




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