Free Hybrid Zone Recognition by C.E. Glines Page B

that he was going, and odd that they thought it took an SUV full of Clones to accompany me to the airport. They either held the belief that I was tougher than I actually was, or they were expecting trouble. I kind of thought it had to be the latter.
    As I reached the top of the ramp, I paused and looked around. The swamps were gone, but that didn’t tell me much. In my estimation, we had driven about six hours. Six hours in any direction and still managed to end up in the middle of nowhere. For all I knew, they could have gone in circles the entire time. It didn’t look like Houston, but it could have been. Houston zoning was weird.
    Not recognizing a single thing settled it. I had no idea where we were. I didn’t really think I would pursue an escape plan, but it would help to know where I was, if the need arose.
    My shadow suddenly grew much larger, and I knew without turning that my Clone was behind me. In response to the ever so strategic clearing of his throat, I muttered, “I’m going,” and stepped onto the plane.
    “Swanky,” I said, clasping my hands together in front of me. To no one in particular, I said, “So, what’s on the breakfast menu, and please point me in the direction of the bathroom.”
    “Last door on the right,” said a pleasant voice from what I did not think was a flight attendant. She wore no uniform to speak of, no sun glasses, and her suit wasn’t even black. Like me, she had blond hair, which she had pulled up in a bun, and her eyes were blue. She even looked a lot like me. I found that to be the slightest bit creepy.
    In response to my staring, she lifted both her eyebrows, the universal equivalent of asking “what?”
    I smiled and walked past her to the bathroom. My Clone, who had brushed past me already, had taken a position just over the wing. Someone had read the safety reports.
    I finished my necessities and was happy to see a tray filled with breakfast goodies at a table directly across the plane from my Clone. The look alike, non flight attendant woman was nowhere in sight, which left only me and my Clone in the immediate vicinity of the food. Since he hadn’t bothered to claim it, I assumed it was for me. If I was wrong, I’d still rather eat now and make apologies later.
    There was the possibility that the food could be drugged, but it seemed unlikely. If they were going to pursue that route, they would have done it in the beginning, when escaping had the greatest likelihood of success. There wasn’t much escape to be had at thirty thousand feet up, if you excluded parachutes, which I did. If it came down to that, they could just shoot me. There was absolutely no possibility of me willingly jumping out of this plane.
    Without further delay, I sat down and commenced eating. In the five minutes it took to clear the tray, we were wheels up. There was no greeting from the pilot, and I didn’t even get a safety lecture.
    But I wasn’t left completely on my own. There was my Clone, of course, and my unexpected twin had returned and taken a seat across from me at the table. She was perusing a report of some kind, waiting for me to finish.
    Although I had eaten everything on the tray, including the token grapes, I was still hungry and began to scope around for more.
    “I can get you another tray,” my look alike offered.
    I liked to give people labels, especially when they didn’t offer an alternative. Maybe it was a scientist thing. Miranda said it was just me being neurotic. Being that she herself was neurotic, she should know.
    “You could be my new best friend,” I said, secretly hoping I wouldn’t need one.
    When she left to get my seconds, I crossed the isle and scooted in next to Clone Number One. “Did Miranda and my truck make it back to Houston okay?” I asked him.
    My question didn’t even rate a head turn. His delay in responding allowed me to study him closely. Now that I could see him in the daylight, I made a very astute scientific observation. He was