What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  Or do I? If I die, the pain will stop.

  Help arrives quickly. Detonating the barrier must have set off alarms. The rescue team attempts to ask me what happened, but I’m too weak to speak. I can barely breathe, my lungs filled with burning gas. My head’s pounding, and my vision’s blurry. Whispers of my bleak situation abound due to an unstable heart rate, severe chemical and sunburns, scant breath tones and pulse, and the fact that I’m unresponsive.

  I’m transported on a board and by mule through the canyon. Brad Darcton and Ted Rosenberg await me at the burn unit. They chat while doctors clean and douse me with chemicals to diffuse the poison.

  “Will he make it?” they ask the doctors. Yes, will I?

  “It’s too early to say. We’ll do everything we can. But it may not be enough,” one of the doctors replies. It may not be enough. They may not be able to save me. “The pain medications should kick in soon, though, and give him some relief.” Yes, give me relief. Make the pain go away.

  “It’s time to have Ethan show her the video and then distract her with a trip back home,” Brad Darcton says to Ted. Ethan? She said she didn’t know him. Was she lying? She certainly knows some Ethan by the way she looked at me when I asked her about him.

  “You sure? Shouldn’t we wait to play that card until we know if Blake lives or dies?” Ted responds.

  Will I live or will I die? That is the question.

  “No. We play the card now so that we have her under control if he dies. Ethan’s my pick for her anyway. He’s equally qualified.”

  “But he’s not all of the Ten’s pick,” Ted argues. “Some think you’re biasing the panel because he’s your son.”

  “At this point he has got the vote. Besides, I hardly think you’re in a position to counsel me about Ethan or the girl. If Blake lives, then we’ll see where the girl’s at and adjust our strategy as necessary.”

  Did I hear that right? Is Ethan the Intern really Brad Darcton’s son and pick for Kira’s Cleaving? It’s too much to take in.

  Ahhhhh. The pain meds must be working. Thank the Gads.

  I drift off to sleep, ready for the night when I can screw over all of Brad Darcton’s plans.

  “Have the courage to live. Anyone can die.”

  —Robert Cody

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Kira

  Three zips, two trains, a long mule ride, and a short hike—all blindfolded and attached to College Boy. Obviously, the SCI does want me to know the route to the exit portal. I spend the time in silent meditation hashing through the pathetic details of my life and stressing over Blake’s fate.

  I’m beating myself up for begging to leave Thera instead of waiting to hear whether they find him. Call me a wimp, but I can’t—can’t hide out waiting for a knock on the door bringing bad news, can’t risk a confrontation with Tristan or Briella. What do I even say to them? They have zero memory of the crap they pulled, so I’ll never get an apology. Guys can be real idiots, but what is Bri’s excuse? Something lame like “I saw him first,” I’m sure. Whatever. I just have to put it out of my mind for a while and enjoy time off this God-forsaken planet.

  Ethan removes my blindfold once we’re well into a dimly lit tunnel. “Sorry about that. Security protocol.”

  “Yeah, you wouldn’t want the Recruits leaving Thera. You’d have people sneaking off to go out to dinner or shop. They might even try to smuggle in contraband like music or games or something,” I joke.

  “Funny, yes, we can’t have that,” he says in a flat tone. “Here’s some clothes to change into. You can’t wear your Theran clothes home.” He hands me a bag.

  “You expect me to change here? In front of you?” My cheeks flush with color. “I don’t think so.”

  “Please. If you want to go home, you’ll do as I ask. I’ll turn away to give you some privacy.” How thoughtful.

  I partway undress and then peek at Ethan to see if he’s peeking at me. His shirt is off. He’s changing, too. Wow. I hesitate to take in the vision and allow myself to remember the way I felt about him when we first met and how he took my breath away. A silvery scar on his chest—likely from some sort of surgery—serves as the only blemish on his otherwise perfect body.

  He finally notices me watching him, and we lock eyes for a moment. When he sees I’m half dressed, he swallows hard, bites his lip, and turns away. I quickly finish stripping down and replace my Garden City High uniform with a t-shirt, sweater, pair of jeans, and some flats. All my size but not my original clothing.

  “All set.” I hand him the bag filled with my discarded attire. He’s now in low rider jeans, a tight fitting long-sleeved blue t-shirt, and knit cap. The look works on him. A garbage bag would work on him. He’s a Darcton. The Ten gave him this assignment. He may or may not be responsible for my friends’ deaths. I can’t allow myself to be attracted to him; I need to bury my feelings for his alter ego.

  “Excellent,” he responds, throwing my bag to the side while keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Let’s go.”

  “Thera’s no place like home. Thera’s no place like home. Thera’s no place like home.” I click my heels together. “It’s not working. I don’t have the right shoes. Can I get some red sparkly ones?” I frown and cross my arms defensively.

  He tries to hide his smile, but his shimmery sapphire eyes defy him. “Sorry. I’m all out, Dorothy. Just walk the corridor and wait for me in the room with the light at the other side.” Even though he’s dressed now, I can’t get the image of a half-naked Ethan out of my brain. How can someone so beautiful be spawned by someone so evil?

  As excited as I am to go home, I can’t believe I have to be chaperoned by Brad Darcton’s son. The Ten must really not trust me to behave while home. I could cause all manner of trouble for the SCI if I went to the press with my story. The headlines would be killer: “Second Chance Institute Front for Zombie Slavery Enclaves on Earth’s Sister Planet”; “Aliens Exist—But They’re Really Your Dead Friends.”

  To rebel against my orders ever so slightly, I launch into a light jog before doing a couple perfectly executed back hand springs, an aerial, and then a back flip into a large, circular room. The room’s round and paneled in cherry-colored wood. The electric sensation of the tunnel and parched feeling I got on the way in bothers me less on the way out. I look around and find the place odd. There’s a metal circular staircase that goes down to another level and a lot of seams in the panelling that seem unnatural, although there’s only a single opening where I came out and one doorway which is marked “EXIT” in large red letters.

  Ethan’s out of breath when he gets through, so I figure I might as well use that exit and see exactly where I am. Another warehouse in the middle of the ocean? I skip through the doorway and up a windy staircase that leads to a trap door. I push it open, climb a rope ladder, and find myself at the end of a concrete jetty.

  “I know this place,” I say out loud, looking to my left to see the ocean and my right to see Children’s Beach in La Jolla from the jetty I’m standing on. A wave hits the sea wall and douses me with water. I feel cold for the first time in weeks. The sky is just turning light blue as the dawn breaks and dozens of seals are littered across the beach. We are less than twenty minutes from my parent’s house. I love to come here to watch the seals even if it’s a huge controversy for the city. The space had been designated to be a children’s swimming beach before the seals took over. What an odd place for an exit portal. Of course, the portal existed long before La Jolla, and the jetty may have been built to help Daynighters get to shore with ease.

  “Not cool,” I hear behind me. Ethan’s shaking and looks ten shades paler than he did on Thera.

  “I’m sorry that I circumvented your precious Theran security protocol. If you need to, you can take me down a notch on the Circle of Compliance. But, seriously, I can’t enter through this portal. And I don’t know where the entrance to it is back on Thera nor would I rush to get back there even if I did know. So, what does it hurt?
Besides, you removed my blindfold, and I didn’t hear anything about putting it back on.”

  “Can I expect this much trouble our entire trip?” He puts his hands on my shoulders. Despite his mild annoyance with my disobedience, the right side of his mouth is turned upward in a smirk.

  “Trip? I thought I was coming home for good.” I raise my eyebrows. I know it’d never be allowed, but he deserves to be tweaked.

  “I wish you could stay, but you have yet to fulfill the terms of your contract. So, you will be returning to Thera.” He almost looks sad for me. The guy really doesn’t show a lot of enthusiasm for his job.

  Rolling my eyes, I respond, “I was just joking. You were so much more fun the first time we met. Oh yeah. I forgot. That was just an act.” He grimaces at my reminder of his betrayal.

  “I wish it was a joking matter.” He clenches his teeth. “Come on, let’s get some breakfast before we head to your house. We need to get our stories straight.”

  Ethan obviously knows La Jolla well since he leads me off the jetty and up the hill towards a swanky hotel buffet breakfast. The walk dries me off and returns some color to Ethan’s cheeks, but he still looks a little off. Oddly I feel fine. Though, to me, it feels like dinnertime, not breakfast. It won’t be the first time I’ve had breakfast for dinner. Yummy. I pile my plate full of eggs, waffles, pancakes, and fruit and wolf down every bit. It’s not that the food’s bad on Thera—it’s that the selection is limited and far too healthy for my liking. Ethan manages to get down some dry toast and a banana but abstains from the rest.

  “The return trip’s always easier, but wow, you’re amazing.” His eyes twinkle which causes my tummy to flutter. I almost believe that he means it about more than my world-traversing skills.

  Darcton. Darcton. Darcton.

  Evil. Evil. Evil.

  “What can I say? For some people, inter-worldly travel’s just in their blood,” I respond. As I stare at him, I’m reminded of his age, and something strikes me. “What does your wife or Cleave or whatever you call the girl you told me about think about you playing babysitter to an unCleaved girl? Wouldn’t she be kind of ticked to find out you flirted with me at that party even if it was part of your job?” That brings a huge smile to his face.

  “What makes you think I’m Cleaved?” His amusement makes the topaz in his eyes appear to jump out in three-dimensional fashion.

  “You’re old. Or older. Obviously over eighteen. You’re Brad Darcton’s son. I would assume that you have no choice but to follow the Canon strictly,” I say, as if it’s a completely normal subject to be talking about while I push my remaining food around the plate.

  “I’m twenty but am not Cleaved,” he replies. I cock my head and scrunch my face as I try to figure it out. “I live here—not on Thera. My dad brought me over when I was fifteen to live with my Uncle Henry. I started college at UCLA at sixteen and got my international relations degree by eighteen. And I just finished my second year of law school at the University of San Diego. I spend my summers interning for the SCI on Thera. The current plan is for me to go into politics—here.” I note that he’s careful not to say that it’s his plan, just the plan for him to enter politics. Wow. Bizarre. Brad Darcton created a loophole for his own son.

  “Oh, I guess I should have asked you a few more questions that night.” Under my breath I mutter, “About a lot of things.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for. I didn’t want to bore you.”

  Although the details of his life are far from boring, what I really want to ask is about the girl, and I can’t let myself do that. He can’t know how much he got to me that night. “So, what politically correct story have you concocted for my parents? Cause I’m betting we’re not going with the truth.” I study his face as he takes a couple deep breaths before answering.

  “I’m a fellow Recruit in Unit 27. We fell for each other the moment we met, and you just couldn’t wait a full year to have your parents meet me. The program has helped put things in perspective for you…helped you move on.” He sharply inhales and holds his breath as he waits for my reaction.

  “And your alternative story is?” I ask. I pause for only a moment before continuing, “I don’t like that one. First, you’re a Darcton. Second, you filmed my ex having sex with my best friend which is disgusting. Third, you may have been responsible for that explosion. Fourth, other than you being incredibly attractive and being able to fake a good conversation, I don’t know you well enough to pull off a pretend relationship. Fifth, I’m in a relationship with Blake. Sixth, I’m going through a lot right now with Blake maybe being dead and the whole ex-best friend debacle. So, please come up with something else.” I don’t mention that my relationship with Blake has mostly been fake with some real undertones as of late, including the surprising declaration that Blake is supposedly falling for me.

  He doesn’t smile at this. His face is devoid of emotion as he speaks in a soft tone. “Listen to me very carefully, Kira. This is the only story that will explain why I’ll be at your side every moment. And I will be at your side every moment. Many lives, including your own and your family members, depend on your cooperation.”

  “You’re threatening my family now? It wasn’t enough to off all my friends?” I whisper. He leans across the table within inches of my face and stares into my eyes. I get a little dizzy at his proximity. His breath still smells like cinnamon.

  “I had nothing to do with that, nor did I know it would happen. I almost died. My job that night was solely to keep track of you and your friends. But you are just going to have to trust me when I tell you that the Ten is serious. So please stop putting both our lives in danger, and do as you’re told,” he says. He looks pained as if he has seen the Ten in action a few too many times. No, worse than that… It’s personal to him.

  “What did they do to you?”

  “Nothing, and if they did, it’d be none of your business. The less you know, the safer you’ll be.” He pulls back and looks away.

  “Fine. Whatever. But, if you expect anything beyond some hand holding to pull off this scam, I’ll warn you that my parents do not like public displays of affection. It’s uncivilized.” I use the snottiest tone I can muster.

  He chuckles. “As long as you can convince them I’m the love of your life without the PDA, then OK. You are attracted to me, so how hard can it be?” He’s relaxed and showing off the flirty side I remember.—or starting up his act again.

  “I said that you’re attractive, not that I’m attracted to you. Besides, you don’t want me in love with you,” I say. I’m trying to focus on the negative things about him to keep my attraction at bay, but I know I’m failing. If there were a formula for perfection in appearance, Ethan would be the natural output of it. “Bad things happen to the people I care about.”

  “Well, then you must be head over heels for me already.” He winks. “Because I’ve been kind of down on my luck lately.”

  “What? Did the love of your life reject you or something?” I strike a nerve as a sad look sweeps across his face. Is his girlfriend no longer in the picture? “You’re not dead like I thought you were, and Blake likely is, so I wouldn’t be complaining.”

  “Understood. There are degrees of bleak. But, if you’re in hell, you’re still in hell whether directly in the fire or standing right next to it.”

  “When you’re ready to tell me about it, I’ll listen.” I may or may not believe what you say, but I’ll listen.

  He looks away for a moment and then nods before saying, “The check’s paid. Time to meet the parents.”

  My parents adore Ethan. In fact, if they knew about Cleaving I bet they’d lobby to institute it here. Who wouldn’t want a twenty-year-old son-in-law who’s already completed his second year of law school? And who has political aspirations with the face to pull it off? He’s charming, polite, and listens to every boring story they tell like it’s the best tale he has ever heard. They’re not privy to the small little details of his life
to round out their impressions—like the fact he was born on another planet to a dictator father.

  Jared, on the other hand, refuses to buy that I left a complete mess a few weeks ago, miraculously healed, and fell in love all over again. Well, I did fall for Fantasy Ethan. Just not Reality Ethan. And I have feelings for Blake but am not ready to declare my love for him.

  We’ve been at my parents’ house for thirty hours. Ethan slept on the living room couch next to my downstairs bedroom. And even that level of proximity took Ethan selling my parents that he’d only enter my room in case of a non-romantic emergency. The “time change” has decimated my internal clock. I barely made it to seven o’clock last night before passing out. I have no idea how I got into pajamas or into my bed, and I’m not sure I want to know. And right now, I would love to take a seven or eight hour nap, but that’s not in the cards.

  Jared pulls me aside while Ethan is busy tasting my mom’s dinner concoction.

  “Spill, sis,” he says. “You and Mr. Model? I’m not seeing the sparks. You look like you’re pissed at him all the time.” He narrows his light blue eyes at me. Typically, I’m brilliant at masking my feelings with a smile, but I just can’t get over the fact that Ethan’s a Theran, a Darcton, and that he was at that party on the Ten’s business. I wonder if I would have been better off if he’d kept avoiding me. No, perhaps I needed to know the truth. Fantasy Ethan was seriously interfering with my ability to consider a relationship with Blake. Reality Ethan is flawed like all other guys. He isn’t some character from a fairy tale.

  “You know how Mom and Dad are… If I showed sparks, they’d get out the fire extinguisher.”

  “Hardly. They like Ethan so much that I’m sure they’ve already driven down to get your marriage license. But the way you used to look at Tristan…totally different from how you look at Ethan. And where’s the brushing hands against each other and sneaking kisses in the pantry?” Jared asks.