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Clone Chronicles

I’m an international, multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in my head. As a singer, songwriter, independent filmmaker and improv teacher and performer, my life has always been about creating and sharing what I create with others. Now that my dream to write for a living is a reality, with over a hundred titles in happy publication and no end in sight, I live in beautiful Prince Edward Island, Canada, with my giant cats, pug overlord and overlady and my Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn. CLONE THREE: BOOK ONE The fate of the world lies in the hands of a clone who can't remember anything... "Clone Three." The old man's voice is a softly echoing sound, volume and pitch altering as he speaks, as if over a great distance. "Pay attention, dear. Final instructions." Is he talking to me? He must be. His holographic eyes seem to be meeting mine, he looks at me with great expectation. And yet as I lie here and begin to regain sensation and control, I realize I not only have no idea where I am, what I'm doing here. I haven't a clue who I am. Clone Three wakes in a decaying city she is sure doesn't match the one she came from. If only she could remember. She has a purpose at least--she must find her fellow clones and the statue whose image is embedded in her mind. But she is lost, surrounded by a dead and crumbling metropolis, fought over by those who have been altered by the illness that has ravaged humankind, turning survivors into strange and terrible new forms. She must risk everything, including the safety of those who try to help her, in order to fulfill her task. But is she this crumbling world's salvation... or the source of its downfall? Don't miss the exciting sequels! Clone Two and Clone One are now available!

Patti Larsen · Sci-fi
Not enough ratings
125 Chs

Chapter 39: The Train

The sun is coming up by the time we emerge from underground. I glance at Vander, concerned. I know he, like other Brights, is photosensitive, but he smiles at me, pulling on a pair of gloves and jerking his ball cap down over his face. A scarf covers the lower half, wrapped around his neck while sunglasses shield his eyes.

"I'll be fine," he says. "I've done this before, remember?"

I have to trust he knows what he's doing.

I glance back over my shoulder at the exit. We are far from where we started, a long tunnel slowly leading upward releasing us through a well-hidden portal onto the side of a road. Emile stops at the exit, waves, forlorn. Someone had to stay behind and though I know Socrates plans to leave the others in her care, I now wonder how hard it will be for her to say goodbye.

Socrates squints into the dawn, looking around, finally points. "Perfect," he says. "Follow me."