Here

by Denise Grover Swank

  They find the fact we have evaded a nuclear war during the past fifty years astonishing, which given their circumstances, I find understandable. I wish I had more answers to give them. I wish I’d paid more attention in history.

  “What type of weapons does the military have in your world?” another military officer asks.

  My mouth drops open. “Um,” I look over at Evan, pleading for his help. “I’m not really into army things.”

  The officer’s eyes widen. “You’re not into army things?”

  “If I may…” Evan interrupts.

  I close my eyes with a sigh of relief.

  Evan tells them about tanks, helicopters, and missiles and I wonder how he had time to learn all of his. How long did he live in my world?

  Several hours later, I’m exhausted and thirsty. Dr. Whittaker calls for a break and Evan and I are led back to the small room. Someone brings us a tray of food, which consists of more wafers and other unrecognizable items. The woman leaves Evan and me alone.

  He waves an orange circular wafer. “Now you see what I meant when I said I was going to miss fast food.”

  “I thought you were crazy.”

  He stuffs it into his mouth. “Maybe I was crazy to come back.” Crumbs fly out while he talks.

  “Did you plan to come back?”

  A wry smile twists his mouth. “I always planned to come back, and then when I got to your world… I wasn’t so sure.”

  “Why?”

  He face beams with tenderness. “First and foremost, you. Just to see you…was the best gift ever.” his voice trails off and he bites his lip. “But I also found your world fascinating, the freedom, the choices, even if they were overwhelming. All my life I’ve been told what to do and who I’m to be. My father is a national figure, a highly respected research scientist, which holds the same fascination sports figures do in your world. Scientists are our world’s heroes. People expect me to be like him.”

  “Do you want to be?”

  He pauses. “Yes, but I want the freedom to make that choice, you know?”

  I nod and cover his hand with mine. He curls his fingers over mine as I study his face. “Tell me about her.”

  His hand stills and his eyes widen in shock. “You want to know?”

  “Yeah, I want to know more about a girl who would make you go to another universe to see her again.”

  His bottom lip trembles as he smiles. “We knew each other since we were kids, like I told you in the library that day. My story was about her.” He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “I don’t know, there was just something about her that wrapped around my heart. She was sweet, and not just to the people she loved, to everyone. People knew they could go to her if they needed advice or someone to listen. She was so different from Monica sometimes it was hard to believe they were such good friends. Julia was always the voice of reason. And her laugh…” he looks at me. “When she laughed...” he sighs and lowers his voice. “I miss her laugh.”

  I squeeze his hand, disheartened. She doesn’t sound like me at all. Especially who I am now. She and I shared the same DNA, yet we’re so different. I think I used to be like her before my life changed. My impulsiveness, my spontaneity are gone, replaced by a fear of living. Is this encrypted into my genetic code or shaped by forces I encounter? Or perhaps it’s a combination of both. Who’s to say whether she might have become more like me if she had lost Monica, or Evan?

  He looks at me with his unwavering love. “Your laugh is just like hers.”

  Sadness washes over me for his loss. At least he’s tried to hold onto his Julia. I’ve gotten so lost in my grief I’ve started to forget who Monica was. His words come back to me and the hairs on my neck stand on end. “What do you mean ‘so different than Monica’? How was Monica different?”

  He looks sheepish. “Well, you know she can be really self-centered at times. Sometimes you can’t tell how she really feels, like she’s playing a game, playing it safe until she figures out the winning side. She really hates to lose at anything, but it’s not really her fault. Her mother is driven. She’s advanced through the political ranks and has an image to uphold. She has very high expectations of Monica. I feel sorry for her sometimes.”

  My chest squeezes. “That doesn’t sound like my Monica at all. Mine was more like your Julia, always smiling, always happy.”

  His mouth twists. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make her sound bad. Part of it is that she seemed to recover after your, I mean Julia’s, death faster than the rest of us. I resented her for that so it clouds my opinion. Sometimes I’ve wondered if she really was her friend. But I also know people grieve differently.”

  I think about his words, unsure what to say.

  “She’s good too,” he finally says. “She can be a lot of fun and she’s really helped Reece since Julia’s death.”

  We sit in silence and I try to sort through my confusion. I eat several of the small orange wafers and decide to change the subject. “Why do they taste like carrots? Why not just serve carrots?”

  His shoulders relax. “Because carrots don’t have as long a shelf life as wafers. They can take the carrots and process them to last longer and add a filler to curb our hunger. They also add vitamins to keep us healthy. We can’t grow crops here like in your world. We live in constant drought. Food is rationed.”

  I can’t imagine living in a world of rationed food, but if they have difficulty growing it, it makes perfect sense. Evan must have been overwhelmed with the choices he faced in my world.

  “I’m really going to miss your food.” He picks up another wafer and takes a bite.

  The door opens and his father enters. Dr. Whittaker looks tired, dark circles under his eyes. He wears a sad smile I’ve become familiar with. “You’re doing great, Julia. Thank you for your honesty and patience.”

  I laugh nervously. “I wish I’d paid more attention in school now.”

  He waves it off with a flick of his hand. “You’re sixteen, not a history scholar. Between you and Evan, we’re learning more that we could have imagined. Next, they’ll ask you about electronics and current communication. You have five more minutes.”

  He walks out and I grimace. “I’m not sure what I know about electronics and communications. What exactly do they want to know?”

  Evan shrugs. “You know your phones, television, music, computers, that kind of stuff.”

  My stomach tightens. “I don’t know much about that.”

  “You probably know more than you think. Besides, I studied as much as I could while I was there.”

  “How long exactly were you there?” But I already trace it back to his disappearance. Everyone said he changed after that.

  “Two weeks. I left in the middle of the night because it was easier to evade all the guards. I ended up on the road in your world and figured the layout of Springfield was probably the same as ours. But when I landed in the road, I could barely move so I made it into the woods and found an old shed and decided to take a nap. I woke up twelve hours later.”

  “You could have frozen to death.” I try to remember how cold it had been that week.

  He shrugs. “I had a warm coat and a thermal blanket. Besides, I’m used to the cold. The temperature is colder here. I spent the next day investigating your town and finding the Evan in your world. My goal was to see you, and I thought Evan would be your boyfriend. I was really surprised when he wasn’t. That Sarah is a bitch by the way.”

  “Duh.”

  “I hated pretending to be her boyfriend but people already noticed that I was different. I needed to keep some things the same.” He shudders. “After football practice, I found him in the school parking lot and convinced him to take me for a drive. He was pretty surprised to see me and I have to admit, it was weird for me too, but I was prepared for it. He wasn’t. I told him I was the Ghost of Christmas Future and it was my job to drive him to the shed. I convinced him to stay there.”

  “You did not tell him you were
the Ghost of Christmas Future.”

  He shrugs with a wicked grin.

  “And there’s no way he’d agree to just go with you.”

  “Okay, so he didn’t agree, but he was asleep so he didn’t do much arguing.”

  My eyes widen in surprise.

  “I brought sedatives with me. As a precaution. After I quizzed him about his parents, his school schedule, and anything else I could think of, I knocked him out and left him in the shed.”

  I suck in my breath. “You drugged me, too. That day in the cemetery. Why?”

  He cringes and rubs his face. “I was worried about you and followed you there. But I’d figured out that the Evan in your world didn’t have anything to do with you, so I was concerned that you’d think I was a stalker just turning up out of nowhere. So I drugged you and took you home. I wanted you to be safe but I didn’t want to blow any chances of being with you.”

  I remain silent for a moment, remembering that afternoon. “You took over Evan’s life. Why would you do that?”

  His eyebrows raise. “Why? To see you and being him seemed like the best way. That was the whole reason for my coming.” His voice lowers and he grabs my hand. “To see you.”

  The enormity of his words sink in. He risked everything to come find me. “How did the police find out?”

  Evan frowns. “I took him food twice a day. I was so upset over what happened with you in the choir room, I didn’t make sure he was secure enough. I got careless and he escaped.”

  The door slides open and a woman peers in. “Time.”

  Evan pulls me up. “Let’s go.”

  We walk down the hall, Evan holding my hand, but I’m unsettled, every nerve ending on edge. He went through so much to see me, only he wasn’t looking for me. He was looking for someone who no longer exists. My head swims with confusion.

  We spend four more hours answering questions about everything from music to movies, television and electronics. Evan knows more than I do, explaining how some of the electronics in our world worked. Apparently, he took apart the other Evan’s iPod and computer.

  The Committee takes turns asking questions and by time we’re done, my voice is gone.

  They adjourn and say we’ll resume the next day. I can’t imagine what else they have to ask.

  “Medicine, sports, weapons… they’ve only just begun,” Dr. Whittaker says as we walk back to the rooms we’re being held in.

  “I don’t know anything about any of those things.”

  “That’s okay. What you do know will be helpful.”

  Evan holds my hand, explaining to his dad how the elevators in my world differ from his. Dr. Whittaker watches him with sad eyes, yet a tiny smile lifts his lips. Evan seems oblivious to his father’s mood, enthusiastically describing other differences.

  The armed guards accompanying us dampen any enthusiasm I might muster over anything.

  When we reach the floor where we’re sequestered, Evan stops. “I thought we were going to your office. Why aren’t we going home? Julia’s awake now and you’re not worried anymore that we have some rogue virus.”

  Dr. Whittaker rubs his forehead. “Evan, we can’t let Julia go yet. So much about her is unknown. Until the Committee determines whether she’s friend or foe, she has to stay under guard.”

  Evan runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “That’s stupid.”

  “Evan, you have to stay too,” Dr Whittaker says, grief heavy in his words.

  Fear fills Evan’s eyes. “Why?”

  “I keep telling you. You made a serious error in judgment. A lot of high officials are upset by what you’ve done, although I’ve been working on a way to turn this around to our advantage.” He gives Evan a gentle push to continue walking. “The best thing you both can do is to keep doing as well as you have. You’re providing a lot of excellent information. Keep it up and you’ll prove your worth.”

  “Prove our worth?” Evan’s voice rises and bounces off the stiff white walls. “What does that mean?”

  Dr. Whittaker puts his hand on his son’s shoulder. They stand about the same height and look eye to eye. “It means keep doing what you’re doing. Make them grateful you broke the rules.”

  He moves forward again and stops at a door, lifting his hand so it opens. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning, but tonight you have to stay here.”

  Evan pales as he swallows. “Dad…”

  “If there was any way around this, I would do it. Please, just trust me.”

  “Can Julia and I at least stay together?”

  Dr. Whittaker shakes his head slowly. “No.”

  Evan starts to enter the room then turns around and pulls me into an embrace. “It’s going to be okay, Julia. I told you Dad will get us out of this.”

  I nod into his chest, not sure whom he’s convincing. If it’s me, it hasn’t worked very well.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He releases me and goes into his room.

  “Good night, Evan,” Dr. Whittaker says, his voice breaking.

  Evan sits on the edge of the bed, facing the wall and ignoring his father as the door shuts.

  We walk to my room in silence. Finally, I clear my throat. “Give him time. He’s hurt. I know he still loves you.”

  His lips twist into a smile. “I kept trying to instill the seriousness of the situation, but he refuses to listen.”

  “He thinks the world of you. He’s sure you’ll get him out.”

  His eyebrows lift with his nervous laugh. “I only hope I can.”

  We stop in front of my door.

  “And what about me?” I ask while I still have the courage to hear the answer.

  His grey eyes flood with tears. He’s quiet so long I’m sure he’s not going to answer. “You know, the Julia from our world practically lived at our house. I knew her so well I could tell if something upset her by the way she pulled at her hair. Or when she had a secret, her mouth would lift a little higher on one side than the other.

  “When she died, Evan wasn’t the only one devastated.” His voice breaks and a tear falls down his cheek. “I understand why he did what he did. Julia was such a joy that when she died, part of us died with her.” He pauses. “Julia was like a daughter to me.”

  A lump forms in my throat. “I’m not her.”

  “I know. I only wish Evan did.”

  “You still didn’t answer my question. What about me?”

  He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s not worry about that right now.”

  My breath sticks in my chest and I almost accept his answer. Almost. But the thought of spending the night alone with questions and doubts proves daunting. “I have nothing else to think about but the worry.” I grab his hand in a desperate clutch. “Dr. Whittaker, you said the Julia here was like a daughter to you so please, just for a moment, pretend I’m her. Wouldn’t she deserve an answer? Wouldn’t she deserve to know?” The end comes out as a whine, but I don’t care.

  He swallows as his lip trembles and I know.

  I know.

  “Tell me.”

  “Julia…”

  “You can’t send me back because I know too much about your world.”

  He looks away. “It’s a security risk.”

  I nod, even though he can’t see it. It’s more for myself, the further confirmation even though inside I’m splintering into tiny pieces.

  “Evan didn’t know what he was doing when he brought you here. It was impulsive and impetuous and…”

  “It’s okay.”

  He turns back to face me and slowly shakes his head. “It’s not.”

  I know that, too. But I can’t bring myself to ask him to expand on it.

  “But keep doing what you’re doing. You’re providing vast amounts of information we never dreamed of getting, at least right now. Prove to them they need you around.”

  I nod, on the verge of breaking down. I need to be alone. “Good night, Dr. Whittaker.”

  The door opens an
d I go inside, the door sliding closed as I heard him say, “Good night.”

  I take comfort that he didn’t say goodbye.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Later the next morning, I try to stifle a yawn as Evan answers questions about fossil fuel consumption. The terror that nipped at my nerves during the first few hours of questioning has worn off, leaving only exhaustion after crying half the night. I stare into the faces of the men and women at the tables wondering who will be the one. Who will decide my life is expendable, that I’m no longer necessary?

  Evan sits beside me, quieter today, less confident. The gravity of our situation has settled in, although I still suspect he hasn’t considered that mine is worse. Not that I blame him. He truly believes his dad can fix everything.

  Six months ago, I felt that way about my dad, too.

  They ask question after question and I answer as though my life depends on it, which I suppose it does. I systematically pick out faces in the Committee. The interested, whose eager faces listen to our answers with rapt attention. The bored, who look like their time has been wasted. The angry, though the reason for their anger is a mystery. The president falls into this category.

  She picks lint from her jacket and looks up. We lock gazes and her eyebrow lifts slightly, barely perceptible. Fury burns in her eyes. I glance down at my hands on the table to break contact.

  Even so, I fear the disinterested the most. The angry are looking for blood; the disinterested simply don’t care.

  “I think perhaps we should take a break.” Dr. Whittaker says.

  I stand and thrust out my chin, refusing to show any sign of weakness. Yet, I worry I’ll appear arrogant. It’s a tricky balance. Do I look self-confident or do I go for helpless? In the end, I’m not sure it even matters.