With this segment of Chapter Fourteen of Repairing the Legacy, we continue the serialization of Repairing the Legacy. This is a rough draft work in progress and may not reflect the final form. Time period: set after the ending of The Martiniere Legacy main trilogy. I’m breaking longer chapters into sections for readability. This is the fifth part of Chapter Fourteen. There will be six parts to this chapter.

New to the series? Chapter order:

Chapter One, Section One

Return of the Prodigal Son (2 parts)

Conversations and a Dinner (2 parts)

Dancing into Change (2 parts)

Sisterly Compromises (3 parts)

Conspiracies at the Rodeo (3 parts)

Passing the Baton (4 parts)

Research Complications (3 parts)

Chasing After Shadows (3 parts)

Fifth Anniversary Present (3 parts)

Mariah (5 parts)

Shadows, Redux (3 parts)

Accidents Happen (4 parts)

Maternal Memories (4 parts)

December, 2070

GABE

Brandon brought Dr. Sheri to the ranch to check on Gabe and Ruby. Gabe was happy to see that both Bran and Dr. Sheri wore heavy-duty filtration masks.

“Flu,” Dr. Sheri sighed, after running diagnostic tests and examining the projection readouts. “A variant that wasn’t in your vaccination this fall. Lots of it in the County right now. Luckily, this one responds to antiviral treatment. The two of you need to quarantine for three days, but at least you’ll feel better.”

“Probably the same thing for the others,” Gabe muttered as she injected him.

“I’ll check your security and ranch workers once I’m done here. Brandon told me everyone was down sick.”

“Pretty much. What’s the story with Mike?” Ruby asked.

Dr. Sheri sighed again. “Heart attack, and something else. White blood cell counts are way down.” A third sigh. “Specialists are examining him right now. We’re testing for the cancers that Philip Martiniere had. Fortunately, Mike doesn’t have this bug.”

Cancer. Fuck.

Ruby sobbed into Gabe’s chest after Brandon and Dr. Sheri left the house to check on the other ranch residents.

He cried with her.

Sixty-eight years old, and Gabe would happily trade his life for Mike’s. He had lived his life.

Mike hadn’t, and damn it, the young clone deserved a chance to thrive, separate from the shadow of his fucking progenitor.

2071

Cancer turned out to be the least of Mike’s problems. He also had significant heart and lung failure, tied to being the clone of a seventy-eight-year-old man. His system wouldn’t handle a standard transplant, and clone regeneration in someone who was already a clone suffering from clone effects? Not likely.

Cyborg heart and lungs were possible—but expensive and time-consuming to create.

Plus the psychological issues. Mike cut himself off from everyone dear to him that summer once it became clear that his health problems went beyond cancer to heart and lungs, plus significant osteoporosis that manifested in his arms and legs. All clone effects. All reflective of Philip’s health problems at the time Mike was created. All those health issues—kept him off of horses.

Mike huddled in his darkened room with only Striker for companionship, refusing to talk to anyone beyond bare necessity. Lily shied away from Mike—and that, given her past obsession with him, frightened Gabe even more.

“Our fucking father had those moments in his last years,” Justine said during one of their late-night drinking sessions in the Double R’s kitchen in late July. “Nights where he would summon me to keep him company while he stared out the window. Sometimes he drank, but most of the time—dead silence. Especially during Family Christmas.”

Gabe winced. “Shit. I do that.”

Justine bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah. Same here. Like father, like son and daughter.”

“He’s still Mike. Not him. But if it wasn’t for Striker—” At least Mike still kept his dog close. Gabe dreaded to think what dire thing would emerge from Mike’s bedroom, wearing his beloved son’s face, if he didn’t have Striker to keep him connected to the world.

“Ruby says Mike told her to sell Spree today.” Justine tossed her whisky down her throat and poured herself more. She held up the bottle. “Another?”

Gabe eyed it, and shook his head. Alcohol couldn’t chase this horror away.

Ruby had cried herself to sleep in his arms over Mike’s request. Demand. Whatever.

He’s giving up, Gabe. We can’t let him do it.

But what could they do? Bran couldn’t reach Mike either. Nor Justine. No one.

“I’ve tried to talk to Mike. I’ve asked his counselor what we can do.” He got up, paced the kitchen. “We can’t do much more in the way of medication, given everything else going on.” Gabe stared out the kitchen window, toward the barnyard. A couple of whitetail deer drifted through, sniffing after wisps of hay scattered from today’s stacking. “And Lily isn’t any better. She’s hearing voices regularly. God. We’re losing Mike. We’re losing Lily. I don’t know what to do, Tine. I know what made Mike tell Ruby to sell Spree. He couldn’t brush half of one side of her today without having to sit down. That filly is so well-behaved with him, even at her age—”

Justine’s eyes widened—she had been a horsewoman once herself, understood what it meant for a filly Spree’s age to be that mannerly. “Shit. But there are ways—”

“He won’t talk to JoAnn, and they were best friends, heading for a romantic relationship—Jeff and I spied them holding hands last summer, typical early teen shy nerd romancy stuff. Mike won’t talk to any of the kids he hangs out with locally. None of his online connections.” Gabe returned to the table, sitting down hard. “Fuck.”

“Maybe a visit with Donald.” Justine’s voice sounded unconvincing.

“Mike won’t willingly leave the ranch unless we’re taking him to see a doctor. Can Don travel?”

“I’ll talk to Donald.” Justine pressed her lips together. “See what he might be able to manage.”

“Thanks, Tine.”

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