Potato salad, cold fried chicken, and a jar of dill pickles, Connie lifted out container after container from back of the station wagon. She handed Vin the platter of deviled eggs. Shouting, the twins were tossing a frisbee. An errant breeze caught the tablecloth. Grammy, holding a bowl of ambrosia, let lose an extraordinary riff of expletives. Plastic plates went flying. Laughing, Vin fumbled the slippery tray of hard boiled eggs. Egg halves tumbled over his Chuck Ts.

“Costello! Vin wake up! What are we going to do? Ramirez is under restraints and the other is in the decontamination airlock. What now?” Franz said.

The panic in his second in command’s voice cut into Vin’s thoughts. He could taste green apple Capri Sun. The grass at Overlook park was spongy under his Chucks. In front of him struggling Ramirez was zip tied to the med bay bed and the other one the one who looked and sounded just like Ramirez was shouting over the intercom. Its cries grew more frantic.

Vin put his hand to his aching forehead. His fingertips smelt of fresh cut summer. Something he couldn’t understand was happening to him.

“Cut the in line audio to the airlock. Make sure whatever it is can hear us though. Doc what about the readouts?” Vin asked.

“Look for yourself Fern—I mean Vin. Heart rate, blood pressure every reading on this Ramirez as well as one in the airlock reads as human. I’ve compared to previous scans for a baseline but what the hell, Captain? I don’t know what is happening? How can there be two?” Doctor Johnson said, her voice quaking.

“Listen to me! You know it’s me. We’ve served two tours together, Vin. I went out to repair the solar cells and came back. End of story. Kill that thing. I don’t know why you let it in. You know me guys,” med bay Ramirez said.

On the airlock screen Vin could see that Ramirez was mouthing the words, ‘kill that thing I don’t know why you let it in you know me, guys.’ Just below his left ear, an ice pick of pain pierced Vin’s head. Crying, Franz was mumbling to someone Vin couldn’t see. Doc’s nose had started to bleed. Vin’s eyes closed. Whatever was happening was happening to all of them at the same time.

Laughing the twins were tossing around a football. Grammy was slicing up Aunt Evie’s apple cake, Vin’s favorite. Grammy handed him a slice. Thick chunks of apple, the slice smelled of sulfur. Vin jerked back. Something was wrong. Focus, Vincent, Connie whispered close to his ear. His eyes flew open. Fighting the urge of red popsicles and jars of fireflies, Vin typed his command code into his wrist band. Bright drops of blood fell onto his silvery uniform. He dragged his forearm beneath his own bloody nose.

“Doc prepare a quick syringe of morph. Franz complete the disinfection vacate airlock sequence. Miles, I am going to ask you one question. The Ramirez that gets it right lives. The one who gets it wrong dies. If you are both wrong or both right I will complete the self destruction sequence. I don’t know how far the replication process has gone. I don’t know if we can even be saved. I just owe it to my crew to try. Franz, pull it together soldier. Doc, ready? “

Vin said.

After a deep breath, Vin walked around the med bay bed. With a dose gun posed at Ramirez’s jugular Doc waited. Sniffling Franz tapped on control screen. Vin looked at both sets of bio readings. Both sets of readings showed anxiety. Vin nodded to his second. Franz turned on the airlock audio. Wavering, Vin placed a hand on the spaceship wall to steady himself. Turkey in the Straw playing from a passing ice cream truck made Vin wince.

“Ready everyone. Ramirez, here’s your test. Knock knock, who’s there, banana.”

Everyone froze.

“Knock knock who’s there, banana,” Vin said inches from Ramirez’ ear.

Suddenly the readings diverged. One spiked into the near heart attack range, the other sank into a resting heart rate. Over the intercom, the Ramirez in the airlock howled a litany of profanities.

“Knock knock who’s there, orange. Orange who?” Vin said in a sing song voice.

From the readings the real crewman was losing his rag and the other was confident it had the right answer.

“Orange you glad I didn’t say ba—“

Before collapsing to his knees, Vin patted Doc’s shoulder. She shot the fake Ramirez in the neck and reached to activate the contamination field. Turning, Franz fired an air canister into the fake Ramirez. A perfect circle opened in fake Ramirez’ chest. Hissing, the fake crewman deflated like a tired balloon behind the shimmering force field. The real Ramirez stormed into the med bay still shouting profanities. Drowning in cinnamon, Vin sank onto the med bay floor.