The Duplicate

Chapter Twenty-six

I arch an eyebrow.

"Maybe," he says, "it will chill him out."

I have to check the laugh that jumps out of me. A quick look at the backseat to see if my outburst stirred Trip—it didn't—and I'm facing forward again. "I seriously, seriously doubt that, Dax. It feels like we're about to unleash a beast on your friend. We might have a plan, but as soon as we get there he'll do what he wants. We have just as much control over him as Government does."

"He can control himself."

I stare at Dax for the longest time.

He looks from me to the road, me to the road. "What?"

"You're being uncommonly optimistic."

"What are you talking about?"

"You were scared to death of Trip this morning, and now you're completely content bringing him to someone's house you really care about."

"Well..." Dax hesitates, head drooping to the side, shoulders raised in a frozen shrug. "Maybe I'm starting to get kind of used to him around, maybe I realize he isn't set on killing me, and I just, you know—I don't know."

"Just what?"

"I just... want to help."

"You want to help him?"

"Well, yeah."

I continue to stare. "Have you gone insane? Where is this coming from?"

"I guess I've been doing some thinking too."

"And?"

"And... the thing is... well, the way I see it..." Dax's thumbs drum uneasily on the steering wheel. He inhales, cheeks puffing out, and then expels a sigh. "You know when I got into that predicament I told you about with Government?" He glances sideways at me to make sure I remember, and I nod. "Well, when they brought me in, when they told me to hack for them, I was too afraid to tell them no. Even though I knew what they were telling me to do wasn't right—I knew it was wrong, I knew, I just... I copped out. They paid me, and I just kept quiet and followed orders, because I didn't want to go to prison. I guess I'm just a wuss like that."

I can't deny he's a wuss, but when he glances at me again I don't nod this time. "What are you getting at?"

"Triple left." A seriousness I haven't seen in Dax is sinking over his expression now—sobering his gaze, knitting his eyebrows. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he twitches his shoulders in another shrug, this one quick and nervous. "What happened back there made me think about that. I mean, he wasn't too afraid to separate himself from Government and the slave they made him be, and he's facing something worse than prison."

Unable to come up with a response, I quiet and let those words sink in, take shape. That's a different point of view than what I've become used to, and it just shifts and sharpens my focus a little more — not only on Trip, but on Dax, too. His honest, open confession makes me wonder if somewhere deep down inside Dax he's not all wuss.

Another semi whirs up beside us, attempting to pass, but it quickly falls behind as we approach a bridge. With the lull in our conversation prolonging, our car ascends, up, up, up, and in my mirror the view opens. Streetlights march along each side of the bridge, glaring across the Bay underneath. The City, afar, is a battalion of lights. The last flakes of the sunset are a deep cherry and violet backcloth. Stomach lifting as we peak the bridge, I draw in a deep breath and take in the scene.

"That's a sight," Dax mumbles.

"Yeah."

But it doesn't last long. Almost as quick as it opened, the view closes as we begin the descent, the City slowly vanishing behind the top of the road like a sideshow wipe.