Flood Rising (Jenna Flood #1)

Jenna swallowed. The revelation had rocked every fiber of her being, calling into question everything she believed about herself.

Her knowledge of cloning was limited to what she had seen in movies and read about in the occasional science magazine article, but that was enough to grasp the basics. Genetic material from one or more donors, inserted into a human egg cell and then implanted in a surrogate mother for gestation and birth—that was probably how they had done it.

All the years spent wondering what her mother looked like… She didn’t have a mother. Just an anonymous rented womb.

Jenna looked up at the image of Jarrod Chu. “How did they survive?”

“You have to understand that, until this week, we didn’t realize that any of them had. Our working hypothesis is that the clones were removed from the facility after a few years—probably when they were school aged—and sent back to the Motherland for education and indoctrination. Or, they might have been educated by sleeper agents in the US. Both Foster and Chu underwent fairly rigorous background checks and passed without a hitch.”

Jenna fought through the deluge of questions, most of which she doubted Cort could even answer, and tried to focus on the immediate problem. “Why now? Why come after me?”

“Something big is happening. A plan that has been in the works for a very long time. We know that much, and we know that the clones are critical to the plan.”

“How?”

“I think you already know, Jenna. You’re not like other people.”

You are dangerous.

You don’t even know what you are.

“You’re smarter, stronger. Hell, there are things you probably don’t even know you’re capable of doing.” Cort jerked his head toward the screen. “Just like them. Kelli Foster and Jarrod Chu. There are others, too, all geniuses in positions of power and influence, all around the world. Positioned like pieces on a chessboard. It took us a while to figure it out, but once we identified those two, the rest fell into place.”

“That’s why they decided to kill me?”

“Not just you. All of them. In your case, someone panicked. Your father was a senior officer who quit all of a sudden to raise you. Given what was happening, that looked very suspicious. Better safe than sorry.”

Jenna felt no reaction to the word ‘father.’ “You aren’t going to help me, are you?”

Cort took a deep breath. “Jenna, my section wasn’t involved in any of this. If I had known sooner, I could have worked with your father and arranged a safe outcome for both of you. But if you come in—”

A distant gun report interrupted him. Jenna had known the audience with Cort was almost at and end, and she was already poised for action, so when she heard the shot, she sprang into motion.

Cort moved, too, faster than she expected for someone his age. Jenna’s expectations, however, were that Cort, like Noah, would be a veteran intelligence officer, with reflexes honed by training and experience, and a repertoire of deadly skills. Whether or not this was true did not matter. She had prepared for the worst case scenario.

In the five minutes spent waiting for Cort to arrive, Jenna had scouted the safe house, exploring the rooms, identifying potential hazards, and plotting escape routes. She had memorized the layout of each room, and noted what items might be useful for defensive or even offensive purposes. In the room Cort called the ‘signal room,’ she had been particularly interested in the notebook computers resting on the desktop.

As she darted forward, Cort sprang to his feet and took a step back, one hand extended toward her, the other reaching behind him. When the hand reappeared, it held a small pistol, but before he could aim it at her, she had scooped up the nearest laptop and hurled it like a Frisbee. The heavy computer struck dead center in the middle of Cort’s chest. The projectile hit with sufficient force to knock him back a step, but more importantly, it dealt a shock to his nervous system that caused the gun to fly out of his hands.

Jenna took action before the hurled computer clattered to the floor. She pounced on Cort, driving several quick focused punches into his jaw and solar plexus. She felt an unexpected throb of pain in her left arm. The stab wound, aggravated by the sudden activity, reminded her of its presence, but she ignored the sensation and didn’t hold back.

Cort weathered the assault and caught her third punch. He twisted her arm around and attempted to pin it, but she was ready for this move. She relaxed her legs, letting her weight drop, and pulled him off balance. They collapsed together onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. Cort seized on this imagined advantage and tried to roll her over, so he could use his superior size to subdue her.