Prototype: A Novel - Softcover

Waters, M. D.

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0142181560 ISBN 13: 9780142181560

Verlag: Penguin US, 2014

Inhaltsangabe

From a writer to whom comparisons to Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale and S.J. Watson's Before I Go To Sleep are justified" ( Library Journal), in Prototype, a woman's dual pasts lock onto a collision course

Emma looks forward to the day when she can stop running from her past - both of them. But when Declan Burke decides he wants his wife back, there's nowhere on the planet she can hide. One man could help her, but he's the person Emma most dreads confronting: Noah Tucker. When she finally returns to face him, Emma discovers that Noah has moved on and another woman is raising their daughter.

Emma will stop at nothing to reveal the truth and prove she isn't the woman they thought she was. Even if it means she winds up dead. Or worse, reborn.

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Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

M. D. WATERS is the author of Archetype. She lives in Maryland.

M. D. WATERS is the author of Archetype. She lives in Maryland.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

CHAPTER 1

I float in nothing.

The tether binding my incorporeal form keeps me from floating into the abyss that is arctic and as black as pitch. The restraint is also fragile. One wrong move and I will have nothing to hold me.

Wake up, Emma. It is only a dream.

Not a dream, though. My worst nightmare.

The abyss I float in threatens death.

• • •

I shoulder through the thick crowd of men, clinging to the straps of my backpack. Sweat streams down my spine. Gusts of wind have pulled strands of hair free from my knotted bun and they stick to my neck. Dust clouds the area, kicked up by children playing to the side of the uneven cobbled road and by the marching of heavy military boots. Militia patrol Zirahuén’s street market to thwart any trouble in the otherwise friendly haggling system.

I keep my head down and sunglasses on to avoid eye contact. Any sign of interest on my part makes men too aggressive, too hands-on. It did not take me long to learn this in the year and four months that I have been free. Not every country’s government is regimented to the slavery of women like the eastern half of America is, but that does not mean women are not wanted.

Needed, actually.

I keep my wedding ring—the ring Declan Burke gave me in the weeks before he died—on a chain around my neck. Sliding the set of diamonds on my finger has saved me multiple times. If men believe I am married, most tend to back off out of respect for my “husband.”

The ring is the last of the jewelry I took from my old home, and I hate to part with it, but it is time. I am nearly out of money and have nothing to show for it. In the year I have searched for my parents, I have come up with only one promising lead: the name of a man who lives in Mexico, of all places. Zirahuén, Michoacán, to be exact. A village beside Lake Zirahuén in the central highlands of Mexico.

The man I seek is ex-resistance like my parents, who seem to be nothing more than ghosts. After escaping a prison in America’s eastern territory more than twenty years ago, they disappeared without a trace. For all I know, they could have died. Either way, I have to know what happened to them. Maybe if I find them alive—I refuse to believe they are dead—I can finally figure out where I fit in this world.

Knowing I am Emma Wade—ex–resistance major, wife of Noah Tucker, mother to Adrienne—does not change the fact that I am still a clone carrying Her soul. That those I left behind could not bring themselves to accept me for who I am. I am forced to make a new life for myself, and this is all I hope to do once I find my parents.

I politely decline the hagglers stepping in my path on my way to the area selling produce. I am told the man I seek sells fruit, but this is all I know. Three blocks into the market, I find a row of five carts selling various types.

Stopping, I ignore the shoulders brushing past. Rubbing the tight muscles in the back of my neck, I blow out a gust of air. Five carts. Five men. And I do not speak Spanish.

I pass the first three because the men are too young to be the man I seek. The fourth is a man who cannot be younger than eighty, speaks no English, and cannot stop staring at my breasts . . . or the ring lying between them. I know he could be the right man, but my instincts say definitely not.

One glance at the last cart reveals another young man, late teens, and my stomach falls. Peter swore I would find him here, and though I spent only two weeks on his ranch in Montana, I trust him more than I have trusted anyone in a very long time.

The ex–resistance general took me in at my lowest point. A time when I was beginning to believe I would never find my parents. When thoughts of the family I left behind clawed at my guilt. But also a time when my abyss dreams had progressed into a true nightmare.

The peace I found with Peter could not have come at a better time. More than that, he gave me hope again with a single name: Cesar Ruiz.

An older man exchanges places with the young man behind the last cart and my heart leaps. I approach the cart, which houses red apples. Flies swarm the bruised skin, removing any appeal. The man behind the rotting wood wears a wide-brimmed hat and has a shock of salt-and-pepper hair flaring around his deeply wrinkled face. He rubs wide, stubby fingers over his mustache while studying me with dark eyes.

I remove my sunglasses and hang them from the front of my tank top. “Cesar Ruiz?”

Please speak English.

The man shakes his head and speaks rapidly in Spanish. He also avoids looking me in the eye.

I hold up my hands to stop him and try to regulate the air that has just become trapped in my lungs. This has to be him. “I do not understand. Do you speak English?”

The young man from before sidles up beside me. His black hair is pulled taut in a low-hanging ponytail. “What is it you need, American?”

“I am looking for someone. Cesar Ruiz?”

“Not today, lady. Tomorrow.”

The boy’s eyes shift quickly to the old man, and I know intuitively I have found the right place. This would not be the first time ex-resistance has lied to me about their true identity. Even in a whole other country than the Americas, they would not want to be found by the wrong person. I have to be careful not to scare him off.

“My name is Emma Wade,” I tell him. “He knew my parents, Lily and Stephen. I am only trying to find them.”

I finish with a pointed look at the old man. His head is tilted in a way that says he listens, but he swats at the hovering flies in an effort to deflect suspicion. I know this tactic and am not fooled.

Instead of nodding or giving me the brush-off, the young boy picks up an apple from the cart. “Not today,” he repeats, squinting into the sun. He tosses the fruit in the air and catches it in his other hand, then rolls it between his palms.

The next time the apple flies in the air, I snatch it away. “Tell him I have come a long way and will not leave without the answers I came for.”

The boy opens his mouth to respond when the old man steps around the cart, hands raised. “It is okay, Miguel.”

I let out a relieved sigh. That did not take as long as I expected. “You are Cesar?”

He casts a furtive glance around. “Not for a long time. How did you hear of me?”

“An old friend of yours named Peter. I ran into him in Montana. He made me groom a lot of horses before telling me where to find you.”

Cesar nods toward the shade of an alley behind his cart, shouting orders in Spanish to Miguel. Once we stand between the buildings, he glances around to determine if we are alone.

He removes his hat and fans his face. “You are resistance?”

“No.” Not exactly a lie. Originally, yes, but I am not Her anymore. He does not need to hear my complicated story. “I have friends working against Burke Enterprises.”

His eyes widen. “This will not be easy. Not after—”

“—the cloning. I know.”

I am curious if Noah was as surprised as I was when the government practically begged Burke Enterprises to begin a cloning program on a much grander scale. They even went as far as to erase the charges against Arthur Travista for the murder of the two hosts of their first successful clones. Ruby and Lydia refused to press charges, anyway. And why would they? They are alive and well with healthy babies. A miracle of science.

No one knew the truth about me, thank God. The few friends Declan trusted...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Penguin US
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2014
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0142181560
• ISBN 13: 9780142181560
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 384
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Buchpark GmbH; gpsr@buchpark.de; ; Krügerweg 1; Trebbin; Brandenburg; 14959; Deutschland