Blue Sky Tomorrows

by L. J. Hachmeister

  “Those chakking leeches,” his mom babbled, smashing her bottle into one of the water heaters. Two older men tried to calm her as she flailed and cried. “Yashin…they killed my Yashin. Those leeches brought this war! They brought the USC!”

  “I hate this place,” Cam whispered, pulling his sisters in closer and looking away from his mother.

  Colin chuckled. “Yeah, I’m getting out.”

  “No one gets out.”

  “My cousin on Neel got out. Took the Dominion entrance exam and got sent to the academy the next day. Pretty sweet deal I hear. And you get to kick some USC assino.”

  Cam didn’t believe him for a second. The USC ships had been attacking Cerka for years, and despite years of dutifully paying tribute to the Sovereign, not a single Dominion ship came to lend aid to the dwindling planetary forces. And now that the USC brought their warships, their biggest interstellar vessels, it would only be a matter of days before what was left of the Cerkan government surrendered. The telepaths—the leeches—had won. They would be released from prisons, and granted back their citizenship, despite the threat they posed.

  Still, he asked: “Where… where do you take the test?”

  Colin twirled the messy dark hair that reached his shoulders, eyes glinting. “In a couple weeks we’re supposed to meet at the old arcade. The CCWF is hosting at some secret place.”

  Concerned Citizens for World Freedom. The biggest anti-telepath movement on the planet, the group that his father pledged his life to after a leech stole his position at the factory. The one that convinced his mother that their father’s death, a supposed critical sacrifice during the anti-telepath demonstrations, meant the freedom of Cerka.

  “Don’t go.”

  Colin frowned. “Why? It’s safe.”

  Cam disagreed. Nothing about the hate group was safe. Still, he couldn’t argue the desire to leave, to get out of the ruined city by any means possible.

  “Look, my mom... she isn’t doing so well,” Colin said, looking over his shoulder at the shivering woman hugging her threadbare sweater to her skeletal frame. “If I don’t join, then…”

  He didn’t have to say it. They all knew what happened to orphaned kids in a war-torn city.

  Hiding his tears with a quick wipe of his sleeve, Colin brought his bare feet underneath him and offered Cam a quick piece of advice: “You should sign-up, Cam, before it fills up. Dunno when it’ll happen again.”

  As Colin returned to his mother, Cam decided he couldn’t wait any longer. Gotta check on Kara.

  Sliding out from underneath the twins, he stood up and pressed his ear against the utility room door, listening for any warning signs. Stillness. Quiet. It almost unnerved him more than the bombs.

  “Where you going? Camzen!” his mother cried. “Get back here!”

  In one quick movement, Cam opened and shut the utility door behind him. He paused, holding his breath as he looked and listened. No movement up the cement stairs that led to the apartment complex entrance; only the whistling of the winds between the boarded-up windows and the leaves skittering through the sparkling sea of shattered glass and broken fixtures from previous attacks.

  Cam tip-toed up the stairs, mindful of the slightest movements. Afternoon light, dimmed by the starship blockade, filtered through the windows in dusty yellow beams. He followed the fresh footsteps through the debris and peeked out the front door.

  The air stunk of bomb-discharge, making him cough and cover his nose with his sleeve. Eyes stinging, he gazed down the block, but the haze of brown smoke and poor light made it impossible to see more than a few houses down.

  His better sensibilities questioned his actions: Go back. It isn’t safe.

  But he couldn’t. Not after spotting the same treads in the dust-covered walkway leading out into the streets.

  Where did Kara go? She was just supposed to check—not go out into the battle.

  Keeping his eyes and ears peeled, Cam walked down the block, the apartment complex disappearing behind him. Gunfire and sirens sounded off in the distance.

  It isn’t over.

  (Where is Kara?!)

  Cam darted his eyes back and forth from bullet-pocked structures to collapsed rooftops. He didn’t recognize anything. Up ahead, where the corner store, pawn shop, dingy old laundromat sat, he spotted a smoldering pile of rubble. Dark figures, bent into unrecognizable shapes, moaned underneath the fallen beams and walls.

  Those are—

  Bodies. People.

  bloody—

  Cam couldn’t process it all. He wanted to look away, to run screaming back to the underground utility room, and curl up with his mother. But as he turned, his eye caught the same blonde-haired man he saw earlier kneeling next to his opened backpack, speaking into what looked like a rectangular communications unit. Next to him, a young woman with pink-streaked hair hunched over a bloodied man, tending to his wounds.

  Kara.

  He did something stupid. Something against what all of his years of surviving in the war-torn city taught him.

  “Kara!” he cried out, running out to her.

  Don’t alert the drones, the soldiers—it’s not safe—go back—

  Not without Kara.

  “Kara!” he screamed again, trying to get her attention as the ground shook.

  She whipped her head toward the sound of his voice, unable to find him as a thunderous boom reverberated all around them.

  Losing his bearings in the commotion, Cam tripped, landing hard on his chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. Gasping for air, he rolled onto his back as black drones whizzed past.

  Run—

  As he scrambled to his feet, the first bomb dropped behind him, catapulting him forward and onto his side. Cam heard a snap just before pain lanced up his left arm and into his shoulder. Blood and bits of broken asphalt covered his tongue and lined his mouth, making him gag.

  Kara—

  Pushing himself up with his good arm, Cam caught a glimpse of the black-winged viper before the attack ship disappeared into the smoke.

  “Cam!”

  Kara.

  Amidst the chaos, he saw her. Kara, his older sister, the only person who cared about him in the whole world, running toward him, arms outstretched as the dark skies fell.

  Chapter 2

  Cam stirred amongst a confusion of arguing voices.

  “We can’t take him, Niks.”

  Everything hurt, and opening his eyes made the world wobble and spin. He caught glimpses of two figures above him, both female, one with a partially shaved head and unusual orange-colored eyes. Shouting and gunfire echoed in the distance, making it hard to discern their words.

  Where is my sister? he wanted to ask, though his words came out in a jumble.

  “We can’t…leave him.”

  The ground rumbled, and what felt like hot rain stung his face. Cam groaned and squirmed, but gentle hands held him down.

  “…at max capacity… Niks… the vipers are headed...”

  Something cool pressed against his aching left arm. At first, he jerked it away, but firm hands brought it back to a bent position, and the coolness returned.

  A thunderclap boomed overhead. Screams and shouts filled the air.

  “We have to go—now—”

  The coolness ripped away, and the pain to his arm returned. Cam forced his eyes open to see what beast wailed in his ears, what sent reverberations through his chest. A transport ship the size of city block hovered a few meters off the ground, ramp descended for the armored USC soldiers to jump back aboard. Smoke and embers swirled through the air as the transport’s glowing engines perturbed the ruined environment.

  Cam coughed and brought his uninjured arm to shield his face and eyes as the transport ship tilted on its side, blasting him with heat and wind. Through his fingers, he spotted two soldiers hauling the body of a bloody, unconscious person up the ramp, carrying them by the feet and under their armpits.

  Is that—?

  A w
oman with pink-streaked hair.

  “Kara,” he rasped, struggling to his feet.

  The ramp retracted as the soldiers and his sister disappeared into the gray belly of the ship, thrusters flaring.

  “Kara!” Cam stumbled across the broken pavement, banging his shins against canted slabs and scraping his hands as he crawled and clawed his way toward the rising starship.

  Missiles streaked across the sky. Cam screamed with all the breath left in his lungs as formation of vipers descended from the clouds.

  “Run!”

  A hand clamped down around his right wrist and yanked him away.

  Cam tripped, but a pair of arms steadied him.

  Colin.

  “Come on!” he screamed, pulling on Cam to follow him as he picked his away across the street and down the alley connecting them to another row of fallen buildings. Colin wouldn’t let up, even as Cam begged for him to stop.

  “Kara—they have Kara!”

  “We have to hide!”

  The ground quaked as more bombs fell from the darkened skies and smoke pumped into the air. If not for Colin’s strong grip, Cam wouldn’t have kept his feet, not with the dizzying barrage of flashing lights and deafening sound.

  Finally, after taking him down the subway tunnels, Colin let go. Cam collapsed against the green-tiled wall of a ticket booth heaving for breath as the steady thump-thump of bombs came down from above. The red emergency lights strung along the wall flickered, threatening to pitch them in full darkness.

  “You okay?”

  Cam didn’t answer. Tears stung his eyes as he crossed his arms to hide his shaking hands.

  “What happened to your arm?”

  Cam looked down at the torn sleeve of his sweater. A reddened, raised area marked his forearm, but no obvious bone deformity. He remembered the sharp pain, hearing the snap—

  The coolness, those voices…

  Did someone repair it? It still ached, but—

  No. That didn’t matter. The smoke, dead bodies, the howling sirens, the USC transport, armored soldiers—

  Kara.

  “Hey...”

  Cam finally regarded Colin. Blood stained his overalls, and a sizeable clotted gash cut across the side of his face. Still, he couldn’t think of anything but the heavy, urgent feeling carving into his chest.

  They took her. The USC took Kara.

  Those rat-chakkers!

  “I’ve got to go back,” Cam said, using the wall to steady himself as he got to his feet.

  Eyes glazing over, Colin shuffled back a few steps, then plopped down. “Everyone’s gone, Cam.”

  At first, he didn’t understand. Kara was still alive, he just had to find her—

  Then, the inflection, the weight, of Colin’s words sunk in.

  Everyone. Gone.

  Feeling light-headed, Cam sank back down. As waves of nausea washed over his stomach and up his throat, he tried to think of something good, something right in the world, as he imagined their apartment complex reduced to rubble, and all the residents—

  Mom

  Em, Sarh

  —buried inside. He gripped his sore arm and brought his knees to his chest, remembering his sister’s face, her sweet voice, the way she smiled as she sang their song of promise:

  “…But the sun will come again, and take away our sorrows. Just hold out, my love, for blue sky tomorrows…”

  “I can’t,” he whispered, shutting his eyes.

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing,” Cam said, letting anger seep into his words to mask his tears.

  “I’m scared, Cam,” Colin whispered, his voice on the edge of breaking.

  The emergency lights sputtered, then dimmed, as another series of bombs dropped not far from their location.

  Cam clutched his knees to his chest and waited for the coming darkness.

  ***

  Cam woke up in a crimson pool of light, panicked and confused by the windowless, dank surroundings. Then, as the pain of his injuries reasserted themselves, he spotted the subway signage dangling by a nail over the ticket booth and remembered his circumstances.

  Black skies.

  Kara leaving.

  (They’re gone.)

  But before despair could settle into his bones, he clung to what he remembered: Kara, taken by the USC, injured and weak, but alive.

  I have to get her back.

  “Colin?” he said, voice echoing down the subway stairs and into the shadows. No sound, not even the thumping of bombs.

  As he moved to get up, he noticed three dried pieces of fruit carefully arranged on a piece of flattened newspaper at his feet. Treasures in a decimated city where little food could be found.

  Kara’s voice sliced into his mind: “…Even the smallest gesture can mean so much…”

  Colin. His stomach gurgled.

  Why? Why would that stupid kid share his food with him—and then take off?

  Cam took one of the dried pieces of fruit and placed it in his cheek, savoring the sweet, leathery taste as he stuffed the other two in his pants pocket.

  He’s probably searching for supplies, or scouting…

  Either way, Cam figured he would come back, a smile on his face, enthusiastic about whatever he found in the wasteland. He’d want to stick together, to form a partnership—

  No, he thought, urgency spurring him to his feet and back up the crumbling steps. The thought bothered him much more than he could understand, enough to dull the ache of his injuries and anxieties tightening his chest as he stepped onto the broken street.

  He squinted, eyes adjusting to the yellow morning light muted by the haze as he surveyed the wreckage. The few buildings that survived stood gutted, with entire floors exposed or blown out. The USC warships, gone from their low station, left behind a new darkness. Black smoke chugged from the eastern fires, filling the sky, keeping the world in shadows.

  Cerka, his homeworld, Calenthia, his city, gone. Kara, missing, the rest of his family dead.

  As anger and despair churned in his gut, he thought of his mother, of the emptiness in her eyes, the waste of her body; the absence he felt in her since his father’s death.

  “Without hope, there is no tomorrow.”

  Cam turned his gaze to the horizon, stuffing down his fears with the promise he made to himself.

  No tomorrows. Just today, and whatever he had to do to survive, to find Kara.

  Eyes misting, he repeated to himself his own words, hardening himself to the consequences, as he reentered the city alone.

  ***

  Fear and hunger distorted Cam’s sense of time, bloating and elongating the hour, or reducing it into a haphazard blur of events. As he wandered the streets and back alleys in search of food and shelter in the cold Calenthian fall, one day bled into the next, and with the skies blackened, he mistook the hour.

  His sister had grilled it in to him years ago: Always find shelter before the sun set. The night brought out the worst kinds of monsters—scouts, troops, street gangs, thieves, wild dogs. But with the smoke clouding the skies, and the few working streetlights shining like floating beacons in the brown haze, he lost track.

  Pulling his sweater tighter around his shoulders, he scanned the city block from behind the safety of a fallen arch from a caved-in department store. Not a soul in sight; only the sound of a loose street banner flapping against some bricks. He should have waited, listened for longer than a few seconds, paid attention to the hairs prickling on the back of his neck. But an empty belly tore him away from his hiding spot, propelling him to the back of an abandoned corner market, where a tipped-over dumpster spilled into the alley.

  The sour, mingling odors should have sickened him, but having not eaten in days, the sight of fruit peels and candy wrappers in a sea of mish-mashed garbage hinted at a meal, something, anything, to quiet his aching stomach.

  Rummaging through the soggy detritus, Cam didn’t notice the grouping shadows behind him, or the clicking of claws against the pavement.
Not until a low growl shook him from his search.

  On his hands and knees, Cam spun around, coming face-to-face with a pack of three dogs. He knew the kind; the mangy, nocturnal strays that banded together, roaming the streets just like him, in search of food and shelter. Except this time, he wasn’t with his sister and her friends and had no means to defend himself.

  The one closest to him with red eyes and dirty-gray fur bared a mouth punctuated with pointed teeth, growling and snarling as the two others, flanking on both sides, mirrored his aggression. Cam froze, not sure what to do. The savage hunger in their eyes, the brutal need that drove their cooperation, meant only one thing.

  I’m going to die.

  The certainty struck him, shaking the scream from his throat. He grabbed whatever squishy, soaked item came up in his hands and flung it at them. The dogs ducked and skirted out of the way, but his distraction didn’t last long.

  Running as fast as he could down the alley, Cam made it as far as the front of the corner store when the first jaw clamped down on his ankle. Pain exploded up his leg. He screamed and kicked, trying to free himself as the second and third dog lunged, tackling him to the ground.

  Teeth came at him, biting down into his arm, the side of his head. Blood gushed down his face and into his eyes and mouth, garbling his cries. As he gasped for air, the world narrowed down into flashes yellow teeth, crushing weight, tearing bites.

  —help me—

  I’m so sorry

  Kara, please—

  (My sister.)

  Anger, hot and wild, ignited his ravaged body. His hands, near one of the dogs’ face, found the soft of his eyes and dug his nails in until he felt a pop and something warm and gooey slather his fingers. A yelp, then a whimper, and a skittering of feet followed.

  With his right hand freed, he slammed his fist into the second dog, spitting the bloody contents of his mouth at his face, trying to blind him. The dog backed off for a second, enough for him to grab a broken brick and try hitting him again, this time cracking the dog’s skull.

  Primitive instincts electrified his focus, dulled his pain. The last dog released his leg, but went for his throat. Cam shot up his arm just in time, but the dog clamped down around his upper forearm, thrashing him about. Fear and panic unmoored his thoughts as flesh tore from bone.