Tomorrow We Rise

by Daniel P. Wilde

  “I don’t know either,” Angel said. “But I’m impressed with Mike’s theory. It sounds reasonable to me.”

  “I knew there were more reasons to hate Bodily than just the fact that she killed Yurgi,” Street said.

  Nobody had anything to add to that. Internally, each of them shared Street’s sentiments.

  July 31, 2093—Cabo Rojo, Mexico

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Shift began in greeting as his friends filed into the conference room for the second time in three days. He knew this would be a very painful meeting. “Is Carón on watch right now? Will you get him on the holo Mike? Thanks.”

  After Carón had linked up to the conference room, Shift started again. “You all know that I hate these meetings, but we need this one. I have some things to tell you that affect all of us—a lot.”

  “Over the past 11 days, John and I have contacted—well, in some cases we’ve only attempted to contact—every single contact we have outside the bunker, worldwide,” Shift said. “All of the bunkers were silent. Nobody answered a single call or message left at any bunker. Nearly all the individual contact codes we have went unanswered as well. Only two small groups, worldwide, have answered or responded to our calls—in repeated attempts over 11 days.”

  The group was silent as the ramifications of what Shift just said began to sink in.

  “I know this is terrible, frightening information,” Shift continued, quietly. “I don’t have anything to say that can make any one of you feel any better, so I won’t even try. Each of us will need to deal with this information in our own way. I’m sorry.”

  Several minutes passed in complete silence before Street finally spoke up. “Shift, what did those two say, the ones you reached?”

  “It wasn’t good,” Shift replied. “One group is in Russia. They are being chased by the Skins, relentlessly. There are still several people alive, but every one of them is injured or frightened beyond help. The man I spoke with said they intend to fight or die trying. They aren’t even going to attempt to get here. He doesn’t think a single one of them is strong enough to make it.”

  “That’s awful,” Marilyn said. “Awful,” she said a second time, but much more quietly.

  “The other group is from Turkey. They were somewhere in the Ural Mountains in Russia two days ago. Only two of them are alive. They’re trying to get here because there’s nowhere else to go. They’ve been living and running for their lives in hovers for weeks now. They’re hoping to get to the Bering Strait and then south to us, but that’s a massive undertaking.”

  “Is there any chance they’ll be able to get here?” Steve asked.

  “I don’t think so, and neither do they,” Shift replied solemnly. “The problem is that they are very young. Two teenage girls.” Jon Porter looked up. Suvan looked at Jon, briefly, then looked back down at her lap.

  “I think the older girl is 17 years old. They’re scared to death. They can’t fly a plane. She told me that every time they stop the hover, they have only a couple of hours before the Skins show up. Even when they’ve flown hundreds of miles at top speeds, the Skins still show up.”

  “That’s remarkable,” Marilyn said, surprise evident in her tone and on her face. “Do they communicate with each other somehow, across distances? Can they sense a human on the way? Is there some other way they have figured out, or some way their bodies have changed to allow them to always know where the girls are? I mean, if so, then we’re all in huge trouble.”

  “It isn’t outside the realm of possibility,” Angel responded delicately. She turned her head to Andrew, looked him in the eyes, and spoke slowly, as if trying to coax him into discussing a subject she felt so strongly about. The two had formed a bond over the last few days, discussing things that most of the others couldn’t understand.

  “Those questions are difficult to answer,” Angel said in response to Marilyn’s questions, still looking at Andrew. “Andrew and I have been discussing questions dealing with the human brain, specifically certain human brains for a long time. The human brain is capable of impressive things.”

  Andrew nodded almost imperceptibly. Angel continued. “I believe that Toronto’s E-rase has unlocked a secret door to the minds of the Skins. What if, what was once an inaccessible part of the human brain is now accessible. Theoretically, a human could fly, or see through walls, or read minds, or control others telepathically. Or any number of other abilities that we’ve never believed were humanly possible.”

  “You mean to say that you think the Skins are like Superman?” Carón asked from across the holo.

  Angel didn’t respond to Carón’s question, but instead, again looked into Andrew’s eyes, “Andrew, do you think that’s a possibility?”

  “I . . . I . . .” Andrew began. Andrew knew that, by agreeing with Angel’s statements, even in theory, he was stepping into a new world—one which he had purposefully avoided all of his adult life. But this was a new world now anyway, wasn’t it? Clearly, what the Skins were doing would be impossible to believe had he not seen it with his own eyes. Even in the short time since he’d been watching the Skins on the monitors with Mike and Angel, trying to sense whether Angel’s theories could be accurate, he had seen their almost super-human abilities increase.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Andrew said, slowly, “Angel, I think your theory is quite possibly accurate. I believe the Skins possess some kind of super-human attribute that allows them to do things none of us could ever dream of.”

  The volume in the room rose abruptly as each person began to mumble and discuss what they had just heard. For most of them, Andrew’s opinion about the matter solidified the likely truth. Now they were afraid.

  “Let’s quiet down, please,” Shift said finally. After the room had quieted, he continued, “Ultimately, whether the Skins are ‘supermen’ or ‘superwomen’ doesn’t alter the situation we find ourselves in. It’s an interesting subject, to be sure. But we need to determine what we’re to do next.”

  Shift paused. “The reality is that we are, probably, alone now.”

  “But there could be other people, right?” Neirioui Safar asked tentatively. “Maybe we just haven’t heard from them yet. You’re not giving up, are you?”

  “No Neirioui, we’re not giving up,” John answered for Shift. “It’s likely there are others out there. We have messages set on loops across the world on the Net and the USCAN system. If there are others out there, hopefully they’ll hear our message and contact us.”

  “Could someone just show up here?” Street asked.

  “No,” John replied. “The messages don’t relay our position. In fact, Mike set up the signals to broadcast remotely from several different places around the world, none of which are anywhere near us.”

  “The fear we have,” Mike added, “is that the Skins may be listening in. We haven’t seen anything to give us any indication that they communicate the way we do, or that they’re listening to our broadcasts or accessing the Net. They actually seem quite primitive when it comes to electronics and technology. But they obviously have some kind of ability, like Andrew just said. So, we have the message replaying through remote servers and towers far away from here. Nobody can find us unless we tell them where we are—except maybe the Skins.”

  “Well, that’s not a very comforting way to end such a fine speech,” Shift said. “But in any event, that’s all correct. Unless and until we hear from someone in response to our broadcasts, we will not be joined by anyone here. I’m hopeful, but not unrealistically so, that someone is still alive.”

  “Speaking of the Skins and their primitive ways,” Steve said, “has anyone seen whether they like the salt water, or whether they can drive or fly hovers?”

  “We’ve been watching for those things very closely,” Mike responded. “We’ve gone back through thousands of video feeds, from all over the world. We haven’t seen a single Skin touch salt water, but that doesn’t mean they can’t. It just means they haven’t. We also haven
’t seen them driving anything. Again, it may just be that they don’t need to. They’re pretty fast suckers as it is. Also, we haven’t seen Skins on any island or in Australia. So, they don’t take boats or planes; at least, they haven’t yet.”

  “And that’s important news,” Shift added. “It means, hopefully, that our escape plan will work, if it comes down to that.”

  “So, if there are no Skins in Australia,” Marilyn began, “doesn’t that mean that there could be survivors there, or that we could survive there?”

  “Of course that’s possible,” Shift replied. “But Mike hasn’t seen any yet, right?”

  “That’s right, unfortunately.”

  Throughout the meeting, Anta sat quietly and listened. While her face may have shown her emotion as various items were discussed, her mouth didn’t betray her. Over the past few days, she had grown more and more uncomfortable in the bunker. She loved Shift. They had spent every free moment together, day and night. But her feelings were tugging her in different directions. She longed to be outside, with the Skins, but she didn’t know why. And it frightened her beyond words. She wondered if she should tell Shift about her feelings, but she could not have explained it to anyone, nor would she ever try, if she could avoid it.

  August 4, 2093—Holographic Conference

  “Yeah, everything is up and running,” Hasani said.

  “That’s wonderful!” Anta replied.

  “Yeah, it’s good, but we still feel pretty stupid about how long it’s taken us.”

  “I wouldn’t feel too stupid about it,” Anta said. “What would you have done if you’d fixed it weeks ago?”

  “Nothing, I guess,” Hasani replied.

  “So, what are your thoughts now?” Shift asked.

  Anta and Shift had spent considerable time discussing options with Hasani. Others had participated on occasion, but these meetings were special. They openly shared their feelings, holding nothing back. Shift loved these little conferences, and his talks alone with Anta, because he could freely admit his tremendous fear about the unlikelihood of seeing another Christmas. Shift and Hasani began to feel like brothers. Even though they had never met, their common bond—Anta—brought them together.

  “Well, Tom and Misty have no problem living the rest of their lives here. They’ve already been up here for three years. They never expected to go home when they left Earth. So, they’re okay with this, especially since things seem much worse there. At least we don’t have to deal with monsters up here.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t have to deal with fake food and recycled water down here, at least not yet,” Shift replied. Hasani laughed.

  “But me, and the others—we want to see the moon rise at night, not live on it.”

  “Hasani, Shift and I were talking last night . . .”

  “Whoa sister, I don’t need to hear your pillow talk!” Hasani said, chuckling. Shift held his laughter back since he knew Anta was being serious.

  “Listen to me, you idiot. Shift and I were talking last evening. I don’t want you to come here. It’s too dangerous.”

  “But we do want you to be ready to come here,” Shift added.

  “What do you mean?” Hasani asked.

  “We want you to be ready in case we need to be rescued,” Anta said.

  “You mean, you want us to be ready to fly down there, pick you up, and fly back to the moon? Are you crazy?”

  “Maybe,” Shift responded. “Maybe we’re crazy, but you don’t know what it’s like here. There are no other survivors. If anybody else is alive outside this bunker, we don’t know about them. Everybody we know of is dead, or turned. This place we’re hiding in may be the only safe place left on the planet. If they find us, we’re dead too.”

  “Wow, you’re serious. Could we even do that?” Hasani asked himself aloud.

  “Hasani, will you talk to everyone up there and figure out a way?” Shift pleaded. “Find a way to rescue us if we need you to. The time to talk to you and tell you to come would take mere minutes. If the shuttle was ready in advance, what’s it take, six hours or something to get here?”

  “Well, probably closer to eight hours including takeoff and landing,” Hasani replied. “But where would we even land? It would have to be in a place where we could land, turn, and take off, all without trucks and equipment. There aren’t many places to do that. According to Jerad, these massive shuttles have to recharge, and they get serviced and cleaned before they take off again. They aren’t commercial jets you know.”

  “Obviously,” Anta said.

  “Hasani,” Shift said, “please consider the possibility of coming to get us before it becomes an emergency.”

  “Well, let me get back to you. I think you’re both crazy, but maybe Jerad can figure out a way.”

  “Thanks dude,” Shift said. “Let us know when you’ve found a way.” Shift smiled.

  August 8—Shift

  We’ve been here in the Cabo Rojo bunker for a month now. Thirty days that have felt like an eternity. The Skins have destroyed the human race—or at least the remainder of the human race that wasn’t already wiped out by AE.

  Our days are marked by routine and sorrow. Very little I say or do cheers anybody up. Very little anybody says cheers others up. John still cracks stupid jokes, but few people laugh. My sole moments of joy come at night, when Anta and I can be together and forget about everything else for a little while.

  My despair—our collective despair—comes, not only from the realization that we may become an extinct race at any moment, but from the fact that, even if we live for many months or years, what kind of life will we have? Can we continue to live in Cabo Rojo forever? Could we live on the moon? Maybe we could live in both places.

  We need, not only to survive, but to begin to build a new generation. Children. We need children. But nobody, me included, is keen on the idea of bringing a child into this world. I’ve watched my little group; looked for signs of people connecting in romantic ways. I don’t see it though, apart from Street and Angel perhaps. They’re all too afraid. Nobody wants to have a child. But more than that, nobody seems to want to get too close to someone who may be taken from them at any time. I understand. I’ve had that fear for many months.

  Jon and Suvan may be the only children left in the world now. The three teenage girls from Turkey have not com’d us in many days. I’m certain they’re dead.

  This life may soon come to an end for all of us, but despite our fear of the future and the present, and despite our sorrow, nobody here at this bunker has given up. We each perform our daily tasks, hopeful that tomorrow will be better.

  August 10, 2093, 11:22 AM—Shift

  “Watch this!” Mike said.

  “What, did you find another funny animal video?” John asked, smiling.

  “Yeah, a very big, very strong, very naked and very bald cat,” Mike replied.

  “Come children, let us be serious for a minute, if we may,” I said.

  “Okay, seriously, watch this.” Mike touched ‘play’ on the monitor. The digital stamp at the bottom displayed 9 August, 2093—yesterday. 3:42 P.M. central time.

  “Hey, it’s your friend Cain,” John said. “Right?”

  “Yeah, my friend Cain.”

  “What’s he doing?” John asked.

  “I’ve seen him do that before. I need Angel and Street in here,” I replied.

  “What about Anta?” Mike asked.

  “No, luckily she’s on watch right now,” I said. “I’d like her to stay there. You remember what I told you about how she acted last time? What if she does it again? I don’t want her to see this, okay? Hold on, let me get the others. Tell Mike about Anta while I’m gone, okay. But this is secret Mike. Don’t tell a soul.”

  I left to look for Street and Angel, hoping John would properly update Mike with information about Anta’s previous run-ins with the Skin called “Cain”. I soon returned with Street and Angel at my heels.

  “Restart it Mike,” I said. Mike
touched “play”.

  “That’s Cain,” Street said as his face began to turn red. His fist clenched. It looked almost involuntary. He really doesn’t like that dude, I thought.

  “Watch what he does next,” I said.

  We all watched as Cain, standing straight and tall, lifted one hand to the sky, palm forward.

  “Okay,” Mike said, “here’s the crazy part.” Mike pulled up three other feeds on the remaining monitors. All three showed groups of Skins in different places. Mike paused the feeds.

  “See how the times and dates are all identical, except for the difference in time zones?” Mike asked. Not waiting for a response, he continued, “This feed with Cain is just down the road in Mexico City. You can see the crowd of Skins around him.”

  “These other three feeds,” Mike continued, pointing to each in turn, “are from Newark, New Jersey, Hamburg, Germany, and Moscow. There are tons of other feeds just like these, all date stamped the same time. I wanted to show you as many as I could, but I only have the four screens. Sorry.

  “Anyway, watch what happens,” Mike said. He rewound the four feeds a few seconds then hit play on all four simultaneously.

  We watched in disbelief. At the moment Cain raised his hand to the sky, palm facing outward, the Skins with him and in the three cities featured on the monitors all knelt in unison. Every one of them facing the same direction, presumably toward Cain in Mexico City. Then Cain spoke. We couldn’t hear him, or read his lips, but as his mouth moved, various Skins on each screen stood up, then knelt back down. Then others stood up, then knelt back down.

  “Holy crap Mike. Are you saying this happened all over the world at the same time?” John asked.

  “Yup. I’ve got 41 feeds displaying groups of Skins doing the exact same thing at the exact same time.”

  “He’s controlling them,” Angel said. Her voice was barely audible. The surprise in her eyes shocked me. Angel had already convinced us that Cain and the Skins likely had super human abilities. But this was too much even for her. “He’s controlling them on the other side of the world!”