What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  “But why would Adele go there?” I say, thinking aloud. It hits me like a sucker punch from a one-armed man. “Her parents!” I exclaim.

  Roc’s eyes widen. “Yes,” he says. “It has to be. The reporter said they were traitors. There’s nowhere else they would’ve been taken.”

  “She’s trying to get her family back. First her sister and now her mom and dad.”

  Just then I have a flashback from the last thrilling train ride we had. Waiting in the car. Watching as the two guards switched cars, moving along the train toward us. Slipping onto our train. The fight.

  I rush down the car, not bothering to explain to Roc. Reaching the end I tug at the door. It’s either stuck, locked, or not a real door, because it won’t budge. I peer through the glass window, looking into the next car. It’s empty. So is the one after that. I’m not sure how many cars are empty before I spot movement. I can barely make out moving black blobs several cars in front of us.

  “It’s an express night train,” Roc says, approaching from behind. “There’s no car-to-car access. The train won’t stop because of the security alarms either. They’re fully automated.”

  “How do you now so much about Moon Realm trains?”

  “That’s what they pay me the big money for.”

  When I turn around, Roc’s grinning. “What’s so funny?” I say.

  “Well, besides my witty sense of humor, the fact that we’re on this crazy train headed for sure death brings a bit of a smile to my face.”

  “You’re an odd one,” I say.

  “That coming from Mr. Pain-at-first-sight-chase-the-girl-who’s-causing-it-all-over-the-Tri-Realms-getting-kidnapped-by-rebels-and-cannibals.”

  “Hey, there was only one cannibal, not plural.”

  “True,” he says.

  With at least a couple of hours of travel ahead of us, I settle into a booth. Roc selects a seat opposite mine. I think about Adele. Why the hell is she causing me so much pain? Is she even aware she’s doing it? I think about what I’ll say to her if I ever catch up to her, how I’ll demand answers, threaten her if necessary. Although I’m not sure threats will work with her. She’s so different than the girls I’m used to. So much stronger, there’s no doubt about that. The proof: escaping prison, navigating through the Lonely Caverns, fighting off Rivet’s men, attempting a suicide mission to rescue her parents from one of my father’s traitor camps. All pretty gutsy.

  But I can also tell there’s a tenderness to her. I felt it when she looked back at me when I was fighting Rivet. Like she felt sad that I should have to struggle for her sake. But still:

  The pain.

  “Tristan?”

  I look at Roc. I’ve been staring into space, but that isn’t unusual for me these days. Roc’s staring at my hands. I look down and realize they’re clasped tightly and I’m running them over and over each other, fiercely massaging them. I stop, separate them, place them on my thighs.

  “You okay?” Roc says.

  “Uh, yeah. Just a little nervous, I guess.”

  “About what to do when the train stops?”

  “Not what to do,” I say. “How to do it.”

  “You’ll do it,” Roc says. “We’re here for a reason. I sense it.”

  I search Roc’s brown eyes for the truth. For a moment I sense it, too, try to snatch it out, but then it fades away, disappearing, just like all the good things in my life always seem to do. Sometimes Roc seems so confident and serious, like now, and other times so helpless, like in the midst of a fight, or when we were captured.

  I try to turn my philosophical thoughts off and focus on the task at hand. “Right, I’ll need your help, Roc, there are just too many of them for me to handle on my own.”

  Roc’s wise eyes turn fearful in an instant.

  “We’ll get through it together. I won’t let anything happen to you,” I say, knowing we might both be dead by day’s end.

  Roc nods, purses his lips, seems to resign himself to the certain violence that’s headed our way, like a meteor on a collision course with Earth.

  “We’ll have the element of surprise,” I continue, “but that will only help us at the very beginning, so we have to take advantage of it. Rivet will head straight for Adele and we’ll just have to hope she and her friends can hold him off until we get there. We’ll pick off his other men from behind, one at a time. We’ll each take a different one until they’re all gone. Yell if you’re in trouble and I’ll do whatever it takes to get to you. Understood?”

  “Yes, sire,” he drones, but I can tell he appreciates the direction.

  “Once we’ve downed all the men, I’ll head for Rivet while you try to find a safe place for Adele to hide. They may think we’re foes, so you’ll have to convince them otherwise.”

  “I’ll convince them,” Roc promises.

  * * *

  The train slows and I stand. Roc follows suit, looking rather sick. He tries to pull his sword from his sheath, but it gets stuck three times before he can get it out. I know now is the time for a big speech, something to energize him for the battle ahead. My mouth feels sticky and dry, so I take a sip of water. I don’t know what I plan to say, so I just start speaking, hoping my heart will do the rest.

  “Roc,” I say, “you’re my brother. Always will be.”

  Short, concise, simple; but I mean every word, more than anything I’ve ever said before. And it seems to do the job. Roc’s hand stops trembling and tightens on his sword, his eyes change to a steely brown, his jaw firms up.

  “I’m with you, Tristan. I’d die for you.”

  Tears fill my eyes but I blink them away. Now is not the time for tears. “And I you,” I say.

  The train rolls to a stop. A heavy mist roils outside the window. Subchapter 26 is dark, but not completely. Something is lighting the sky. We’re standing flush against the doors, trying to be the first off—every second will be important in the deadly game we’re playing. The doors open and we step out into the mist.

  I feel a thud in my head. She’s near.

  It turns out the mist is not mist, but smoke. The air is filled with the suffocating acrid stench of war. The platform trembles as a bomb explodes in the distance. The bombing has reached the northernmost subchapter.

  I can’t see through the thick smoke, but I run along the train anyway, hoping that Adele is still alive when I reach the end.

  When I see Rivet his back is to me. His men are so focused on what he’s telling them that they don’t see me. I fade backwards into the fog and bump into Roc.

  “What is it?” he whispers.

  “They seem confused as to what to do. Rivet’s giving them orders, but they’re not rushing the end car like they probably wanted to. The war’s distracted them, I think.”

  “Can we get around them?” Roc coughs. His eyes are already red from the smoke. We need to get away from the noxious fumes. They aren’t thick enough to kill us right away, but prolonged exposure surely won’t be good.

  “I don’t know, but we have to try.”

  We drift right, moving further into the smoke, trying to carve a wide arc around Rivet. Already the smoke is clearing, however, and it won’t be long before we’re able to see them and them us. The bombing hasn’t stopped—we can still hear the rumble of explosions in the distance and intermittent flashes of light—but it’s moving away; hence, the clearing smoke.

  Ahead and to the left I see dark figures huddled together. Not Rivet and his men. We’re past them. Adele and her friends—has to be.

  As we move toward them something stabs me in the back.

  I cringe and almost cry out, but no…I haven’t been stabbed—not exactly. It’s her. Adele.

  My head pounds, my back aches.

  * * *

  Adele

  “Something’s not right,” Cole says, gazing out the window as the train pulls into the station.

  “There’s so much smoke,” Tawni says.

  I try to speak but my voice catches. There�
��s a lump in my throat. The Star Dwellers are bombing subchapter 26. My father is out there somewhere, unprotected, maybe already a victim.

  Older-than-her-age Elsey grabs my hand, squeezes, and says, “He’ll be okay.”

  Although I know she doesn’t have any proof for her statement, it’s comforting. The doors open and I feel a shockwave of pain flower in my head.

  He’s here. The realization comes as a shock, but I know it’s true. Somehow, someway, Tristan has found us again. Why? I guess I’ll have to ask him if I ever get a chance.

  I expected us to race from the train the second the doors opened, but the situation has changed. We can hear booming explosions in the distance. It’s so smoky that we can barely see anything outside.

  Cole says, “Elsey should hide in the train. They’ll think we’ve all left.”

  I like the idea of hiding Elsey away somewhere, but not leaving her all alone. She isn’t too happy with the idea either. “No! I’m coming with you,” she says.

  Cole looks at me, hoping I’ll back him up. “We can’t just leave her here,” I say. My mind is racing. Rivet might already be running down the train line, headed for us, and we’re still in the car, like sitting ducks.

  “Move!” I say, pacing to the door and pulling Elsey, who’s still holding my hand, with me.

  I step out, turn to face the other end of the train. The smoke—thick and puffy when we pulled into the station—is dissipating already. Likely a bomb exploded near the train station just before we arrived. Although it’s getting easier to see, I don’t see our hunters. I can only see maybe two cars down, and Rivet’s gang is at least three away. Maybe even four or five—it’s hard to tell.

  Cole and Tawni step out next to us. “Where the hell are they?” Cole says, thinking out loud.

  I feel someone approaching from the left, out of the mist. I quarter-turn to see two dark shapes moving toward us. Rivet—has to be.

  “Run!” I hiss.

  We take off away from the platform, staying in a group, although Cole and Tawni could easily outdistance Elsey and me anytime they want to. I hear thumping footsteps on the stone behind us, someone chasing us. I don’t look back, don’t want to see Rivet’s bloodthirsty eyes.

  As we move away from the platform, the smoke disappears completely. It’s strange how it’s clustered around the train. The bomb must’ve hit really close to the tracks.

  Ahead I can see the twinkling lights of subchapter 26. It seems everyone has their lights on, probably because of the bombing, although being able to see won’t protect them from death by explosion.

  I hear the footsteps getting closer, hear a shout, but can’t make out what the voice says. It doesn’t sound like Rivet’s snarl, but it might be one of his men. It’s weird. I felt scared when I first started running, but everything changed at some point. It’s like a magic trick, where a magician turns a rock into a bat or something; except it’s my fear turning into anger, to the point where I feel capable of great violence. Even when I fought in the Pen, I never felt capable of anything. I just did what I had to do and hoped for the best. But now I feel strong, like I can fight Rivet, even though he’s a highly trained soldier.

  Enough is enough.

  I whirl around, my head full of explosions, ready to face him.

  They’re right on top of us, having closed most of the distance. I just react, swinging a high kick in self-defense. I catch my pursuer under the chin, knock him off his feet. He rolls onto his stomach. His companion stops dead in his tracks and just stares at me.

  He doesn’t look like a trained killer. He’s holding a sword, but it doesn’t look natural; it looks more like he’s holding a bread knife. Brown-skinned with brown eyes, he appears more shocked than anything.

  “Who are you?” I say, wondering if I’m making a big mistake.

  The guy opens his mouth but no words come out. The other guy, the one I leveled, groans and rolls over, showing his face.

  I gasp.

  It’s Tristan.

  My vision goes black but then returns. Black and then back. It cycles for a few seconds, until my mind seems to make sense of him being so close to me. My vision returns, steady, consistent. But the headache doesn’t fade, keeps ham-ham-hammering away.

  At this point it would probably make sense to run to him and apologize profusely for having practically knocked his head off. Like I said earlier: I don’t always do the right thing in social situations.

  “Why are you chasing us?” I demand. It’s time for questions and answers. I ask, he answers. Simple.

  “Trying…to…help,” Tristan murmurs. Weird. He’s massaging his head although I know for a fact I kicked him in the jaw.

  “Oh,” I say. I guess I should’ve guessed that.

  “What happened?” Cole says, appearing with Elsey and Tawni beside me. They must’ve stopped when they realized I wasn’t with them.

  “It’s him,” Elsey whispers. “Tristan.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “Why’d you hit him? I thought you wanted to talk to him,” Cole says.

  “I didn’t hit him, I kicked him,”—I elbow Cole hard in the stomach—“and shut up about the other thing.” I’m mortified. How could Cole say something so stupid? Tristan’s going to think I’m just another school girl with a crush on the president’s son. Yeah, I want to talk to him, but not like one of his fans. Like a real person with real questions.

  “You should probably help him up,” Tawni suggests.

  “You help him up,” I retort. My social skills are falling apart at the seams. I’m just shocked, is all. I didn’t expect to see him. Truth be told, I thought he was dead. Thankfully, his friend helps him up.

  Tristan approaches me. His midnight blue eyes are hard, like steel. Each time they meet mine I feel a jarring thud of pain and I have to look away. What is he doing? Why is he here? It makes no sense. I’m nobody, and he’s the prince of the Tri-Realms. Why is he causing me such pain? I want to shout at him, shake him, tell him to leave me alone, but my mouth doesn’t seem to work.

  He extends his hand and takes mine, which still hangs loosely at my side. When our skin touches daggers slice through my back. “Oww!” I yelp, arching my back and pulling away. I look at him sharply, but I see he’s in a similar position, cringing at some unseen pain. What the hell? Is he feeling what I’m feeling?

  He shakes his head, looks at me narrowly. “I’m Tristan,” he says.

  Before I have a chance to respond, Cole yells, “Get down!” and tackles us both to the hard ground.

  * * *

  Tristan

  I can’t believe she kicked me! And with a wicked roundhouse no less, powerful and precise. Although I’m in pain—both from the kick and from her very presence—I try to hide it as I reach out to shake her hand. When she doesn’t raise her arm, I reach down and take her hand, lifting it for her. As my fingertips contact her skin, she burns through me, ripping me apart one chunk at a time. I jump back, almost cry out but swallow it down. When I look through suspicious eyes, I see she’s hurting too. Did I do that to her?

  I swallow hard, say, “I’m Tristan.”

  When the big dark guy yells Get down! and smashes us both to the ground, I think it might just be some kind of a joke. Like maybe that’s how Moon Dweller teenagers have fun; a kick in the jaw to show affection, a hard tackle for a laugh. Of course, my thoughts make no sense considering we’re in a warzone and being tracked by one of my father’s psycho thugs.

  Our bodies are so close together and she grabs my arm as we fall. On the ground, she clings to me, her hands warm on my skin. I’m in a trance, unable to tear my gaze from her sparkling, emerald eyes. The pain is there, all around me, but it’s not as strong as before, as if our single touch—our hands brushing against each other—broke the curse. But no, that’s not right either, because the pain is still there.

  I hear a yell and Adele looks away from me. I wince, feeling physical pain when our eyes unlock. She pushes off of me, gets u
p.

  Something flashes past my field of vision.

  I follow her to a standing position and see why she pushed away so suddenly. Her big friend, the one who tackled us, is charging toward Rivet, who is further down the platform, fitting an arrow into his bow. An arrow—that’s what flew past my head. He has all the resources of the Tri-Realms at his disposal, and he’s shooting arrows. He’s enjoying this, doesn’t want it to be over quickly.

  Adele lets out a yell and chases after her friend. “Take El somewhere safe!” she calls over her shoulder to her white-haired friend.

  This can’t be happening. I can’t let it happen. Regardless of whether she’s trying to hurt me with her weird stares and fire-hot touch, I have to save her. Rivet will rip them both to shreds. I don’t doubt their fighting ability, but am just being realistic. Rivet is a pro and a sadist. A deadly combination.

  I start after her.

  * * *

  Adele

  Why did he touch my hand, hurt me like that? And why did Cole knock us over? Is the whole world going crazy? Something moves behind Tristan. Glancing past him, I see Rivet let loose an arrow. Cole lets out a roar as it pierces his shoulder, the sharp tip exiting through his back. Blood spatters from the wound. His entire body torques hard to the left, forcing his head around toward me.

  Those eyes. Dark, serious, strong. I know what he’s going to do.

  Despite the excruciating pain he must be in, Cole turns and charges Rivet. This is it. All his pent-up emotions: first and foremost, sadness; then anger; misery, loneliness, and desperation follow; all sprinkled with a lust for revenge, hidden well by sarcasm and joviality in stressful situations.

  It’s suicide—I have to stop him.

  I push away from Tristan and race after Cole. Rivet’s next arrow zips past us, narrowly missing Cole’s legs, my stomach, and Tristan’s sprawled-out form.

  I brush past Tristan’s friend, whose mouth is opening and closing like a fish out of water. He looks shocked by the whole situation, unable to cope with what’s happening. I’m probably in shock, too, but I don’t have time to think about it.