\nElena feels it when her brother dies. She knows it in her bones before the phone rings. She sits for an unknown time, staring at her hands. At the floor beyond. At nothing. Max is dead and there is nothing she can do to change it. Nothing she could have done. She is powerless and pointless and empty and torn in half.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt is the first time she\u2019s experienced loss. Even in the depths of her grief, even as her every thought drowns in the ocean of her pain, she understands that it won\u2019t be the last.\n<\/p>\n
\nEverything dies, after all.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nShe says pretty words at Max\u2019s funeral. About how he was her twin, her other half. About how he still chased after butterflies and never bothered to tie his shoes and insisted that puns were clever. People laugh and cry, and her voice quavers but doesn\u2019t break.\n<\/p>\n
\nBut when it\u2019s her turn to pour dirt into the hole, onto his coffin, to cover him and say goodbye forever, she crumples. She falls onto her knees and clutches the dirt to her chest and weeps.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe doesn\u2019t remember how she gets home, after. She comes back to herself curled on her bedspread, still in her muddy black dress, one shoe on, one in the doorway, wedging the door open.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe wonders if this is what going crazy feels like.\n<\/p>\n
\nThen Max sits next to her on the bed.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt\u2019s not so bad,\u201d he says. His voice sounds just like it always has. \u201cBeing dead, that is.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nElena just blinks at him, rubs her eyes, blinks again. He\u2019s a little translucent, a little fuzzy at the edges.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou need to pull yourself together,\u201d Max says. \u201cMom and Dad are taking it pretty hard too, you know? You can\u2019t just break down. They need a functioning kid.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou\u2019re dead.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI know.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNo. I felt Max die. I felt him… go. I don\u2019t know what you are, but you\u2019re not my brother.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nMax\u2019s form shimmers, then settles, like wind ruffling the surface of a pond. \u201cWell, that\u2019s disappointing,\u201d he says. He still looks like Max, but everything else about him is different. His posture, his expression, the way he sits in her room like he\u2019s never been there before. \u201cI thought that I\u2019d be able to fool you. I suppose I should have known better.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat are you?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nNot-Max shrugs. \u201cYou\u2019ll see me as your enemy, I suppose. I killed your brother. Ate him from the inside out. Consumed his memories and shape. His mind. His attachments.\u201d He sighed. \u201cI probably shouldn\u2019t be telling you all of this, but I have all of Max\u2019s memories. It\u2019s like I\u2019m used to telling you everything.\u201d He sighs again, this time rubbing his forehead in an achingly familiar gesture. \u201cThey told us that the attachments are the worst part, but I wasn\u2019t prepared. Loving someone is quite painful, you know. Especially if you\u2019ve never done it before.\u201d He pats her hand. His skin is dry and cold. \u201cI\u2019m going to go talk to our parents. I hope I can fool them.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell them you\u2019re a fake.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe smiles Max\u2019s crooked smile, but his eyes are smug and condescending. \u201cYou\u2019re a little unstable at the moment. Having a rough time. They won\u2019t believe you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cOf course they will. You\u2019re impossible.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHow can I be impossible? I\u2019m standing right here. They\u2019ll want to believe me. So they will. It\u2019s the only feasible way forward.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nHer mother makes pancakes for dinner, since they were Max\u2019s favorite. There are four places set at the table. Elena can\u2019t believe that they\u2019re just accepting this. \u201cThat\u2019s not Max. It\u2019s some kind of replicant or something. It told me so itself.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou\u2019re right,\u201d Not-Max says, his voice pitched low. \u201cShe does seem overwrought.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cDon\u2019t be absurd, Elena,\u201d her father says. \u201cI\u2019d know my son anywhere. It\u2019s a miracle. And Max isn\u2019t the only one who\u2019s back! It\u2019s all over the news. They\u2019re calling them shadows.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThat isn\u2019t Max! It\u2019s the thing that killed Max!\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHoney, stop it. I thought you\u2019d be happy to have your brother back. Now, sit down and eat.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nNot-Max sits in Max\u2019s chair. Elena storms back to her room and slams the door.\n<\/p>\n
\nNo one comes after her.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nMore and more people fall sick. But it\u2019s not a problem anymore, because their shadows will just take their places. And of course their shadows are still them–they have all of their original\u2019s memories, know things that only the original person would know. People test them, and they perform perfectly.\n<\/p>\n
\nAnd if only people who die of this specific illness get shadows, well, that\u2019s part of the miracle. Accidents still happen, after all. It\u2019s not like death is over.\n<\/p>\n
\nThere are others who see the truth, of course. But they are dismissed as deluded, as fearmongers, as selfish girls who want to wallow in the misery of losing a twin instead of accepting that he\u2019s still right here.\n<\/p>\n
\nNot-Max is more and more solid every day. Less translucent. He doesn\u2019t need to look like a ghost, so he doesn\u2019t bother. Elena\u2019s parents seem happy to just forget the months of sickness, the funeral, the fear and pain. Elena ignores him. Ignores her parents\u2019 disappointment at her attitude, ignores his sad, pleading eyes.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI miss you,\u201d he says, over and over, increasingly frantic. \u201cPlease, tell me what I can do.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe ignores him and walks away.\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\nIt\u2019s curiosity that eventually cracks her. \u201cWhen will we get sick?\u201d Elena asks one night, while Not-Max is brushing his teeth. \u201cWhen will one of your brethren replace Mom or Dad or me?\u201d It\u2019s the first thing she\u2019s said to him since that first night. Maybe the first thing she\u2019s said in his presence at all.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe drops his toothbrush, and it clatters in the sink. For a moment, he just stares at her in the mirror, looking shocked and happy. Then he spins and grabs her shoulders. His hands are so, so cold. \u201cThat won\u2019t happen. I\u2019d never let them hurt you, Elena.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhy not? Isn\u2019t it your goal to replace everyone?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThat\u2019s their plan. But not mine. Not anymore. I love you. Even though I\u2019m not really your Max, when I consumed him, I consumed his love for you. For our parents. I know you don\u2019t believe me, but it\u2019s true, and I swear, I won\u2019t ever let anything bad happen to you ever again.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe looks so sincere, so desperate for her to believe him. So desperate to be her brother.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHow was their plan ever going to work if you\u2019re all so vulnerable to attachments?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWe were told that the feelings we\u2019d consume weren\u2019t real, that we should just ignore them. And I\u2019m sure some of us are doing that. Are following orders. We\u2019ve done this before, have conquered planets just like this. But Max\u2019s feelings–my feelings–they\u2019re real. I know they are, and I can\u2019t pretend they aren\u2019t.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cLet\u2019s say that you want to protect me. Can you actually do it? Can you stop one of your people if they come for me?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHis brow furrows. \u201cThey know you\u2019re important to me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhy do you think that will be enough?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe opens his mouth, closes it again. His image wavers back to translucence for a long moment.\n<\/p>\n
\nThen he pulls her into his arms. \u201cOh god, what if it isn\u2019t?\u201d he whispers, his breath cold against her neck.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe wants to push him away, to yell and storm off. Every inch of her body knows that this is not her brother. Instead, she lets him hold her and rubs his back in tiny circles.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt isn\u2019t forgiveness, she reminds herself. It isn\u2019t complicity. She is using the tools she has at her disposal, and she shouldn\u2019t feel guilty.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nHer father gets sick. Her mother pretends that everything is fine, but sometimes Elena hears her crying in the kitchen. Not-Max vanishes for two days, then comes back transparent and unstable. He flickers when he moves. He\u2019s limping.\n<\/p>\n
\nElena finds him with her father, talking in low voices, their hands clasped together, their foreheads touching.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat was that about?\u201d she asks, when Not-Max leaves the room and pulls the door closed behind him.\n<\/p>\n
\nHis eyes are red, and he flickers before he answers. \u201cChoices.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe goes in and takes her father\u2019s hand. His skin is dry and hot, his breaths ragged. She remembers Max like this.\n<\/p>\n
\nIt won\u2019t be long, now.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou were right,\u201d her father says. \u201cAbout Max. But also maybe wrong.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYeah,\u201d Elena says. \u201cI hope so.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nWhen her father dies, no shadow takes his place.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe and her mother and Not-Max all stand together in the hospital, arms wrapped around each other.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHe\u2019s not coming back, is he?\u201d her mother whispers, her voice thick with tears.\n<\/p>\n
\nNot-Max shakes his head.\n<\/p>\n
\nHer mother doesn\u2019t ask anything else.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nAfter the funeral–it\u2019s a much smaller, quieter affair than the last one, and it\u2019s her mother who breaks down and needs to be guided back home–Not-Max gives Elena a tiny orange pill. \u201cTake this,\u201d he says. \u201cIt\u2019ll keep any of my kind from being able to infect you.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you give this to Dad?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cIt was too late. It doesn\u2019t work after the infection starts. I\u2019m trying to get another one for Mom, but they\u2019re difficult to get ahold of. Please. Please, take it. I can\u2019t lose you, Elena.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe prods the pill, rolling it across the lines on her palm. \u201cHow will I know if it\u2019s worked?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe shrugs. \u201cYou\u2019ll feel terrible for a couple of days. But after that, you\u2019ll be immune.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe trusts him, or she doesn\u2019t.\n<\/p>\n
\nHe loves her, or he doesn\u2019t.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe takes the pill.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nWhile Elena is curled up on her bed, feverish and dizzy, a shadow dies. Her name is Madison, and she steps into traffic and is hit by a car. No one knows if it is an accident or suicide.\n<\/p>\n
\nThe government performs an autopsy. They don\u2019t publish the results, but the official story begins to shift.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhat are the shadows, really?\u201d the headlines ask.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cHow can something already dead die again?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cWhere did they come from, and what do they want?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHer mother bursts into her room and starts shoving things into boxes. \u201cWe\u2019re moving,\u201d she says. \u201cWe have to go somewhere where people won\u2019t know that Max is a shadow. He\u2019s not safe here.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nElena blinks at her. Her eyelids feel like sandpaper.\n<\/p>\n
\nHer mother freezes, drops the shirt she was balling up, puts her hand on Elena\u2019s forehead.\n<\/p>\n
\nShe flinches away from the heat. \u201cYou\u2019re sick,\u201d she whispers. Tears spill down her cheeks. \u201cYou\u2019re sick.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI\u2019ll be okay,\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cNo one\u2019s okay.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI will be. Max says so.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nIt\u2019s the first time she\u2019s called him Max.\n<\/p>\n
\nHer mother wipes her tears away and gets back to packing.\n<\/p>\n
\n
\nHer fever breaks in the back seat of their car. Her head is in Max\u2019s lap, his icy fingers combing through her hair. Her mother shoved pillows and blankets and crackers and ginger ale into the back seat with them. The rest of their belongings are stuffed haphazardly in a trailer, towed awkwardly behind them.\n<\/p>\n
\nAs they pull away, her mother glances in the rear-view mirror over and over again, like she\u2019s afraid of being followed.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cI think she knows that I\u2019m not real, now,\u201d Max says. \u201cShe saw the news, and she\u2019s not stupid. But we\u2019re moving anyway. To protect me. Why?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nElena sighs and sips her ginger ale and closes her eyes. \u201cWhy do you think, Max?\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nShe uses his name deliberately, and he notices. His hands still for a heartbeat, then move again. \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d he whispers. \u201cI don\u2019t understand. You should both hate me.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\nHe\u2019s crying, and Elena reaches up and wipes his tears away. \u201cYou did something horrible, and I did hate you for it. But you didn\u2019t know any better. And now you\u2019re trying to fix it. So I can forgive you. I can love you. You\u2019ll protect us, we\u2019ll protect you, and we\u2019ll be a family. It\u2019s the only feasible way forward.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYou kids okay back there?\u201d their mother calls, checking the her mirrors again.\n<\/p>\n
\n\u201cYeah, Mom,\u201d Max says, getting Elena another ginger ale. \u201cWe\u2019re fine.\u201d\n<\/p>\n
Jamie Lackey lives in Pittsburgh with her husband and their cats. She\u2019s had over 160 short stories published in places like Daily Science Fiction, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and Apex Magazine. She has a novella and two short story collections available from Air and Nothingness Press. In addition to writing, she spends her time reading, playing tabletop RPGs, baking, and hiking. You can find her online at www.jamielackey.com.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Elena feels it when her brother dies. She knows it in her bones before the phone rings. She sits for an unknown time, staring at her hands. At the floor beyond. At nothing. Max is dead and there is nothing she can do to change it. Nothing she could have done. She is powerless and …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":26,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,14,20109],"tags":[20120],"class_list":["post-140229","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-publications","category-tcl-46-winter-2023","tag-the-colored-lens-46-winter-2023","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140229","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/26"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=140229"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140229\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":140230,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140229\/revisions\/140230"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=140229"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=140229"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=140229"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}