Speaker 1: The rain had been falling hard for most of the evening,
hammering the wind shield in waves, sweeping sideways. When the
wind picked up, the wipers couldn't keep up. I kept
one hand steady on the wheel while the other balanced
the warm pizza box across my thigh. It had come
from one of those new vending machines set ups. Some
kimmicky start up people had started ordering from. The machines
handled everything order, prep box, and seal. My eyes bounced
between it and the road. I couldn't help wondering what
made this so popular. The car jolted hard over a
speed bump I hadn't seen in the rain, and I
felt something slide off my lap. I looked down. One
of the slices had slipped half way out the box
and landed right across my thigh. I pulled over and
brought the car to a crawl. Glancing down again, my
shirt was soaked in red. I lifted the slice by
the crust, and somehow it looked perfect hardly any saucers
missing from the surface. The rest of it must have
been some excess pulling at the bottom of the box.
It didn't smell like pizza, though, I couldn't tell exactly
what The liquid on me smelled like some weird oil
they used. The sauce hadn't changed the slice's appearance. I
pushed it back in with the others. It looked perfect
to me, so I figured the customers wouldn't complain. I
wiped my fingers against the side of the seat and
closed the box again. I pulled up to the curb
outside the modest two story house, headlights cutting through the
sheets of rain. The windows were forged from the inside.
I grabbed the box, stepped out, shielding it from the
downpoor as best I could, and jogged up to the walkway.
I rang the bell. A second later, a muffled voice
called out from inside Sweet Tea. Just like we practiced,
go get the pizza delivery. The door clicked open. A
little girl stood in the doorway, about seven years old.
Her hair was tied in two loose puffs, pulled back evenly.
One front tooth was missing. She wore a pink hoodie
she'd scribbled on with permanent marker. My arms went slack.
It was my sister. I stepped back once with an
audible gasp, staring. She tilted her head a little and
gave gave me a tiny shrug. Humm. I blinked. The
rain was cold against my collar. My arms moved on
the roan and passed it over. She took it without question,
said thank you with a smile, and shut the door.
I kept standing there, staring at the closed door. That
was her, I was in imagining it. It wasn't someone
who looked similar or reminded me of her. It was her,
from the chipped nail polish on her fingers to the
way she rocked forward slightly on her toes before closing
the door. I bagged down the steps slowly and got
into the car, my hands trembling as they found the
steering wheel. The wet fabric of my shirt clung tighter now,
and I noticed fresh red smears on the upholstery where
I sat. I stared at the house through the windshield.
What the hell did I just see? It was in
a resemblance That was her. I tried forcing logic back
into my head. Maybe she was spending the weekend of
a friend's place and I just delivered to her without
either of us registering what was happening. She could have
been distracted, still, she had stared right into my face,
and I saw no familiarity in her eyes. Surely my
sister would have recognized me. My brain kept whirring in
my head like I'd missed something massive. I gript the
steering wheel harder and muttered to myself. I reached for
my phone and diled my mom If anyone knew where
my sister was, it would be her. It rang, then
rang again. I tapped my foot and looked up at
the house. I hung up, then called again. Still nothing.
My leg bounced harder. I felt the wet fabric shift
under me, sticking to my skin. I leaned my head
back and stared at the ceiling of the car, whispering,
come on, pick up. I dropped the phone onto the
passenger seat and stared at it, then out the window,
then back at the house. This is insane, I said,
under my breath. I can't believe I'm about to do this.
I popped the door and stepped out into the rain.
I didn't go straight to the front door. I walked
around to the side of the house, following the edge
of the hedges until I found a spot where a
curtain and didn't fully cover the window. My shoes were
soaked every step squished, and the cold water crawled up
past my ankles. I just needed to see, just a peek.
I leaned in, squinting through the glass. The inside of
the window was foggy, but I could still make it
out there. I saw my sister again, sitting cross legged
on the carpet with a book spread out in front
of her. But I also noticed my dad sitting at
the table, focused on a newspaper. What looked to be
my mom, No, what was definitely my mom scrolled on
a phone across from him. She was on a phone
right now, but she hadn't picked up my call. The
TV was on low volume, with some cartoon humming in
the background. I pressed my palm flat against the window
and stared harder. That was them, all of them, But
it couldn't be. They were supposed to be at home.
What were they doing here? And if they weren't my family,
who the hell were they? Was there a doppleganger of
me as well? A sound cut through the air so
sharp and sudden I almost fell backward. The dog slammed
against the window, snarling, teeth bared. I hadn't even noticed
her in the room, but now she was up against
the glass, her tail stiff and ears pinned. I stumbled back,
slipping slightly in the wet grass, then turned and ran.
I didn't look back until I was in the car,
slamming the door shut and locking it. It was our
family dog, but I thought she had run away months ago.
My chest heaved, my hands trembled, and the steering wheel.
I drove the whole way home. I tried talking, sensing
to myself, they're just visiting someone, that's all it is.
I don't know. Maybe I forgot. Maybe they told me
and I tuned out. I forced out a laugh. They
don't have to tell me everything. I kept talking, but
the feeling didn't leave. Something was wrong, Something was deeply,
irreversibly wrong. As I pulled into the driveway, the street
lights cast long streaks across the wet road. My parents'
car was already there, sitting where it always did, angled
slightly toward the garage with a front bomperdent I'd seen
a thousand times. I sat for a moment, then stepped
out into the cold and walked up to the door.
The moment I opened it, I saw something. I set
alarm bells off in my head. My dad sneakers with
the grass stains around the soles, my mom's worn flat
and my sister's light velcrows. I shut the door behind
me and called out Mom, no answer, Dad, You're home.
I swallowed hard and moved deeper into the house, each
step slower than the last. I passed the living room
and the kitchen. I turned down the hall and the
master bedroom. The door was shut, but I could hear
the quiet hummer a space eater coming from inside. I
pushed it open just enough to see through the gap.
There were three shapes under the covers, one large figure
on the side, another in the middle, and a smaller
one near the edge. I shut the door gently. So
they'd been here all along, but I'd just seen them.
I'd watched them sitting together at the other house. I
know I hadn't imagined it. But if it wasn't my family,
then who the hell was at the other place. My
thoughts scrambled for answers, but every path hit a wall. Clones,
skin walkers, shape shifters. I wasn't superstitious, but I had
read stories. But those were fiction, weren't they. I lay
with my eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling fan
slowly turning above me. My clothes were still damp with
rain and sauce, and I hadn't changed. I hadn't even
turned off the bedroom light. There was no sleep coming.
I had so many questions I needed answered. I tried
going over every detail. I thought maybe I'd exaggerated it.
I told myself, people can resemble each other more than
you think that. My mind had filled in the gaps
because I was stressed or overworked. But the more I
ran through it, the more certain I became. I didn't
get it wrong. I'd seen my sister. I rolled over
and looked at the clock, and it was still early,
just before five. I got up and grabbed my keys.
I needed to see again, I needed proof. I parked
across the street from the house and killed the engine.
The windows were still dark. The porch light had shut
off with the first rays of sunlight. I reclined slightly
in the seat and waited. Minutes passed, maybe more than
an hour. Then the front door opened. My mom stepped
out first, coats slung over one arm, digging in a
purse for keys. My sister followed behind her, wearing her
school uniform. This couldn't be a coincidence. Now I was
certain the exact same uniform. No way. They got into
their car, and I watched as my mother started driving.
I didn't even realize i'd started the ignition until I
was already following them. I followed them across town, keeping
two cars back so I wouldn't be noticed. They pulled
into the lot of West Grove Elementary, my sister's school.
I recognized the mural on the front wall and the
big plastic tiger near the entrance. I parked across the
street and watched. My mom stepped out first, guiding my
sister with a hand on her back. She adjested her coat,
glanced both ways, and crossed towards the front door. My
sister skipped behind her, bouncing at the sidewalk's edge. They
laughed about something before heading through the main entrance. I
stayed frozen behind the wheel. My hands were locked around it, stiff.
This was really happening. I couldn't wait any more. I
got out and crossed the street. The security officer at
the door didn't stop me. I walked through the main
entrance and straight toward the front desk. The woman sitting
there looked up and offered a polite smile that disappeared
as soon as she saw me. Can I help you,
she asked, voice cautious. I'm trying to find my mom
and sister. They just came in. I saw them walk
through the doors. She hesitated, glanced toward the interior hall,
then back to me. There's a parent student event going
on this morning, a lot of families, I hear right now.
Do you know what classroom they were going to? I
shook my head. I just I need to talk to them.
I'm sure they're here. I saw them come in. Her
eyes flicked down to my shirt. Her lips parted like
she was about to ask something, then stopped herself instead.
She pointed to a small cluster of chairs by the entrance.
You can sit and wait there, if you'd like. I sat.
The seat creaked beneath me, and the smell of industrial
carpet and disinfectant hit my nose. I rested my arms
on my knees and tried to quiet my breathing. My
head ached from how hard I've been clenching my jaw.
The woman at the desk glanced at me again, then
stood and stepped closer, her voice lower, Sorry to bother you,
but what is that on your shirt? I looked down.
The red stains were still smeared across the front, and
sleeves thicker near the bottom. I'd forgotten all about it, Sauce,
I muttered, had a delivery incident. It's nothing, She nodded, unsure.
I leaned back and rubbed my eyes. My thoughts spun
without direction. What was the point of all of this?
Why were these copies even targeting my family specifically? And
more importantly, when was I going to see my own copy?
I was so deep in my train of thought that
I hadn't noticed the flood of parents and children that
had spilled into the front lobby. I got up in
a trance, looking around while tiptoeing trying to find the two.
Then I saw them, my mom guiding my sister by
the hand. They were headed for the exit, her purse
over one shoulder. I had to try calling out to them, ma'am,
I shouted. It didn't seem like they heard me, but
I couldn't quite tell because I was interrupted by a
hand landing on my shoulder. You're right, man, I turned
to see a security guard standing next to me, I
scanning me from head to toe, I haked my arm free.
I'm fine, I just need to talk to them. They
didn't hear me. The guard opened his mouth, probably about
to suggest I calmed down, wait or sign something. I
didn't give him the chance. I stormed out the front door.
The car had already started moving. I sprinted across the lot,
jumped into mine, and cranked the ignition. My tires screeched
against the wet road as I pulled out and began
tailing them. They pulled into the driveway and parked. I
stayed on the opposite side of the street, ducked low
behind my steering wheel. My mom stepped out and my
sister followed. The front door opened and my dad appeared
in his work uniform. I was on the cusper, losing
my mind. Every time I tried rationalizing what was happening,
I got hit with another slap in the face. He smiled,
walked down the steps, wrapped my mom in a brief hug,
kissed the forehead, and knelt and patted the dog barreling
out behind him. They all walked inside together, the door
shut behind them. I stared at the house with my
hands frozen. At ten and two, I had seen them
all of them but me. The sun had begun to dip.
By the time the front door opened again, I had
been watching for hours, parked down the street, barely blinking.
My legs were sore from sitting. My stomach had long
since given up asking for food. They all stepped out
of the house together. My mom locked the door behind her,
dropped the keys into a purse, and got into the car.
They pulled away without a glance behind them. I waited
until they turned the corner. Then I stepped out of
my car. I passed the front door and rounded the house,
stepping over weeds and bits of rotted mulch. My hand
trembled as I reached for the back door. I tried
twisting the handle, but it was locked. I stepped back,
scanned the area, found a rock near the edge of
the fence, and hefted it with both hands. My breath
was fast. I raised it and smashed it through the
back window. Glass scattered across the linonium. I cleared the
sharp edges of my forearm, climbed in and landed with
a thud in the kitchen. The moment I landed, I
heard a growl. She stood at the end of the hallway.
Ears pulled tight, tail still, her front paw lifted an
inch off the floor, her body stiff. Hey, I whispered,
it's me. You remember me, right? She growled louder, hackles raised.
It's me, girl, it's me. The dog lunged forward, barking
with a snarl that echoed down the hallway. He barely
managed to raise my arm before she collided with me,
her teeth snapping at my forearm. I twisted and showed
with all my weight, throwing her sideways into the wall.
She yelped as she hid the ground hard. She didn't
move after that, but I checked her chest, still breathing.
I pushed into the living room and tried to steady
my breathing. I moved through the house room by room,
turning over drawers, peeling open photo albums, and flipping through paperwork.
The diplomas were on the wall. Their wedding photo sat
crooked on the dresser. I opened my sister's closet. Her
clothes were exactly as I remembered them. I checked the
drawings taped to a wall in my parents room. I
rifled through the drawers one by one until I hit
the one near the bottom. It stuck a little. When
I pulled it, swollen from humidity. I yanked harder. A
stack of old text documents and receipts billed forward. Beneath them,
Wrapped in a hand towel was a revolver. I unwrapped
it and turned it in my hands. The chamber was empty.
I had come here and prepared if I was about
to meet a group of skin walkers and monsters. I
realized then that I needed a way to defend myself
at the very least. I kept searching, and eventually I
found a box of rounds beneath a row of passports
and family records. I loaded the cylinder, clicking each bullet
into place. Six rounds. I sat on the couch and
stared at the hallway where the dog lay. I just
wanted to end it. I wanted someone to tell me
why this was happening. It was dark by the time
their headlights swept across the wall of the living room.
I turned every light off. I sat in silence, revolver
resting in my lap, heart steady. Now I had been
waiting so long that the silence had begun to settle
around me like furniture. The car door slam shut. The
front door unlocked, swung open, and they entered together, chatting
about something casual. Then they saw the dog. The laughter stopped.
My mom dropped her purse. They ran forward, crouching down,
reaching for her. My sister gasped and pressed herself against
the wall. That's when I stepped forward from the hallway.
They turned as one. I lifted the revolver and cocked it.
They froze. My dad raised his hands slowly. My mom
didn't move. My sister stared at me with her eyes
wide and wet. I didn't blink. Who are you? We
all asked at the same time. I didn't answer, and
they didn't either. I waved the gun around. I asked
the questions. I corrected my posture. Why are you copying
my family? Still nothing? I saw you all here, I said.
I delivered that stupid Peter here and saw my little
sister and my entire family in this home. But I
saw them my family back home, lying in bed. So
who are you people? Why is there no copy of me?
Am I not good enough? My voice cracked at the end,
but I swallowed it back. You're not them. My dad
started to say something low and even don't, I said,
don't start acting now. I reached into my coat pocket
and pulled out the roll of duct tape i'd brought
from the kitchen drawer. I tossed it across the room.
He bounced once, then stopped near my dad's foot. Start
tying all of you arms, legs. Don't test me. My
sister started crying. My mom didn't move and to my dad.
Knelt and began wrapping her wrist, muttering that everything was
going to be fine, that they'd do what I said.
He woked quickly, quietly, barely looking up. He bound her
ankles next, then moved to my sister, who flinched with
every motion. I tied my father's wrists myself. You're coming
with me, I said, We're going to see the real ones,
the originals. My dad looked up at me, confusion twisting
into fear. I'm going to get my answers. I marched
them outside. The street was empty. I had them walk
in a line, slow and careful. My finger never left
the trigger. I opened the door of the car and
shoved them into the back seat, one at a time.
My sister sat in the middle, wedged between them. Their
faces were tight with panic. My dad tried whispering something
to her. I told him to shut up. I got
behind the wheel and started the engine. I drove toward
my house. My fingers tightened and the wheel with every mile.
My throat was dry and the weight of the revolver
pressed against my thigh. I kept my eyes flickering between
the road and the mirror. We pulled into the driveway.
My hands were shaking on the wheel, slick with sweat,
even though the night air had turned cold. I left
the engine running and stepped out first, keeping the revolver
low but steady. Out I said, voice dry, come on,
let's go. The dad shuffled out of the car slowly.
His hands were still taped, arms held away from his sides,
like he thought any movement might set me off. He
looked at the house for a second, then at me. Look,
he said, trying to meet my eyes. Please just think
about this. You don't have to do any of this.
This is a mistake. You're confused. I can tell I
didn't say anything. He kept going, breath picking up. You said,
we are copies, doppelgangers. What if that's not what this is?
What if you just mix something up? We walked toward
the front steps. I was right behind him. Ah, he stuttered,
if I'm a copy? What's my name? I stopped walking.
The question buzzed in my head, dull and ugly. His name.
I should be easy, I'd said it a thousand times.
I opened my mouth. Your name is? He defensively raised
his arms, awaiting an answer. I raised the gun again.
Shut up, just shut up. You're about to meet them.
Him down the hallway. Every light in the house was off.
I didn't bother with the switches. I just I wanted
to get this over with. They're in there, I said,
the real ones you'll see, and when you do, I
want to hear you say it. I want you to
admit you're a copy. He didn't speak. I reached for
the master bedroom door and pushed it open with a
barrel of the gun. It creaked. The air inside was thicker, warmer. Somehow,
my family was still in there, sleeping. I stepped in
first and flipped the light switch, and then I stopped breathing.
The sheets were stained, dark red splotches soaked through the
fabric and crusted it around the edges. The man behind
me led out a soft, hoarse sound. Why he said,
voice breaking, why are you showing me this? I looked
at him. I didn't speak. I raised the gun and
shot him once in the chest. He dropped to his knees, gasping.
Then I stepped forward, placed the barrel against his head,
then fired again. His body fell sideways under the carpet.
I stood there for a while still. There was noise
in my ears and fan word above us. I didn't
say anything. I just turned around and walked back toward
the door. The rain had returned by the time I
stepped back outside. It drifted over the street in soft sheets,
thin and consistent, slipping into the collar of my shirt.
As I crossed the yard, the sidewalk glistened beneath the
street light, puddles gathering in the same uneven cracks that
had always been there. I walked toward the car with
the revolver down at my side. My mom sat rigid,
mouth sealed beneath the tape, eyes locked on the door
of the house. The sister sat next to her, shoulders trembling,
hands pinned in a lap with the tape still tied
across a wrist. Their faces were red from crying. They
had seen the flashes through the window. They knew. I
stood there for a moment. No one said anything. I
opened the driver's side door and looked at them. My
mom's eyes flicked to mine. Her head shook slightly just once.
I raised the gun and fired. The bullets struck her
just beneath the left eye. Her head jerked back and
smack the seat with a dull thud. Blood sprayed the
inside of the window and rolled in slow streaks down
the side of her cheek. My sister screamed against the tape.
She writhed sideways, twisting as far as the restraints let
her move. Her knees kicked to the dashboard. She tried
to turn away. I walked around the car. Her eyes
met mine through the side window. I opened the passenger door.
She tried to speak, her voice caught behind the lays
of tape and panic. I raised the gun again and
fired twice into her chest. Her body slammed back against
the seat, then folded sideways. The screams stopped. Blood soaked
through a shirt, soaking into the seat be lower. One
of her arms dropped loose at the elbow, limp over
the edge of the cushion. I stood there, staring at
the mess for a long time. My arm trembled beneath
the weight of the gun. I let it drop to
my side and stepped back from the car, breathing through
my mouth. The rain hadn't let up. I turned and
walked back inside. My shoes left a trail across the
tiles in the entryway. The copper smell inside had grown stronger.
It crawled into my nose, into my throat, and settled there.
I sat down on the couch. The revolver clacked as
I placed it on the table in front of me.
I leaned back and stared at the wall. My hands
rested in my lap. I could still feel the recail
in my fingers. Minutes passed, maybe more, and then far
off I heard sirens. They were coming. I looked at
the revolver again. One shot left.