Hatch Nesmith had always been a light sleeper. He didn’t know if that was something that Mich had programmed into him when he was cloned or if it was just an immutable characteristic; he never really cared until he heard Mich roar.
He sat up, instantly and completely awake. Everything was dark in the apartment shared by all of Mich’s clones except for Nev and Nameh. Nabu was in the bed next to Hatch, his normally dour face very peaceful as he slept. Gareth swung gently in his hammock—Gareth was the only Micky clone Hatch knew who didn’t snore. Rin was curled up in the middle of the floor, dreaming happy dog dreams. Even the statuesque Ren was asleep—sitting up, of course.
But Hatch had heard something, and the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. Silently he slipped from his bed and grabbed his hatchets, which he always kept on the floor within easy reach.
He peeked out into the corridor, his bare shoulders gleaming in the dim light. With a whisper one of his long silver hatchets was in his hand, and he darted across the hall and into Mich’s room.
His first thought was that one of the room’s three occupants had gotten up to go to the bathroom and tripped—but then he saw Mich lying in a twisted heap near the bathroom door and Nameh lying among the smashed remains of the coffee table.
Hatch wasted no time; he ran back to his room and pounded on the open door, then switched on the lights.
“Get up, all y’all!” he shouted. “Nabu, Gareth, come with me!”
“What is it?” Nabu asked, startled by the tone of Hatch’s voice.
“It’s Mich and Nameh. Come on.” Hatch offered no other details as he fled from the room. Within moments Nabu followed, with Gareth bringing up the rear. Rin trotted on Gareth’s heels, his eyes wide with worry and confusion.
Hatch knelt down beside Mich, touching her neck to feel for a pulse and sighing with relief when he found one. He looked at Gareth, who was similarly bent over Nameh. Gareth nodded, giving Hatch a thumbs-up.
“What happened in here?” BB stood at the threshold, his short blond hair standing on end, his eyes puffy from sleep.
“I don’t know,” Hatch replied. “Looks like they were attacked.”
“By who?” BB asked, coming to kneel by Mich’s side.
“Man, how’m I supposed to know that?” Hatch snapped. He was not in the mood for stupid questions while his friends lay hurt.
“There’s no need for that tone,” BB said. “Come on, let’s get her on the couch.”
“No,” Hatch said, reaching out to stop BB as the elder Peter clone took hold of Mich’s arms. “We shouldn’t move her in case she has a neck or back injury.”
BB’s eyes narrowed. “We can’t just let her lie here on the floor, Hatch.”
Hatch’s nostrils flared and he clenched his teeth. “We can and we will. I’m in charge here, BB—not you. Now go and get the Femmes—all of them.”
“What for?”
“Well, we need Camille to help these two, and Cin and Anissa will be pissed if we don’t notify them immediately. Now move that old butt of yours,” Hatch growled.
BB decided that then was not the time to argue, so he stood up and ran from the room to fetch the Femmes.
A soft moan brought Hatch’s attention back to Mich. “Hey, Mich,” Hatch said, tenderly brushing the hair out of her face. “You okay?”
Mich groaned. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I was kinda hopin’ you’d tell me.”
Mich sat up slowly, the base of her skull throbbing painfully. “Nev. Hatch, they took him. They took him . . . ” Though the volume of her voice was low, the anguish in her tone made Hatch flinch.
“Who took him, Mich?”
“The . . . gray . . . people . . . ”
“The who???”
There was no time for Mich to answer; Cin, Anissa, and Camille had arrived at Mich’s door. Camille’s long robe swirled around her rumpled t-shirt and shorts as she swept into the room and headed straight for Mich.
“What happened?” she demanded.
Mich pointed languidly at Nameh. “Help . . . Namie . . . first.”
“She’s okay, Camille,” Hatch said. “Someone rung her bells.”
Cin used her forcefields to gently lift Nameh clear of the smashed remains of the table and place him gently on the couch. Nabu brought Camille a wet washcloth as she examined the battered Peter clone. Anissa stood at the foot of the couch, surveying the scene with a sad gaze.
“I never should have left,” she murmured.
“Nonsense,” Mich said, leaning against Hatch for support, watching while Camille gently wiped the blood from Nameh’s face. “You had no idea any of this would happen.”
“She’s right, Anissa. Besides, this is no time to start laying blame around,” Cin said. “How is he, Camille?”
Camille handed the washcloth to Nabu. “He has a broken nose and a split lip.” She relaxed her shoulders and focused her gaze on Nameh’s face. Because he was still unconscious, she didn’t have to worry about pain blocks, so she immediately homed in on the splintered bones, using her powers to align them and seal them back into one piece. The swelling in his lip lessened, and within moments Camille was breathing normally and Nameh’s eyes slowly opened.
“Nev,” he whimpered. “Camille, they took Nev! Where’s Mich?”
“Right here, Nam,” Mich said. She crawled to her knees and took his hand.
“Mich, they! They . . . !” Nameh started to sob, his eyes clenched shut with pain.
Cin sat on the edge of the couch and held Nameh’s other hand, gently stroking his hair as he turned toward the back of the couch, his cries muffled by the worn fabric.
“Mich, I think it’s time you told us what’s going on,” Camille said softly.
On to Chapter Eight
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