Call Me Twice

Chapter 7: Without a Trace

Josie

Nothing.
Nowhere.
"He can't just be gone," we're sitting in the driveway, my mother has her head on the steering wheel as she cries.
"He said he was coming home," I whisper, "Something took him."
"He has to be somewhere, Harper why would you do this," she sobs.
"It's not his fault," I say.
"Baby it—it probably is—I mean I don't think he meant to leave us but—he probably got hurt or took too many pills, he, it's been too long now," she says, tears in her eyes, "If he were okay he'd have come home."
"But where is he?" I sob.
"I don't know. But we're gonna. We're gonna find him. Harper where would go sweetheart?" She whispers, biting her knuckle, "Where did you go?"

Link

The train tracks yield nothing. Nothing. We are no closer than when we started. And yet there's some relief that his body isn't lying by the side of the tracks.
"Maybe he just hitch hiked the wrong way, or something stupid," Lia reasons, as we walk towards my grandparents house. We hit it then hers and she can hardly be seen coming home with a strange boy who looks like me. Me walking with a girl would increase my street cred that's fine.
"Maybe," I admit, "We'll pick up tomorrow, we'll look around his dad's house and in it if possible. That's where he was last seen."
"You really don't have to keep helping."
"I don't mind, like I said I'm not doing anything—-oh shit—," I back back into the woods, quickly, there are cop cars at my grandparents house, lights flashing.
No.
No.
No.
"What's wrong?" Lia asks, following me as I basically dart behind a tree.
"Ah—," I have no good answers, "You go on home. I'm fine."
"I'm not going anywhere, why are you afraid of police? You think they're there for you?" She asks.
"Um—,"
"Why? Why do you think police are coming for you? And does it have anything to do with the last thing Harper said to me was telling me that you're a creep and not to trust you?" She asks, folding her arms.
"Oh shit, no," I sigh, burying my face in my hands, "It's not—really not related. Weirdly not related."
"Okay, then enlighten me. Because I'm not seeing a good reason I shouldn't tell those cops that my now missing boyfriend's last message to me was to be careful of you," she says.
"No just—it has nothing to do with Harper I swear, this is completely, independent," I sigh, "You're not—oh Jesus."
"You're two minutes is counting down. I will scream and I will tell them exactly what he told me and that you've been very eager to have me in the woods alone all day. What exactly is your father in prison for and why exactly are you so terrified of police?" She asks.
"It has nothing to do with Harper! And I've never hurt anyone," I sigh, tears in my eyes, "I also really, really don't want them to lock me up."
"Why?" She asks, arms still folded.
"I'm a human clone."
"What?"
"I'm a human clone. Which are illegal," I sigh, "Human genome coding, has so far to go, at the moment it's outlawed for morality—reasons. My dad—who is me—was tragically murdered. In order to cope, my father made a human clone of him—me. It's really not all that unusual."
"WHAT?"
"Okay, okay so it is unusual but other than the illegal part not as creepy as it sounds. Neither of them ever had children. When my dad died, my father got his body, DNA was still usable that stuff can be preserved. A gestational surrogate carried me she's the only other person who knows. The technology was illegal naturally, so we told the world I was just a test tube baby they'd had on ice that wasn't true of course and my DNA is a 100% match for my dad, which isn't something that should be found out yet—here we are," I explain rapidly.
"What the fuck—that is completely creepy—,"
"Not really I'm identical to him in the same way identical twins are identical, that is to say not really different finger prints different personalities, talents, likes and dislikes, my father only did it because he wanted to preserve my dad who he loved if I could have been a biological child he would have done that but sorry for too much information, semen doesn't survive long after the body's death, DNA of course was easily harvestable.
"Except no one can EVER EVER know this because there are so far as we know no human clones and I would immediately become a lab experiment but there was no way anyone should have found out. Except my father had the research base for cloning it's his field, the government came knocking and wanted all of his research no ethical guide nothing. He refused naturally because right now in this country there is nothing protecting the rights of a clone as a person we're just an experiment, so cloning human soldiers or slaves would be entirely on the table my father refused to participate until he saw some ethics on that. Next day SWAT team is at our door arresting him on bullshit charges. I burned most of his research while he distracted them so they couldn't get to it. But now I'm in foster care and they would—love to cut me open and see how well I worked considering I'm the only living test subject for a science they now desperately want," I say, hands to my head.
"Holy, fuck, Nikolai," she says, also holding her head, "What the fuck?"
"I know, I know. Like really, it has nothing to do with anything 99% of the time, other than looking like my dad, I'm not him I'm his genetic duplicate nothing more or less, but I also really, really do not want to be caught," I say.
"That is the—most fucked up weirdest thing I ever heard. Come on. Let's go back to my house, now," she says, staring walking.
"Why?"
"You can call your grandparents see if they say why they're there, if they lie you can bolt, but this way we're not just standing in the woods two hundred yards from them!" She says, taking my arm because I wasn't moving.
"Okay, okay, good idea," I say.
"Holy shit," she looks at me again, "This is so weird. So—,"
"Harper knew none of this you're one of three people to know any of this," I sigh, "He was just jealous I think that I called you."
"He thinks you're a serial killer. Everyone does because you burned down your house."
"That was to hide the research," I say, "Like I said there are a lot of ethical considerations, get a perfect soldier? Clone him and send his duplicates into battle? Clones raised for their internal organs?  It's a real dilemma and without guidelines it's a dystopia and as you can see my preconception really doesn't have anything to do with anything I'm a person that's it, like an identical twin or triplet is, I just share the same coding, spiritually it's something else entirely which is another debate but still—,"
"Okay yeah it's still really weird your dad cloned his—dead boyfriend," she winces.
"I mean— yes. But on a scale of starting with, get actual therapy  all the way up to keeping lover's body in cryo-freeze in order to talk it, I think that cloning dead lover is right there in the middle of unhealthy coping mechanisms. Have you read the Illiad? It's not even the most dramatic gay thing ever done in history—,"
"Okay okay, got it, wait did he actually keep your dad's body?"
"Most definitely. Again I am the healthier coping mechanism. He's cool, we're cool, he's never lied to me. I'm cool with my surrogate we are happy, just, so committed to not spending the rest of my probably short life caught in a lab while they cut me up to see how well I did. And they would do that again no human rights no Bill of Rights no PEETA protecting clone's rights to autonomy I'm a lab specimen to them," I say.
"That's sick, why would they—,"
"Look it up sometime. Commission on Human Cloning. My dad presented at it arguing that clones are replicas of people and are not genetically inferior, but no action was taken— congress never passed any protections, all the scientists boycotted and halted research save a few, who did produce clones for the lab god knows what happened to them. Usually because the DNA coding is poor we have short lives. Aside from a heart murmur and infertility I'm 100% fine. Infertility is usually a common denominator anyway I've never really cared," I say.
"And Harper knew none of this?"
"No. I promise this is a completely separate, mess," I say.
"Why were you talking to him anyway? He said you gave him a tape and then you found him out by the train? Why? You clearly have enough on your plate and you obviously haven't tried to make friends given your —secret," she says.
"I was flirting with him. Christ," I mutter, rubbing my face.
"Oh."
"I thought he was pretty. Then I gave him the tape to be nice as the bullies fucked up his, and then I was out jogging when I saw him by the train naturally I stopped him, and we talked a minute. I knew he was dating you and therefore straight, but I didn't fucking tell him so I was nursing my crush in private, so sue me," I mutter.
"You're—gay?" She asks.
"Yeah. That's not genetic, my dad was bisexual I'm not; it's coincidence. Just like we both hate coffee. Except he hated even the smell of seafood and I love most seafood, sushi all of it. Complete roll of the dice just like if I were—-biological," I say.
"So you were interested in Harper?"
"Yes."
"You just—like his personality?"
"I didn't say I had good taste."
We both start laughing.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm worried about him this day is weird—where the fuck are you? Harper?" She mutters, wiping her face.
"I'm sorry," I sigh "I don't mean to make it worse I really was coming to help to be nice."
"Your thing doesn't make it worse. And I'm glad you told me," she says, "Really. You shouldn't—carry that alone. That's messed up. I'll never tell anyone. I promise."
"Thank you," I nod, smiling a little, "I've—never told anyone all that before. Feels almost good."
"I'm glad you did. Even under, these circumstances," she says.
We hike back to her house, and she lets me use the phone to call my grandparents. Her parents aren't home which works out.
"Ramos residence."
"Hey it's um—me, Link, your grandson," I say,.
"I know who you—yeah, aren't you on your way home from school? The police were here saying you knew a classmate who is missing?"
"Oh. Ha. That. Did you tell them I don't really know anyone?"
"Yes I said you were new and hadn't mentioned a friend. I told them that someone called about an assignment but they said the missing person didn't do homework."
"That's fair, okay cool," I hang up.
Lia sighs.
"Safe," I lean against the wall. So false alarm. But how my heart beats against my chest. So I'll never really feel safe.
"Wait, let me call Ms. Miller," she says, putting it on speaker.
"Hello?"
"This is Lia—um, they told us Harper is missing —," Lia begins.
"He didn't come home last night," the woman on the phone says, "He left his dad's house after calling Josie to say he was coming home. His dad said he was high when he left. They think—we think he went to get high and he OD'd somewhere. We're searching."
"He called me too. He wasn't high. At all," Lia says.
"You're sure?"
"Completely, we were going to play a game tonight. For his birthday. He was positive about it—-he called another friend too," she glances at me and I nod.
"He must have—run into someone or something. We drove all over. There's no sign of him," she says, her voice breaking, "I called off of work—you can come over anytime honey—,"
"Yeah um, keep the line open, I'll come over later," Lia says, "Take care."
I shrug at her.
"So he was going home, and he talked to three of us, all three of us think he was sober," Lia says.
"And once again, he was supposed to leave his dad's. That's the best place to start when we're suspecting foul play," I say.
"Let's go tonight, after my parents are in bed I can sneak out. If Harper disappeared around midnight then let's see what there is to see in Pine Hollow around midnight."
"Fair," I nod, "It'll at least tell us what hazards he could have run into, or who is on the street that could have seen him. I'll meet you at the end of your drive, at twelve thirty. My grandparents should be asleep by then."
"Are these your—grandparents grandparents—?"
"No, these are my dad's parents. Ergo biologically they are my parents," I say, rolling my eyes a little.
"Oh that's weird."
"Yes for me as well. Twelve thirty?"
"Yeah, let's do this."