by Matthew Spataro
I can hear the footsteps behind me. The harsh breathing, so familiar yet so wrong, sends chills down my spine. I turn right and dive behind a couple of trash bags, knowing my pursuer is close. The sound grows louder and louder, slapping against the concrete.
It slows, and I stop breathing. I stop moving.
There’s a tiny space, where a scant beam of light shoots through. I watch it, nerves frayed.
The steps get closer, echoing across the alleyway, until finally it stills in front of the small opening. I bite back a scream, scraping my cheek against my teeth. The copper taste distracts me, somewhat.
My eyes are locked on the shoe I can just see: bright red and leather. It scuffs against the dirty pavement. I can hear him press a few buttons.
“Gone,” he says, voice rough and wrong.
‘Or has it always sounded like that…’
“I don’t know,” he tells the other person. There’s a slight pause, and then I can hear him growl. “Listen, I’m going to find him. There’s nowhere he can go I won’t find him. Everything he knows, I know. What he thinks… I’ve already thought.” He hangs up after that, rushing off to another area.
His words stay with me.
I let myself breath again: shallow breaths. I don’t try moving for another five minutes.
I push out of the trash pile, eyes wide and alert. I stick to the alleyway, crouching against walls, looking around every corner.
Crash!
I jump, arms stretched out and ready to strike. The cat blinks at me.
“Get it together, Andy,” I whisper to myself, relaxing slightly. I smile at the cat, reaching out slowly. It sniffs the air and hisses, skittering away.
I bring my hand close and take a big whiff, agreeing with the cat’s assessment.
“Not my freshest idea.”
I keep moving until I hit a convenience store. I pull my jacket tight around me and enter. It’s practically empty, a few teens in the back skimming magazines and a toasted clerk behind the counter.
“Bathroom?”
“Paying customers only.”
I roll my eyes but pay the fee for a stick of gum, scrunching my nose up at his smell. I take the gum and the key and head to the back.
I spend a long time in there. Washing up only took a few seconds, but I spent more time staring at my reflection.
I run dirty fingers through my blond hair, longer than I usually like it. I haven’t had the time to cut it, but I might not. I don’t know if I can look at myself with short hair ever again.
My green eyes are still mine. I have to remind myself every few seconds. Sometimes, when I look, I can’t help but see the harshness I see reflected in his eyes.
“I am Andy Marcus,” I whisper, voice shaky, “I… am Andy Marcus.”
I stare back at my reflection and focus in on a small scar on my chin. I brush my fingers over it, smiling at the memory. To easier days, when I was young, and the world was everything and nothing at all. My dog, Buster, was my steed, and while trying to save the fair princess I was knocked off by the dragon and into a chair.
Five stiches. A mark I’ll carry with me. Only me.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, hold it. 1…2…3…
Breathe out.
“Hey Andy.”
I react too late. My eyes open, and I try to shout. One hand goes to my mouth, the other twisting around my arms. His face is right next to mine.
His short blond hair freshly washed. His green eyes as sharp as steel. His face is devoid of any marks.
My face.
“You gonna check yes?”
I roll my eyes. “Why not,” I say, “I mean, what if my DNA is—like—the perfect match for a cure of some kind. This is the perfect chance to get famous off my bomb-ass genes.”
“You sure?” he says, wiggling the vial between his fingers, “I mean, what if they use your DNA to build—like—a superweapon?”
“You can’t use DNA like that.”
“Well—what if they sell it?”
“Sell it?”
“Yeah,” he says, eyes lighting up, “on the Black Market. And—and the buyers use it to make a clone of you that kills you and takes over your life?”
“Well, if it wants this life,” I laugh, “it can have it.”
“Long time no see,” he sings, grinning from ear to ear. I struggle in his hold, and he shushes me. The air hisses into my ear.
“Now, now,” he says, “is that any way to act around yourself?”
I glare into the mirror and bite down, hard. He yelps, and I turn, grabbing his jacket and pushing him into the mirror. It hits his chin, shattering the mirror into large shards.
“You son of a bitch,” he growls at me, blood leaking down onto his shirt.
“I know you are,” I smirk, reaching for a piece of glass. I hold it against his throat, backing him against the sink. It’s quiet.
Then he starts laughing. Small, at first, then growing to a point.
“What’s so funny?” I growl, pushing the shard further into his neck, a drop of blood forming on the edge.
“This.”
He cocks the gun, aiming it under my own chin. My eyes widen a fraction, but I don’t back up.
“Who’s faster?” he says, still laughing, “me… or me?”
I whistle, walking out of the bathroom with a spring in my step. The store is empty, save for the clerk from before. He looks at me with wide eyes.
“Woah,” he says, “what happened to you?”
“Battled my personal demons,” I shrug, “but I won. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have any gum?”
“Didn’t you already buy some?”
“…Must have lost it in the can.”
He rings me up. I take the gum, and turn, only to stop and look at the clerk with a smile.
“By the way,” I say, “I’m Andy Marcus.” I wave, leaving the clerk behind me. He mutters a ‘weirdo,’ but I do nothing.
“I’m Andy Marcus,” I say again, smiling.
I move out back into the night.
