Chapter 6 - The Boy Who Wasn't MeThe boy outside lifted his hand.
He wasn't waving.
He was pointing at me.
Dad pulled the curtains shut.
“Everyone down.”
We dropped behind the kitchen counter.
A gunshot shattered the window.
Glass exploded across the floor.
Mom screamed.
Dad fired toward the doorway.
“Back door!”
We ran.
The farmhouse became a blur of footsteps, shouting, breaking glass.
I followed Margaret through a narrow hallway.
She shoved open a hidden door behind an old cabinet.
A tunnel descended beneath the house.
We disappeared underground.
The door slammed behind us.
We ran in darkness.
“Where does this go?” I asked.
“To the road.”
“How do you know?”
“I've used it before.”
Something exploded behind us.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
I coughed.
“Who are those people?”
Margaret looked back.
“Voss's security team.”
“And the boy?”
She didn't answer.
“Margaret!”
“He isn't safe either.”
“Why?”
“Because he doesn't know what he is.”
We reached the end of the tunnel.
Dad was waiting beside an old truck.
Mom climbed inside.
I was about to follow when I heard something.
A voice.
Behind me.
“Connor.”
I froze.
The tunnel entrance stood twenty yards away.
The other boy was standing there.
Alone.
No guards.
No weapons.
He looked exactly like me.
He raised both hands.
“I don't want to hurt you.”
Dad shouted:
“Get away from him!”
The boy ignored him.
He looked only at me.
“I know what they told you.”
“What?”
“That I'm your brother.”
My heart pounded.
“Aren't you?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who are you?”
His eyes filled with something I recognized immediately.
Fear.
“I don't know.”
Dad raised his gun.
The boy said:
“They made me from you.”
I couldn't move.
“From me?”
He nodded.
“Your DNA.”
I stared at him.
“But you're older?”
“No.”
“What?”
He stepped closer.
“I was created seventeen years ago.”
My blood ran cold.
“You mean…”
He looked at me.
“I'm seventeen.”
The same age.
The same face.
A human being created from my DNA.
Dad whispered:
“They cloned him from the surviving twin.”
The boy looked at my father.
“Your father knows more than he's saying.”
Dad's gun trembled.
The boy continued:
“Ask him what happened on March fourteenth.”
Dad went pale.
“What happened?”
Dad didn't answer.
I stepped toward him.
“Dad.”
He looked at the ground.
The boy said quietly:
“Ask him who really died.”
My father closed his eyes.
Then he whispered:
“It wasn't your twin.”
I felt the world disappear beneath me.
The boy looked at me.
“I told you.”
“What happened?”
Dad's eyes filled with tears.
“The baby who died was you.”
My entire body went numb.
“What?”
Dad couldn't speak.
The other boy stepped closer.
“You weren't supposed to survive.”
Then he whispered:
“They saved you because your body did something mine never could.”
“What?”
May you like
He looked terrified.
“You healed.”
