Chapter 6: The Child Claire Gave Birth To
Claire didn't die on Tuesday.
She gave birth.
I read the sentence again.
Then again.
My mind refused to connect the words.
Claire had been eight months pregnant when I left.
She had told me the baby was due in another six weeks.
I had kissed her goodbye at the airport.
She had stood in the doorway holding Tommy.
She had smiled.
“Come back soon, Daniel.”
That was thirteen days ago.
But the photograph in my hand was dated Tuesday.
And Claire was standing outside a hospital.
Holding a newborn.
A newborn that wasn't Tommy.
I looked at Michael.
“What am I looking at?”
He didn't answer.
“Michael.”
His eyes remained fixed on the photograph.
“I've seen that hospital.”
“Where?”
“Outside the city.”
“What happened there?”
He swallowed.
“That's where your mother disappeared.”
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
“You're saying Claire gave birth there?”
“Yes.”
“To another baby?”
“Yes.”
“Where is that baby?”
Michael looked at Tommy.
“That's the question.”
Tommy was staring at the photograph.
His face was completely expressionless.
I held it closer.
“Tommy, do you know this?”
He reached toward it.
His tiny finger touched the woman's face.
Claire.
Then he pointed toward the baby.
“Baby.”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
He whispered:
“Me.”
I froze.
“What?”
“That's me.”
Michael stepped backward.
“No.”
Tommy looked at him.
“Uncle Michael.”
Michael went pale.
I stared at my son.
Tommy had never called anyone Uncle Michael.
He was only a baby.
He could barely say “Daddy.”
“How does he know your name?”
Michael didn't answer.
“Michael.”
He looked at me.
“Because he's heard it before.”
“From Claire?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Michael stared out the windshield.
“Your mother.”
I felt a chill.
“She spoke to him?”
“Not directly.”
“What does that mean?”
Michael rubbed his face.
“I don't know how to explain this.”
“Try.”
He took a deep breath.
“Before Claire disappeared, she contacted me.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
I stared at him.
“Three months?”
“I was already investigating your family.”
“My family?”
“Your father had records.”
“What records?”
“Birth records.”
I frowned.
Michael reached into the glove compartment.
He pulled out a thick brown folder.
He placed it on my lap.
I opened it.
The first page contained my name.
DANIEL REED.
Underneath:
SUBJECT 01.
My stomach tightened.
The next page contained photographs.
Me as a child.
Me at seven.
Me at twelve.
Me at eighteen.
But the photographs were arranged differently from the ones I'd seen before.
Each had numbers.
Measurements.
Notes.
My hands shook.
“This isn't normal.”
“No.”
I flipped another page.
There was a photograph of Claire.
Underneath:
SECONDARY CAREGIVER.
Then another.
Tommy.
SUBJECT 07.
I looked at Michael.
“Why is Tommy Subject Seven?”
“Because he wasn't born naturally.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
Michael shook his head.
“Not the way you think.”
I felt anger rising.
“Then explain it.”
“Your father believed human behavior could be engineered.”
“He was insane.”
“Yes.”
“But he had money.”
“And access.”
“To what?”
Michael pointed to the folder.
“Doctors.”
“Scientists?”
“Yes.”
“Government?”
“No.”
He paused.
“Private laboratories.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because your father wanted to recreate you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Recreate me?”
“You were his first success.”
“What does that mean?”
“You survived.”
I looked at the photographs again.
A seven-year-old boy stared back at me.
My own face.
But there was something in the notes that made my stomach twist.
Memory instability.
Emotional suppression.
Subject responds strongly to maternal stimuli.
Memory alteration successful.
I looked at Michael.
“What is memory alteration?”
He didn't answer.
I threw the folder onto the dashboard.
“Tell me!”
Michael finally spoke.
“Your childhood was changed.”
I stared at him.
“How?”
“Your mother was removed.”
“She died.”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
“She was taken away.”
“By my father?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she tried to expose him.”
“And me?”
Michael looked at me.
“You were seven.”
I waited.
“You saw everything.”
“What did I see?”
“Your father killed someone.”
My breathing stopped.
“Who?”
Michael looked down.
“Your real mother.”
The world seemed to go silent.
“No.”
“She survived.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“She survived the attack.”
“Then where is she?”
“That's the woman who called you.”
I thought of the voice.
My son.
I closed my eyes.
“Why didn't she come back?”
“She tried.”
“When?”
“Several times.”
“What stopped her?”
Michael looked at the folder.
“Your father.”
“But he's dead.”
“Yes.”
“So who is doing this now?”
Michael didn't answer.
I already knew the question.
“The woman who raised me?”
He nodded.
“She continued his work.”
I looked toward Lily.
She was watching us silently.
“Why would she target my children?”
Michael's expression changed.
“Because Lily isn't part of the experiment.”
“What?”
“She was never supposed to exist.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Your father wanted you to have one child.”
“Tommy?”
“No.”
Michael pointed at Lily.
“Tommy.”
I looked at my daughter.
She was pale.
“What are you saying?”
“Your father planned Tommy before you were even married.”
I couldn't breathe.
“That makes no sense.”
“He needed your DNA.”
“What?”
“He wanted a child carrying your traits.”
“But Claire…”
“Claire didn't know at first.”
“Then she discovered it.”
“Yes.”
“And that's why she locked Tommy away?”
Michael nodded.
“She realized what Tommy really was.”
I looked at my son.
He was quietly playing with the edge of my shirt.
“What is he?”
Michael's answer was almost a whisper.
“A replacement.”
“For me?”
“No.”
He pointed at the photograph.
“For someone who died twenty-six years ago.”
I stared at him.
“Who?”
Michael opened the folder to the final page.
There was a photograph of a little boy.
He looked almost exactly like me.
Same eyes.
Same hair.
Same birthmark.
Same smile.
But I had never seen him before.
Underneath the photograph was a name.
ALEX REED.
I looked at Michael.
“Who is Alex?”
My brother closed his eyes.
“Your twin.”
The air left my lungs.
“I don't have a twin.”
“You did.”
“Where is he?”
Michael looked toward Tommy.
“He died.”
“When?”
“Before you were born.”
I stared at the photograph.
Two babies.
Two identical faces.
One name I knew.
One name I had never heard.
“Why would my father hide a twin?”
Michael's voice cracked.
“Because Alex was the one who was supposed to inherit everything.”
“What happened?”
“He wasn't healthy.”
“So my father replaced him?”
“No.”
Michael shook his head.
“He tried.”
“With me?”
“Yes.”
“And Tommy?”
Michael looked at me.
“Tommy is the seventh attempt to recreate Alex.”
I felt sick.
I looked at my son.
“No.”
Michael's voice became softer.
“That's why Claire was afraid.”
“But why would she hide him from me?”
“Because she discovered something.”
“What?”
Michael hesitated.
“Tommy isn't a copy.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“He changed.”
“Changed how?”
“His behavior.”
“Babies change.”
“Not like this.”
Michael pointed at the photograph.
“Tommy began remembering things he couldn't possibly know.”
I remembered the words.
Mommy is under the house.
That's me.
He had spoken about people he had never met.
Michael continued.
“Claire realized Tommy wasn't remembering Alex.”
“Then who?”
Michael looked directly at me.
“You.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Tommy isn't remembering Alex's memories.”
“Then whose?”
“Yours.”
My heart stopped.
Michael leaned closer.
“Daniel, your memories weren't erased.”
“They were transferred.”
I stared at him.
“To Tommy?”
He nodded.
“That can't be possible.”
“Then explain why your baby son knows my name.”
Silence.
I looked at Tommy.
He was staring at me.
His eyes suddenly changed.
His expression became strangely serious.
Then he spoke.
Not like a baby.
Not like a child.
Like an adult.
“Daddy…”
I leaned closer.
“What?”
Tommy whispered:
“I remember the fire.”
My entire body froze.
“What fire?”
He pointed toward me.
“You were holding Mommy.”
My heart began pounding.
“I don't remember.”
Tommy's eyes filled with tears.
“She said…”
He stopped.
“What did she say?”
Tommy looked toward the window.
Then whispered:
“Run.”
A deafening explosion shook the truck.
The windshield cracked.
Lily screamed.
Michael grabbed the steering wheel.
Someone had fired at us.
“DOWN!”
We ducked.
Another shot.
Then another.
Michael started the engine.
This time it worked.
He slammed the accelerator.
The truck tore down the road.
I held Tommy and Lily against my chest.
“Who is shooting at us?”
Michael looked in the mirror.
Three black SUVs were following.
“Those aren't the same men from before.”
“How many?”
“Three cars.”
“Can we outrun them?”
“No.”
“Then what do we do?”
Michael looked at me.
“We go to the hospital.”
“Why?”
“Because if that photograph is real…”
He looked at Tommy.
“…then the baby Claire gave birth to on Tuesday is still there.”
I stared at him.
“You mean there's another baby?”
Michael nodded.
“And if we're lucky…”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“…it's the real Tommy.”
I looked down at the child in my arms.
My son stared back at me.
Then he smiled.
But this time, his smile wasn't innocent.
It was the smile of someone who knew a secret.
Someone who had been waiting for me to remember.
And then Tommy whispered:
“Daddy…”
“What?”
“Don't go to the hospital.”
“Why?”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“Because Mommy is waiting there.”
A pause.
May you like
Then:
“And she doesn't want you to see her face.”
