Immurement: The Undergrounders Series Book One (A Young Adult Science Fiction Dystopian Novel) by Norma Hinkens Read Free Book Online Page A

Lyong.”
    I stare at Mason in disbelief. The trembling whistle of a screech owl cuts through the evening air and I shiver. There’s been plenty of speculation in the bunkers about the origin of the Sweepers, but nothing even close to this.
    Big Ed scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t get it. You’re a scientist?”
    Mason forces a grim laugh. “Like I told you, I’m not one of them.” He turns aside and chucks a ball of spit into the dirt. “I’m their experiment.”
    A clammy sensation fingers its way up my spine. I run my eyes over Mason’s thick jaw and bulging muscles, my mind racing. What does he mean by experiment?
    Mason reaches for a sapling and begins stripping the bark from it. “The world government publicly denounced human cloning, but the truth is, they’ve been in a race to perfect the technique. Their goal was to rejuvenate declining populations by cloning the highly gifted for specific traits and purposes. They collected tissue and blood samples through mandatory universal healthcare examinations.”
    “You mean … you’re a …” My voice trails off.
    Mason nods. “A clone.”
    Big Ed lets out a long, whistling breath through his teeth.
    I slowly rub my temples in tiny circles. The grumping sound of bullfrogs reverberates between my ears as I try to make sense of what Mason is saying. It all seems so implausible. I start with the part that bothers me most. “So … you weren’t born?”
    “Not like you were.”
    I furrow my brow. “Are you some kind of machine?”
    “Don’t be stupid. Do I look like a machine?”
    I shrug. He feels like a slab of granite when you run into him. I’ve no idea what being a clone means. It’s unnatural.
    “Reid and Becca were clones too,” Mason continues. “The scientists cryptogram our ankles; it’s like a branding tattoo that denotes the sector you were cloned for.” He reaches over and yanks up the leg of his khaki pants. Above his right ankle is a deeply incised charcoal circle with “M-041” in the center. “Military, placement 041,” he says, matter-of-factly.
    Big Ed removes his spectacles and rubs his eyes. In the dim light of the rising moon, his face looks as old as corrugated tree bark.
    “So if you’re military, what were Reid and Becca?” I ask.
    “They were bootlegged clones. Not on the official roster.”
    I wrinkle my brow. “What does that mean?”
    “The scientists aren’t supposed to conduct any personal cloning of their own DNA, but they all do it. Bootlegging they call it. The official samples for the project are … were … extracted from selected specimens in various fields and industries.”
    “So why did the Sweepers plant Reid in Frank’s camp?” Big Ed asks.
    “To document survivors of the meltdown. The Sweepers need the breakdown and locations of all the camps in order to collect specimens for cloning. Bootlegged clones are good moles because they don’t have any extraordinary skills or abilities that make people suspicious.”
    I run a hand over my brow. “I don’t understand. If they already have DNA why are they going after us?”
    “Their DNA is contaminated. When the underground radiation alarms were triggered in the meltdown, Dr. Lyong used a compound vaccine on everyone in the Craniopolis.” Mason hesitates. “On the people, not the clones. We already have enhanced immune systems to counteract chemical contamination and airborne radiation. Turns out the vaccine was tainted with a pathogen. It caused a host of medical problems, including genetic mutations.”
    “What kind of mutations?” Big Ed asks.
    “Reject clones.” Mason creases his brow. “Deviations they call them. That’s why the Sweepers are extracting unvaccinated survivors. They need their pure DNA. Without it, the cloning project dies, and with it, their system of replenishing humankind.”
     
    For a few minutes, we sit in stunned silence. I take some comfort from knowing the Sweepers are human at least. It beats some