Before Tomorrow (Forget Tomorrow)

by Dunn, Pintip

  “No, they won’t.” Melie began to laugh, the teacup jostling in her hand, the hot liquid spilling onto her fingers. But she didn’t scream and she didn’t flinch. She simply stared at the red marks now decorating her skin. “That’s the problem. Marigold knows as well as anyone else that the future can be changed. But she’s terrified of a future she can’t see, so she’ll do anything to stop it.”

  He mopped up the tea with a napkin. “I don’t understand. Who’s Marigold?”

  “Chairwoman Dresden. The head of FuMA.”

  Ah. The scarily efficient woman who had given him and his peers instructions before they received their memories. “How do you know her first name?”

  “She’s my sister.”

  His hand jerked, and he knocked over the rest of her tea. He had no idea she was related to someone so powerful in the ruling government. No wonder her movements had seemed so familiar to him at the party. No wonder she never talked about her family. No wonder there was so much mystery surrounding her past.

  “Do you understand?” Melie continued. “That robber was supposed to die at Beks’s hands, and Marigold doesn’t want her precious future messed up by a memory not coming true. So where do you think they’re taking the robber? Straight to FuMA, where Beks is being held.”

  He shook his head. The truth pounded at the edge of his consciousness, but he refused to let it in. “Why?”

  She looked straight into his eyes. “One reason alone. They’re going to make Beks murder him.”

  The blood drained from his face. No. It couldn’t be true. He must be misunderstanding. FuMA was supposed to protect its citizens, to stop them from committing crimes.

  “So you mean to say…” He almost couldn’t choke out the words. “FuMA makes the detainees fulfill their visions?”

  “Yes.”

  Just like that, with a single word, his world shattered.

  Because Callie had gone to detainment to prevent her future from coming true. Little did she know that by turning herself in to FuMA, she had just sealed her fate.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I have to get her out of there!” Logan paced the floor of the eating area. His outburst seemed to have a calming effect on Melie. She swept up the soggy napkins and ordered them both fresh tea, along with a tray of grapes and cheese. The food and drink sat untouched in the middle of the table.

  He told Melie all about Callie, from the moment he chased her from the FuMA lobby to his last glimpse of her as she turned herself in.

  “Logan, calm down.” She tried to hand him a cup of tea, but he waved it away. “They don’t make all the detainees fulfill their memories. Just the dominant ones whose ripples are strong enough to affect the overall future.”

  “And how do they determine who’s dominant?”

  She shrugged. “Not sure.”

  “Not sure?” His eyebrows shot up. “So you expect me to just leave her there and hope for the best?”

  “I understand your dilemma.” Her tone returned to its normal evenness. “But what do you want me to do about it?”

  “You said, with your neighbor, that if she had come to you sooner, you might’ve been able to help.”

  “I wasn’t thinking clearly. Maybe I could’ve talked my neighbor into going to Harmony, but I’m not sure I could’ve done anything to help Beks. She’s locked in FuMA’s care, out of my reach.” As if to show her unconcern, she picked up their teacups and moved them to the sink, but the clinking of the china gave her away.

  “That’s not true.” He stepped closer so that he filled her vision. So that she had to look at him. “There’s a way to help Callie. There has to be. You have Underground members penetrating every level of government. That’s what you’ve always told us. That’s what we’ve always believed.”

  “I do.” She drew herself up to her full height, which, at five foot even, wasn’t much. “I can have someone on the inside find out Callie’s future memory. Figure out what crime her future self commits. Maybe, then, we can safeguard the victims.”

  He shook his head. “Not good enough. I’m not leaving Callie in there to rot, for no reason at all. When she’s more likely to fulfill her memory in detainment than out of it.”

  “What do you propose?”

  He took a deep breath. “We need to break Callie out of detainment and send her where she belongs. To Harmony.”

  She turned away. Pressed a button that whisked away the dishes—and his suggestion. “No way. You know we don’t perform rescue missions. It would draw too much attention to the Underground. Put at risk all the holographic devices we’ve painstakingly placed in strategic locations over the years.”

  “You’ve done it at least once.” He grabbed her wrist, and she met his eyes evenly.

  “Yes, but your brother was slated to be the leader of Harmony. He’s next in line for my position, and so his rescue was necessary. Who is Callie Stone? She’s just a girl.”

  “She’s a girl who’s intimately connected to the future leader of the Underground, through her relationship with his brother. Me,” he said between clenched teeth. “You have no idea what her rescue will do to the eventual success of our movement.”

  That stopped her. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll show you.” He hated playing the future memory card. But this was different. This was for Callie’s benefit, not his.

  They moved into Melie’s study, which had a memory scanner—just like the ones in the atrium off the FuMA lobby. One of the many perks of being leader of the Underground. Logan imagined most of the fugitives were processed through Melie’s townhouse on their way to Harmony.

  They didn’t speak as she slipped on the headset and ducked inside the donut screen. Logan put on the corresponding helmet and opened his mind. Surprisingly—or not—it got easier every time.

  After the memory played out, from start to finish, he looked at Melie expectantly.

  “You’re right,” she said. “It’s not clear what your exact relationship is with the girl, but your memory…changes things. Especially because FuMA has no intention of letting their detainees go. She’s obviously important to you, which means she could be important to the Underground.” She tapped her fingers against her lips. “Wait here. I need to confer with the Board.”

  She left the room, and he picked up a set of metal levitation balls from the desk and absently flung them into the air. They whirled around the room a few times and then returned to his palm. He set them on their course again. Was it his imagination, or did the balls travel a smaller circuit? Were the walls closing in on him?

  This must be how Callie felt, only worse. Because his detainment was an illusion. Hers was for real.

  He didn’t know how long Melie was gone, but his hand ached from throwing the levitation balls by the time the door finally opened.

  She walked into the room, her brows straight and serious. Inexplicably, his tension eased. Because this was the Melie he was accustomed to. The one who ruled the Underground with fairness and precision. She would do right by Callie. She had to.

  “We will authorize this rescue operation,” she said without preamble, “and we will put the resources of the Underground behind the mission…on two conditions.”

  “Anything,” he said, the breath whooshing out of him.

  An expression he couldn’t read crossed her face. If he didn’t know better, he might have thought it was sorrow. “This is a foolhardy mission, Logan. You don’t need me to tell you that. But because we don’t know how important this girl will be to the future of the Underground, we will allow it. However, we’re not going to ask any of our members to risk themselves. If you want this girl rescued, you’ll have to do it yourself.”

  “Done.” He hadn’t expected—hadn’t wanted—any more. “And the second condition?”

  “FuMA works fast. By now, they’ll have extracted the memory from Callie’s mind. They may even already be taking steps to make her future come true. So, to maximize your chance for success,
you need to extract her as soon as possible. The Underground needs a day to pull the pieces together. So the mission has been set for the day after tomorrow.” She took his hands, her grip ice-cold. “One day before the Gold Star Qualifier.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Logan’s legs cramped. And little wonder. He’d been scrunched in the air shaft for the last eight hours, ever since his Underground contact had snuck him into the secret tunnel in the FuMA building. Using the emergency ladder, he pulled himself into a standing position, stretching out first one leg and then the other. Just a few more minutes now, and then he could put his plan into action.

  If Coach and his dad knew he was in an air shaft, they’d have a fit. This wasn’t the best way to spend the night before the qualifier. But he was young. His muscles and stamina wouldn’t disappear because of one night. And he would sleep. Not now, with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. But later. After he broke Callie out of detainment. After he sent her on her way to Harmony. After he did everything he could to help her. Then, he’d crawl back into the air shaft and sleep until his contact came for him in the morning.

  If everything went according to plan, he’d have just enough time to get to the qualifier before warm-ups.

  He rose onto his tiptoes and visualized his body shooting through the water. His stroke would be strong and steady, his breath calm and even. He wasn’t just going to win tomorrow; he was going to beat his top personal time. He was going to be the best swimmer North Amerie had ever seen.

  He didn’t visualize rescuing Callie. The truth was, no matter how often he went over the plan, no matter how much he studied the blueprints, he had no idea how the mission would go. There were so many variables—and one unknown in particular: Callie herself.

  Would she be happy to see him? Angry? Would she come willingly, or would he have to drag her from her cell?

  So, the swim meet it was.

  He settled flat on his feet and then rose on his toes again. He’d just started another visualization—diving cleanly into the water when the starter gun sounded—when his wrist com vibrated.

  It was time.

  He checked to make sure he had the magnetic wand in his pocket and started climbing the ladder. Thanks to the Underground, the wand was preprogrammed with the release code for Callie’s cell. His foot slipped on the rungs, and he hugged the cool metal rail to his chest, panting. He wiped his hands against his pants. Huh. Slick with sweat. He must be more nervous than he thought.

  Quickly, he catalogued the rest of his body. Yep, the signs were all there. Stomach fluttering. Muscles bunching. Sharp, tunnel-like vision. Check, check, check.

  He was a competitor. He smashed records and won trophies. And he was going to break Callie out of detainment.

  Step one: drug the guard.

  Logan eased up the ladder until he reached the detainment floor. In front of him, a section of the wall had been removed. A “spider” perched on the side of the hole, projecting a hologram that would make the gap appear like a flat expanse of wall.

  He stuck his head through the hole. Yep. As he expected, the room was empty. According to his wrist com, it was four minutes past midnight. Lights-out for the detainment cells was at nine p.m., and the second-to-last guard left at ten. That gave the remaining guard just enough time to start getting sleepy—and hopefully careless.

  Logan crept across the room and opened the door, peering into the glass-walled office across the corridor. Sure enough, there was only one guard, a burly guy with whiskers on his cheeks. A cup of coffee sat on the desk. Good. A bot, programmed by the Underground, had refilled the Drink Assembler shortly before ten p.m. with special coffee beans. Ones that were laced with a drug designed to knock out a three-hundred-pound man.

  The guard didn’t seem at all tired, though. He was watching a holographic feed projected above his desk and shoveling popcorn into his mouth.

  On the feed, bare body parts intertwined in unimaginable ways. Logan’s eyes widened. He hadn’t even known such positions were possible. Neither, apparently, did the guard. He was so fixated on the screen, he didn’t touch the coffee. Now what?

  Logan’s eyes drifted to the Snacks Assembler. He needed the guard to drink more, and the guard was near the end of his popcorn.

  Before he could change his mind, he crawled to the machine and punched in a code. The salt shaker icons at the bottom of the panel lit up, one by one, until the entire row was illuminated.

  He returned to his hiding place just in time to see the guard lift the popcorn bag and empty it down his throat. The guard then got to his hulking feet and ambled to the Snack Assembler. Logan held his breath. Please don’t check the sodium setting. Just dispense your popcorn and get back to the show.

  He didn’t need to worry. The guard did exactly as Logan wished, and in less than a minute, he was back in his seat, watching the holographic feed. Must have been the riveting plot.

  Logan rolled his eyes and waited. The guard grabbed his coffee and took a long pull. Panted at the screen and took another long pull. It was working.

  All of a sudden, the thick doors at the end of the corridor opened. The guard jumped to his feet, switching off the feed as two figures entered the hallway, one of them dragging the other.

  Logan squinted in the dim light. Was that Callie? The shape of her body looked familiar, but it was too dark to tell for sure. Besides, his mind was so saturated with Callie he was probably seeing her everywhere.

  The figures limped down the hallway, and a few minutes later, only one of them returned. She said something to the guard, and he nodded, pushing the holographic projector behind him. Even after the woman left, he sat at the desk, his hands clasped in front of him, probably trying to do his duty. Logan watched as his chin got lower and lower…which made him drink more and more coffee…

  Ten minutes later, he was completely out.

  Logan waited five more minutes, and then he took a deep breath and started down the hall. Cells lined both sides of the corridor, but no one called out to him. The prisoners must be asleep—or assumed he was just another guard.

  He counted fourteen cells on his right and halted in front of block #28. Callie’s cell. Inside, the dark outline of a figure sat up and staggered to her feet. It had to be her.

  He waved the wand over the sensor and heard a mechanical whirring. As if in slow motion, the gate slid open, and he stepped over the metal threshold.

  She backed away from him, stumbling on the floor. She was scared. Of him? Why?

  “Get it over with,” she said, her voice sounding beaten and bruised. Oh dear Fate. Did her body match the voice?

  His hands clenched into fists. They had hurt her. So help him, he was going to kill them. All of them.

  He walked forward and took her arm. He meant to be gentle, but the anger made him grab her more strongly than he intended.

  She gasped, and he knew the very moment she recognized him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  He could see her now, and it made him want to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. If he had known, he never would’ve let her come.

  Her face was pale, so pale, and her eyes stood out like stars in the black sky. But they weren’t lustrous stars full of verve and sparkle; no, her stars were the ones at the end of their lives, the ones in danger of blinking out. Her bones looked fragile, her skin was as thin as parchment paper. Bruises decorated her arm like the latest fashion trends. In a mere week, she looked like this. In a week, she had transformed from a girl to an apparition.

  His heart shook, and shame flooded him. I’m sorry, Callie. So sorry. I didn’t know. I thought this was what you wanted. I thought I was doing the right thing.

  He hadn’t known—but he should’ve. He was the one with the connection to the Underground. The one with access to information other people didn’t have. He should’ve known, and he should’ve stopped her.

  But then, so quickly he barely registered it, she crossed the floor and laid her hand on his che
st. He blinked—and then blinked again. What was she doing? They had to get out of here.

  “You feel amazing,” she said, oblivious to the urgency. She didn’t sound like herself, either. What was going on? And then she shuffled forward until their shoes were touching. He inhaled sharply and forgot everything else. The touch was nothing. He knew that. Synthetic rubber against synthetic rubber. But now they were connected in two spots. Everything inside him sizzled and popped. If she touched him anywhere else, he might explode.

  She seemed determined to try. She trailed her hand across his chest, over his shoulders, up, up, up to his face. And then, she rubbed her fingers back and forth, and the breath shot out of him. He’d never felt anything so sweet, so exquisite. It felt so good it almost hurt. No, it did hurt, but if this were pain, he’d go to Limbo for an eternity.

  Her fingers skipped to his lips—and he couldn’t take it anymore. His body broke free from the force that was paralyzing him. He could either grab her and kiss her senseless—or he could put a stop to this and get on with the mission.

  He struggled. Oh, how he struggled and damned Fate to the moon and back. Every fiber in his body screamed, Do it! Kiss her now! And if they were anywhere else, if it were any other time, he would’ve.

  But he couldn’t forget the bruises on her body. If he didn’t break her out now, he’d never be able to live with himself.

  He reached up and covered her hand with his trembling fingers. Fate help him, if he was going to end this moment, he wanted at least one touch of his hand against hers. Something for him to remember during his sleepless nights.

  He moved her hand from his lips, and it felt like he was dragging it through wet concrete. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he said hoarsely, “but we don’t have much time.”