Freedom

They never told me where I came from. They never told me how I got there. They never told me about my past. They never told me anything. I was lost in a sea of lies and untold truths. I was in my twenties with no idea who I was.

My first memory is from when I was ten. I woke up in a bright white room. There was a strange man in a white coat telling someone I couldn’t see that I was a success. I tried to speak but didn’t have a chance. The moment the white coat man noticed I was awake, he took a syringe from his pocket and jabbed it into my leg. Everything turned fuzzy and then black.

The next thing I remember, I wake up in a different room. This room, I’d soon learn, was my bedroom in my ‘parents’ house. I had no memory of how I got there. I racked my brain but the only thing I remembered was that white room and the man in the white coat.

So, I sat in that bed for awhile. Eventually there was a knock at the door and my ‘mother’ entered. She was smiling and came to sit on the edge of my bed.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

I was silent.

“It was quite a tumble you took yesterday. You okay?” She prompted again.

I still sat. Silent. Watching her watch me. She was just an overly familiar stranger and I was a kid with no memory of who I was. I was scared.

She reached out to touch me and I shrank away. This is when her smile slipped.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” She asked.

I gulped and looked up at her. “Who are you?”

What followed wasn’t what was expected. There were no doctor visits. No therapist visits. Nothing. My ‘mother’ and ‘father’ sat me down and told me a story about falling down the stairs and bumping my head. That’s why I couldn’t remember anything. Only in the eight years that followed, my memory never came back. I told this to them over and over. Yet nothing. No doctors. No tests. Nothing. And they wouldn’t answer questions about my past. They refused to tell stories of my birth, my first steps, my first words. There no photos and none were ever taken. They would only say ‘let the past live where it lives, behind us’. I would scream in frustration. We would fight. I would cry until there were no tears left. But nothing. When I asked about the white coat man, they’d tell me it wasn’t real. Even though they could have lied more and said I’d been to the doctor after the accident. But no. It was my imagination.

And that’s how my life went. Dreary days if trying to remember being a child interspersed with yelling matches with my ‘parents’ and homeschooling, which included a daily four hour computer session followed by a four hour stint in the yard. I spent most days running the obstacle course or climbing the walls. My parents may not have cared about the past but they sure cared about my schooling. Everyday, seven days a week, I was doing my schooling. It started about three days after my ‘accident’ and I didn’t miss a single day after that. Not even when I had the flu and crawled my way around the track. And for eight years that’s how my life continued.

Then on my eighteenth birthday, which just so happens to have been the same day I woke up after the accident, instead of logging into school, my ‘parents’ sat me down in the family room. I tried not to squirm on the horribly uncomfortable couch as they droned on about a job. Apparently, I would be starting a job as a lab tech at the local hospital. I would have today off before a new schedule started tomorrow. I would actually be allowed to leave. I’m the time I’d been there, I’d never been let off the property. The only social interactions I got were with the cleaning ladies. But that would change tomorrow. I’d be free, or at least I’d try my damndest.

So I spent my free day planning. Coming up with a way to escape this place. I’d tried a few times before, but the security forces around the property always foiled my plans. But now, I’d be on the other side. I wasn’t gonna waste this chance. In the end I realized I couldn’t make my move the first day. I’d use it to recon and come up with a better plan.

So I spent the next seven days observing and planning. In the morning, I’d eat, get dressed, and a security guard would drive me to the hospital about fifteen minutes from my home. He’s then walk me to the lab door. Then he’d leave. I worked until 1 at which point, the guard would show up to escort me to the car. If I wasn’t there he’d come looking, as ended up happening in day three when I was using the facilities at one and he burst in there to find me. At the hospital, I had a supervisor named Kerry. She watched everything I did like I was the experiment. It would have made things difficult except for my thirty minute lunch. I was allowed to walk to the cafeteria on my own, and for the entire sevens days, I didn’t see hide or hair of Kerry or the security guard during lunch time. So, lunch would be the time of my escape. Now I only needed a method of escape. And day eight delivered it to me.

After solidifying that is escape while at the hospital, I’d begun packing the things I’d need once free in my backpack. So when the opportunity arose I’d have no hesitations. And I didn’t. You see on day eight, the fire alarm was pulled. It was pulled during my lunch break. I was shepherded thru the dining room into a small alcove, and finally outside. I quietly and swiftly made my way the the back of the crowd, furthest from the doors, always keeping an eye out for Kerry and the guard. This was the other side of the building from the lab, separated by two parking lots, and the building itself separated where I was from where I walked in each morning. So my hopes were fulfilled when I didn’t see the guard or the supervisor.

Once I reached the end of the crowd, I slowed. Meandering further back, still staying in the same range as other people pacing or walking in circles. It seemed this wasn’t a usual thing and many of the workers seem anxious or agitated. But I paid little mind to those around me as I focused on my escape.

I continued to meander further and further back until I was at the end of the parking lot where it butted up to the trees. I took one last look around. Satisfied that there was no sight of watchful eyes, I turned and sprinted into the woods.

It wasn’t perfect and I was constantly looking over my shoulder, but I eventually made it to a bus stop. From there I rode the bus to the farthest spot it went. Then I jumped on another bus and rode it far away. After three buses and countless hours, I arrived in a small town in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t look much, but for now it was where I’d stay. I did it. I was free. And now I’d get a chance to find out my past, and that’s what I tried to do.

I spent the next seven years trying to find out my history. I spent my days waitressing at a diner, at the library looking things up, and in my small one bedroom apartment watching TV. I learned that typically kids that have lost their memory would go to some type of doctor. I learned most schooling and work is only five days of the week. I learned there were schools. Actual schools. Not everyone is taught by sitting in front of a screen. And physical education wasn’t four hours of hand to hand combat, obstacle courses, rock climbing. It was physical exercise not training. Being free I learned that I was right. The way my ‘parents’ treated me wasn’t right. It wasn’t the norm. From the TV, the research, and the people I worked with, I learned what normal was supposed to be. It made me grateful I was finally out.

But it bugged me to no end not knowing why. Why don’t I remember most of my childhood? Why did my parents put me through such rigorous training? Why was I guarded night and day? Why? Why? Why?

Trying to answer that is how I spent my time in the library, among the old books and the new computers. But I never found anything. I learned a lot about doctors, amnesia, public education, and things like that. But nothing on me or my parents. I searched every data base, even the genealogical ones recommended by someone at work, but nothing. Like we didn’t exist. It was driving me crazy. Until one day, I got a snippet of an answer.

A friend from work, Jake, suggested I do a photo search of myself de-aged. I agreed. So, one day after our shifts ended, he drove me to his place. He took a picture of my face and used some program to make me look like I was about ten. It looked accurate from what I could remember. A reverse image search pulled up a single useable result. It was a news article from a random newspaper. It was an article about a little girl who died. She’s been on a boat with her parents and fell overboard. She drowned but was resuscitated and put on life support. The article was a follow up stating the parents were pulling the support. It was heart wrenching. But what was frightening was my face staring back at me. Apparently me, or someone the right age that looks like my identical twin, had died. Well, that’s not what I expected.

I was dumbfounded. Jake printed the article out and I took the copy with me. I told Jake I was walking straight home but me feet carried me right past my apartment building and straight to the library. Luckily it was early enough they were still open. I sat at a computer and pulled out the article. I read it at least a dozen times before I typed her name into the search engine. I held my breath as the results loaded.

I slowly exhaled with every article I read. And there were a few. They documented the accident, gave a profile on the family, and talked about the service. It was odd that I looked so much like that little girl. I didn’t recognize any one in the photos. She had a little brother, her mom was blonde, and her dad was average height. My ‘parents’ were both brunette and my ‘father’ towered over my ‘mother’. I was convinced it was a coincidence that the girl and I looked alike until I found the memorial page. There was a bunch of photos including a single shot of her in the hospital all connected to tubes. But there in the back, barely visible but unmistakable, was a face that had haunted my dreams. It was the white coat man.

Leaving the library, I was more confused than ever. I had the names and address of the girl, Phoebe’s, parents. I didn’t know what I was going to do with them but wrote them down anyway. The article I found didn’t name any of the doctors so I still had no name to put to the white coat man’s face. But I knew I wasn’t going to give up. I now had more questions than ever before and needed to know my connection to that little girl.

Turns out, I didn’t have long to wait. I was ambushed as soon as I stuck my key in my front door. A bag was thrown over my head. I tried to fight. Recalling all those skills that had been drilled into me. I managed to get the hood off and take down three guys before a fourth pulled out the taser. Blue sparks were the last thing I saw before darkness washed over my vision.

I awoke to a steady dripping noise. I could barely open my eyes I still felt so groggy. But eventually they opened. And there he was. Fifteen years of lines ringed his face, but it was him. The man in the white coat. When he noticed me staring a malicious grin split his face.

“Why, hello Alpha. Did you have a good nap?”

The sound of his voice made my skin crawl. It took all my strength to keep a shudder of revulsion from rolling down my spine.

“Who are you?” I growled out, my voice hoarse from whatever was in the IV in my arm, the source of the drip I’d heard.

“Me?” He laughed. A horrid grating sound. “Why I’m your actual father. Your creator,” he paused and leaned closer. So close I could see the pores on his long bulbous nose, “I’m the reason you’re alive.”

When I only blinked in response, he stood back straight and let out another horrifying laugh. “Of course you don’t know that. You were basically a newborn when I left you with,” a pause. “those people.” He added in disgust. “By the reports from my men, they trained you well enough. But that’s besides the point. You no longer have to worry about them.” He said with a smile.

“What does that mean?” I asked despite trying to stay silent. The smile spread across his features and I knew he’d gotten what he was after.

“Well, I killed them, of course. They failed when they let you escape.” His smile grew bigger at the clenching of my jaw. I hated those people, but I never wanted them dead.

“And now to the climax,” he said turning to The screen behind him. “Im sorry about this. I had high hopes for you Alpha. Too bad your free will was too much.”

Suddenly I knew I was about to see my parents again. “Wait!” I called out. The man paused and turned.

“Yes?” He asked.

I took three deep breaths. “Please, at least tell me what I am?” I begged. Not stopping the tears now steadily spilling down my face.

He laughed. “Fine. Let’s see, your are a…clone? I’d guess you’d call it. I hate that word but I suppose it’s accurate. When that girl died we harvested what we needed and formed you and your sisters. Some failed. Others didn’t. You were the first and sad to say the biggest failure.” Here he actually looked sad.

“What were we for?” I whisper.

His smile grows again as he leans closers. “To kill.” He whispers. The shocked look on my face causes him to burst into laughter. He’s still laughing as he turns back to the screen. A few buttons are pushed. “Goodbye,” he says still laughing.

I know this is it. I feel my life force draining. I should be scared, but I wasn’t. I had my answers. I was born to be a killer, but I never would be. Yes, I was dying, but I was also finally getting my freedom.