Finding Fiona by Emily Ann Ward

We’re good,” he told her. “Come on
out.”
    They went in Troy’s car, which was full of
trash from fast food runs. Fiona pushed an old cup off the front
seat before getting in. “Riding in style, I see,” she said. She
pulled on her seatbelt and was surprised to see it actually
worked.
    Troy pulled out of the parking lot and turned
the radio on. They didn’t talk for a few minutes. Fiona knew they
were only indulging her, but she had to see the records for herself
if she was going to believe human replication was possible. She had
to believe the Alarias had a real reason to pursue her if she was
going to try to protect herself from them. She absentmindedly
stroked the burn on her arm as they moved through the streets of
Manhattan.
    “ Oh, shit,” James said
suddenly.
    “ What?” Fiona asked.
    “ Black Mercedes behind us,” James
said. “I can’t see the license plate, but it looks like
Greg’s.”
    Fiona turned in her seat, looking behind
them.
    “ What are you doing? They could see
you!” Troy hissed.
    Directly behind them was a small white sedan,
but behind it, Fiona saw the Mercedes SUV. She couldn’t see the
driver in detail–a man, definitely, with short hair. She wanted to
see Greg Alaria; she wanted that spark of recognition, even though
it would mean much different things than it had meant with James or
Keith. It would mean she might be able to use her testimony against
his.
    “ Get down,” James said, pushing on
Fiona’s shoulder.
    She leaned forward in the seat, her heart
pounding. “Is he following us?”
    “ We’ll take the long way,” Troy
said, putting his left turn signal on.
    “ Can you see the license plate
number?” Fiona asked James, trying to keep her voice still. He
couldn’t kidnap her in the middle of traffic.
    “ It’s… S… Y… yes, it’s him.” He
swore again, and Fiona looked up, just for a moment. “Fiona, don’t,
he’s closer.”
    She caught a glimpse of the black SUV before
crouching down again. She put her chin on her knees, forcing
herself to take deep breaths. She squeezed her eyes shut, and she
thought of that car again. Bleeding from the stomach, the
disorienting pain, the scent of cinnamon. Looking over to the
driver’s seat and seeing the girl with brown hair. Trying to make
sense of everything. Words tumbling out of her mouth that made no
sense.
    Fiona put her hands over her head, trying to
block out the memory so she could stay in the present. It didn’t
work: she was in the back of the van struggling to untie herself,
finally freeing her hands, her wrists nearly bleeding, looping the
rope around the neck of the driver, bracing herself for the impact
of the median in front of them… then she was in the fire,
screaming, coughing, running, fighting the two men… and still
gaping holes in it all…
    “ Fiona? Hey, are you
okay?”
    A soft shake of her shoulder brought her back
to the present. She peered up at James, who was leaning forward
from the back.
    “ Hey, are you okay?” he asked
quietly. “Troy’s going to get rid of him. Don’t worry, okay? I’m
here with you.”
    She grabbed his hand and held on tightly. Troy
took a sharp left turn, knocking James into Fiona. She ignored the
pain from their heads bumping and tightened her grip on his
hand.
    She sneaked a look up; the SUV was on the road
they’d just been on. The driver tried to get over into the left
lane but nearly ran into a minivan that honked at him. The SUV was
forced to follow the road, passing the intersection. She let out a
breath of relief.
    “ You lost him,” James
exclaimed.
    Troy took long, winding roads after that,
often doubling back. The SUV was gone, though. Fiona’s hand was
sweaty as she took it from James. She laughed breathlessly.
“Sorry.”
    “ It’s okay, mine’s sweaty, too.”
James wiped his palm on his jeans.
    The main office of the Chief Medical Examiner
was in a beige, nondescript building. Troy parked, glanced around,
and said, “We do