What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  These men have no mercy.

  My parents try to run. They don’t get far, stopped in their tracks when they see guns pointed at Jared’s head.

  The assassin looks at me. “Ms. Donovan, I assume you have some final words for your family?”

  They plan to kill my parents. To kill Jared.

  No, no, no. I have to stop them.

  I wriggle out of Ethan’s hold and step to the side to address the man.

  What will work?

  My parents and Jared must be Originals, too. When a person crosses over after dying on Earth, do they retain the same level of DNT? I can’t imagine that to be the case. Otherwise, why wouldn’t they have just killed Blake and me rather than offing all my friends at that party.

  They only care about the ones who can have children.

  I realize that I may not be able to save my parents. But perhaps I can save Jared? I decide to play my hunch.

  “I do, but first I have a thought for you. Jared’s as much of an Original as I am. Do you really want to make the same mistake you made with Blake’s sister, Leila?” I ask. I can tell I struck a nerve. I must be right. But their guns stay trained on my parents.

  While I speak, I try to think of a way out of this. A way my parents and brother can survive. “I’m super sorry, Mom and Dad. I love you so much and appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I’m so sorry to have been so difficult after the explosion and put you through so much agony. If this doesn’t go well… It’s not like you’ll remember this or believe me, but I promise these gentleman will arrange for you to live the remainder of your lives on a planet named Thera. You won’t recognize me, but everything will be provided for you. It’ll be a clean slate, and a chance to be happy again.”

  “Please,” I ask the men. “Spare them. Bring them across with me.”

  The men shake their heads.

  I failed.

  No words can soften the blow, convey my pain, or my guilt.

  My parents look like they want to respond. Perhaps even tell me they love me, too.

  But before words can leave their mouths the bullets enter their brains.

  Nooooooooooooooo.

  I collapse to the floor, unable to breathe.

  I am responsible. I did this.

  I defied a direct order to return. My own parents are dead because of me.

  I deserve to return to that hellacious rock. I deserve death.

  But I won’t be granted death, or the peace of a second chance with erased memories. The assassins grow weary of my display. I swallow my sobs, kiss each of my parent’s foreheads, and then close their eyes. They’ve been so unhappy—with me and with each other. Perhaps a fresh start will be good for them. To hold it together, I have to embrace one good thought. I’m yanked back to my feet.

  What will they do about Jared? He is frozen. Paralyzed. Likely thinking if he moves an eyelash the men will put a bullet through his brain too.

  Ethan steps back in front of me, holding both my hands tightly to keep me from moving. The assassins confer quietly while keeping one gun pointed at Jared, another at Ethan and me.

  I mouth “I’m sorry” to Jared, but he doesn’t respond.

  One gunman circles Jared, gun pressing into his head. Jared lets out a low groan as he awaits the bullet.

  The other gunman heads towards Ethan and me. Ethan turns to embrace me, pressing his body hard against me, his lips to mine with a level of desperation that I’ve never experienced. As he does so, the gunman pries our lips apart with his gun and shoves it into my mouth. His partner drags Jared over and has both Ethan and Jared covered to keep Ethan in check, knowing that Ethan would make a move to protect me.

  The seconds feel like hours. Ethan screams, “No, no, please don’t. It’s my fault. Kill me.” Jared’s still moaning. I stay perfectly still and look directly into the assassin’s sunglasses. Please kill me. I will him with my eyes. I can be another SCI Second Chancer puppet or waste away into nothingness. Although I can feel the beads of sweat drip down my face, that bothers me less than the waiting. I taste metal and am keenly aware that the gunman’s finger is pulsing against the trigger.

  Do it.

  The creep shoves the gun a little farther into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat and making me gag. He whispers into my ear, “You best not disobey orders again” before yanking the gun back out of my mouth. He then drags me by the hair over to Ethan and Jared. Looks like I’ll live to see another night. I don’t deserve the easy way out anyway.

  The gunman kneels before me and says, “So, if you can only take one of them with you, who would you choose? Your brother or the boy toy?” He alternates pointing the gun at each of them and chants, “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, shoot a traitor in the toe. If he hollers, let him go? I don’t think so, no, no, no.” I look neither to my right to Ethan or left to Jared, not trusting the gunman to honor my choice, even if I could make one. “Now don’t make me kill them both…or do you have another deal you’d like to strike with me?”

  “How about we go try to make that boat? All of us,” I plead. “Haven’t you hit your quota for today on ‘accidental deaths’ to provide new labor for Thera? Doesn’t the SCI only get to pull across 50,000 a year?” I’m angry, devastated, and determined to be the one to die—to keep Ethan and Jared alive.

  My quip earns me a pistol whipping with such force that I end up in Ethan’s lap and his soothing voice pleads, “Don’t leave me, Kira. Please don’t leave me.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Blake

  Two weeks later

  I awaken having no idea how long I’ve been out or why. I’m flat on my stomach with my head cradled in a large donut that is attached to my bed. As I attempt to get up and feel pain at the attempt, my memories of crossing the Eco barrier return. I’m hooked up to dozens of tubes and machines and am bandaged like a mummy.

  “Excellent,” a voice says. I turn to see a potbellied man with a bad combover, wearing a white coat. My doctor? I think so, but the circumstances of my rescue are still pretty fuzzy. “You’re awake. I’m going to remove your bandages and see how things are healing.” As I try to vocalize my response, I feel the tube running down my throat and start to gag.

  “Don’t try to take it out. Let me examine you, and if I think you’re ready, then I’ll remove the tube.” I nod and wait as he painstakingly removes bandages and inspects every inch of my body. After what seems like hours, he slowly slides the tube from my throat. I choke, cough, and sputter before I speak.

  “Kira? Is she okay?” I barely recognizing my voice.

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor responds. “I’m not familiar with anyone named Kira.” I vaguely remember a conversation between Ted Rosenberg and Brad Darcton about Kira, a video, and Ethan. Was that real or did I dream it? I have no idea.

  “When can I go home?”

  The doctor pauses before answering. “You’re doing remarkably well for someone who came in contact with the Eco barrier. We were able to get an antidote for the poison in you quickly, but it will take quite a while for you to build your lung capacity back up. You sustained some pretty severe burns on your shoulders, back, and arms that required skin grafts. You also have more modest burns on your hands, feet, and face that are healing nicely. We induced a coma to allow your body time to focus on regenerating.”

  “Can I see a mirror?” I ask. I’ve never been vain but with the way he describes my injuries make me fear I look like Frankenstein. He complies, getting a couple small hand mirrors. A two-inch gash extends along the hairline of my forehead. It had been closed with stitches which are already removed. I can live with that. My skin looks patchy from the healing burns. I find similar stitched abrasions on my hands and feet. My clothing had covered part of my chest and legs, but the chemicals in the blast had dissolved the clothes and skin from my back and arms—thus, the more severe injuries.

  He has to hold one of the mirrors to help me see my back and the backs of my arms. There are four patches of gra
ft. Each appears raised and pink, with vein-like swirls and dots of red.

  “Your body is accepting the grafts well. There should only be minor scars. You won’t be able to do any exercising for at least three more weeks.” He describes in disgusting detail the process used to graft the skin to my body and the risks of over-stretching it. A knock at the door interrupts, and my buddy, Brad Darcton, joins us.

  “Well, well, well,” he says. “Wonder boy pulled through after all.”

  I don’t bother with pleasantries. “I want to see Kira.”

  “I’m afraid she’s not here.” He doesn’t elaborate. “I’m here to discuss the events that led to your injuries, Blake. What happened?” Thankfully, this is a conversation I’m prepared for.

  “Kira and I went to the dance—the night of the flash flood…however long ago that was,” I explain. I have no idea how long I was in a coma. “She left to get some air and must have been quite a ways down the canyon when the alarms went off. I heard her calling for me.”

  “Fast forward to the part where you end up by the Eco barrier nights later,” he demands. I stare at him for a moment and notice that he has a small, circular pin with the number ten on it fastened to his City Headquarters attire. For how much respect these folks expect, I’m surprised they don’t wear a flashier nod to their authority.

  “Sorry. I’m still a little fuzzy, so I’m trying to remember as I go. We ended up in the river at the bottom of the canyon. We were able to swim to the edge, and I pushed Kira up into some brush, but the current carried me away. I couldn’t see because it was so dark. I was carried a long ways with a lot of debris. At some point, I grabbed onto a plank and managed to get myself on top of it. By daylight, I was in the ocean. I could see the shoreline but was quite a ways out.”

  “You were in the ocean? How’d you get over the Eco barrier to get into the ocean?” he asks in an accusing tone, obviously not believing my story.

  “I don’t know. As I said, I couldn’t really see. The water in the river was deep. I assume I just floated over it.” Had I continued and not climbed up on the canyon shelf, this is exactly what would have happened.

  “So then, how’d you get back in?”

  “Well, I paddled towards my best guess of where I came out of the canyons. I remembered from the city model we visited that the desalinization plant was south of the canyon that the school was in. I was pretty weak, but I decided that I might have a chance at high tide of clearing the barrier if I body surfed in.” This is true.

  I can see veins pop in his forehead and neck. Perhaps, in his anger, he’ll have a small stroke. “You thought what?”

  “I just figured that the water would be higher at high tide, and I might be able to float over like I did on the way out. Obviously it didn’t work very well. When I tried, I crashed into the barrier, and the explosion sent me flying.” I describe, in detail, exactly how I hit, the effect of the water on the blasts, and how I finally cleared the other pressure points. Honesty will serve me well here. There’s no way I could describe the event so vividly without having experienced it. Not to mention, I have the injuries to back my story. He seems satisfied with my explanation. At least for now.

  “Well, I’m happy I won’t have to deliver bad news to your parents,” he says. “The Second Chance Institute prides itself on taking good care of our Recruits. We have our very best doctors on your case.” I’m sure you do. I’m the future of Thera, after all, aren’t I? Or am I? The memory of his conversation with Ted Rosenberg still haunts me. He said Ethan was his choice for Kira. I can’t believe I’d joked with Kira that she should go for him if I didn’t return. Of course, at the time, I had no idea that Ethan the Intern was Ethan Darcton, son of a member of the Ten.

  I look him in the eye. “Thank you for the excellent medical care—and for the rescue.”

  He nods. “I’ll talk to the doctor and will expect you back on duty as a Recruit as quickly as possible. There have been some unfortunate activities happening with the Garden City High Second Chancers that we need someone on top of.”

  “Like?” What have they done? Did Brad and the rest of the Ten find out about their parties and TB pimping? I’m interested to know.

  “Just get better and your Handler can apprise you of the situation when you return,” he says, before upping himself and promptly leaving the room.

  Three weeks later

  With strict instructions to abstain from any physical exercise, including boarding, running, and anything else I might do in the gym, I’m released after I’ve had time to recuperate and taken home. They dress me in a loose fitting Garden City High shirt to protect but not irritate my grafts.

  Bri and Tristan happen to be out on their patio when I’m wheeled up the ramp to my house in a wheelchair.

  “Hey, man.” Tristan jumps over the barrier to my patio. He has got his Garden City High shirt draped over his bare shoulder. “Can I help?” he asks the nurse.

  “Yes, thank you,” she responds to Tristan. He takes control of my wheel chair. To me she says, “Remember your release instructions. A nurse will be by twice a night to check you out. Get plenty of rest, and drink lots of water.”

  “Yeah, I got it.” The nurse departs, and I get up out of the wheel chair and go inside. Tristan and Bri follow and make themselves at home in my living room. I hobble in to join them.

  “So, what happened to you? I thought…Kira thought you were dead,” he says. “She was pretty freaked.”

  “Was?”

  “I haven’t seen her in forever. She just vanished out of thin air. We’ve both asked around. No one’s seen her,” he tells me. I look at Briella, but she just shrugs her shoulders.

  “How could she just disappear? Was she okay after the flash flood? Tell me exactly what happened.” Tristan and Bri each take turns telling me Kira’s story. It sounds like she disappeared shortly after being released home from the hospital.

  I need to talk to Ted Rosenberg. He’ll know. Wait. Brad Darcton directed Ted to “have Ethan show her the video and then distract her with a trip back home.” Perhaps she really did get to go home?

  “Could she be with a guy named Ethan?” I ask.

  “The only Ethan I know is Brad Darcton’s son.” Briella’s cheeks take on a rosy color. “I met him on one of our field trips. He’s helping his dad with some stuff for the summer but lives somewhere else the rest the year. You better hope Kira isn’t with him as she might forget all about you, Blake.” Thanks. I hadn’t been worried about that already.

  “You mean that guy you were crushing on?” Tristan accuses Bri.

  “I wasn’t crushing on him. He was hot. So what? He has to be at least twenty, so I’m sure he’s Cleaved. Gads. I can’t believe you’d accuse me of crushing on another guy after you mauled Kira.”

  I ignore the rest of their quibbling. All I know is that Ethan is Brad’s pick for Kira—so he can’t be Cleaved—and that Brad arranged for Ethan to take my girlfriend on vacation. He said Ethan was “equally qualified” to be Cleaved to Kira. I wonder if they’ve collected sperm samples from him too. He showed up at the clinic the same night Kira and I were there. Are there little Kethans being created in those labs? Perhaps. Or perhaps not, as Brad Darcton only played the “son” card when he thought I might die.

  “So hey…” Tristan uses a loud voice to recapture my attention. “We’re having a killer party at dawn. The flash flood killed off the rest of our uh, party enhancements, so we’re going to use our reserves and do it up right. Of course, you don’t have to partake if you don’t want to.” This sounds like the kind of thing I could get bonus points with Brad Darcton for attending and “keeping an eye on things.”

  “Sure. I’ll come. But I’ll bring my own water bottle.” I wink at him.

  “Good to have you back. Hopefully, Kira will come back soon too. It’s not the same without you guys being all judgy judgy on us,” he says with a laugh. “Plus, the three of us—me and Bri and Kira—had gotten to be pretty good frie
nds before she disappeared.”

  “Yeah, she better show up soon.”

  They leave after a bit more small talk, having to return from break to their online classes. I make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and then reward myself with some sugar and chocolate. Being fed through a tube—and before that eating Exiled food—has me craving some real food. I would kill for some McDonalds and hope Kira really has been able to get off this rock and enjoy some earthly treats.

  I jump when I turn and see Ted Rosenberg. He must’ve let himself in, and I didn’t even hear him. Perhaps my hearing was affected in the blast? I shove my fingers in my ears to see if there’s some excess wax buildup.

  “Where’s Kira?” I ask after Ted sinks back into the couch and smoothes his newly grown salt-black moustache.

  “Hello to you too.” He glares at me. “Nice to see you’re still alive.”

  “Yep, I’m alive. Where’s Kira?” I repeat.

  “She was having a hard time with you missing, so we sent her back to Earth for a respite from her worries,” he explains. “So, let her enjoy her break while you recuperate.”

  I study his face. “When will she be back?”

  “Despite my promotion, I’m still the last person to know anything.” Sure you are. Brad Darcton’s been giving you personal orders. How can he lie to my face?

  “So tell me about Ethan Darcton.” His chin fat wiggles, a clear indication he’s uncomfortable.

  “How do you know Ethan?”

  “I’ve met him a couple times. And then, Briella mentioned him tonight. I was wondering what his story is.”

  “He’s Brad Darcton’s son. I believe he attends law school during the year back on Earth and interns here in the summer.” He’s avoiding eye contact.

  “Is he Cleaved?” I ask. Ethan told me he wasn’t, but I want confirmation.

  “I don’t believe so,” he says. “Why the curiosity?”

  “Oh. I had to listen to a stupid argument between Bri and Tristan about him.” Whoever’s listening would have heard the same thing and backed my story. Hopefully, Ethan’s still obsessed with that girl he met at the party and won’t find Kira interesting or vice versa, assuming either of them has a choice in the matter. I don’t like the idea of that guy being her escort home. He’s too nice, too good-looking, and too ready to settle down. And Kira still never explained why she called me Ethan. What if they really do know each other and she has a crush on him?