What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  “Mr. Jones, am I in a hospital?”

  “You’re somewhere much better than a hospital, my boy. You’re in a special rehabilitation center that is unique for your condition. You’ll have the best care that money can buy while you’re here and you’ll get to do things no other kid on this planet has ever tried. You’ll also… ah, ah, ah… don’t touch.”

  Danny reached for his forehead. There was a round band-aid the size of a Bull’s eye right in the middle where it hurt. He tried to remember an accident, anything that he would’ve been doing that would’ve knocked him on the head, but all the memories were gibberish. He couldn’t remember his home address or phone number. If his aunt hadn’t been calling for him, he wouldn’t remember his name.

  “Is this why I’m here?” He tried to touch the bandage again.

  “In some ways, yes.”

  “Did I fall on an ice pick?”

  “No.” Mr. Jones snorted. “You’ve been asleep for a long time while you’ve undergone treatment, so you may feel a bit woozy when you stand up. Be careful, all right? I want you to lean forward and let your toes touch the ground… good. Now stay just like that a second.” Mr. Jones spun on the stool and coasted to the computer behind him. “And don’t touch your forehead.”

  Danny’s toes were tingly. Just the little weight that was on them, he could tell standing wasn’t going to go well. He left his forehead alone, reached for his stiff neck, instead. It was sore, too. And there was a knot between the vertebrae. It felt like a band had been inserted just under the skin about the width of a wedding ring that made it seem like one large neck bone. Mr. Jones had one bulging on his neck, too.

  “What’s this?”

  “That’s part of your treatment,” Mr. Jones said without looking. “It’s new technology meant to stay in touch with your nervous system. We’ll talk more about that later.”

  “Okay,” was all Danny could think to say. He was thirteen. When an adult said something, he listened and that was that. But nothing was making sense, not the strange lab or Mr. Jones and his proud grin like everything was normal. His head was just so full.

  “Where are my parents?”

  Mr. Jones took several moments at the computer before he stood up with the clipboard over his stomach. “They want you to get better, Danny Boy. And that’s what you’re going to be… better.”

  Smile.

  “When will I see them?”

  “Can you put all your weight forward?”

  He held out his hand and Danny took it. His weight was a little wobbly, but he felt better on his feet than he thought he would.

  “Where are we?” Danny asked.

  “Take a step for me and I’ll tell you.”

  He took one step, then two. They reached the door and Mr. Jones opened it without letting go. The hallway was long and white.

  “We’re going that way.” He pointed to the left. At that end was a glass wall.

  Danny dragged his feet the first couple of steps. He was already breathing a little hard. Mr. Jones was slightly hunched over next to him. Danny put his hand on the wall and traced it with his fingers. His knees were weak but Mr. Jones watched him with a smile like everything was just okie-dokie. His touch became lighter as Danny’s footsteps became more confident. When he let go, Danny still touched the wall but was walking closer to normal when they reached the end.

  The glass wall was slightly curved like the building was a giant cylinder. They were a few stories above ground. A little ways away was the back of a horseshoe-shaped building. Beyond that was a large green field with people.

  “You’re going to love it here, Danny Boy,” he whispered.

  The field looked like a college campus lined with tropical trees and palms with giant white birds. Danny was smart but he wasn’t college-smart. Unless something happened to his brain. He reached for his forehead. Mr. Jones gently caught his arm before he could graze the band-aid with his fingertips.

  “I’m going to be your Investor while you’re here. I’m invested in your future, Danny Boy. If you ever need anything or have any questions, I’m the one that will help, all right?”

  Danny nodded.

  Mr. Jones smacked a sticker on Danny’s shirt. Hello, I’m Danny Boy.

  “I’ll be by your side the whole way, Danny Boy. That you can trust. We have a deal?”

  They shook hands and watched the activity below. It looked like one big summer camp on a tropical island. Danny’s parents weren’t rich, they couldn’t afford something like this. At least he didn’t think so. He couldn’t remember them at the moment. But he wasn’t going to ask questions, even though Mr. Jones said he could.

  “Let’s go down to the Yard,” Mr. Jones said, gesturing to the wide-open field, “and meet your fellow campers.”

  By the time they reached the elevator and selected the ground floor, Danny had already forgotten about the doctor’s office and the dream and the confusion. He stared at the doors inside the elevator; the reflection of a red-headed kid with a slight body and freckles looked back. He looked like a stranger with a name tag stuck on his t-shirt.

  “I’m Danny Boy,” he whispered.

  3

  They walked through the woods for ten minutes. The path was mulched and the trees thick above them with dangling vines and scrubby palms. Mr. Jones was sweating through his shirt and had to stop midway to catch his breath and wipe his face. He was all hunched over. Danny found a stick and Mr. Jones said thank you.

  They came out of the trees at the back of the horseshoe-shaped building that had no windows. It was a huge blank wall tinted green with algae and one door right in the middle. They went inside.

  Danny’s room was smack in the middle of the building. Unlike the back wall, this side of the building faced the Yard with plenty of windows. Danny could see to the other side. It was big enough to hold five or six football fields.

  Mr. Jones sat on the bed wiping the sweat from the folds of his neck. He gave Danny a feeble smile and pointed to things. “There’s your sink and the bathroom is next to the closet. Your drawers already have clothes folded in them. The hamper chute is down the hall.” He took a few wheezy breaths. “You can get new sheets once a week.”

  Danny opened the closet and thumbed through the shirts and pants that were all brand new and all pressed and ready to wear. All exactly his size. Mr. Jones attempted to stand but the mattress drew him back down. Danny offered a hand but he ignored it, doing sort of a side roll to one buttock before throwing himself onto his feet. He nodded with a pained grin.

  “Out there, Danny Boy,” he said, sweeping his hand at the window, “that’s where most of the boys hang out in their spare time. The Yard is where you’ll find them.”

  The Yard sounds like a prison.

  The area near the dorm was crisscrossed with sidewalks forming an X with – from what Danny could tell – a giant sun dial in the middle. Tables were in between the sidewalks but the Yard beyond was grassy.

  “But you’re not limited to the Yard. You can go wherever you want, I mean it. You’re free here, Danny Boy. Go climb a tree, hike the trails, fishing… whatever. Well, you can go anywhere,” he lifted a finger, “except where I live. None of the campers are allowed in the Investors’ quarters.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “We have accommodations back where we came from, only a little further. Besides that, the sky’s the limit, my boy.”

  “Can I go home?”

  Chuckle. “Not unless you’re a real good swimmer. We’re on an island, Danny Boy. It’s about five square miles or so, but there’s nothing but water as far as the eye can see. Even if you’re a good swimmer, I don’t recommend it. Sharks and ship-eating coral and the like will tear you up.”

  He wanted to call them, but there wasn’t a phone in the room and Mr. Jones didn’t have one on his belt, either. There wasn’t even a clock. Besides, Danny was having a hard time remembering what his folks looked like and that disturbed him, so he tried to forget it.


  “Where are we?”

  “Let’s just say we’re plenty isolated.” Mr. Jones shuffled closer to the window. “Now, this isn’t all recess, just so you know. You see over there on the left is the library where you’ll be taking classes, but don’t get nervous. They’re not like high school. You don’t get grades, they’re just fun classes to keep your brain active and strong. And next to the library is the gym to keep your body active and strong.” Mr. Jones flexed his biceps and said with his best Russian accent, “Strong like bull!”

  He lifted Danny’s arm, smacked his bicep like he was trying to wake it up.

  “Listen, Danny Boy. We just want you of sound body and mind when you’re ready to graduate. Only the best, only the best, my boy.”

  The cafeteria, Mr. Jones said, was on the west wing of the dormitory. As long as Danny was here, everything was free. Games, food, classes, all of it paid for. By who, he didn’t say. He might have some limitations on food because, Mr. Jones said with a chuckle, “I don’t want you getting fat on me.”

  “They’re all boys,” Danny Boy said.

  “Pardon me?”

  Danny pointed at the field. “This is a boys’ camp, right?”

  “Well, it’s easier that way, Danny Boy. Girls can be a distraction and we want all your attention on improving your body and mind. But just between you and me,” Mr. Jones winked and nudged him with an elbow, “you’ll have plenty of chances to meet girls when you’re ready. Nothing wrong with that, if you ask me. Nothing wrong, indeed. By the way, see those boys down there?”

  He pointed at a group sitting at one of the many picnic tables.

  “That’s your group. You ready to go meet some of your fellow campers?”

  Danny didn’t know what to say. Didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. Mr. Jones walked a little easier to the door this time. He stood a little taller and started to open the door.

  “What’s that building over there?”

  Mr. Jones answered without looking. “We’ll talk about that later.”

  It was past the far end of the field buried in the trees. Its dome-shaped roof was just above the forest canopy. Sunlight reflected off the circular skylights.

  “Come along, Danny Boy. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Danny followed him, reluctantly. He was thirteen years old. When an adult says there’s nothing to worry about, there’s usually plenty.

  4

  Everyone stared.

  Mr. Jones walked damn near zero miles an hour. Danny kept his eyes straight ahead. They cut across the grass. Everyone seemed pretty tan, but the sun bit into Danny’s fair skin. They were aimed at the group at a picnic table near the sun dial. Four of them were playing cards. The fifth was watching. When they got close, the game stopped and they watched the painfully slow approach of Mr. Jones and his sidekick.

  “Well, lookie there,” one of them mumbled. “We got ourselves a new poke.”

  Mr. Jones leaned one hand on the table.

  “Boys.” He took a long breath. “This is your new camper. I’d like you to meet Danny Boy.”

  “Hey, Danny Boy,” one of them said.

  Most gave a head nod. Danny sort of smiled, waiting for Mr. Jones to either leave or die.

  “This is your group, or camp,” Mr. Jones finally said. “You’ll be going through your work with them for the next couple months, so you’ll get to know them pretty well.”

  “We love pokes,” someone said.

  “Now be nice, boys. You remember what it was like when you first got here, extend some courtesy to this young man. I don’t want to hear about any funny business. You remember that, now. I’ve got my eye on you. Anything happens to my Danny Boy I’ll come down here and tan your hides, you understand?”

  My Danny Boy?

  The card dealer with a shag of black hair waggled his bushy eyebrows and those around the table smirked.

  “I’m not kidding, boys. You try me and see how fast I can reach into my pocket.”

  Danny wondered what was in the pocket. A notepad or a laser beam?

  A golf cart silently pulled up while Mr. Jones eyeballed each of them. The driver was older than Mr. Jones. His gray hair looked wet and parted on the right. The white line of his scalp showed through the part as straight as a razor. He set the brake and made an attempt to get out but his belly was rubbing against the steering wheel. He got it on the second try.

  “Mr. Miller,” Mr. Jones said.

  Mr. Miller acknowledged Mr. Jones with a nod but ignored the rest of them. He walked to the other side of the table to speak with a gangly kid with an Adam’s apple the size of a walnut. His cheeks were pasty and he stared vacantly at the table while Mr. Miller spoke quietly into his ear, occasionally nodding. The walnut bobbed up and down. Mr. Miller patted him on the back and waddled back to the cart without making eye contact with anyone, again.

  “Remember, I’m watching, boys.” Mr. Jones pointed two fingers at his eyes, then at the rest of them. Danny needed him to leave for a whole lot of reasons. If the rest of the Investors were as decrepit as Mr. Jones, they would be as much help as a box of kittens.

  And when he thought it couldn’t get any worse.

  Mr. Jones waved him over to the cart. He stopped a couple steps away. Mr. Jones pulled him closer and put his hand – soft with lotion – on Danny’s cheek, lovingly. “You call if you need me. All right, my boy?”

  He did not.

  Do.

  That.

  Danny jumped back and shook like a wet dog. Mr. Jones looked a little hurt, but then nodded like maybe he realized and understood that you just don’t do that TO A THIRTEEN YEAR OLD BOY!

  Unless you wanted him to die of embarrassment, of shame and humiliation.

  The entire world would have to be on fire before he called Mr. Jones for help.

  The card game was more important than Danny. That was a good thing.

  He walked away to get some space. If he was going to hang out with them, he needed to make a new first impression. He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned his back, looked around the Yard. There were maybe a couple dozen boys out there, but they were a mix of race and nationality. He heard someone speaking French. Regardless, they were all boys. Every last one of them.

  But you’ll get your chance.

  There was only one loner. He had his shirt over his shoulder. His long hair was dark. He walked slowly, one foot in front of the other, like he was just soaking in the sun with nowhere to go. Even from where Danny was standing – about fifty feet away – he bet he could count the kid’s ribs.

  “Hey, I’m Zin.” A kid about Danny’s height stepped next to him. He was plump, brown skinned with a shaved head and a mean looking zit in the middle of his forehead. “You’re Danny Boy, huh right.”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Danny peeled off the nametag.

  “Ain’t much of a welcome wagon, but that’s the way it goes around here. You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

  “How soon is that?”

  “It’ll feel like home in a day. Two, tops.”

  Danny had transferred to a new school when he was ten (or was it five?). His dad was a teacher (or was he an engineer?) and got transferred to the mountains (or was it the beach?). Danny got in a fight the first day (or did he run away?). The biggest of the bunch got up right in the middle of class and slapped him while the teacher had her back turned. They duked it out after school.

  (Or was it lunch?)

  “How long you been here?” Danny asked.

  “Long enough. I can tell you one thing, I didn’t get a welcome half as warm as you got. As soon as the Investors left they threw me in a trash can.”

  Yep, there it is. This was prison because he was standing in the Yard and there were no girls, just boys. No need for barbed wire when you were surrounded by “sharks and ship eating coral and the like”.

  He remembered a time he got in trouble, something about a computer. Danny knew that if he was right – that this rea
lly was some sort of prison enclosed by water – then there had to be rape. He’d watched enough Locked Up episodes to know the weak got it good and these guys were going to bust into his room for a little midnight snack and who was going to stop them? Mr. Jones and his team of geriatric superheroes?

  “Listen, it’s a little intimidating the first day,” Zin said, picking up on Danny’s expression or the pale color of his cheeks, “but you get used to it in no time. And these guys aren’t going to do anything to you, so don’t worry. We all look out for each other.”

  “How’d you end up here?”

  “Same way as everyone else.” He shrugged. “Woke up with my Investor staring at me and couldn’t remember a damn thing. I take that back, I remembered too many things and nothing made sense. You?”

  Danny wanted to just forget about the dream and the weird feeling in his head and Mr. Jones touching his cheek.

  “That’s what I thought. Listen, don’t sweat it.” Zin lightly punched his shoulder. “This place has its ups and downs, but it ain’t so bad… look, that’s the library over there… and the game room is behind the gym…”

  Another orientation, but this one felt better coming from Zin without the creepy grin Mr. Jones was wearing when he did it. The buildings were all dome-shaped besides the horseshoe-shaped dormitory. Zin pointed everything out and then named everyone in their camp.

  “And if you want to know what time it is, there you go.” He pointed at the sun dial. “It’s never wrong.”

  “What’s that?” Danny pointed at the round building across the Yard, the same one he’d seen from his room.

  “That’s the Haystack. You’ll find out about that in a few weeks when we start a new round. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

  “That much fun?”

  Zin thought about it. “Yes and no.”

  “He looks like he had a blast.” Danny nodded to Mr. Miller’s kid, still staring. Saliva glistened on his lip.

  The kid with a mop of black hair dealing the cards had been listening. “Yeah, old Parker here is about to get smoked, ya’ll.” He smacked zombie-Parker on the back and rattled his head. Parker didn’t seem to notice so much. Or care.