"Replica03 - Another Amy - Kaye, Marilyn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kaye Marilyn)

As soon as Monica had left, Nancy gave Amy an understanding smile. "It's not easy to keep secrets, is it?"
"No." Nancy was gazing at her searchingly, so Amy added, "I haven't told anyone else, Mom. Just Tasha and Eric."
Nancy nodded, but she let out a small sigh. "I still wish you hadn't told either of them, Amy."
"Tasha and Eric won't ever tell a soul," Amy assured her.
"I know they wouldn't betray you, not consciously," Nancy said. "But one of them could slip up. They're only human."
"And I'm not," Amy muttered.
"Don't say that," Nancy said sharply. "You are human, Amy. You're just . . . well, you're special. And all I'm saying is that sometimes people with the best intentions can say things they don't mean to say."
Nancy was right; Amy knew that. Still, she didn't regret telling her two closest friends her big secret. "I just have to have someone to talk to, someone who can understand why I'm different. I know I've got you, Mom," she added quickly, "and it was okay when I had you and Dr. J. But now he's gone." Her eyes filled up automatically, the way they always did when she remembered the kind man who had been Nancy's boss, the head of Project Crescent and the person who, more than anyone, had understood what made Amy tick. He'd died only a few weeks earlier, and not from natural causes.
Amy fingered her pendant. Dr. Jaleski had created it for herЧmaking jewelry had been his hobby. After his death, his daughter, Mary, had delivered it to Amy. She'd said that her father wanted Amy to have it so she'd never forget who she was. As if she could.
"You are being very careful, aren't you?" Nancy asked anxiously.
"Are you?" Amy countered.
To anyone else's ears, that would have sounded like a very rude retort for a daughter to make to her mother. But Nancy knew what Amy was referring to, and she made a face. "Brad seemed so normal. Better than normal. You can't really blame me for being taken in."
"He had me fooled, too, Mom," Amy said comfortingly. But she gave an involuntary shudder as she recalled Brad Carrington, her mother's ex-boyfriend. He'd been so good-looking and personable. Nancy had met him at an art gallery opening. At the time, it had seemed like a happy accident. Later Nancy and Amy had realized that the encounter must have been planned well in advance. Because in the end, they'd discovered that Amy was Brad's real motivation in his romantic pursuit of Nancy.
He had been one of them, a member of the mysterious government agency that had funded Project Crescent. The scientists involved had thought they were working on a project that would eradicate genetic disorders. Too late they'd learned that their mission was to create a master race of genetically superior humansЧa frightening goal. So the scientists had taken it upon themselves to destroy the project by blowing up their lab. But the secret agency, the organization, still existed, and Brad was connected to it. Amy and Nancy had learned the truth almost too late.
Nancy was clearly thinking along the same lines. She reached out and took her daughter's hand. "You saved my life," she said. "How many mothers can say that to their daughters?"
"You saved my life," Amy pointed out. "So now we're even." The two hugged each other, and Amy knew both of them were hoping they'd never have to save each other again. But that could be wishful thinking. Events had convinced them that the organization didn't believe all the clones had perished in the explosion. They wanted information. They wanted AmyЧor someone just like her.
At least Amy felt pretty certain they wouldn't kill her, not like they'd killed Dr. Jaleski. They wanted her alive.
When her mother released her, Amy let out a yawn.
"Tired?" Nancy asked.
"A little," Amy admitted. "I didn't get much sleep last night."
Concern crossed her mother's face. "Have you been having that dream again?" She didn't need to be any more specific than that. In Amy's nightmare, she was trapped under glass, and there was fire raging all around her. At the last minute, she was rescued. And it was all the more horrifying because it had really happened.
"I haven't had that dream for a while," she told her mother. "Maybe that's because I know what it means now." She yawned again. "I was up late reading," she confessed. "I borrowed a great mystery from Tasha and I can't put it down."
Nancy laughed. "Now, Amy, I know perfectly well that you can read a two-hundred-page book in less than thirty minutes."
"Yeah, but it's more fun to read like a regular person," Amy said. She went to the refrigerator and looked inside. "Can I have a Coke?"
"I suppose so," Nancy said, "but I wish you wouldn't drink so much soda. It's bad for your teeth. Did you know that if you put a perfectly healthy tooth in a glass of cola, it will dissolve in seventy-two hours?"
Amy looked at her mother in exasperation. "Come on, Mom, nothing's going to hurt my teeth." She'd never had a dental problem in her life. She'd never had the measles, the mumps, the chicken pox, the flu . . . she'd never even had a fever. That was the number-one benefit of having been created from the best possible genetic materialЧno illness.
Amy took her Coke upstairs to her room and turned on her computer. She checked her e-mail, even though she wasn't expecting anything, and so wasn't surprised when the mailbox was empty. Still, she had fantasies of someday clicking on the e-mail icon and discovering that someone was looking for her, the way she was looking for other Amys.
When Nancy and the other scientists had decided to destroy Project Crescent, they couldn't bring themselves to destroy the infant clones they had produced. So they'd planned to secretly remove the clones from the laboratory and send them all over the world to be adopted and hopefully brought up by normal parents as normal children, never to know they were different.
Of the twelve Amys, the last to be removed was Number Seven. It was while Number Seven was still in her incubator that the explosive device had gone off prematurely. Nancy Candler had run into the laboratory to save Amy Number Seven. Some sort of emotional bonding had taken place in that rescue, and she'd taken this Amy home to raise as her own.
But Nancy didn't knowЧor at least, she claimed not to knowЧwhere the others were. They were out there somewhere: twelve-year-old girls with brown hair and brown eyes and the mark of a crescent moon like a small tattoo on their right shoulder. Of course, it was impossible to know whether or not they had discovered what they were, the way Amy Number Seven ultimately had.
Amy had seen one of her clones once.
It was during a performance of The Nutcracker by a touring ballet company from France. When Amy had spotted the dancer who played Marie, it had been like looking in a mirror. According to the program, the dancer's name was Annie Perrault.
Amy's attempts to speak to Annie after the performance had failed. Now she didn't want to go too far in her efforts to locate her. Amy knew the organization was aware of her existence. She didn't want to put Annie Perrault in danger, too.

Later that evening, Amy wanted to clear her mind and went for a walk around the complex. As she absently went by Ronald Hurley's house, Amy remembered Eric's request and realized that he was right. She could see directly into the Hurleys' den from the street. In fact, now that she was looking, she recognized the boy just before the light in the room went off. She wouldn't be able to read his computer screen now.
She wasn't sure she even wanted to. The idea of using her skills to spy on some innocent person didn't seem particularly ethical. She had a pretty good feeling she'd end up telling Eric to forget it.
Or maybe she wouldn't have to. With his memory, Eric would more than likely forget he'd even asked her for the favor.


3

On the way to school the next morning, Amy was pleased to note that Eric would not be receiving detention for tardiness that day. She and Tasha were already several blocks from home, but she could distinctly hear Eric yelling, "Bye, Mom," and the slam of the door as he left the house.
"Eric's coming," she announced, knowing that Tasha couldn't have heard anything. Tasha made a gagging sound, her standard response to any mention of her brother's name.
Eric was on the school track team, so he was a pretty fast runner for someone with ordinary genes. It was only a couple of minutes before he caught up with them.
"Are the movie stars going to be there today?" he asked Amy.
"I don't know. The memo didn't say exactly when they were coming."
"What movie stars?" Tasha asked. "What memo?"
Amy told her about seeing the notice coming out of the photocopier in the principal's office the day before. "It's called Middle School Maniac, so I guess it's a horror film. It's funny how many scary movies take place in schools."
"That's because schools are scary places," Eric said. "Most of the movies are about high schools. I've never seen one set in a middle school before."
"They've probably trying to appeal to a younger audience," Tasha decided. "Why didn't you tell me about this last night?"