What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  Isaac cupped her face in his hands and kissed her firmly on the lips. Pulling back only an inch, he looked deep into her eyes and smiled genuinely. “Don’t do a thing. You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

  Alessa glowed as she and Isaac quickly folded the blankets they’d found in their backpacks. They took a quick inventory of the other supplies the rebels had left for them, now that it was light enough to see the contents of their packs.

  “Fire starter, blades, flashlight, socks, a few days’ rations, a bottle of water,” Isaac listed the contents of his pack as Alessa dug through hers as well.

  “Same here. Oh, and a compass.”

  “Good. Well, we should be okay for a few days at least.”

  “True,” Alessa agreed. “How’s your ankle feeling?”

  Isaac rolled it tentatively. “I’ll be all right. It’s a little swollen, but I can walk on it without too much pain.”

  Alessa was relieved about that, but she was still worried about him in general. “And how are you otherwise?”

  Isaac sighed. “Okay. I mean, physically I’m fine. I was tired after yesterday, after I remembered – it hurt, my memories coming back. It really took it out of me. But I’m feeling better now.” He paused then and looked at Alessa, inquiring. “How do they do it? How do they just replace all my memories with whatever they want? It was the oddest sensation, like my brain was being –”

  “Stitched?”

  “Yeah, exactly.”

  “I know. I experienced the same thing.” She sighed. “I don’t understand it, either. All Janie told me was that the producers have some kind of technology that rewires your neural pathways, hiding your memories and sewing new ones in their place. The rebels are calling it the ‘stitch.’”

  Isaac contemplated for a moment, then shook his head. “I just can’t believe we lost so much time. How long were we captured for?”

  “A year? Maybe a little more than that.”

  Isaac thought that over for a moment, then set his jaw in fury. “Who are these people? Why are they doing this to us?”

  Alessa just shook her head. “I wish I could tell you, Isaac. All I know is that the rebels are flailing, and they’re depending on us to finish our mission. And as we learned yesterday, there’s apparently a traitor within our ranks.”

  Isaac rubbed his temples, his anger displaced by dismay. “Ugh, I’d forgotten about that. I wonder if they know.”

  “I don’t see how we could warn them if they don’t. I guess we’ll just have to trust in Regina to stay as on top of things as she always does.”

  “I guess so.” His anger deflated, Isaac took a deep breath. “We should probably get going.”

  Alessa nodded. “So which direction do you think we should head?”

  Crunching snow between his fingers, Isaac replied, “How about south?”

  Alessa smiled. “South works for me.”

  They repacked their supplies and shared a small chunk sliced off a block of hard cheese from their rations. It was a meager breakfast, but it was heartening nonetheless.

  Swallowing, Isaac commented, “We’re going to have to be careful about how much we eat until we can resupply.”

  Alessa nodded. “There’s not going to be much in these woods at this time of year. We should probably look for a route towards the city – maybe we can scavenge some canned goods.”

  “We’ll be more likely to find shelter there too, maybe even the base that Regina is hoping for.”

  Alessa nodded, but she still held some reservations about venturing toward what had once been more populated areas. Though she knew that heading to the suburbs and city was the right plan, she also knew that the virus had no less than decimated the world population, and Alessa just wasn’t sure if she was ready to face that. It’d been… not effortless, but easier, to put the total destruction of everything she’d ever known aside while safely hidden behind Paragon’s walls. But there was no hiding from the truth anymore.

  “Isaac… what do you think it will be like out there?”

  Isaac set his mouth in a line and shook his head. “I really don’t know. We headed for the quarantine zone relatively early, so I wasn’t there to witness the worst of it. But the few people I saw who had caught the virus… it was horrible.” He shook away the memory of his parents.

  Alessa nodded. “I know… But it’s been eight years since they closed the gates. I just keep telling myself that with no one left to infect, the virus must have died out too. Right?”

  “Let’s hope.”

  Alessa knew that her rationalization was speculative at best – after all, who knew how long the disease could lay dormant? – but she did her best to put her fears aside. At this rate, exposure to the elements or starvation were more likely to get them first, so she decided instead to focus on the immediate task of survival.

  Regina had made sure that Isaac and Alessa were well prepared for this mission, and Alessa was fairly certain that she remembered most of her training. She knew where to look for food and water, how to build shelter and start a fire, the basics of first aid and navigation. But nothing had quite prepared her for the enormity of the task laid out before her.

  The world beyond Paragon’s gates felt big. Even the simple question of which direction to head held potentially life-altering consequences. In one direction, they might find sustenance, or the defensible facility that Regina was hoping for. In the other, maybe death. The problem was that they didn’t know which way was which, and one small misstep could get them lost, sick, hurt… or worse. It was imperative that they remain always alert, vigilant. They couldn’t let their guard down even for a second.

  And the hardest part was that the rebels were counting on them. As far as Alessa knew, the survivors living within Paragon’s walls may be the only people on the planet who had managed to escape the scourge of the outbreak. Given that mind control and drug-enabled coercion were what Paragon had come up with in the first eight years of its existence, Alessa didn’t even want to think about what else might be in store. And she knew that if she and Isaac didn’t return with a viable plan – or didn’t return at all – they could be condemning everyone here to life behind the walls of the thinly-veiled prison camp that was Paragon.

  Isaac seemed to be thinking the same thing. He took Alessa’s hand with an earnest look. “Alessa, promise me that we’re going to pull this off. For Joe’s sake.” He took a deep breath and brushed away the tears that had begun to well in his eyes. “He gave up his life for me, and I need to know that that was worth something. I need to do this to make his sacrifice count.”

  Alessa nodded solemnly. “He knew you’d make it count, Isaac. And so do I. We’ll find a way to do this.” And for the first time in months, Alessa truly believed it.

  She’d spent so long feeling trapped, alone, lost. She remembered her long march to Paragon’s gates, her family by her side. The quarantine center was supposed to be their salvation, but even then, Alessa had sensed that all was already lost. With each step, she remembered feeling like all of her hopes and dreams for the future were crumbling to the ground around her, disintegrating in a cloud of dust. And when she’d passed through the gates with only Janie to hold, she’d known her premonitions had been right. Nothing would ever be the same.

  Her life in Paragon had felt like one big pause, even after she’d discovered the drugs. Every day was monotonous, one day bleeding into the next, and for five long years, she had simply survived, nothing more and nothing less.

  But after Joe’s loss had spurred Alessa to join forces with the rebels, things had begun to change. Alessa’s missions had given her a sense of satisfaction that nothing else in Paragon ever had. As she progressed, she began to feel in control again, like she finally had some power over her own life. The feeling was intoxicating, addictive even, and she’d begun to crave it.

  But then overconfidence had landed her in Paragon’s clutches, and during her months in lockup, Alessa’s old feelings of hopelessness
had come back to her in force. For a time, Alessa had truly believed that she was capable of anything, that she was destined for greatness despite everything that had befallen her. And losing that conviction had been crippling. Even on the drama, these bitter feelings of powerlessness had overshadowed her every thought.

  But that was behind her now. She and Isaac had an opportunity to make a difference in the sorry world that they’d inherited, and they would do everything in their power to achieve that goal.

  From their position on the top of the hill, Alessa and Isaac had a clear view of the landscape around them in the bright, cloudless morning. The forest stretched out to the east and south, as far as the eye could see. And to the west, where the trees petered out into rolling plains, Paragon’s thick gray walls rose abruptly like a scar.

  Slinging her pack over her shoulders, Alessa took one last look in the direction of Paragon’s walls, wondering when she would see them next. Not before she had a plan to bring them down, she vowed.

  She turned her back and sidled up alongside Isaac, the crisp scent of pine needles and the soft, stroking rustle of the wind fusing with the taste of hope on her tongue. She knew this was a moment she would never forget.

  Isaac held out his hand to her, his deep blue eyes sparkling in the morning sun. He motioned at the vast expanse laid out before them, beckoning. “Shall we?”

  Grasping Isaac’s fingers in her own, Alessa smiled gently, certain that with Isaac by her side, she could overcome whatever life may throw at them. “Let’s.”

  And they took their first tentative steps away from Paragon together.

  EPILOGUE: FURY

  A Sneak Preview from SHUDDER (Stitch Trilogy, Book 2)

  The General slammed his fist on the table, the noise reverberating through the large room. “This is completely unacceptable.”

  The Developer rested his elbows on the table, one lanky arm bending as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He let out a long sigh before leaning back in his chair, tossing his shaggy, unkempt hair back in an awkward motion. He waited for the grumbling to subside before he spoke – as the youngest billionaire on the planet, he’d grown used to having a captive audience.

  “This rebellion has become more than a headache; it’s putting our plans for Paragon at risk, and it’s time we take more drastic measures to resolve the problem. We should never have let it get this far.” His whiny voice and slouching shoulders didn’t command much in the way of esteem, but the four other men in the room – the Engineers, as they liked to call themselves – sat rapt nevertheless. They had quickly learned that what the Developer lacked in presence and age, he made up for with brilliance and guile.

  “If I may…” The Economist cleared his throat. Though this was technically a group of equals, he often found himself deferring to the others, being more comfortable with books than he ever was with people. But if their plans for Paragon were ever to succeed, this group above all else needed to keep their focus on the end game, instead of allowing themselves to be sidetracked by minor setbacks.

  He continued. “It’s only two people, and given the weather forecast, it’s unlikely that they’ll even make it through the week. How much trouble could they cause? I vote that we let them go and focus our efforts instead on reaching our goals for the collective. It’s been years since the deliberations have made any real progress and –”

  The Doctor cut off his remarks with one biting look. “Only two people? And what traits might those two people be carrying that are essential to our race? Do you presume to know why they were chosen for Paragon? Presume to decide who here is expendable?”

  “N-n-no… I just…” He took a moment to compose himself. “We’re supposed to be working toward a true communist society, and every day that the Ruling Class remains in power, we are one more step away from achieving that goal. The only reason the rebellion thrives today is due to the continued existence of the Ruling Class, so to me it seems that recapturing a couple of rebels is treating the symptom, not the cause. Let them go, and instead let’s put our energies towards facilitating the deliberation process, thereby hastening the birth of the ideal society that was the entire reason for this whole undertaking.”

  The Doctor’s silver hair glinted in the sharp artificial light as he devoted his entire head to the effort of rolling his eyes. “Save your pretty rhetoric, Ben. There won’t be any society if we don’t have the genes to support one.”

  The Developer nodded vigorously in agreement. “He’s right. The algorithm was very specific in who was selected, and we need to trust that everyone here deserved to be chosen. Otherwise, what was the point of everything we did?”

  Everyone took a moment to digest his last comment. They had agreed from the beginning that sacrifices would be needed to make this work, and indeed those sacrifices had been huge – the biggest the world had ever seen. But they had only agreed to the plan knowing that it was the only way to do this right, and that everyone would benefit in the end. Everyone who was left, anyway.

  “So what are you suggesting?” The Draftsman – the oldest and most levelheaded of the group – spoke, as always, in a steady, reasoned tone, absentmindedly stroking his paunch.

  Before the Developer could respond, the General chimed in with a suggestion of his own, his raspy voice filled with retribution. “We have the girl, the one that helped them escape. I say we make an example of her, send a message to the rebels that we won’t tolerate their insubordination any longer.” As he rubbed the scar across his lips, he muttered, “Stupid bitch.”

  The Draftsman wondered if he was referring to the girl or to the rebel leader, but either way, he dismissed his comments as bluster. Over the years he’d come to despise the General’s deep insecurities, and his resulting tendency to overcompensate. It was a shame, really – the man had a magnificent reserve of military knowledge, but his personal flaws marred his usefulness considerably. And at least the rest of them had actually achieved the titles they’d chosen for themselves – the General had never earned that rank at all, he’d just christened himself upon finding that he had the power to do so. To say that the Draftsman found the General trying was an understatement indeed. But much to the Draftsman’s chagrin, the others had not yet come to the same conclusion.

  The Developer, in fact, seemed to be seriously considering a show of force. Shaking his head, he reflected, “If only we knew where Regina Green were hiding… we could drop the girl’s head right at her front door.”

  “That’s sick!” the Economist blurted, appalled.

  The Doctor once again shot him down. “Oh, please. Like you haven’t agreed to worse.”

  As barbaric as it was, the Draftsman had to admit that the Doctor spoke the truth. “Eugene has a point there – we’ve all agreed to worse. ‘The ends justify the means’ has been a de facto tenet of our philosophy…”

  “Thank you, Pascal.” The withering glare subsided from the Doctor’s face. “Now, as I said before, I don’t like the idea of tinkering with the algorithm’s selections, but in this one case, I suppose we could make an exception. After all, she wasn’t part of the original results set to begin with.”

  Chastised, the Economist held his tongue while the others nodded in agreement.

  The Developer stood, signaling that the meeting had come to a close. “Then it’s decided. We’ll use the girl to send a message. Given that we don’t know Regina’s location, everyone think about what might be our most effective strategy and we’ll reconvene in the morning to finalize the plan. And remember, as distasteful as this might be, the rebels haven’t left us much choice.”

  He held his right fist at his shoulder in the customary gesture, and the others stood and followed suit. “For Paragon,” he stated, accompanying the sentiment with an almost imperceptible nod of the head.

  The room echoed in unison as the men added their response, each earnestly believing the mantra in his own way. “For Paragon, always.”

 
———

  Continue reading in Book 2 of the Stitch Trilogy

  SHUDDER

  www.stitchtrilogy.com

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you, thank you, thank you for making time in your busy schedule to read my very first novel, Stitch. It is an absolute honor to share Alessa and Isaac’s story with you, and I’m thrilled that you chose this book out of the millions of incredible books at your disposal. Truly, I cannot thank you enough. You are a dream come true.

  If you enjoyed Stitch and are interested in reading the rest of the series, I encourage you to join the Stitch community at www.samanthadurante.com to sign up for notifications of future Stitch Trilogy releases and to keep up with the tons of exciting extra content that’s published on my blog, Facebook pages, Twitter account, and Goodreads page almost every day.

  I also wanted to take a moment to express my sincere gratitude to all of the fans who have so graciously spread the word about Stitch on their blogs and social media. This book could never have succeeded without your help, and I am utterly in your debt. You guys are amazing – I really can’t say it enough.

  I’ve been reading books since I can remember, but until I began writing professionally, I never understood how truly dependent authors are on their fans. As a reader, I always assumed that a good author would get picked up by an agent and publisher, and that those allies would use their arsenals of marketing and PR tools to ensure that the author’s books would reach their rightful audience. And perhaps things used to be like this, once upon a time, but the publishing industry is changing, and unfortunately this is no longer the case.

  The traditional publishing model just isn’t working anymore, and as a result, up-and-coming authors are often passed over altogether in favor of proven sellers. And even those authors lucky enough to find a publisher are not afforded the same amount of support in the marketing department that they once could expect. That means authors now have to know not only how to write but also how to market their work effectively.