Free Project Cain by Geoffrey Girard Page B

the guys at Massey had only been told they were at Massey for these issues. They were really there because they were clones.
    As for me, they didn’t tell me I had any of the issues above but said I had to go to Massey because I still had physiological issues connected to my “car accident.” Just another version of the same lie.
    In any case, every so often I went in so my dad’s colleagues could give me tests, take scans of my brain, and so on. Like the stuff with the other kids. They made us do corny stuff like play Monopoly with uneven starting bankrolls or act out stories based on pictures of people they showed us. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Didn’t realize I was just some lab rat in jeans. I was usually just glad to get out of the house and see some other kids.
    Sometimes it was kids like Ted.
    I’d tried to explain to Castillo what it was about this guy. It was the way he looked at you. The arrogance. That damn phony smirk. Like you were just one of the mice, and he was the cat. Always toying with you. He’d call you a faggot or worse, and then ten seconds later throw an arm around you and say something like: “You know I’m just kidding, man. You’re cool.” Crap like that. All the time. PRETENDING to be nice in a way that always made me want to scream because I knew he wanted to hurt me in every possible way. But I didn’t scream or complain or tell on him, and not because I was afraid he’d kick my ass. I didn’t because I thought it would eventually stop.
    It never did.
    Hey, Jeffrey!
    I looked across the unrecognizable space between us. Terra-nothing.
    What? I asked.
    He stood in the dream with his arms crossed, nodded like we were pals. Equals. His hair was dark and neat. His T-shirt was stained. Blood-red.
    Guess what we’re doing right now , he said.
    I told him I didn’t care. Didn’t want to know.
    There’s this family in Maryland , he told me.
    I told him to go away. I thought: Please, please, please go away.
    The mom is real pretty , he said. But she’s with Henry now.
    I could see shadows moving behind him. I heard distant screams.
    Why don’t you come with us? he said.
    Why?
    To have fun, he said. Fun, fun, fun. He rubbed his crotch crudely.
    I told him to just leave me alone.
    Ted came closer.
    But the face wasn’t Ted’s anymore. It had become something else. Like a shadow. Another black face melding with his. Blurring the appearance I knew into something else. Something more skull-like, more monstrous. Its jaws protruding toward me, narrowing.
    Come on, Jeffrey, it said . You know what you are.
    I turned to run, but Ted, or the thing that had been Ted moments before, was still in front of me. Stop pretending to be Jeffrey Jacobson , it said. Cut off a dog’s tail, and it’s still a dog. I’ll say it again, man. You know what you are.
    Go away. Please go away.
    What’s bred in the blood will come out in the flesh.
    The last voice had not been Ted’s. It had been my dad’s.
    We’re going to find you, I said. I couldn’t look anymore.
    Something laughed. I don’t know who, so don’t even ask.
    What was that you said, Jeffrey?
    We’re going to find you, I shouted. Castillo is. We’re going to stop you.
    Now, why on Earth would you want to do that? the single voice (Ted’s, the dark thing’s, my dad’s) asked. You’re one of us, Jeffrey.
    I looked back. The face wasn’t Ted’s anymore, or the black thing’s, or even my dad’s.
    It was MY face. Jeffrey Dahmer’s face.
    Staring back at me in reflection.
    My face smiling. A thin trail of blood trickled slowly down my chin.
    •  •  •
    I jolted awake.
    Are you OK?
    I heard a new voice—Castillo’s—and I turned to it. He was still sitting at the desk.
    I realized only then that I was standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Staring at the mirror, in fact.
    Castillo said I’d zoned out or something, asked again if I was OK.
    I moved straight to his desk.
    Castillo tensed, unsure what I was