by D. S. Murphy
“You snuck into my parents’ room during the party,” Brett said.
“I didn’t. I swear. I saw it in my vision.”
Cody let out a deep whistle. “I’m in,” he said.
“What?” Brett and I said at the same time.
“Look,” he said, resting his elbows on the table, “she’s probably bonkers. There’s no way in hell she saw the future. No way. But it’s an easy thing to prove, right? Send her back into her dream world, have her find some evidence. Something big. Something definitive, that none of us can possibly doubt. If she doesn’t find anything, then no big deal. We can just forget about all of this. We’ll laugh about it later. But if, by some miracle, she does find something.... Holy Shitballs. I mean... FUCK.” He leaned back in the booth, making the mind blown gesture with his hands.
“There’s just one problem,” Brett said, sitting back down at the table and looking at me. “You could die. You passed out last time. We don’t know what’s wrong with you. Maybe you have a heart condition. Even if I sold it to you; if something happened, I’d feel responsible. You can’t ask me to do that.”
My heart fluttered a little. He’s protecting me, I thought, even though I knew he was really just protecting himself. Sure he was being incredibly annoying by rationalizing all this out. But he was just being responsible.
“I’ll monitor her heart,” Crys suggested. “I’ll keep my finger on her pulse, and if it gets weird, then we’ll call 9-11.”
“Are you listening to yourself?” Brett asked. “If she stopped breathing or her heart stopped, she’d be dead before she got to the hospital. Give me one good reason we’d take that kind of risk.”
He was right. I decided to play my last card. “In my vision, something bad had happened. Something really bad. There was no electricity or water. I was still in your house but it was all smashed up, and it looked like it had been abandoned for years. And I saw… dead people. Skeletons. People died and were just left there to rot, like nobody was left to bury them.” Crys gave me a look. Why didn’t you tell me that before?
“I didn’t want to say anything,” I said. “In case it’s not true. Actually, all I want to do is prove that it isn’t true, that it’s all in my head, that it won’t happen. Then I can just go back to my normal life. But, don’t you see? If there’s a tiny chance that it could be true, and I saw it, and I don’t do anything to warn people, or try to stop it…”
Brett nodded, his face tense. “…then it makes you responsible,” he said, finishing my thought. I nodded. Finally, he understood. The mood around the table changed. I took a sip of my milkshake as Brett sat back down and rubbed his hands over his face. I’d never seen him look so serious before. It was adorable.
“Okay,” Brett said after a moment. “But we do it at school.”
“Wait, what? Why the school?” I asked.
“Yeah man, that seems like, literally the last place we should be smoking,” Cody said.
“The nurse’s office has a pair of paddles, and the staff is trained in CPR. If anything does go wrong, even if her heart stops, we’d be able to get her to the nurse in minutes. Plus.... we’re only doing this to find proof, right? We need to find out how far exactly into the future you’re going.”
“Unless it isn’t the same all the time,” Crys interrupted. “Maybe you can control it by thinking of a specific time period. You should try that.”
Brett held up his hand for her to be quiet. “If my house was still standing, and had stuff in it, it couldn’t have been too long in the future. But the school is bigger, and it has a library.”
“Of course,” I said. “Newspapers.”
“They don’t get a paper every day. I think they just bring in the Sunday Times. But that should be enough. Find one big story. Maybe a plane crash. A financial scandal. The death of somebody famous. Something big that there’s no way you could have guessed or known. That’s what you’re looking for. You may have to dig. It has to be something that happens soon, maybe in the next week or two.”
“Thanksgiving Day NFL games,” Cody said. “It’s next weekend. That should be easy. And specific. Just write down the winning scores and team names.”
“That could work,” Brett said. “And it’s easy to control. We can just put a newspaper with the winning scores in your locker, next week. As long as you don’t remove it, it should stay there until you graduate. That gives you a couple years.”
“I think it’s further than that,” I said. “Corpses take fifteen to twenty years to decompose to skeletons.” Crys gave me a funny look and I shrugged. “I looked it up.”
“Well, in that case, you still might find something in the library,” Brett said.
“Wait, I thought you said you didn’t have any of the marijuana left,” Crys said.
Brett looked around, then reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a slim aluminum envelope with a plastic window to see inside. I could see small dried flowers, with purple petals and dark green leaves. There was just a little chunk of it left, smaller than my thumbnail. The label on the package read Phylia Z5394A.
“That’s not marijuana,” Crys said.
“No,” Brett said. “I found it in my dad’s office. Sometimes he brings work home with him. My dad usually works on produce, not flowers. Stronger fruits and vegetables. Resistant to pests and pesticides. He thinks Zamonta is saving humanity by making our food source resistant to climate change or natural disasters. He could be right. I don’t know. Anyway, so he had this stuff, and a weird journal, with strange notes in it. And stacks of books and research, scribbles everywhere. There was a page listing side effects. Euphoria, feelings of contentment and peace, happiness and laughter, increased creative problem solving and visualization. It sounded pretty good to me, so I took some and tried it.”
“But what is it? Why would it make me see the future?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Brett said. “But there’s something else. It’s probably a coincidence, but it’s also the main reason I’m actually agreeing to this.”
We all looked at him expectantly.
“Do you know what phylia means?” he said, pointing to the envelope.
We shook our heads.
“That’s what the Oracle of Delphi was called,” he said.
If felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. My brain scrambled to keep up.
“Phylia was like a title, for the high priestess. She’d roll around and spout prophecies... nobody knows what caused them, or why she was special. But people came to the oracle for thousands of years, even kings and stuff. It was an institution.”
“So, wait, what are you saying?” Cody asked. “You think that’s where the plant came from? Why would your dad have it?”
“It probably doesn’t mean anything. It’s common to name new plants after figures from history or mythology. But... people went to the Oracle of Delphi to know the future. The chances of Alicia tripping, and then seeing something she thought was the future…”
“Pretty slim,” I said.
“It’s probably not the real future,” Brett said. “But maybe, in some people, this flower makes them believe they’re in the future. Maybe that’s why it’s named phylia, though that’s a little hard to believe also. It’s far easier to accept that Alicia here is just highly imaginative.”
“That’s just a nice way of saying crazy,” I said.
“I’m a nice guy,” he countered. There was a twinkle in his eye, and the corner of his mouth was raised in a delicious smirk. I blushed. It almost looked like he was flirting with me.
7
The next day we met at school early to discuss the plan. We needed a place I could trip unnoticed. I also wanted to be somewhere I felt protected. I hadn’t told them about the modifieds yet, so I kept my worries vague. Cody suggested out behind the school by the garbage dumpsters. A lot of kids already hid back there to smoke. It was enclosed on three sides and then fenced off.
“What if the main building is
locked? How do I get inside?” I asked.
“Hmmm... shit. Yeah that’s a problem,” Cody said.
“To be safe, it would be better if you were in the main building,” Brett said.
“Got it,” Crys said. “Girl’s bathroom.”
“They’ll catch us. They’ll see the smoke,” I said.
“Only if we stay there. Listen, Brett keeps watch outside. We go in, open the windows and light up. You take a few deep hits, then I toss the pipe and lighter out the window to Cody. I walk Alicia to the library, it’s right across the hall, and lay her out in that corner with all the pillows. People take naps there all the time.”
“Damn, my girlfriend is a criminal mastermind,” Cody said.
“Girlfriend, huh?” Crys said, raising an eyebrow.
“Dosage is the main problem,” Brett said. “Last time you just took one hit, right? One breath in. You were out for maybe five minutes. And you said that felt like about an hour, maybe more. So we should send you for longer this time, but not too much longer. You need time to look around. I think three big breaths will do it. That should put you out for maybe fifteen minutes. Maybe that will give you three hours. Crys will monitor your heartrate. I’ll take a seat nearby in case anything goes wrong; if Crys signals me I’ll pull the alarm and run down to get the nurse.”
“From what you said, the future might be dangerous,” Brett said. “You don’t know what happened, or what kind of dangers are out there. So stay in the school. And be careful.”
A few hours later, we met by my locker. Brett handed me a brown paper sack and I stuck it in my backpack. Then he gave me a slip of paper folded up.
“What’s this?” I asked. A love letter, the little girl inside my head whispered.
“It’s a test,” Brett said. “Put it in your pocket, somewhere close to your body. Don’t look at it. I want to see if, in your dream or vision, you still have that piece of paper, and whether you can tell me what it says. If it’s real, you should be able to read the note in the future, without actually taking the paper out of your pocket in the present. Right?”
I shrugged. I had no idea, but it was worth a shot.
We waited till there was no one in the bathroom. Cody even stole the cleaning sign from the janitor’s closet and put it outside so nobody would come in. In the bathroom, I opened the paper sack Brett gave me. Inside was a small glass pipe, a lighter and the package of phylia. I took out half of what was left and put it in the pipe. It seemed like enough for one person, and I didn’t want to stay too long. I held up the lighter, then lit the flame over the dry leaves. I breathed in, watching the white smoke lift and curl. I took a deep breath in, held it, then let it out. Then I sucked in two more. I held the third breath an extra long time, then exhaled slowly. I handed Crys the pipe and lighter. She put everything back in the paper sack and tossed it out the window, then checked to make sure Cody grabbed it.
It was all so cloak and dagger, I giggled.
“It’s working, then?” Crys cocked an eyebrow at me.
I realized I had a huge, dopey smile on my face. I tried—unsuccessfully—to remove it. So I just bit my lip and nodded.
“Then we better hurry.” She grabbed my arm and tugged me out the door. We crossed the hall and entered the library. The edges of my vision were starting to turn pink and wavy. My legs felt heavy, like I was walking through molasses, and everything started to slow down.
I could see Crys saying something, but it was like she was talking in slow motion. I saw her lips move but couldn’t figure out the words. She pushed down on my shoulders, and got me to kneel against the soft pillows in the reading corner. Then she pulled on my legs to stretch them out.
For some reason, I thought about the cut I’d gotten on my first trip. If I died in the future, what would happen to my body? I pictured them racing for the nurse, who couldn’t revive me. I pictured them attending my funeral, Crys crying, Brett looking sad and yet still satisfyingly hot in a suit.
I still hadn’t told them about the monsters. As the thick pink fog covered up my vision, I wondered how much danger I was really getting myself into, and for what.
***
When I could see clearly again, I was sitting in the same corner of the library. Most of the pillows had been removed, a couple torn open. Shelves were knocked over and the floor looked like a book cemetery, with pages, covers and spines everywhere. But actually, looking over the empty shelves, most of the books were missing.
I marveled at any sort of future economy where books were precious enough to steal. Or maybe they were used for firewood.
Focus.
I went to the small bathroom at the back of the library to check myself out. The mirror was cracked but I could see my reflection. I looked the same as I always did, no older or younger. I’d dressed sensibly this time; dark jeans, sneakers, black socks and a black hoodie. I looked like I was going hiking. Or breaking and entering. Cody told me this morning that black clothes actually stand out in the daytime. I should have worn something gray or light brown. Too late now.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the paper Brett had given me. It was sealed with tape, so I tore it open.
First, see if you can find out the year.
Then find out the last thing that happened before whatever it was that stopped everything.
Then find the earliest thing, closest to the present.
ALSO:
This is my locker number. See if you can open it.
#349
12-53-68
That was a twist. We’d already discussed my action plan. They were supposed to put things into my locker over the next couple weeks, and I promised to leave them there as long as I could. I’d thought about burying a ring or something outside under some bushes, but that wouldn’t really prove anything. Brett was right, I need something unplanned, something that my present-day self didn’t know.
I reached for my cell phone and pulled it out. No battery. No surprise there.
I walked over to the newspaper rack but it was empty. Damn.
But I had another idea looking at all the books. My high school still used the old fashioned stamps to make checkout cards, even though they had a computerized system. I started opening up books and checking the dates. After going through dozens of books, the latest checkout I found was May 9th, 2017.
No freaking way.
That was impossible. I assumed the monsters I’d seen—the modifieds—had evolved or something. Although, granted, that was supposed to take thousands of years. But May, 2017? That was less than a year away. If that were true, I wouldn’t even get to graduate high school.
I combed through the library some more, uneasy about heading into the open halls, but I knew I was wasting time. I should have checked to see if a knife would come with me. Behind the librarian’s desk I saw one of those old-fashioned paper cutters, with the long sharp blade you pull down. I put it on the ground and stood on it with my foot. With enough leverage, I pulled and snapped off the long arm. I gave it a swing. It was almost as good as a machete.
Then I crept into the hall. It smelled dirty, like mildew or mold. Probably asbestos. I covered my nose with the sleeve of my hoodie. Sections of the ceiling had fallen out, revealing rusty pipes and cables. Pieces of the styrofoam panels littered the floor. I decided to head to the main office.
On the way I made a quick detour to look at the display window of school trophies. These, too, ended in 2017. I caught my breath when I saw a familiar face staring back at me... Girl’s Varsity Volleyball. State Championship. 2017. Behind the trophy was a picture of the whole team. I was standing in the center. Bizarre. That seemed as unlikely as Brett and I going to prom together.
In the office, everything was dried up and withered. But at least there was more light here. I’d smoked at nearly 3:30pm—it seemed to be about the same time of day. The afternoon light was bright, and the office was well lit—light enough that I saw the skeleton as soon as I opened the door.
&nb
sp; I recognized the red coat still hanging on the back of the chair. It had large gold buttons down the front, and looked just a tiny bit too much like a military jacket. The flesh was completely gone, and all the organs, though there were still strips of cloth hanging off the skeleton. Mrs. Neary, our principal. She knew my name, and everybody else’s, from the first day of school. She’d memorized all of our photos. I’d never really talked to her.
What was she doing here? Had shit gone south so quickly that she was caught unaware? I searched her desk for clues and found an appointment book. There were some notes in the margins.
May 19th - Gov. Mass Evac. ordered.
Get kids on buses.
May 20th – pick up mom, head to cabin
That was the last entry. Why was she still at work? There was an evacuation in 2017? To where? For what reason? If there was a natural disaster or something, kids would have been sent home. They wouldn’t evacuate the city unless there was a threat of a nuclear explosion or something, and that seemed unlikely.
And what about the modifieds? Where had they come from? If this were a post-apocalyptic movie, they would be zombies. But if it had been a virus, there would be masks. People would have gotten sick at school. They’d have quarantine zones. None of the bodies I’d seen had masks on.
May 20th was the last entry, so that was probably when Mrs. Neary died. What did she die of? Her clothes were shredded, and stained. There was a splatter on the ground, and it continued up the wall. Even though it was grayish brown, I knew it was blood. A modified had done this. But it had happened a long time ago. I needed to find out what year it was right now, and what had actually happened.
I thought about the boy I’d met last time. He’d called it the Modification. Was he alive when it happened? How had he survived? Where was his family? I was about to leave when something else caught my eye—an apple core in a ziplock bag. It looked like garbage, which is why I hadn’t noticed it earlier. But something was written on the ziplock bag with permanent marker in big block letters. It began with this.