The Duplicate

Chapter Twenty-five

How? How did such confusion shadow what was once a familiar word to me? Once upon a time, the word "duplicate" meant I was saving human lives. Now, I don't even know what to think anymore. I don't want to think anymore. 

Averting my gaze to the van parked beside us, I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose—an attempt to squeeze away all my whirling, prickling thoughts, just to make them go away. Just go away, please. 

"What now?" I ask, filling the silence once again. "What do we do?"

"We need another car." 

With a glance at the bullet holes in the windshield and the cracked mirrors, I let out a short, humorless laugh. It scares me when I realize it sounds slightly hysterical. "Obviously."

Trip shoots me a frosty look.

"I meant where are we going?"

"I don't know. I haven't come up with anything since the last time I was asked." He cocks his head at me, voice curt. "I've been busy."

The tartness that spills into my own tone comes automatically, and I cling to it like it's the only thing keeping my mind afloat. "Well, are you going to come up with anything any time soon, or are we going to sit here and wait around for Government to find us?"

"Ashford." Trip tilts his head back, rolling his eyes up at the car roof then out the window. "Don't fuck with me. I've had enough of your attitude today. I'm not in the mood."

"I'm just waiting for you to come up with another brilliant plan."

"You don't think I realize every step I've taken so far has only shoved me ten steps back?"

I look up at him, and at the same time he turns his eyes on me. Steady. Serious. And now I notice that those dark circles under his eyes have deepened to almost black. 

"You don't need to fucking remind me," he says. "I'm aware of it."

My gaze flits away as another pang of guilt nips at my gut. Of course I don't need to remind him. I don't need to rub it in his face either. Despite the fact that his plan backfired at Verbeck's, Trip still got us out of that apartment complex. We're alive because, restlessly, tenaciously, he's been doing everything he can to stay at least one step ahead of Government.

And I'm just sitting here, nagging him.

"Hey, uh..." Dax's voice comes from the backseat. He's been so quiet this whole time I've completely forgotten he's sitting back there. Twisting around, I find him hugging his backpack to his chest, still looking a little pale. Glass from the back windshield crunches under his sneakers on the floorboard. He glances at me, but keeps his attention on Trip. "We need somewhere we can lay low for a while, right? Somewhere you can think and plan something out, and I can work on whatever you need me to work on. Somewhere Government won't find us."

"Yes, Dax." Trip rubs a hand over the nape of his neck. "But this isn't helping me narrow anything down."

"I might know a place we can go." 

I exchange a look of surprise with Trip. 

"Where?" I ask. 

"Well, it'd be a long drive, but if we drove all night, taking shifts, we'd—"

"Where?" Trip asks. Always the patient one. 

"A good friend's house, outside of the City, across the Bay." When we look at Dax questioningly, he tilts his head side to side. "Well, I've known her since I was a kid, since I was five or six. She's like a mother to me."

Trip is already shaking his head. 

"She's always helped me in times of trouble." Dax scoots forward. His backpack jostles around. "I know for a fact she'd let us stay, no questions asked."

Trip isn't convinced. 

So, Dax looks to me for assistance. 

"I don't know, Dax," I say, honestly. "That would mean involving someone else in this."

"I was thinking about that." Dax adjusts his glasses and concentrates on the floorboard as he speaks. "As long as we don't leave any tracks Government won't even guess we left the City. It's like a needle in a haystack scenario. They're not going to know where to start. They're going to be just as lost as we are right now." 

Dax looks up and raises his eyebrows, because now he has my attention. 

"Plus, they'll be way too focused digging into Triple's connections, rather than mine. Even if, by some crazy chance they did look into it, there's really no way Government could even make a connection between me and Aubrey, unless they started looking into every single neighbor I've ever had in my entire life, or if they do an extensive search through my phone call history, months ago. That's a lot of digging."

"And... this friend of yours?" I ask. "We're just going to show up at her house, out of nowhere? And she's going to let us stay, with no problems?"

"I told you, Aubrey is like a mother to me. Even if I robbed a bank she'd take me in, and you guys too. And we can trust her. Absolutely." Dax takes a peek at Trip, and quickly adds, "If it makes you guys feel better though, we don't even have to tell her the specifics. We'll just say you're my friends."

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I look at Trip.

He's listening. But there's defiance set in his jaw. He still doesn't like the sound of this. 

Dax clears his throat. "I know it's not really your style—"

"I don't readily trust people I haven't met," Trip says, talking to the rearview mirror, "especially with the news giving out my description." He juts his chin at me. "And hers. And probably yours soon."

Dax frowns in thought. "Well, all I'd have to do is explain that me and my friends are in a bit of trouble and if she's been paying attention to the news, tell her we're not terrorists."

"All she'd have to do is make one phone call to Government."

"She wouldn't do that. She wouldn't risk our lives. She'd let us stay for a while, and when the plan is set we'd be on our way. That simple."

"Nothing has been that simple."

Again, Dax looks to me, giving a pleading look, wanting me to intervene. And, irritated, Trip follows his gaze, expecting me to. 

Funny. Just minutes ago, in the apartment complex, Dax had been playing referee, trying to shut me up. Now, he needs my help arguing with the ice-devil. 

"Leaving the City doesn't sound like a bad idea," I say, ignoring the way Trip narrows his eyes at me. "It would put some distance between us and Government and give us some time to figure out what we're doing. And staying with Dax's friend, someone he says we can trust and someone he says Government can't even connect him to, sounds more inviting than staying in motels, which costs money we don't even have, or sleeping in a car, which may be our only other option." 

Trip inhales and exhales in a huff. 

Shrugging, I hold his gaze and prepare for the kicker. "Unless you have a better idea."

Now, even more irritated, Trip turns away — running his tongue over his teeth, darting his eyes over the dashboard, trying to think. But judging by the frustration and exhaustion darkening his expression, he's failing. 

And I wait, and I watch as the defiant set of his jaw starts to unsnarl, little by little. 

He hates it. Absolutely despises it.

But, no.

He doesn't have a better idea.