Doppelganger Read Free Page A

throwing a loaded backpack onto the floor between us. “Since you finished the other ones, I figured you could start working on these. She looks to be about your age, after all.”
    I nodded but couldn’t look her in the eyes. I just took the textbooks out of the pack and began studying them, not wanting to seem ungrateful. Later I realized it wasn’t my mother I felt I owed—it was that girl’s frantic parents, and the little girl herself. Her form hung around the housefor the next two weeks, cooking my meals and splitting wood.
    Deep down I knew I would’ve been in trouble, even without the TV. My squeamishness went way back. When I was younger, I had trouble killing even the smallest of creatures. It didn’t matter if it was a squirrel, a hen, or even a cricket that my mother caught for me, I always resisted, holding out until I didn’t have a choice. The worst was when she brought home a puppy. I’d seen dog food commercials on TV and was excited to have a pet. She let me play with it three whole days before making me strangle it.
    Still, in spite of my hesitation, I knew I’d have to pick a mark sooner or later. The urges would only get stronger, and I couldn’t hide from the world forever. Food wasn’t really a problem—doppelgangers are hardy creatures. We can go a long time without eating and can gobble down almost anything. Worms, insects, grubs—it doesn’t matter. But shacking up behind a Dumpster every night is no way to live. Besides, part of me was eager to prove myself, to show my mother she was wrong. I wasn’t weak. I could take care of myself.
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    I reached the city a week later, following the lights as they got brighter each night until they finally blotted out the stars. Fall was coming, and the air was getting colder. By the time I reached the outskirts of the city, I was feeling pretty low. For the first time, I missed the comfort of my cabin. And the trees, too—spires of fir softer and warmer than these city towers—that had stood between the other mountains and me. I longed for my TV most of all and kept thinking of the shows I watched. All those characterswho had joined me every week or every day—it sort of caught me off guard how much I missed them. I found myself thinking about them, worrying about the difficult spots I’d left them in, the problems that dogged them from episode to episode. And now they were all gone. Actually, they were still out there, going on without me. I was the one left alone.
    At my lowest point, I even missed my mother. At least she’d been someone to talk to. I was in a train yard at the edge of the city. It was late. Most of the windows in the nearby skyscrapers were dark. There was a full moon out, and I was shivering from the cold snap as I wandered between the glowing boxcars scattered along the tracks. I’d started thinking about her, wondering where she was now, what she might look like, when I saw a light ahead and made my way toward it. Soon I could make out a group of men in the distance. From where I stood, peeking around the corner of a coal car, I could barely tell the four of them apart. They were wrapped up pretty tight against the cold, standing around a barrel fire, like four bundles of rags, passing bottles around, talking loudly. They seemed pretty lit.
    I wanted some of that fire. I remember thinking they might just be drunk enough for me to put in a late-night appearance, maybe even scare them off, when I heard a loud cough behind me and nearly jumped out of my skin. I ducked into the shadows and looked around. The cough had come from right behind me, but there was no one in sight.
    I heard it again. This time it came in a long spasm, and I realized the sound was coming from a nearby boxcar, itsdoor ajar. Sticking to the shadows, I sidled up to the door. I could hear rattled breathing coming from inside and someone mumbling to himself. The noise made me shiver