Prototype by M. D. Waters Page A

“I understand you’re upset, but no harm was done.”
    No harm done. Dr. Travista’s exact words following his attempt to wipe my memory a second time. I almost laugh, but there is nothing funny about this. “There never is in the beginning, is there?” He straightens, steeling his spine in reaction to the look I give him. “How do you think it begins? With a few harmless tests. Routine checks on the reflexes, hearing, sight.” I look pointedly at Sonya. “Blood tests.” I look back at Noah. “Nothing big, right? Next thing you know, I’m strapped to a table, surrounded by nurses and covered in wires, with my legs up in stirrups.”
    Noah’s eyebrows knit together. His response is slow in forming. “You don’t honestly think—?”
    “There is no excuse for what Sonya did, and you need to stop pretending there is.”
    Noah grips the edge of his desk and his jaw tightens. After a deep breath, he is the picture of calm and collected. “If we lose another woman to the cloning process, it would be helpful to know how we can save her memory from being permanently erased.”
    “I will tell you how.” I look directly at Sonya. “Do not let another host die.”
    Sonya flinches, and I am immediately flooded with the memory of how she tried to save me. The tugging in the lower half of my body. Her sharp commands. She fought desperately to control the loss of blood that eventually ended my host’s life. Regardless of what she has done, she did not deserve the unwarranted remark.
    “I am sorry,” I tell her. “That was unfair.”
    Tears rim her eyes. “I tried to save her,” she says to me, then shifts her gaze to Noah, who leans heavily on his desktop and does not look up.
    “You mean me,” I say. Her words sting, and they soak up some of my guilt. That experience was mine. Not Hers. “You tried to save
me.
Is that not what you meant?”
    The silence that follows makes even Major Reid shift and avoid eye contact. I cannot bear it and excuse myself from the room. I need a few minutes alone so I can get my head on straight. Thanks to my outburst—warranted or not—we strayed from the matter of finding my parents. For their sake, I need to get back on track.
    But how can I focus on finding them when I have to watch my back every second of the day? I stop at the corner and lean against the wall, blinking blurry eyes as I stare blindly across the vast space of the hallway.
    “Emma,” Noah calls from just outside his office.
    My heart gallops in response to his voice. Despite everything I said, he looks at me with a soft set to his eyes.
    He reaches me and his eyes latch with mine, refusing to let them go. He lowers his voice to avoid being overheard. “Are you all right?”
    “I am fine.”
    “You can talk to me, you know.” As if to punctuate the statement, he runs a warm hand over my arm.
    I hate that he looks genuinely concerned for me, because it does not make being near him any easier. I will have to make him believe there is nothing to be worried about. Pasting on a smile, I reach out and squeeze his arm. “I am fine.”
    He rolls his eyes and twists to lean into the wall beside me. “No, you aren’t.”
    “All right, so I am not fine. How could I be after what just happened?”
    He lowers his voice. “I feel responsible. But while I don’t condone Sonya’s methods, you understand why we need to know more, don’t you?”
    “I do not know.” I sigh. “What are the odds that you will ever see this happen again?”
    “Not every woman going through Travista’s clone process is a volunteer. You know that. It’s important we gain all the knowledge we can. Knowing gives us control where there was none.”
    Is this the same excuse Dr. Travista tells himself to help him sleep at night? I have been on the receiving end of this need to control. No matter the intent, nothing good will come of this.
    “I only want to help,” he says. “What if the memories aren’t actually lost with the host?