Jude looked at him. Skyler's voice had a slight trembling to it. Jude thought that his own voice caught in the same way when he was upset.
"Now, c'mon," said Jude. His hangover had abated, and in its place he felt a light-headedness. "You don't have to worry. No one's going to hurt you. I'll see to that. We're in this together."
He wasn't convinced all that was true, but he thought it would make Skyler feel better. He could see that he was getting more and more upset.
Skyler gripped him on the arm and squeezed, so tightly that his fingers dug into the muscle of his forearm. When Jude looked up, he saw that Skyler's chest was heaving up and down, though no sound was coming from him.
"C'mon. What's the matter?"
As soon as he said it, he thought it sounded fatuous, but it seemed to strike a chord in Skyler.
"I just don't understand what's going on."
"Well, I can't blame you. I don't understand, either. And I have to say, it's one major shock to come home and find a twin in your hallway."
"Who is that woman in the picture?"
"Picture?"
"The one by your bed. Who is the woman?"
Skyler was still gripping Jude's arm, holding on as if for dear life.
"She's my girlfriend. Her name's Tizzie."
Now Jude was confused.
"Why?"
Skyler didn't answer; he just looked away and let go of Jude's arm.
"Listen, you don't even have to meet her. But don't worry, you can trust her. She comes here sometimes."
A new thought occurred.
"Jesus Christ. I don't know what the hell I'm going to tell her."
Skyler stood up and started pacing around the kitchen. Neither of them spoke for a while. Eventually, Jude, as host and man of the world, felt it was incumbent upon himself to come up with a plan of action. He moved into the living room and motioned to Skyler to follow him.
"First thing we do," he said. "is we've got to find you a place. It's not safe for you to be out wandering the streets, and it's probably not a good idea for you to stay here."
He walked over to stand beside the blinds with his back to the wall and lifted them with two fingers to peer out. There seemed to be nothing unusual on the street.
"Pretty soon we'll have more Orderlies around here than a god-damned hospital."
He sat Skyler on the couch and talked to him in a tone that was slightly patronizing.
"Soon I'm going to go out and find a place, nothing fancy. You stay here and don't move. Whatever you do, don't answer the phone. If somebody comes to the door and knocks, don't answer it. Understand?"
Skyler nodded.
"You look horrible. I'll bet you didn't sleep all night. I'm going to give you some pills — they're sleeping pills — and I want you to take one. No more than one. It won't hurt you, it'll just put you to sleep. But first, you've gotta get cleaned up. Take a bath. You know how to shave?"
Again, Skyler nodded.
Minutes later, Skyler was standing in the bathroom. As Jude had instructed, he had deposited his old clothes in a plastic bag to be thrown out. Some new clothes, Jude's, were piled on a chair. Hot water was running in the tub, and the mirror before him was steamed over. He tugged at his beard with the razor; it was tough going and he cut himself two or three times, but eventually he got it off, watching as the bits of black hair and shaving cream swirled down the drain. He wiped the mirror with the palm of his hand and looked at his reflection.
Jude had been right about one thing — he had been up all night. How could he possibly have slept after his discovery?
He was hopelessly, totally confused. Once he had begun to talk to Jude, after the frightening encounter in the stairwell, he had gradually begun to trust him. For one thing, Jude had seemed so completely stunned when he first laid eyes on him. And then the more Skyler told him, the more he had seemed perplexed; he'd ended up sounding as much at sea as Skyler was. And as Jude was puzzling it out with him, sharing his theories and his amazement at the story of the island and the lives of the Jimminies there, Skyler had begun to feel something he hadn't anticipated — a comradeship, a sense of alliance. Maybe it was because he was so lonely and desperate. He needed Jude to be on his side if he had any chance of discovering the truth about the Lab. But Jude himself inspired some of the feeling: he did not seem to be playacting. He appeared trustworthy.
But now Skyler did not know what to think. The photograph had changed everything. Or had it? It was impossible for there to be another Julia in the world. And yet the person — Tizzie, he had called her — was a dead ringer. She looked as much like Julia as Jude looked like Skyler. But how could that be? Was the whole world peopled with doubles? Could it be that Jude was playacting after all, that he was part of some conspiracy that had killed Julia because she had learned too much and now would do away with him? He would have to be on his guard.
Skyler took off the pajamas and flung them into a corner.
He stepped into the tub and lay down. There was something else that he did not admit to in thinking about the photograph. It had shocked and saddened him, arousing memories of her. But it had also awakened something — a quickening in his pulse, a dream, a wisp of hope. There was, it seemed, someone who looked like Julia. Maybe in certain ways, impossible as it was to contemplate, she would act like her — maybe she could almost be like her.
From somewhere Skyler heard a sound, the splashing of water on a tiled floor.
Jude lay on his bed, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He had put on a little charade for Skyler to give him a gift of hope. He had pretended that he had a plan of action, so that they could at least believe that they were doing something. But truth be told, he didn't have the vaguest idea of what to do or where to turn. This was the damnedest thing he had ever heard of.
He would have to take it step by step, figure things out one at a time. He would have to play this chess game by instinct, to move the pawns at the start and worry later about the endgame. First, it was important to get Skyler out of harm's way. He would probably need a disguise of some sort. Jude wondered: would Skyler be more in danger or less in danger if he looked like him?
Maybe he should reach out for help. Sooner or later, Tizzie would have to know. On impulse he dialed her number, but there was no answer. Still out of town, wherever she was. Her message voice sounded coldly formal, and he left just his name on the machine.
It was when he was hanging up the phone that he heard something — the sound of water splashing.
Jesus Christ. The guy's a real hick — he can't take a bath without overflowing the tub.
Jude ran over and flung open the door. The tub was overflowing, and Skyler was turning off the faucets. When he finished, he lay back and stretched out in the tub.
Then it was Jude's turn to be puzzled. For he noticed something on Skyler's body, a little blue mark on the inside of his right thigh. He pointed toward it.
"What the hell is that?" he asked.
"That's our mark. We all have them."
"We?"
"The Jimminies."
Jude looked at the mark more closely. It was a little larger than a quarter, and it was a curious design; it looked like two babies facing each other, joined at the hands.
"Holy shit," exclaimed Jude, actually raising one hand in a gesture of astonishment. "It's a tattoo. Someone gave you a tattoo."
He stared at Skyler.
"And you don't mean Jimminy. You mean Gemini."
Jude was speeding across the Tappan Zee Bridge. The car was moving so fast that the steel supports of the span flickered in the light like an old black-and-white movie. The Hudson below winded off to the north as far as the eye could see, and sails dotted the blue water, white commas.