“Are you okay?”
“I got checked. Yeah.” But she cleared her throat as if it hurt. “Are you okay?”
“I … yeah, but I don’t know what to do next. Where to go. And Nimkii’s loose. He’s across the road from me. I’d show you but I don’t think you could see him in the dark.”
“I need to find out if it’s safe to go back to campus. And I promised Peng I’d call the other … sister. There’s one in Milwaukee. I think I can get her number.”
Irene didn’t know what else to say. Neither did Avril. They were both quiet for a moment, looking at each other through their screens.
“I’ll figure it out,” Irene said. “You stay safe. And call me anytime about anything. Even if you’re just lonely. I owe you.”
“I just did what was right. It was sort of like she was my mother, too.” She looked Irene right in the eyes, tenderly. “Now you have a sister. Two sisters. Or maybe three. Peng said there might be four of us in all. We’ll be there. Take care of yourself.”
“You, too.”
She ended the call and sat for a moment, trying to line up her thoughts. She had sisters. And a big hairy pedazo of a boyfriend. And immunity. It didn’t matter if a car was disinfected, and it didn’t matter anymore for her to go to Madison to see her mother. And no one seemed to notice her. She got up and walked across the road. Nimkii saw her and began walking south, toward the farm where he lived. He wanted to go home, but Ruby might be there. How could she convince him to stay away, to go somewhere else?
Berenike was crossing the atrium of City Hall, about to leave on the mission to the electrical station, when she got a call. It came from a number she had in her phone but had never dared to use. And the face! It was her own, sort of, younger and thinner and dirty and tired with red flashing lights around her.
“Hello, you might not know who I am—”
“You’re Avril Stenmark, right? I … I know. Are you okay?” She didn’t look okay.
“I am now.” She shrugged. “Long story. It’s been a busy day. I’m calling because I talked to Peng, the scientist who designed us, and we’re immune to the cold.”
“Immune?”
“It’s just a genetic thing. Something about a protein the virus needs. You could call him if you want more details. I can give you his number, and he said he’d be glad to talk to you. He said some people are immune naturally.”
“Or unnaturally.” She felt bad the moment she’d said that. This was no time to make jokes.
But Avril laughed—a little. “Yeah, unnaturally.”
“I didn’t want to call you before because I didn’t want to tell you you’re a clone.”
“It was tough news.” Avril shrugged and glanced over her shoulder. People were shouting, but it seemed to be instructions, not a warning. “I’ve talked to Irene, too, the one with the mammoth.”
“How is she?”
“Her mom died, but I was with her mom, so she thought I was Irene, so her mom seemed to be happy about that. And I guess things are bad in Wausau, too.”
“And here in Milwaukee.” Bad all over.
“Are you safe?”
Good question. “No, maybe not. I’m going on a mission. Top secret. Mutiny work.”
“Good. I mean, good luck. Let me know how it goes. And here, this is Irene’s number. Maybe all three of us can talk. Tomorrow? I hope? Oh, and maybe there’s a fourth one. Peng wasn’t sure.”
Four? “It would be good to talk.”
“Till tomorrow.”
Berenike ended the call. For a moment, she felt dizzy. The call had been surreal, like talking to herself, but not really, or to another version of herself. Was that how sisters usually felt?
Things were bad all over, but for her, things had suddenly become immeasurably better in one important little detail. She walked out of City Hall with a new kind of confidence. Neal would be waiting.
Irene was having no success. “Nimkii, let’s go this way.”
He looked at her, then kept walking through the cornfield. He wasn’t going to be persuaded. Well, maybe Ruby had fled. The Prez was dead and the mutiny might succeed—at least, that was what she’d heard. But maybe, instead, Ruby had holed up in the farmhouse. And she said she’d shoot Nimkii.
“Nimkii, let’s stop here and eat.” She held out an ear of corn, fat and ripe. He took it, ate it, and kept going. She tried again, and this time he didn’t even take the corn. Her heart ached as she followed him. He trudged through the field, the little woods, and across the creek, walking in a straight line, his trunk up, sniffing, following the familiar scent from the farm. They entered the alfalfa field on the far side of the woods. Now he hurried, the pen in sight.
The house was dark except for a light on the porch. Irene slipped from shadow to shadow. She didn’t see the truck, so Ruby was gone. Probably. Will’s dog wasn’t barking. Maybe Ruby had taken it with her.
She had to stop and catch her breath, panting not from exertion but from fear.
Nimkii walked through the open gate and into the pen. He trumpeted. Home! Safe! Or so he thought in his simple world, back in the place where no one and nothing would hurt him. But maybe, since he had no food inside, after a little while she could tempt him out and they could go back to the cornfield.…
A car pulled up in the driveway. Ruby?
Irene needed to hide and fast—maybe in the alfalfa field. It grew waist-high. She could lie down in the path Nimkii had made. Ruby wouldn’t see her, wouldn’t even look for her. She’d think Irene was dead, asphyxiated in that prison. She dashed into the shadow of the winch, then behind some weeds, and dove into the field.
The front door
