Double Down
“Did you want me to take the garbage out for you?” Kend asked.
“Sure,” Ken Bayler said, “thanks.”
Ken watched the other man go, easily hefting the two metal garbage cans to waist level and then above his head as he moved out the door. It had been years since Ken had seen his body in anything resembling that kind of shape, and he had to admit he missed it.
Kend would be back in a moment, and Ken used the time to take a deep breath. Having his doppelganger in the house had become wearing, and not simply because the man had his face and a better physique. It was unnerving to see what might have been, and irritating that he had been stuck with it.
Of course, he wasn't the only one. When the other earth had appeared two years ago, dangerously close to the “real” planet, a full-out panic had ensued. Rockets were scrambled and missions were launched; most Americans were convinced it was judgment day come to call.
What the military found was an earth in dire need of help – there, a different timeline and the assassination of the President had sent the world spiraling into World War Three, and what was thought to be a new weapon of mass destruction instead managed to shunt the planet into a new reality. On landing, men and women from the original earth found half the planet dead or dying, along with struggling survivors trying to eke out a living.
Of course, since the planet was putting a strain on earth's own orbit, the government did what was expected; loaded up all the able-bodied other worlders it could find and then blew their world to hell.
Back on earth, it became clear that there were too many bodies to keep track of, many of whom had scars, both physical and mental, from the years of war they'd suffered. Policymakers talked and laws were drafted, the end result being that everyone on the planet who had a living doppelganger was responsible for them. Each one was given a monthly stipend that was paid to the care giver, and every name was appended with the letter (d) for doppelganger.
Ken(d) was how his duplicate's name was actually spelled, but he always thought of the other man as simply Kend. It had been difficult, initially, to see himself face-to-face, and to know what he would look like if war ever came. At first, he had been impressed – Kend cut an impressive figure, and was confident and forthright. Then, he learned that in the first attacks on American soil, Kend had lost Janice.
He had felt his chest tighten at that, and his wife's eyes went watery. They had been together since high school, and he couldn't imagine life without Janice, let alone soldiering on. Kend told them he had been driven largely by vengeance to stay alive, though no country claimed responsibility for the initial bombings. That left his doppelganger in a state of unfocused rage, one that he parlayed into command of a band of militia men that fought any who dared try to loot, steal or attack any members of the town. Kend was almost feral, or so he said, by the time the distortion weapon was used.
The banging of the back door snapped his attention from the past, and Kend looked at him quizzically as he brought his head up.
“You alright, Ken?” Kend had taken to using his new name easily enough, though Ken was sure that far more than bemused satisfaction was lurking under the surface of the man's toned exterior. He had always been one to hold emotion in, and that meant his double would as well.
“Fine, Kend,” he said, “just thinking about you, to be honest. Well – what I might have been.” They had largely avoided this topic. Janice thought it was “nice” that he was helping his double, though he told her that was only because he had no choice. She chided him for it, but she didn't realize how difficult it was to look in the mirror everyday and then realize your reflection was talking back to you. As it turned out, he didn't like his reflection very much.
“I wonder the same.” Kend's voice was tight. And why wouldn't he? Ken might not have the body, but he had the wife, the house, and the planet that was still in one piece. From everything else he'd learned about Kend, their worlds had been identical up until five years ago, but even half a decade could make a huge difference in a man.
“I'm...I'm sorry.” The words were hard. He hadn't done anything to Kend, but still felt a responsibility for his loss, a guilt at exposing the man to what he could have had, every single day.
“Hey! Hey, Ken. It's fine. It's not your fault. I know that.” Kend moved to stand beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. A tremor ran through him but he didn't step back; this was uncomfortable, but the man deserved at least something, some human connection.
“At heart, we're still the same, Ken. I've been harder used by the world, but we're both good men. We both love Janice.” There was a catch in Kend's voice and his grip tightened around Ken's arm. “And she knows that.”
Kend's arms were around his neck before he had a chance to react. “Don't -” he gurgled, “this isn't – us!” Gasping, he fell to the floor, and Kend let him go, but followed him down to sit on his chest.
“It's not that I'm a better version of you, Ken – quite the opposite. But I do love Janice more. I've lost her, so I know what she's worth.”
“She'll never -” he had to struggle to get the words out “believe you!”
“Sure she will, Kenny,” Kend said brightly, “I'll put on some of your clothes and slouch around. I'll tell her Kend ran away, and she'll believe me, glad to have her own Ken all to herself again. Don't worry, she'll be happy, I promise. We always did make her happy.”
Blackness took him, and came with the startling realization that he was a real asshole.
- D
