The Fox Inheritance by Mary E. Pearson
Chapter 41
Look, that's Scorpius. The one right there at the end of ...
There were a billion stars sprinkling all the way down to the treetops that surrounded us. Frogs the size of small dogs croaked at the shore, and fireflies flickered in the black hollows of the forest.
And over there. That one is Cassiopeia, the queen.
Kara, Jenna, and I lay on a blanket outside Kara's parents' summer cottage, staring into the night sky. It was the end of summer vacation, and it was a dream world. Kara was on one side of me, and Jenna, on the other, and the blinking black sky was so close it felt like I could reach out and scoop the stars into my hand.
Delphinus, the dolphin ...
Ursa Major, the Great Bear ...
And then a blazing trail would split the sky with light and we would shout in awe, but just as quickly we fell into silence, like we were before some celestial altar witnessing an event that was almost holy.
Make a wish ...
I couldn't think of anything more to wish for than what I had right then. Two full days and one night alone in the woods with Kara and Jenna. Each of them had claimed they were staying the night at the other's house so they could slip away. My parents were away for the weekend, and my sister couldn't have been happier to have me out of the house--no questions asked. We had all taken courses over the summer, so our vacation was short. We were making the most of what was left of it.
Look. The Northern Cross.
And that one's the North Star, the brightest star in the sky....
Jenna reached over and held one of my hands, Kara held the other, and I felt like the universe was holding us all.
For that night, maybe just for that magic moment, it all seemed to make so much sense, like the thousand puzzle pieces of my life were all in place and I knew the How and Why of all things. It was one of those moments that I was sure would stay impressed on me forever because it was real and true. It was as tangible as the blanket beneath me. I felt like I had touched something, something as big as the universe, and it had touched me back.
I didn't know that even a big moment like that could be snuffed out in a matter of days by packing to go home, by the wrong teacher on the wrong school schedule, by my brother stealing sixty dollars from my wallet, or by my uncle getting his brains blown out at a traffic stop.
But all that just made Kara and Jenna brighter stars in my sky. I had no way of knowing that, in a matter of weeks, even those stars would be snuffed out.
Chapter 42
"Get moving, you filthy Nop!"
My eyes shoot open just as a sharp kick swings into my leg.
"Go sober up in some hole where you belong!"
I jump to my feet, ready to defend myself, but the man isn't coming at me.
"And take your filthy garbage with you!" He kicks my pack toward me and walks back to his car. Before he screeches off, I read Security Force on the side.
Even though he's gone, I'm still in defense stance, trying to clear my head. Sober up? Did he think I was drunk? It's obvious he thinks I'm filthy. I relax and straighten from my crouched position. I can live with filthy, because I am. But he also thinks I'm a Nop. A filthy Nop. I have no idea what that is. One more lesson that Gatsbro chose to omit when he--
"Oh, God--"
The sun is coming up.
I slept. For an hour? More? I snatch my pack from the pavement and run. The grit on my neck rubs against my coat. My side aches. My hair flops in wet, muddy strands over my eyes. But I run. I run through the pain and the fear. I run for my life, and for Kara's. And most of all, I run for Jenna.
Chapter 43
There are a lot of moments we imagine. We play them over and over in our minds, trying to orchestrate our movements and words to perfection. Or maybe it's just that I've lived inside of my head more than any other person in the history of the world. Maybe none of us can really predict how we will act at any given moment. Maybe we're all at the mercy of circumstance in spite of our well-laid plans.
But never could I have anticipated my response to seeing Jenna.
You won't find her at home. Sunday's market day. She has a stall down at the plaza.
It was mid-morning when I finally arrived in Oak Creek. More like twenty miles than fourteen, but at least the rain had stopped. I knew my ragged appearance wouldn't inspire confidence when I asked locals where she lived, so I went to a hole-in-the-wall market and told the clerk I'd heard that someone named Jenna Fox was hiring people to do work on her property and I was trying to find where that was. I had learned from my mom that people in small shops are eager to talk, and she was right.
Not likely she's doing any hiring today. She's not home.
I found out where the plaza was--only a quarter mile down the road, a five-minute walk at most. I wasn't in a hurry this time, and even though I walked slowly, my breaths came fast like I was running. My mind raced through the scenarios and every opening line I might say. Surprise. You rotten bitch. I love you, Jenna. I'm sorry. Kara and I need your help. Do you remember me? Why did you leave us? How did this happen?
It's a large farmers' market for such a small town. There are three long rows with about twelve stalls on each side. I walk down the first row, drawing looks as I scan faces, desperately searching for recognition. What if she has changed so much I can't even recognize her? I pass butter lettuce, strawberries, blood oranges, avocados, nuts, jars of preserves. A blur of eyes, smiles, and profiles. I shake my head at offers to sample the food. None of the faces are familiar. I turn the corner on the next row, feeling like the meager protein cake I ate hours ago is finding its way back up. I walk faster, quickly scanning, beginning to panic as I reach the end. What if I never find her? I turn and walk down the last row. I slow down, carefully searching each face sitting behind melons, woven baskets, jars of honey, and stacks of cheeses.
And then, a glimpse.
Bodies moving back and forth, blocking my view.
But a flash.
Blond hair.
I freeze, stopping between two stalls, tucking myself in, waiting.
Shoppers take their goods and leave.
Another quick glimpse.
Another tangle of shoppers.
And then at last, a clear view.
Jenna.
Jenna smiling.
Jenna seated behind a table.
Jenna talking with someone.
Jenna scooping something from a glass jar into a bag and sealing it. I watch her lips move. Thank you.
My mind is paralyzed. Every word and thought I had planned is jammed somewhere inside. All I can do is stare and wonder if this moment is really happening.
She looks exactly like the Jenna I remember, as though a single day hasn't passed. My fingers curl into my palms. My stomach pulls tight. Will she remember me?
I watch every movement. The tilt of her head. The way her fingers rest on the table. Her pauses and her nods. My throat tightens.
Another girl, about the same age as Jenna, enters the stall and sits down next to her. They chat for a minute and then Jenna gathers a canvas bag and stands. The girl says something, and Jenna tosses her head back and laughs. And then her head turns, just a few degrees. Something has caught her attention. Her smile fades, her head turns just another degree or two, and her eyes meet mine. She pauses, her stance awkward, like she has been thrown off balance, and her eyes focus on me.
This is it.
I can't say anything or move. I just stare back, all my words, pleas, and plans gone.
And then, just like that, she looks away, as if her eyes had merely ruffled over a busy marketplace and my face was just another of many in the crowd.
She forgot me? She forgot me.
She begins to walk away, down the middle of the row toward other stalls. All of my uncertainty explodes into something burning in my chest, and I take off, weaving through the crowd after her. At the end of the row, I spot her a short distance ahead, walking toward a truck parked beneath a tree
"I apologize for staring back there," she says. "It was rude. I know. I didn't mean to. It's just that--" She looks down. I watch her swallow and then she looks at me again and smiles. Her voice is soft. "It's just that you look like someone I once knew." She clears her throat and adds, "A very long time ago."
Like someone? I haven't changed that much. I take a step closer, unable to speak, breathless, like she punched 260 years' worth of air out of me.
Jenna.
I don't know if it's the exchange of a glance or decades of need compressing into a single unspoken word, but I watch as realization crawls over her shoulders, her lips, and finally, her eyes. She shakes her head and whispers, "No," and then turns and runs.
I watch her, confused for a few seconds, and then chase after her, pinning her against her truck just before she opens the door. Her back is to me, and she is shaking her head over and over. "No! It's not possible! No!"
I hold her tight so she can't thrash, my mouth near her ear, and I whisper, "It's me, Jenna. It's really me."
Her hair is wet with tears, and I realize the tears aren't hers. I close my eyes, holding her, feeling her body tremble against mine. She's so small, smaller than I remember. Jenna.
"Please ... believe me."
Her head stops shaking, and her muscles go slack. I let go and she turns to look at me. She scans my face, and I see the disbelief in hers. "It's almost Locke, but your eyes..." She reaches out to touch my hair and then pulls back, her eyes still searching for an unruly cowlick that is no longer there. "And you're taller, and--"
"Bigger," I finish for her. "I didn't have a father who lovingly re-created every inch of me, like you did. I had a madman."
She pales and shuts her eyes, breathing deeply like she is going to be sick, and then finally she opens them again but doesn't look directly at me. "Get in," she says. "We need to talk, but not here."
Chapter 44
I sit at her kitchen table. We haven't spoken yet except for her to tell me to sit, or when she told me to be quiet in the car as I started to speak. "I need a moment," she had said, her breaths still deep and irregular.
After all the time I had already waited, it seemed a lot to ask, but I gave it to her. We drove down a narrow road lined with giant eucalyptus trees to a neighborhood of old homes. Most looked abandoned. Both of her hands gripped the steering wheel, and she never once turned to look at me. She pulled into a long graveled driveway at the end of the street, where there was a single-story house with a wide porch that wrapped around most of it. She parked at the back of the house, and we went in through a rear door, directly into the kitchen.
Now she stands at a faucet and fills a glass. Her hand shakes. She sets the glass in front of me, then sits in the chair opposite mine, finally looking at me, taking her time, staring, soaking in every detail of the new me. She doesn't doubt any longer.
"Why didn't you come sooner?" she asks. "Why did you wait all this time?"
"Come sooner?" And then I realize what she's thinking, that I've been out seeing the world and having a big party for the last couple centuries. "I've only had the new equipment for a year, Jenna. I couldn't come sooner. Unless, that is, I was able to mentally transport a little black cube through the air."
Her lips part, and I watch her draw a shallow breath. "You mean--"
Yeah. It isn't pretty on her face or mine. She knows exactly what I mean. She remembers the hellhole, but she only got the tour up to the front door--I got the whole house and all nine levels of the basement.
I stand, my chair squealing out behind me, my voice filling the kitchen. "What did you think, Jenna? Did you think? Did it ever occur to you to make it your business? Don't ask me why I didn't come sooner! Why didn't you come?"
She stands too, like she's ready to fight me. "I was seventeen, Locke! And I was scared and confused! You have no idea what I went through! I thought I had destroyed your mind upload. I disconnected it from the battery dock and threw it in a pond myself. Someone must have--"
"What?" I walk around the table toward her. "You?" I couldn't have heard her right. My vision spins. I'm not sure if I'm dizzy from my injuries or from anger. "You destroyed it?"
She takes a step back. "I thought I did. My father had it hidden away in a locked closet. He was saving it, just in case--I knew what it was like, Locke. I couldn't bear the thought of you staying there forever. It was all I could do."
I take another step toward her and nod my head, looking down at the wood-planked floor. "Sure. Of course. Just get rid of your best friends." I look back up at her. "We were your best friends, weren't we? Yeah, don't bother using that Jenna charm on your father and persuade him to liberate us too. That would be too much trouble. After all, you're the entitled Jenna Fox." She backs up to the kitchen counter. "Oh, that's right, you still had ten percent. Is that the magic number?" I glance at a knife on the counter near the sink. Her eyes dart to it too. We play a game of chicken with our eyes, wondering who might grab for it first. "Go ahead, Jenna! Cut me! Do it! I bet my blood's redder than yours! Screw your lousy ten percent."
She freezes, staring at the knife and then back at me. The room reels. I steady myself against the table. None of this is going how I planned. I didn't want it this way. I hardly recognize myself. I bet she doesn't, either. My legs shake, and I pull out a chair and sit. I rub my hands across my thighs, trying to push the tremors away, and then I look back at her. Her eyes are fixed on me, so wide, so blue, so frightened. My anger is overpowered by the ache of a question that has eaten away at me too long. I clear my throat and whisper, "Why did you give up on us?"
I watch her face transform from angry to confused. She is silent for almost a full minute, her lips twitching like she is trying to compose a thought. Finally, when she speaks, her voice is firm. "It was a different time, Locke. It's impossible to judge the past through the eyes of the world you know now. There's been more than two centuries' worth of change. What they did with me back then was illegal, but it was risky too. They didn't know what they would get when I woke up. Ten percent was hope for them. They believed it made the difference. But you and Kara--everything was gone. Your eventual existence seemed like an impossibility. My father's mind couldn't even grasp the idea of doing this behind your parents' back. How could he ever tell them? Not to mention the ethics of it all. He was struggling already with what he had done to me, and whether it was right. It was a different world then."
She edges closer, wary, like I'm an animal who could spring without warning. Maybe I am. She returns to the table but maintains a safe distance. "But I never gave up on you. I did what I thought was right. I did for you"--her voice catches, and I watch her stiffen to maintain control--"I did for you what I knew you would do for me if it were the other way around. I thought it was finished. I don't know how someone got to your upload. It was at the bottom of a pond and--"
"No one got to the one in the pond."
Her head turns to the side like she didn't hear me quite correctly. "How did ... I don't understand."
"Copies."
"What?"
"Come on, Jenna. You have five hundred billion biochips too. Even back then, no one could make a video game without someone hacking it before it even made it to market. People made illegal copies of anything to make an easy buck. Books, movies, software, you name it. A thousand people worked for your dad, and he invented something way more valuable than a video game. Opportunity knocked, and someone took advantage of it. It never occurred to you or him that someone would make copies?"
She steps away like she is dazed. She slowly circles the kitchen and finally stops at the counter, leaning against it for support. "There was a copy of me," she whispers. "'Just in case,' my father had said." She shakes her head. "My God, I should have known, or at least suspected." She whi
I nod. "Kara too. She's on her way here."
And that seems to break the thread that is holding her together. Her face falls into her hands, and she sobs. They are quiet sobs, nearly silent, and that somehow makes it worse. Her chest shakes like something violent has been broken loose inside of her. I see now that Kara and I weren't the only ones who suffered. I can see that she still loves Kara too.
I push against the table to help myself stand. My temples throb. "Jenna, there's something else you need to know." I take a step forward. "It's about Kara--" My knees buckle, and I suddenly find myself looking up at a ceiling looming in and out of focus, and then I see Jenna's face over mine, and then they both disappear.
Chapter 45
"Are you dead?"
I feel small, sticky fingers prying my eye open.
"Yeah. You're dead."
I open both eyes to see Jenna racing through a door at the end of a bed I am apparently lying in. "Kayla! I told you not to come in here! Go on out to the greenhouse with Aunt Allys. She's leaving in just a minute. She has a special chore for you."
I look at the small child at the side of my bed. She has long black hair and shocking blue eyes that squint at me suspiciously. She is clearly dubious of Jenna's commands and doesn't budge.
Jenna tilts her head and says firmly, "Kayla."
The little girl rolls her eyes like she is four going on fourteen. "I'll play with you later," she says before she skips out the door.
Jenna smiles and shakes her head, and then comes in and sits on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"