The Duplicate Driver | SCP-7661

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And I can't reach up over or reach up under with the right leverage. I'll just have to pray that the door stays closed while I hit the parking lot and hunt for the vehicle. I step away from the stall and walk toward the restroom door. It opens as I reach for the handle and an older gentleman with a cane lets out a startled squeak. You gave me a fright son. Gotta be careful at my age. Becaccles and mutters something about how it's not his time. I laugh and slip out of the restroom as fast as possible and hurry out to the rest area's parking lot. There had only been one other car when I pulled in. Now there are four. I'm fairly certain the keys I have in my hand go to the Maroon Hyundai SUV off to the side. I click the key fob and the SUV's headlights flash. I hear the faintest electronic beep. Yep, that's the one. But there's a problem. I'm not the only one heading for the SUV. A young woman holding a toddler's hand is walking straight toward the vehicle. Her head swivels around like she's looking for someone. Crap. I think I know who she's looking for. I click the fob and lock the car. Hoping she'll walk away so I can get inside and be gone before the rest area gets any busier. I slide the keys back into my pocket. Dad! The young woman calls when she gets to the SUV and sees no one in there. Dad! The toddler, a little girl, starts whining. And the young woman picks her up, smoothing the hair on the back of the little girl's head. She goes to open the back door, but it's locked. She tries the passenger door. Locked too. The keys in my pocket weigh heavy with guilt. It's okay, sweetie. Grandpa will be out soon. He just had to go party too, I guess. The young woman presses the toddler's face to her shoulder. She stands there, right by the Hyundai, not going anywhere. Damn it. The young woman catches my eye and I give her a quick, harmless smile. With my plan to switch vehicles dead, I turn and hurry back to the Nissan X-Tera SUV I arrived in. I don't know if I'm being followed, but no one tailed me into the rest area, which, for now, is a good sign. Still. Keeping my focus on the SUV, I walk across the rest area's parking lot to the blue Nissan X-Tera. Just like the one I was driving yesterday when I left the hotel. Except that one had been fire engine red. Big difference. Another big difference is that I know I left the hotel yesterday. I know I did. And I left the hotel in that red X-Tera. Except I didn't arrive in a red X-Tera. I didn't arrive at all, actually. Instead, I just woke up. It's all fuzzy. Getting into the red X-Tera, driving a few hours before pulling off at the exit is indicated in my instructions. I was almost to the rendezvous point, almost, about to complete the job. Then everything became exploding windows and broken glass and the crunch of metal and plastic. And I was rolling and rolling and then. Nothing. For the briefest moment, there was absolutely nothing. It was as if everything was blank. As if I was blank. Then the nothing stopped being nothing. And I woke up in the blue X-Tera with a bitch of a headache. Before I could even think of thought, I started the SUV, reversed, and pulled out of the McDonald's parking lot I was parked in. It wasn't until I hit the interstate that I realized I wasn't in the same car. Hell. After passing three exits, I realized I wasn't even in the same damn state anymore. I immediately pulled over so I could get my kit and make sure I hadn't been drugged. I also needed to sweep myself and the blue X-Tera for trackers and bugs. But my kit wasn't in the X-Tera. None of my gear was in the back, even though I'd packed it all that morning. I packed it all into a red X-Tera, which I was no longer in possession of. I know the young woman with a toddler is watching me. I can feel it. Hopefully, her dad doesn't wake up anytime soon or get discovered. Both of those would be bad. I just need a couple of minutes to get the hell out of here. My hopes are dashed as I hear a man shouting for help from the men's restroom. I sprint the last few feet to the X-Tera's driver's side door, reaching into my pocket for the keys. I find the keys from the guy I mugged. I toss them to the side. I check my other pocket, empty except for my wallet. I pat myself down from chest to calves, thinking maybe the keys, I don't know, fell? Or I put them in a different pocket? No keys. I reach the driver's side door just as a flash of light fills the interior. A woman, confused and looking like she's been dunked in a tub of blood, is sitting there in the driver's seat. There's another flash and the blood disappears. The woman's face goes blank for a second. Then she reaches down and turns the ignition. The X-Tera starts right up. Hey! I slam my palms against the glass. Hey! This is my car! The woman jumps and turns her neck slowly until she's staring right at me. What? The woman's voice is quiet. And not because there's a pain of glass between us. It's like she's learning how to speak again. Which is a feeling I'm very familiar with. I grab the door handle and yank on it. Locked. In the door! This is my car! The woman frowns and shakes her head. The blood may have left, but the confused look has remained. Your car? She winces as if she's in pain. Another feeling I'm familiar with. Just unlock the door please. You're in the wrong car! Behind me. Close to the buildings that house the restrooms and the vending machines. I can hear more voices start to rise. If I look over my shoulder, I have a feeling I'll see fingers pointed in my direction. Please, I can prove that it's my car. She blinks a few times, then slowly reaches down and hits the door button, unlocking all of the SUV's doors. You, and you, stop! The woman in the driver's seat frowns, looks over at the commotion, then looks back at me. Where am I? What's happening? It doesn't matter. It's hard to explain. You stop where you are! Crap. That sounds like a cop. When did a cop show up? I don't dare look back and engage. As long as I pretend I can't hear him, then I should be good. You'll have to get close before he can make a move. No way he's pulling his piece and shooting the here in a public rest area on the side of a major interstate. I said stop! I will shoot! Well, so much for that theory. I slam the driver's side door closed and yank open the back door directly behind it. I throw myself inside, close the door, then climb up over the partition, flopping into the passenger seat. Drive! The woman shrieks and puts her hands to her head, bar eyes wide, her attention going from me, then to the cop who is running at us now, his pistol up, a shuttered. Drive! Drive! Drive! The woman shrieks again. I slam my finger down on the lock button, just as the cop reaches us on the passenger's side. My side. With one hand, he holds the pistol, the barrel tapping against the glass. With his other hand, he's trying to pull the car door open. It's locked. I try to ignore the cop as I get the woman's attention by touching her arm. She jerks away, but stops shrieking. You're confused. I was too. This isn't your exterra, is it? She shakes her head. Okay, well, confession time. Technically, it's not mine either. I have a red one. Mine's green. There you go! A different exterra. We each had an exterra, yes. But not this blue one we're in now. I woke up in it yesterday. You woke up in it now. I don't know exactly how we're wide, but I'm trying to find out. I have an idea of what I'm involved in, but not quite sure. I'm definitely not going to tell this woman, or she'll freak out even more. My fingers tap the key in the ignition. I can't find out how we're wide if I'm locked up in jail. And this isn't your exterra either. So that cop out there isn't exactly going to be the hero you think you'll be once he finds out you're in a car that doesn't belong to you. I'm gonna break this glass. Get out of the vehicle. Now. But every word, the woman flinches. The cop keeps yelling. Then the cop bashes the passenger side window in, and his hand reaches inside to unlock the door. I shake my head. Knocking loose, broken glass. Then throw my elbow back as hard and as fast as I can, catching the cop in the lower jaw. He cries out, but doesn't withdraw his arm. He's still slapping at the unlock button with his hand. Get out! Get out now, or I will! He doesn't get to finish. I swivel in my seat and pop him hard between the eyes with my fist. Twice. His eyes roll up into his head and I manage to grab his pistol out of his hand before he falls to the pavement. Then I am the gun at the woman and say, how about now? Will you drive now? The woman gasps, stares at the pistol, then turns the ignition and puts the exterra into reverse. As we line up with the exit lane out of the rest area, I glance over and see a ton of people standing there, watching us leave. Half of them have their phones out and are recording. That'll be a problem, but a later problem. Go! Go, go, go! I waive the gun at the woman. She cries out, then floors it. The exterra races forward, nearly clipping a minivan that is backing out of its parking space. The woman aims the exterra for the rest area's exit, her foot to the floor. We just barely miss clipping a long haul truck as it merges into the exit lane. The woman swerves around it, cursing under her breath. She gets level with the cab, leans across me, and flips the truck driver off. Each shit asshole! She leans back and focuses on getting us out of the rest area. The truck driver lays on the horn, but that's it. In seconds, we're out on the interstate. The woman moving us into the fast lane, pushing the speed up to 70, 80, 90. OK, OK, chill. It relaxes back into the passenger seat, even though it's cold as hell with the window broken out. Don't bring too much attention to us. Get into the slow lane and we'll get off at the next exit. The slow lane? Seriously? I've got places to be shit to do, mister. The slow lane is for pussies. I'm taking it back by the sudden personality change. OK. Ah, no problem. Fast lane it is. But we still need to take the next exit. Who was that back there? I've furrowed my brow. What do you mean? Don't place stupid. At the rest stop. Who were running from someone? Who was it? What? You mean the cop? No, not the cop. Something feels off. And I study the woman closely. Basic clothes, blouse and jeans, running shoes, sensible haircut and good shape. I wasn't running from someone. Oh? So you want to get off at the next exit because what? You want to swing into Burger King and get a couple of whoppers? No. We have to get off the road and switch. She side eyes me and then smirks. Switch? Switch way. Switch cars? Why would you need to do that? Do you think the cop got a good look at the license plate? Because I think you dropped him before he could get a peak. I don't reply. Come on. Who are you running from? She looks over and rolls her eyes at me. And put the damn gun away. I don't want to get accidentally shot, OK? I think for a minute, this must be the woman's real personality. That scared little lamb thing back at the rest area was just her adjusting to suddenly finding herself sitting in a different exterra with very few memories and a whole lot of questions. It was all too much to take in at once, so her brain reverted to fear mode. She's not in fear mode anymore. I put the gun down, resting it in my lap. I have a couple of fingers on it, but I'm no longer holding it. She stares at me. Watch the road. She keeps staring at me. Jesus, watch the road. She doesn't stop staring at me. OK, OK. I slipped the gun into my front pocket. Happy? She returns her attention to the road. She nods her chin. Exit in one mile. She laughs. Hey, look, they do have a burger king. Cute. She swerves between two cars, garnering a few angry honks and gets into the right lane. Calm down, fast and furious. I sense the guy with a gun in his pocket. She laughs again. What's your name? I give her one of my aliases. Jonah. Jonah, good to meet you. I'm Blaze. Blaze? Like a fire? Spelled differently, but yeah, like a fire. Interesting. Oh, why is that? Blaze swerves hard again, taking the exit. I grab the O-shed handle and hang on. Um, just an interesting name is all. Blaze nods and slows at the stop sign at the bottom of the off ramp. She takes a ride, and we drive for a few minutes, passing fast food joints and gas stations. It's a busy exit. Plenty of travelers. Families in minivans, retirees in RVs, big and small. College kids on trips for the weekend. Locals who look very irritated with all the tourists moving through their territory. Blaze passes all of them. I'm about to ask what she's doing. But I know what she's doing. It's exactly what I do. Who are you, Blaze? He said your exterra was green. I don't know what happened to me. I assume I crashed. Did you crash too? She shrugs. Can't really remember. She gives me that side eye. She's good at it. But the memories are coming back. Great. What do you remember? Were you driving? I have to think you were driving. I was. I just got into an intersection, was going through the light. That's all I remember. We've left the major strip of off-ramp commerce behind. We're now driving down a main artery to whatever burg this is. Mom and pop shops, auto shops, a grocery market, insurance, banks, all the things a small community needs. Blaze smiles and pulls us into a small pet supply store's parking lot. She eases the exterra around the side of the building, parking it close to a black compact sedan. A Honda or Toyota, maybe. When she turns off the ignition, she swivels in her seat. That smile wider than before. Jonah, right? Yeah. I ease my hand in my pocket where the gun is. Her eyes follow my hand, then look back up, staring me straight in the face. Not in Rika or Elijah. Not Bill or Jason or Vladimir? My blood runs cold. Those are all names of alias as I use. In fact, she's pretty much gotten every single one, minus only a couple. Who are you? Not your concern. We've had a hard time tracking you down, and an even harder time containing you. Wee, that smile. I go to pull the gun from my pocket, but Blaze slaps me across the face, then lunges forward, grabbing my wrist. With my free hand, I jam my palm up under her chin, forcing her face to turn away, shoving her head up toward the car's roof. Her other hand pops me twice in the face, but I manage to turn my head into a void of broken nose. My cheek takes a serious beating, though, and I feel the skin split and blood start pouring down my face. I'm still trying to pull the gun, and Blaze is still trying to get control of my hand by squeezing and twisting my wrist. She's good. The woman knows her stuff. Her thumb and forefinger are desperately trying to press down onto a couple of pain points that will turn my hand into a tingling, useless blob of skin and bone and blood. But I'm continually turning and shoving and jerking my arm, making it impossible for her to get a good solid lock on the pain point. We both disengage at the same time, each pulling our hands back to ourselves. Then we both attack at the same time, throwing hard, quick jabs at each other. And of course, we block each other's blows at the same time, with only a couple slipping through. I take a shot to my right eyebrow, and blood trickles down into my eye, semi-blinding me. She takes a shot right in the lips, and I feel teeth crack as I pull my hand back, my knuckles bloody. Being in the front of the X-Tera pretty much eliminates using my legs, but Blaze doesn't have that problem. Like a contortionist, she gets her legs up out of the driver's well and pistons her left leg right at my face. I dodge to the side, and her foot goes out of the broken window. I wrap my arm around her leg and push down with all of my weight. Blaze screams from the pressure it puts on her ankle, as her foot is still on the windowsill. Painty rups in my nose, my lips and my chin, as Blaze sends jab after jab into my face. Blood flies everywhere, and I'm suddenly forced to breathe through my mouth, as my sinus is swell up. I barely manage to cock my head to the side as Blaze tries to poke my eyes out, with a quick jab of her index and middle fingers. Instead of getting my eyes, her fingers jam inside my left ear, and I cry out as pain tears through my head. A loud ringing, followed by a deep throbbing bass, fills my hearing on that side. Blaze, not wasting the opportunity, grasps the back of my ear, and yanks as hard as she can, really putting her weight behind it. I can feel my ear about to tear off, so I hawk a lugian spit it right in her face. Her entire body reacts, and she slaps at the mucousy glob of spit that is rolling down her cheek. This mites her not to waste an opportunity, and I throw myself across the x-terra at her. Using my size advantage, to pin her against the driver's side door. I manage to get my forearm up under her chin and press it against her windpipe. Blaze's eyes widen, and she starts rabbit punching me in my guts as hard as she can, but it's not enough. She has no leverage. I have the entire advantage. Pain suddenly explodes up under my right arm pit. Blaze has her thumb, jammed into the pressure point in the soft meat of my pit. My arm starts to go numb. I get my feet planted on the passenger side door, and push with all of my strength. Blaze gasps and groans, but I don't let up. The thumb in my armpit falls away just as I give one last hard push. I feel blazes windpipe collapse under my waist. She stares me right in the eye, and I match that stare until the life leaves her body. Then I ran sack her clothes, looking for clues, because there is no way that this woman showing up in the x-terra was a coincidence. I mean, the odds of someone as trained as I am just appearing in the driver's seat are pretty low. She has nothing on her, nothing in any of her pockets. No ID, no cash, no credit cards or phone. Absolutely nothing. Then I see it as her shirt rides up above her waist. Attab2. We're into the thick of the season now, and so does Carl's reward shaker, with even bigger rewards and offers. 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I've been freelancing for a while, working for private collectors who are looking for unique items that have unique powers and abilities, like this X-Tera. While it wasn't a target, it has been on a couple of clients' lists. From what I know, if you die in any sort of vehicular accident while driving a 2002 Nissan X-Tera, you wake up in this damn blue X-Tera. Wherever it is, same body, same clothes, same memories once the initial fuzziness wears off. I was confused when it happened to me, but not surprised. I've been driving 2002 Nissan X-Tera exclusively for years, just in case. And it finally paid off. Unfortunately, that means that I am a copy of myself, not the real deal. My actual body, now a corpse, is sitting in a red X-Tera, or was, at least, who knows where it is now. Probably at a foundation side in a cooler. And from what I could tell at the rest area, I'm about six states away from where I, um, died, I guess. I had been looking for a vest made of pure Yeti hair, and I was maybe a day away from tracking it down, ready to meet a connection when BAM! Lights out. I woke up in this X-Tera with the clothes on my back and my wallet and my pocket still. Which does beg the question, is this my real wallet or a duplicate? I have to assume that if this thing can duplicate my clothes, it has to be able to duplicate my wallet too. I look at Blaze, if that's actually her name, which I highly doubt. I'm not sure what I have stepped in, but the foundation is gunning hard if they're sending in crossbones. That team is the craziest mofos on the planet. They will actually volunteer to die, or get maimed, or have their skin peeled off by whatever anomaly the foundation needs them to work with. I watched a member of crossbones eat his own hair, then let himself choke to death on it, so that a black hole could be suppressed before it swallowed all of Cleveland. Going up against crossbones is not in my business plan. Which means I need to put as much distance between myself and this X-Tera as fast as possible. Then I pause. Do I actually need to ditch the X-Tera? It is worth several fortunes. I could make a call right now and have eight zeros sent to my bank account just as the down payment. I could retire for good on what I'd make selling this SUV, never having to hunt an item down again. Just me and a beach and fruity drinks and barely cloud ladies everywhere. It's tempting. But I have none of my infrastructure set up. And drop off point, no escape plan. If I do this, I'll be winging it for a while. And when you wing it, you leave room for the foundation to slip in and ruin things. Ah, but beaches and fruity drinks and ladies. It doesn't take long for me to convince myself of what I need to do. First, I have to get blaze out of the driver's seat and stash your body. I get to it. The black sedan parked beside us will do. I jimmy the trunk open and dump her inside. Good riddance. I say as I slam the trunk lid down. Next, I head into the pet store, my hands to my face, and try to smile at the shocked cash ear. Um, I had a little accident in the parking lot and say, took a bit of a face plant. You wouldn't have an have a first aid kit, would you? The young woman only nods, reaches under her checkout counter and pulls out a blue box that has seen better days. She hands it to me. I take it. Find the sign for the restrooms and hurry back there. It takes me a bit and hurts like hell. But I get my nose to stop bleeding and slap a few butterfly bandages on my split cheek and eyebrow. I clean myself up as best as I can. Leave the rest room, toss the first aid kit to the still stunned cash ear and walk out of the pet supply store. Ready to see what I can do with the X-Tera. I get around the corner of the building and freeze. A man is sitting in the X-Tera's driver's seat. His forehead resting against the steering wheel. Luckily, he doesn't see me. So I drop low and crouch walk over to the passenger side. I pull the gun from my pocket and pop up. Ready to put a couple of rounds in the guy's head. But he's not there. Painty rubs in my elbow as the man suddenly races around the front of the SUV and brings his arm down hard on mine. The gun falls from my grip and inside the X-Tera, plopping onto the passenger seat. With my arms still trapped between the guy's arm and the windowsill, I reach around with my left hand and grab whatever I can find. Lucky for me, I hit the jackpot. Unlucky for the guy, I grab his crotch and squeeze with every ounce of strength I have. He screams, something pops. He screams louder. I get my arm free, pluck the gun up out of the X-Tera, turn and put two rounds in his forehead. His screaming stops. I don't have long. The cops, if they haven't already been called, will be arriving soon. I have to get the hell out of here and find a place to regroup. I drag the dead man's corpse over to the back of the black sedan, Jimmy the trunk open again and pile him in on top of blaze. His shirt rides up and I see the mark of crossbones. These guys are determined. That thought is proven true because the second I have the trunk closed and turn to the X-Tera, there's a flash of light and a new guy is sitting in the SUV's driver's seat. He grunts, shakes his head and then looks around. His eyes go wide as I walk up to the window and fire point blank against the glass. The window explodes, half his face explodes, I fire twice more and the rest of his head goes away. Then I wipe the gun down, toss it as far as I can throw it, turn and walk away from the X-Tera, leaving the man's corpse still slumped in the driver's seat. I'm hoping that with him still sitting there, no one else can spawn in. I laugh at the thought, that's what it's like. A video game where you spawn in. A little higher stakes than a video game sure, but the same principle. My face and most of my body throbs with pain, but there's no time to lose. I jog around the back of the pet supply store, slipping through a tear in the chain link fence that borders the property. I have no idea where I'm going to go or what I'm going to do, but I have resources stashed all over the place. All I have to do is get to one of my safety deposit boxes, grab a stash and disappear for good, or at least until the foundation moves on and stops looking for me. As for everyone else, well, I died. Or the Jonah alias has died, but it'll get around that it was my corpse and the red X-Tera. Clients will move on, open jobs will get bid on by someone else, and everything I built will be lost. Except that I'm dead. And well, in my line of work, that may have its advantages. I walk through the overgrown lot behind the pet supply store and think about my next move. I do have a good amount of money down in the camons. Maybe a trip to the Caribbean is in order. I mean, after all, there are definitely beaches, fruity drinks, and barely clad ladies down there. Maybe being dead isn't going to be such a bad thing. Item number 7661. Level 4. Classified. Containment Class. Euclid. SCP-7661 is a 2002 Nissan X-Tera sports utility vehicle, consistent with those produced at the Nissan Smerna Assembly Plant in Tennessee, USA. No records exist of its manufacturer. A plaque reading courtesy vehicle is located where the windshield of in plate would be. SCP-7661 otherwise operates similarly to a non-anomalous automobile. SCP-7661 will undergo an anomalous event when any 2002 Nissan X-Tera is involved in a road traffic collision in which the driver is terminated as a direct result. An exact duplicate of the driver, designated SCP-7661-A, will manifest within SCP-7661 between 21 and 37 hours following the driver's death. All instances of SCP-7661-A are physically and genetically identical to their terminated counterpart and possess memories that the latter would have.