‘And how are you actually feeling?’ asked Jack.
‘Surprisingly good after a day in bed,’ McCormick answered. ‘And I’ve got at least twelve hours more before I need to do any exercise.’
Crap. It’s already the eighteenth. The New London mission starts tonight.
‘Has Ewan told you about Alex?’ asked Gracie.
McCormick’s puzzled face revealed his answer.
*
Ewan stood in the armoury with his arms folded, his eyes focused on the door to the exit tunnel. The comms team had been faithful in duty, waiting for confirmation that all six soldiers were home before leaving their post. But Ewan suspected Alex had other reasons for delaying his journey.
Everyone was in the armoury, watching the exit like Thomas had. Even Lorraine and Kate were halfway down the steps, not daring to miss the scene that would follow.
Ewan watched Shannon as she arrived first through the tunnel door. She gazed at the crowd as she entered, looking concerned but unsurprised. Somehow, Ewan could read her feelings better than other people’s.
Her first reaction was to walk past him, her hand brushing deliberately along his fingers. It was a nonverbal, discreet way of saying ‘I’m happy you’re safe – we’ll talk later, when we’re alone.’ Shannon headed to Kate on the stairs, and whispered something that included the words ‘sorry’ and ‘Raj’. She offered Kate a hug, which she accepted.
Alex wandered into the armoury, uniting all eleven surviving Underdogs in the same room, and let out a huff towards the crowd.
‘We need to talk,’ said McCormick.
‘Fine, thanks. How was your morning?’
Sarcasm, thought Ewan. Predictable response.
‘Now, Alex,’ McCormick said.
‘Alright,’ Alex began, removing his weapons and placing them back on their shelves as if to pretend the crowd weren’t there. ‘Number one, I’m not a clone. Number two, I have never been through a cloning machine or anything. So I can’t help you much, really.’
‘But you were cloned, Alex,’ said Ewan, twice as loud as normal. ‘With or without your permission, Nathaniel Pearce grew three copies of you. And probably a thousand more. If you’re not willing to talk about this—’
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ said Alex, dumping his knife onto its regular shelf and leaning against the wall unarmed. ‘I’ve had a lot of time to think about this in comms, and the more I think about it the less I have to offer you.’
‘Then you must have seen this question coming,’ came Mark’s voice. ‘Someone’s got to ask, so it might as well be me. How do we know you’re not a clone yourself?’
Alex rolled his eyes, and pointed to his lips.
‘Words. Duh.’
Ewan looked across the crowd, as a reminder for him to keep his temper under control – for his own sake and for everyone else’s. A day earlier, Alex’s argument would have been good enough. That morning, an extra layer of paranoia got in the way.
Jack spoke first.
‘Do you really think Pearce is incapable of making a clone with functioning vocal cords?’ he asked.
‘We’ve not seen one so far,’ spat Alex.
‘He’ll have his own reasons,’ Jack answered, stimming his fingers to help him concentrate. ‘Probably to control his minions. But he must be able to make speaking clones. I’ll ask again – do you really think Nathaniel Pearce can grow a clone with a complete digestive system, nervous system, circulatory system and a full set of organs, and a brain that enables them to operate radios and basic computers, but somehow find vocal cords too tricky? Shannon, back me up here.’
Ewan turned around, and saw Shannon jump in surprise at the foot of the stairs. Almost like a deer in headlights.
‘What?’
‘You know your dad better than the rest of us. I think Grant ordered Pearce to leave his clones mute so they’d always be inferior to real humans. What do you think, am I right?’
Shannon paused, as if the thought of reading her father’s mind filled her with existential dread.
Knowing her upbringing, Ewan thought, it probably does.
‘…Everything he ever did was about control. M-maybe you’re right.’
‘And if he truly wanted to give his clones the power of speech – to spy on his enemies or something – he’d be able to do it, right?’
She paused again.
‘Yes. He would.’
‘And he could even remove the war and peace settings in their mind, to make them act like regular people?’
‘…Yes.’
‘OK,’ said Jack, ‘then I propose a blood test.’
He pointed at Alex’s face and made fierce eye contact. Ewan was impressed at his friend’s directness: it was as if the experience of killing cloned versions of Alex had given Jack a newfound confidence around him.
‘We take some of Alex’s blood,’ Jack continued, ‘and put it in a petri dish or something to see how quickly it ages. In three hours’ time we look at it and check if it’s started turning to jelly. If it hasn’t, we know he’s telling the truth.’
There were nods of agreement all around the armoury, including from Ewan, but no words. Nobody in the group had anything to add to Jack’s logic, except for Alex.
‘For the sake of fairness,’ he spat, ‘how about all ten of you go through the same thing? OK, so Grant must have taken my DNA from somewhere. Most of us have been to New London. Even McCormick’s been once before! And if they took it from me, they could have taken it from anyone who’s been in the Outer City and bled on the floor, or spat, or sneezed, or picked their nose and wiped it on the wall!’
‘You’re wrong, Alex,’ Ewan said. ‘They didn’t take it from your DNA. Not unless your DNA has a memory. Shannon, do you think clones can be made with attached memories? If Pearce scans the previous model’s brain or something?’
‘…Yes.’
Alex snorted, and thumped an angry fist against the wall behind him. Ewan spoke again.
‘What are the chances of those clones finding their way to Lemsford?’ he asked. ‘What are the chances of all three of them being grown from your model? There’s a one in a million chance of it all being coincidence, so the other nine hundred thousand must be the chance of them remembering.’
‘You really do have learning difficulties, don’t you?’
‘They can’t get your memories from snot wiped on the wall,’ Ewan replied, ignoring the blatant insult. ‘At some point, your brain must have been scanned. It’s time to stop lying.’
‘I’m not f—’
‘Sorry, Ewan,’ McCormick interrupted, with a soft voice that silenced the cellar, ‘but we have to consider all possibilities. We don’t know anything about Pearce’s technology, so it’s still possible for Alex to be the victim without being aware. Nonetheless, Jack’s suggestion of a blood test is a good one. Alex, I’m sure you understand.’
‘I’ll do it,’ said Ewan, his head pointed at the wooden door to the neighbouring house. ‘In the farm next door, out of everyone’s way. Mark, I’ll need a second guy – and some rope, a chair and a plate.’