Future Lost

by Briggs, Elizabeth;

  Ken shoves his hands in his jeans and looks down. “Not always. Today I had class and then took my mom to a doctor’s appointment.”

  Paige lightly touches his arm. “I don’t want you and Adam to get burned out. That’s all.”

  “We won’t. We’re so close to a breakthrough. Just a few more days, and we’ll have it. And once the cancer cure is done, I might be able to use the research to develop a cure for Huntington’s too.” Ken’s eyes light up when he talks about their work, but then his face drops. “Although Adam, he’s…”

  When he doesn’t go on, Chris asks, “He’s what?”

  “He’s been kind of…off lately.”

  My throat seems to close up. “What do you mean, off?”

  Ken’s eyes snap to mine, but then he glances at our friends and his mouth opens and closes. He shrugs and forces a laugh. “Eh, it’s nothing. He probably needs more sleep.”

  There’s obviously more to it, but he seems uncomfortable talking about it in front of the others. I make myself smile, while inside I’m screaming at him to tell me what he knows. “That must be it. I’ll talk to him about it.”

  Paige seems to sense we need a topic change and starts telling the others about our weekly shooting practice. I slip into the kitchen alone and take a moment to lean against the fridge, closing my eyes and breathing in and out until I’m calm again.

  It seems I’m not the only one who’s noticed Adam’s been acting different lately. For too long I pushed my worries aside and told myself everything would be fine, but I can’t ignore it anymore. Over the last six months, Adam has changed. At first I thought it was because of the things we saw in the future or what happened when we got back to the present, but now I’m not sure. All I know is that it always comes back to genicote: the cure for cancer that Adam is destined to develop.

  A week after Jeremy’s death, I stumbled upon some of his things in Adam’s possession—including a sample of genicote from the future. I debated destroying it, worried that if Adam made the cure too early it would change the timeline for the worse, but Adam convinced me that the sample would allow him to create the cure faster. I hoped his desperation to rush genicote’s development would subside once he had that sample, but I was wrong. If anything, that only made it worse.

  The front door opens, and Max rushes over to greet his favorite human. Adam’s voice calls out, “Hey, everyone. Sorry I’m late.”

  I push those thoughts to the back of my mind and slap a smile on my face as I step out to greet him. A sharp pang strikes my heart at the sight of him, as it always does, even after a year of being together. He’s tall and handsome, with a sharp jaw, broad shoulders, and slightly messy dark hair, but the calm, intelligent blue eyes behind his black glasses are what always make my pulse race. He has a way of looking at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters, and it makes me fall for him over and over again. He’s giving me the same look now, except his eyes have dark circles under them and his hair is even messier than normal and a bit longer than he usually likes.

  “Elena.” He smiles at me and grabs my waist, pulling me in for a quick kiss, but I turn my face away so he gets my cheek instead. His smile falls for an instant, but then he turns to our friends again, and it snaps back into place. If they notice, they choose not to say anything about the tension between us.

  For the next few hours, we pretend everything is fine, when it’s obviously not. Adam makes a toast to “Good friends—friends we’ve made, friends we’ve lost, and friends we’ll meet some day,” and everyone raises their glasses with a smile. We’re six time travelers stuck in the present, trapped between our tragic pasts and our uncertain futures, but at least we have one another.

  After everyone leaves, I stand at the sink and rinse dishes, while Adam finishes cleaning up the living room. He moves behind me, resting his hands on my waist, burying his face in the back of my hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he says at my ear.

  Something snaps in me, like all the emotions I’ve kept in check all evening can’t be held back a second longer. I slide out of his grasp and turn to look at him. “I’m tired of hearing you’re sorry. Especially tonight, of all nights.”

  He runs a hand through his hair, but that only makes it even more unkempt. “I know. I have no excuse, but I’m so close, Elena. I just need a few more weeks and—”

  I throw my dish towel on the counter. “I’ve heard that before too.”

  He sighs. “What do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t want you to say anything.” I scrub my palms over my eyes, suddenly exhausted. “I hardly see you anymore, and when I do, I barely recognize you. I want the old Adam back.”

  “I’m still the same person. I’m sorry I haven’t been around as much lately, but I can’t stand by and let people die of cancer every day, knowing the cure is so close to being ready. All I have to do is figure out how to make it safe. Then things will go back to normal, I promise.”

  We learned in numerous futures that genicote had one major problem: when used on anyone who didn’t have cancer, it killed them. In one timeline, Aether wanted to turn it into a biological weapon for the government, while in another, a rival corporation called Pharmateka was using it in a war with China.

  I cross my arms. “Your future self said making it safe wasn’t possible.”

  “He was wrong. I’m so much further along than he was. He took ten years to develop genicote, and it’s only taken me months, thanks to the sample Jeremy brought back from the future. But I can’t release it into the world until I make sure it won’t hurt anyone.” He takes a step forward, his eyes pleading with me. “I refuse to let my life’s work be used to take lives instead of saving them. I just need a little more time. Why can’t you understand that?”

  Something in his eyes scares me. That calm intelligence I love has been replaced by a wild look, both determined and manic, and I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. Genicote has become an obsession for him, and developing it has become his addiction.

  I try to keep my voice steady. “I understand. I do. Your work is important, and one day you will save lives with it, but right now I’m worried about you. I’m worried about us.”

  His hand comes up and slowly tucks a stray piece of dark hair behind my ear, then trails down to my cheek. “You don’t ever need to worry about us.”

  I lean into his touch ever so slightly. I crave his comfort even when I’m upset with him. I want him to make everything right somehow, but that’s impossible. “In every timeline you visited, you took years to develop genicote, and now you’re rushing ahead without taking the time to do it right. I’m scared you’ll make a mistake in your haste that might cost lives instead of saving them. And I’m terrified you’ll lose yourself in the process and change our future to something neither of us can live with.”

  The madness in his eyes vanishes and he studies my face, his thumb slowly stroking my skin. “You’re right,” he says softly. “I’ve become a little obsessed, but I’d never do anything to jeopardize our future together.” He pulls me into his arms, wrapping his warmth around me. “I’m sorry.”

  I lean against him and hold him close, my fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, my breath against his neck. The relief I always feel in his arms is still there, but so is a knot of anxiety that’s become all too common these days. I want to believe him. I really do. I just don’t know how.

  His hand slides up and down my back. “I love you, Elena. I’m going to make everything right. I promise.”

  I tilt my head up to him, meeting his eyes. “I love you too.”

  He cracks a smile. “This isn’t how I wanted our one-year anniversary to go. I should have brought you flowers.”

  “I wasn’t sure if we were even going to celebrate it.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “We have a lot of bad memories associated with that day.” It’s not a coincidence I made sure I’d be at the shooting range to
day, and it wasn’t an accident that I spent an extra hour at kickboxing this morning.

  I met Adam one year ago when we went to the future together, but I also lost two friends that day and saw things I’ll never be able to forget. I couldn’t save Trent and Zoe, and I have to live with that for the rest of my life. I’d give anything to be able to redo that day, to make better choices, to be able to save their lives.

  “That’s true, but meeting you was the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Adam says. “I may not have gotten you flowers, but I did get you something else.”

  “You did?”

  He removes a small black box from his jeans and presses it into my palm. I slide the lid open and find a silver origami unicorn, like the one he gave me before, like the one tattooed on my arm, only this one is made of metal and is attached to a thin chain. I lift the necklace from the box and spot an inscription on the bottom.

  In every future, it’s you.

  I rarely cry, but this makes my eyes well up with emotion. “Adam …Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

  “You like it?”

  “I love it. But I didn’t get you anything. I’m sorry.”

  “You set up the party tonight with the others. That was the perfect gift.” He takes the necklace and sets it around my neck, then I lift my hair so he can clasp it behind me. “I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately, but I’ll try to do better. Just give me a chance to make things right.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I say, spinning around to face him. “You’re stuck with me for the next thirty years and beyond, remember?”

  He presses his lips to my forehead. “I wouldn’t want to live a single one of them without you.”

  I slide my arms around his neck, pulling him toward me. His mouth trails soft kisses down my face, dusting my eyes, my cheeks, my nose, before brushing against my lips ever so softly. He silently asks my permission and I open for him, inviting him inside, drawing him closer. His hands tighten around my waist, and he captures my mouth with his, while my fingers weave into the back of his hair. He kisses me like a man who’s been lost at sea for months and has finally returned home, and I kiss him back like the woman who’s been waiting every night at the shore for him.

  It’s been weeks since he’s kissed me like this, and I can’t get enough. My earlier anger and annoyance with him are gone, transformed into a desperate need and an urgent hunger. He seems to feel the same because he backs me up against the kitchen counter, his hands sliding under the back of my shirt, our bodies pressed tight against each other. He lifts me up onto the counter, my knees on either side of his hips, while he reminds me with his mouth that I’m his and he’s mine. Down my neck. Across my collar. Between my breasts.

  Both of our shirts hit the tile floor, but it’s not enough. With my legs around his waist, he picks me up, carrying me into the bedroom. His body is rock hard against mine, his chest toned from all the swimming he does to clear his head. I remove his glasses and drop them on the nightstand as we pass by it, and then we sink onto the bed together.

  For the next hour we lose ourselves in each other and forget everything but the way it feels to be together. We revel in the promise of our shared destiny together, in the certainty of knowing there’s no one else in the world for us. No matter what happens in the future, we’ll be together, following the path that leads to our company, our marriage, our daughter. And when we lie in bed afterward and Adam tells me he’ll love me forever and that everything will be okay, I believe him.

  Even though I shouldn’t.

  THURSDAY

  When I wake the next morning, the other side of the bed is empty.

  I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. It’s not the first time I’ve woken to find Adam already gone. I just hoped, after last night, that it wouldn’t happen today. I wanted to wake up in his arms, to kiss him good morning, to share those first few moments between sleep and wakefulness. But nothing he said last night has made it into the faded light of dawn, and everything’s the same as it was before.

  I sit up slowly, blinking sleep from my eyes. Our bedroom is small but tidy, with a queen-size bed, a dresser, and not much more. Adam was living with his mom before he moved in with me, so he didn’t bring much with him. The biggest difference is that there’s a dog bed in the corner for Max, although he isn’t in it.

  The clock by my bed reads 9:38 in sharp red numbers. Later than I normally sleep, but we were up pretty late last night. I yawn and head into the kitchen to make some coffee. This morning it’s already waiting for me, filling the apartment with its rich, warm smell. I grab my mug and spot a note on the coffeemaker.

  I love you. I’m going to make things right. I promise.

  I run my fingers across the edges of the note as I sip my coffee. He’s trying at least; I’ll give him that.

  The first time I woke up to find him gone, I freaked out. I used to be a light sleeper, thanks to my years in foster care, but with Adam in my bed every night, I started to feel safe for the first time in my life. When I woke up without him at my side, I was shocked. I couldn’t understand how I’d slept through him leaving, or how he could take off without saying good-bye, or where he might have gone. Then I panicked, thinking he had left me for good, that he’d vanished from my life without a trace like everyone else I’ve cared about. Or worse, that Aether had taken him. After that, he started leaving notes so I’d know he would be back.

  A whining noise brings me back to the living room. Max is sitting against the front door, his nose pressed under it, like when he waits for Adam to get home in the evening.

  I slip on some flip-flops, pull on a light sweater, and put Max’s harness on him. We head down the stairs to the lobby, then step outside into the brisk morning air. It’s early enough that the street is empty and quiet, the sun still low and sleepy in the sky. I wait for Max to do his business on the grass and check my phone. I send Adam a text: Thanks for the coffee. Miss you.

  Our apartment is in West LA, equal distance from the community college I attend and UCLA, where Adam is getting his PhD. The rent here isn’t cheap, but it’s not too bad either (by LA standards, at least), especially with the money Aether gave us for participating in their time-travel experiments. When our lease is up in a few months we could get a larger place, but it’s been nice not having to worry about moving all the time—a luxury I never had while in foster care.

  By the time Max and I get back inside the apartment, Adam still hasn’t responded. He must be wrapped up in whatever he’s doing at the lab. Sometimes he forgets to check his phone when that happens. Annoying, but not unusual.

  I feed Max. I take a shower. I get dressed.

  Still nothing from Adam.

  I finger the necklace around my neck, tracing the edges of the origami unicorn before letting it fall against my chest again. Did any of his words last night mean anything? Or were they, like his gift, just a way to distract me from my worries?

  I’ve wasted my morning in bed, and now it’s time for me to get to class. I get ready quickly and give Max an extra treat on my way out. He sits for the first one, and then I make him catch the next one in his mouth, his tail wagging the entire time. If Adam were here, he’d laugh and tell me I’m spoiling Max, and I’d grin and say he deserves it. I can picture it perfectly: Adam leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal his masculine wrists, his hands sliding around my waist to pull me in for a kiss. Those small, tender moments between us were once so common I took them for granted, and I’m filled with a terrible longing to go back to that time.

  By the time I’m done with my two classes for the day—English and psychology—Adam still hasn’t responded to my message. It’s unlike him not to text me anything all day. Even when he’s wrapped up in his research he’ll send me a silly emoji or a quick note to let me know he’s thinking of me.

  I send him another text. Everything okay?

  I head home, take Max for another walk, and then get rea
dy for my kickboxing class. Adam’s lab is on the way there. Maybe I’ll stop by and make sure he’s all right. I’m probably paranoid, but this is the anniversary of Trent and Zoe’s deaths, and I’ll feel better knowing Adam is safe.

  The lab is fifteen minutes away, and I check my mirrors constantly to see if anyone is following me. I don’t see anyone, but that does little to ease the worry nagging at me.

  Adam’s lab is in a small, brown one-story building with a tile roof and round glass lights on either side of the door. The place looks like it hasn’t been touched since it was built in the sixties, but Adam says the large space inside more than makes up for that. Plus, it has a parking lot in front, which is a rarity in LA.

  My car is the only one in the lot. Adam’s car isn’t here, but this morning it wasn’t in our apartment’s garage either. If he’s not here, where is he?

  At the front door I enter my security code and do the retinal scan, but the system lets out a harsh beep. Access Denied. I try the code again, just in case I typed it too fast or something, but I get the same message.

  What the hell? Did Adam purposefully lock me out of his lab?

  Another car pulls into the lot. I spin around quickly, instantly on alert, but it’s only Ken’s silver Honda Civic. Perfect. Ken must know what’s going on with Adam, and he can tell me whatever he wanted to say last night.

  He wears a nervous smile as he walks up to the door. “Hey, Elena. I didn’t know you were coming by.”

  “Where’s Adam? And why won’t my security code work?”

  “I don’t know. I thought he was with you.” He types in a new code and lets the system scan him. “Adam changed the code a week ago. He probably forgot to tell you the new one.”

  Maybe, but now I’m even more suspicious. The door opens for Ken, and we step inside the entry room. It has plain white walls, an empty receptionist desk, and a long, low couch against the opposite window. I remember when Adam leased the place and I told him it was way too big for what he needed, but he just grinned and said it had room for him to grow.