The Clones Apart

A Story by Joe Feely

Somewhere in the future the 509th Clone Airborne infantry embarks on a mission in Lebanon. Two clones decide to break away from the mission to find freedom from their lives as clones.

The Clones Apart

Twenty- seven. That was the number. The number of men that had already died in our battalion. I repeated it in my mind again. Twenty- seven. It burned. We all looked around at each other. We were in a Phantomcaster-29 air plane, ready to drop down below to the sandy shoreline beneath us. Everyone was probably dwelling on that number. Who will be next? Who will be number twenty-eight, twenty- nine or thirty! It didn’t matter anyways. If we came back alive the doctors would eradicate us. The longer we stayed alive in battle the longer we lived. The intercom to the plane turned on, a green flashing light flickered next to the audio box. The pilot tells us to take position. We all do a second parachute check, tighten our boots and check over all our weaponry supplies. We were ready to go. All of us on the plane arranged ourselves in a single file line. The soldier in the way front, PR-1126, looked out the plane’s opening at the beach below. He pauses, clenches his fists and nods his head to the rest of us. He jumps from the plane. Everyone else does the same. I look back once at the men behind me and salute them as I drop into the free air beneath me. This was the best part of being part of the airborne division of the 509th Clone Infantry. It was that minute of complete solitude you get between the plane and the ground below you. This was the time where I would think. Think back to my time in jumping school. Think back to the cloning facility and my sweet old nurse who took care of me every day until I was sent off to the army. I would think about the testing they did on me. All the pictures they showed me followed by a word. They rammed in so much knowledge into me in such little time. I remember looking at the tourists who would come by every Saturday to have a peak around the cloning facility. They were known as the superiors. We were separated by glass walls. They looked at us during testing, physical exercise or even during medical surgery. We were like zoo animals to them.

I pulled my parachute and landed in the white sand. I shielded my eyes as a cloud of sand evaded from the ground and into the air. I looked around. The ocean was vast. So wide open. So free. I knew I couldn’t dwell on little things like that. I had a mission to complete. I packed up my parachute and fitted my helmet on. I looked around and saw PR-1121 waving to me, hidden from the other clones, from behind a couple of palm trees and jungle plants. I nodded back and jogged to him. He told me to get down because we wouldn’t want to be spotted by the other clones. Me and PR- 1121 have known each other for years. We went way back. We met in our early testing stages in one of the clone socializing rooms. We both had that sense of freedom in our grasps. We both felt constricted and wanted to be free.

PR-1121 pulled out a map and told me that were on a shoreline some where in Kaldah, Lebanon and that we could get to Beirut city in a day or two if we kept up a constant pace. I asked him how safe it was. He was unsure, but he was determined to be free and live a normal life away from the other clones even if it meant risking is own. He went over a couple things before we departed from the shoreline and the rest of our squad who were on a bomb recovery mission. He gave me my new name for when we reach Beirut, Aban and his would be Gabir. He also did some research about superiors and found out that there are natural born clones of superiors called identical twins. He told me that if anyone asks about our relation that I would say we are identical twins. We headed out into the forest leading off of the shoreline.

It was hours before we rested for the first time. PR-1121 kept on moving. I could barely keep up with him. It was our gear that was slowing us down. We both decided to remove it and pull out our jeans and t-shirt we were given for casual wear. We only took a knife and a hand gun with us. Risk of failing this mission grew as we went deeper into the forest. I could feel it. Everywhere you went in this forest you could hear strange noises and see things moving in the distance. The ground was moist, soaking my clothing. I was wet, cold, cut up and exhausted. Hours past, bugs persisted to bite and sting. It started to rain and lightning cracked in the sky. PR-1121 yelled and grew frustrated. He fell to the ground and began stabbing his knife into it repeatedly. We heard men talking and we quickly turned our heads. Everything grew silent. PR-1121 pulled his knife from the ground and slowly got up while pulling out his hand gun. We heard the voices again. They were speaking in Arabic. Then out of the darkness of the forest came running five Lebanese soldiers with red army berets fitted on their heads and dark green outfits covering them from neckline below. They yelled the word “Americans” in Arabic as they ran towards us. They all had Phantom- built two handed guns. They told us to set our weapons down on the ground. We both crouched slowly with our hand guns and gently set them on the ground, except PR-1121 still slightly gripped his. I looked into his eyes. He wasn’t going to give up his chance of freedom. Not yet. He shot a bullet at one of soldiers legs. They collapsed. Suddenly all hell broke loose as gunfire lit up the forest. I drew my knife and tackled a soldier to the ground, plunging its blade into his shoulder and ripping it down to his chest. PR-1121 shot another man down. We took cover behind a boulder as the other two men reloaded their guns. I peeked up from behind the rock and ducked quickly as a bullet nearly missed my head. They started to walk towards the boulder. PR-1121 ran out and got shot once in the left shoulder. He staggered a bit, but then ran at full speed towards one of the soldiers. He grabbed the soldier by the back of his jacket and threw him into the other soldier. The other soldier let fire to quickly and shot down the thrown man. He was bewildered and started to panic. PR-1121 nodded to me. I took out my gun and shot the panicked soldier once in the back. All five soldiers down. I was badly bruised and PR-1121 was shot with a broken thumb and two missing teeth.
We were greatly aware of our surroundings after that attack. We were filthy. Our shirts were covered in blood and our jeans were ripped almost up to our knees. We could no longer just run into Beirut in our condition. We stripped down to our under clothing. Even though we would be half naked, at least we could say we got mugged and not have to create some elaborate story for splattered blood all over our clothing. We headed forward through the forest. PR-1121 had moments where he would pause, grasp his shoulder where the bullet was and then keep moving on. He was losing blood quickly. He decided to take his shirt and use it as a bandage for the wound, but the cloth was quickly soaked and dripping with blood in less than an hour. He started to collapse again as we kept on moving forward. I decided to get under his arm and walk with him, his blood from his shoulder running down my skin. It was warm and coming out fast. We had no idea how to stop it. At one point he told me to place him down. I rested him against an old dead tree in the forest. I removed the cloth and looked at the bullet wound. It was deep and blood gushed out of it like a dying fountain. He looked at me. I looked back at him, our faces were the same. It was like watching myself die.

After an hour or so he spoke and said to me that we have failed. He grew angry again and slammed his fist on the ground. He then started to cough and began to breath heavily. He spoke again in a dying voice, fading in and out. He said to me that we lost. He told me that we’re only just clones that we’re built for the army. We couldn’t live a real life. Nothing unique about us. I grew angry at him. Tears filled my eyes. I told him to not talk that way. I said that I feel we are close to Beirut. He responded back and just kept on repeating over and over in a hush voice that we’ve failed. I listened to those hurtful words. How could we of failed this mission? I laid my head down on the moist soil next him. We both looked into the shadows of the forest. We were both ready to die together in this forest. This was the closest we would probably ever get to freedom. We spent hours together under that dead tree. The forest grew even darker as the night lengthened. Suddenly a light shined through the blackened forest. It was an extremely bright light. Could it be a helicopter? A car? A person? I looked over to PR-1121. He looked back at me. His head fell and his eyes closed. He was dead. Gone. The light faded away. I started to tear up again. I grew angry. More angry than I’ve ever been. I swore I would kill the superiors. I ran fast and strong, tackling my way through the thick jungle leaves, vines and branches. My sweat combined with my tears. Blood ran down my face as thorns and loose branches cut my skin. I ran for what seemed like hours, but was only a matter of minutes. I finally stopped. I reached a ledge with a drop off of a couple hundred feet. There was something different. I could hear a whining noise. Mosquito? I looked up and saw an ambulance rush by on a paved road. A road? A road! I looked up and saw the city of Beirut. There it was. Freedom.