Take Me Tomorrow

by Shannon A. Thompson

  My father raised his palm toward Broden before my friend imploded. “You were only children when it happened,” he said. “Sophia wouldn’t know more than anyone your age. You only know because of your circumstances.”

  Broden’s copper-colored eyes softened, and he leaned back in his chair. “I didn’t think about it that way,” he admitted.

  When they didn’t elaborate, I spoke up, “Is anyone going to explain the Tomery family or is that going to be another mystery I’ll have to solve?”

  Broden glanced at my father, and when he nodded, Broden responded, “His parents, with the help of my parents—” Broden choked, and his face reddened.

  My father cleared his throat, determined to continue, “The drug, tomo, wasn’t nicknamed from ‘tomorrow’ as most people think,” he said. “It was named after the Tomery family,” he explained. “Noah’s parents created the drug.”

  It Was a Lie

  What I read in the documents was terrifying. Even worse, it was Noah’s life.

  The paper crinkled in my hands. It wasn’t for the public’s eye. My father only had it because he was supposed to be working on the case. The wanted poster was printed during the massacre, and it displayed a Tomery family portrait. Liam, Noah, Rinley, and their parents smiled beneath the notes that deemed them a public threat. They hadn’t even killed anyone. Phelps was the one who ordered the police to crack down on the drug. He was the one who initiated the violence, yet the Tomery family was the cause.

  I shoved the paper beneath my pillow and closed my eyes. The smell of toast, bacon, and pancakes filled my nose. My stomach rumbled. After the night before, I hadn’t expected to have an appetite, but I was starving. It was just another day.

  When I managed to get downstairs, Broden played with Falo in the living room. I ignored him as I moved into the kitchen. As Lyn cooked, Argos waited for a piece of food to drop or for Lyn to feed him out of sympathy.

  I stood in the doorway as Lyn flipped a pancake, her tattoos shining in the morning light. “Your father is downstairs,” she said, only glancing up to wink. “So is Noah.”

  My cheeks burned. Lyn knew.

  I lowered my face and ran down to the basement before Broden saw my blush. Broden’s questioning was the last thing I wanted. Instead, I jumped the last steps and turned to my left. My father’s basement was separated into two rooms, and in the room to the left, my father had turned a basement bathroom into a hidden forgery. Creating the forgery was the first thing he had done to the house when we moved in.

  As I turned the corner, I came face-to-face with a white wall. It was pushed out like a door, and the room behind was filled with guns and knives. I didn’t flinch at the sight. Instead, I hovered outside the doorway and listened.

  Noah mentioned his younger sister, the one that he wanted to find, and I thought of his family’s portrait. She had blond hair and light-colored eyes. She was practically Noah’s twin, unlike Liam. He was a brunette like his mother.

  “Do you honestly think she’s alive?” my father asked as I held my breath.

  “Yes,” Noah answered without hesitation. It was as if he had reason to know she was walking around the Topeka Region, but he didn’t elaborate.

  “How are we going to find her?”

  Noah whistled in contemplation. “My family had a plan.”

  Just when I thought I would learn more, Argos sprinted by and bumped into my legs. I squeaked, and my father leaned out of the room. He saw me, and I froze like prey that had no chance of escape. When Noah looked out, I knew I had been caught.

  Noah’s jaw dropped slightly, “Sophie.”

  “Hey,” I mumbled as I walked inside.

  Argos whipped me with his tail. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought that he had purposely exposed me in the mist of spying. “I was coming downstairs to tell you Lyn made breakfast,” I tried to excuse myself, but then, I saw the coffee and empty plates sitting on my father’s desk. They had already eaten. “Or to pick up your dishes,” I corrected shamelessly.

  “That’s all right,” my dad said, waving me inside. “Come in here.”

  I entered with Argos circling around my feet. My father returned to molding a knife, and heat sparked toward the thick goggles that he wore. The sight was familiar, one I had seen a million times, but Noah’s presence wasn’t.

  My father eyed the boy. “Do you want to try it?” he asked.

  Noah’s face lit up, and he sprang forward. He didn’t even ask what he should do. He simply began, and I couldn’t deny that I was impressed. In a matter of minutes, Noah had the metal bent like my father’s, and he beamed at his accomplishment. My dad laughed as he leaned over to turn off the machine. He pointed out the few flaws of the piece, but he admitted how good it was for a beginner. Noah was a natural.

  The teenager beamed like a child. “Thanks, Dwayne,” he said, opening his mouth to continue speaking, but a banging silenced him.

  All three of us froze in place as the definitive knocking echoed upstairs. Argos’ ears sprung up, and his fur rose. Noah’s eyes widened, and I half-expected them to flash with the knowledge of who was at the front door, using tomo to prepare for anything.

  “What was that?” Noah asked as we heard the front door open.

  “Hello, Mr. Phelps,” Lyn exclaimed, practically screaming. She wanted us to hear. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Noah paled like he was already dead.

  Argos sprinted upstairs. The sounds of footsteps above us filled the forgery. Phelps’ footsteps. They sounded like miniature explosions.

  Noah placed his hand on the wall to keep himself standing. His fingers curled on the concrete, and his toes swiveled toward the door. He sprang out to run, but my father grabbed the back of his shirt. “Stay here,” my dad ordered.

  Noah couldn’t run from Phelps when he was so close. For all we knew, we were surrounded.

  My father turned to me. “Close the door, lock it, and don’t come out until I say so.”

  When he stepped out, I yanked the concrete door with my entire body weight. It shut loudly, and I winced, hoping my father had a decent excuse when he got upstairs.

  Noah collapsed on the ground. “He’s here.”

  I shushed him as I pulled the sideways ledge to lock it from the inside. It made a loud cracking noise, and I prayed no one heard it over Argos’ barking. When my dog stopped, I whispered, “We’re safe here.”

  I knew it was a lie. Our safety wasn’t guaranteed, but I wanted it to be when I looked at Noah. The boy who hadn’t been afraid of my knives was shaking. He hugged his legs to his chest, but his knees bounced up and down, and his eyes were wide.

  “What do you know, Sophie?” he asked quickly. Talking was his way of calming himself down, and if he talked quietly, we would be okay behind three feet of concrete.

  I swallowed my nerves. “I know enough.”

  His head swung back and forth. “You think I call you Sophie. I’m not,” he said. “I’m calling you Soph E.” When he spoke, he gestured with his hands to separate the two. “E. As in, your middle name, Elizabeth.”

  “And Soph, as in?” I asked, even though I didn’t have to.

  “What your mother calls you,” he clarified. He already knew. He knew the only nickname I had and where it came from. “When I met her,” he paused, “she told me about you. I didn’t think anything of it back then. It was just small talk. She told me your father would help me when I got here.” She was the one to send him.

  “Why are you telling me this?” I managed. I didn’t have the courage to ask him how she was. Not yet.

  “You know why,” he said, but the reason hit me as his words did.

  “Phelps isn’t going to catch you today,” I reassured, sitting down to meet his eyes. He didn’t look back at me. “He isn’t going to catch you.”

  “You know this isn’t even Kansas, right?” he continued, ignoring my attempt to comfort him. He knew as well as I that I couldn’t guarantee anything. “This i
sn’t Kansas.”

  “Kansas?” I repeated. The word was a distinct memory that resided in my elementary school days. The regions originally made up the United States, but the country fell in economic oppression. Things only got worse when Mexico took over the southern states. That’s when marijuana was federally legalized, and the states gained independence. Regional officers were put in place, and the country was redefined according to the area’s resources. The states were called regions, and the regions now made up the main government, which was called the State, and the State outlawed weapons. The Topeka Region was named after Kansas, a state that no longer existed. It didn’t seem that different to me.

  “It’s just a name,” I said.

  “You should care,” he argued. “This is Missouri. They should’ve named the region after Jefferson or St. Louis.”

  I didn’t understand.

  Noah moved so fast I barely comprehended it. He crossed the room and grabbed my hands with his shaking fingers. “They did it on purpose,” he said. “They want us to be confused. They don’t want us to understand where we are or where we should be. They want us to be so confused that we don’t even know where to begin. They want us to give up. They want us to accept this.”

  I pulled away from his grasp. My palms were wet with his sweat. “It’s just a name, Noah.”

  His throat let out a low growl. “It’s not,” he said, tapping his forehead. He almost hit his stitches. “That’s what they want you to think.”

  I only responded by staring at him. Beneath the light, his demeanor shifted as wildly as his eyes. He stood up as if he didn’t want me to see his face anymore. He paced from one end of the forgery to the other, while his hands curled and uncurled into fists. One second, his green eyes would focus on the wall, and the next, they would focus on me. I yearned to see them flash. I could handle his drug-induced state. His sober state was more terrifying.

  “How—” he stopped, and his lip quivered. “Why didn’t your dad teach you any of this?”

  His question sounded far away, like he wasn’t asking it at all. I recognized the frustrated look as one I had myself. When I realized my father’s forgery wasn’t normal, I had gone through the same feelings. Noah wasn’t asking about my life. He was questioning himself. He wanted to know why he had been taught it.

  I spoke up without thinking, “None of it is your fault, you know.” My hand shot up to my mouth as if I could take them back, but my gasp still followed.

  Noah’s eyes shot to mine, but I didn’t breathe. His jaw locked, and the shadows beneath his eyes grew.

  I swallowed because I couldn’t speak, but my mind raced. Apologize. Something. Anything to break the deafening silence between us. The footsteps upstairs echoed, but it wasn’t enough. Noah didn’t even seem to hear them.

  The side of his lip pulled up. “I hesitated,” he said. “I hesitated at the station.” He didn’t turn away from me as his face turned red. “Rinley was behind me, and I couldn’t jump onto the train. If I had jumped, she could’ve followed me, but I didn’t. I panicked.”

  His fingers dropped to the bottom of his shirt, and he pulled at the cloth. “That’s when the cops saw us,” he hesitated. “Rinley ran, and Liam came back for me. He threw me on, and they shot him.” Noah’s hand landed on his chest, and his fingers spread out as if his hand was the bullet that ripped his brother to pieces. “That bullet was meant for me.”

  I couldn’t speak, and I was afraid I would cry if I tried, and I felt selfish for feeling that way. It hadn’t happened to me. If anything, Noah should’ve been the one with tears, but he was completely calm − as if he had succumbed to the pain. Or hadn’t felt it at all. Either way, I wasn’t sure how he was supposed to be. Tragedy wasn’t that simple. It never was.

  “I need to get Rinley out,” he rambled, “before the war spreads,” he said. “I’ve seen it spread.”

  He didn’t need drugs to see it. He already had, and I couldn’t deny it any longer.

  There was a war, and it was only a matter of time before I experienced it for myself.

  He Was Watching Me

  “You’ll have fifteen seconds to cross.”

  The directions pounded as loud as my heart was. My hands shook. If it weren’t for the adrenaline, I wouldn’t have been running. My feet slammed across the platforms as my eyes locked on Liam’s back. He was four feet taller than me, years older, and my only focus was to keep up with him. My mother was already dead, but my father was safe. Now, it was our turn to escape.

  “Welcome to the Topeka Region, address of the State,” the speaker blasted overhead as I slammed into Liam’s back.

  He had stopped as the train rushed into the station. Right on time. Rinley grasped my arm to stop herself from barreling into the machine. The train came to a halt, and wind rushed around us, causing my hair to scratch my forehead.

  “Get them!” A herd of officers tried to push their way past the locked gates Liam had rigged.

  After Liam leapt onto the train, he spun around to reach for me, but a gunshot split the air. Rinley fell to the ground and covered her head. I only stared. The station smelled like gas.

  “Noah,” Liam shouted as the police broke through the gates.

  They ran toward us, and my blood rushed through my veins.

  Liam was yelling, but I didn’t realize it was him until his hands were under my arms. My feet left the ground as he picked me up to toss me. As my body landed inside of the train, another gunshot burst through the air. Rinley screamed, but I only heard the squeal of the train’s tires as it prepared to take off.

  It inched forward as I blinked, focusing on what was in front of me. Liam stood on the station’s floor, clutching his bleeding arm. Before I screamed, the air blasted again, and Liam’s body sprung up like a hunted deer. He fell to the ground, but he spit up a red liquid. He was still alive. He wasn’t dying quickly. He was suffering.

  My vision clouded as the train rumbled beneath me. It took off so rapidly that my head smacked the floor. I clutched the wood, my heated face pressed to it, and my jaw shook as if I were crying, but nothing happened. The train sped off through the trees, and my eyes closed to the night.

  Liam was dead, and I was safe.

  …

  I gasped as my eyes sprung open to the fluorescent lights on the school’s ceiling. My vision was blurry through my nightmare’s tears, and I bent over to prevent myself from heaving. When I looked down, I stared at the manicured hand I was clutching. Lily’s nimble fingers were wrapped around mine. My knuckles were white.

  When I raised my head to look at my best friend, a warning crossed her dark brown eyes. Wake up, she screamed in silence. We’re in an assembly with Phelps.

  My chest was heavy, but I took a breath and straightened up. I had barely slept. It had been three days since Phelps arrived at my house. He ordered my father to leave the Topeka Region to collect military enforcement. He didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

  Phelps didn’t even search our house. His men didn’t either. Broden stayed upstairs, only coming out after Phelps had been gone for three hours, but Noah refused to leave the forgery. Even I couldn’t convince him to leave, not even when I pointed out the fake identity he was obligated to live by.

  “Tasia will cover for me,” he kept repeating as if he was convincing somebody of it.

  I doubted he had an identity at all anymore. He was stuck as Noah Tomery, and I hadn’t been able to sleep, knowing he was in my house.

  Now that I wasn’t home, I had fallen asleep, only to dream about his life. The dream was so clear that I wondered if that’s what tomo users experienced while they were on the drug, but I didn’t know. I would never take tomo.

  I glanced around the stifling assembly room, avoiding Lily’s eyes. It was the first day we were allowed back in our school, but we were shuffled into the gym for a meeting. I had yet to have an opportunity to talk to Lily in private, but I knew she would deliver bad news. Miles was nowhere to be seen, and
he wasn’t the only one.

  Half of the student body was absent. From what the teachers had told us, they were still being questioned. According to rumor, most of them weren’t getting in trouble. The police were convinced the kids had taken it by mistake, that someone had dropped the drug into our drinks, but I knew it was a lie. Everything was.

  “I am deeply disturbed by the actions that took place Saturday night,” Phelps spoke without a microphone as if to prove how deafening he could be. Even in his older age, he held his shoulders high. When he spoke, his eyebrows moved. They were so thick and dark that I could see them from yards away.

  I had met him too many times to count. He had even eaten dinner at our house, just once, but once was enough. He was a person who could memorize your soul with just a fleeting glance. When he shook my hand, he shook me. I should’ve known then that my dad’s occupation hadn’t come naturally.

  Today, the hair on my neck stood up from listening to him. He was electric.

  “Unfortunately,” he emphasized every syllable, “many will be punished, some of which have already been punished.”

  Phelps turned his head, and his eyes moved over Lily and me despite our seat at the top of the bleachers.

  A gasp escaped Lily’s lips, and I squeezed her fingers together as if to order her silence. As far as I knew, she was oblivious just as I had been, but I couldn’t let her stick out any more than she probably already had. She had coordinated the party, after all.

  “We know your student body president did not prepare for this,” he referred to Lily as he turned away. “But we will be pursuing any student or family that seems to be involved with the drug.” I thought of Noah. “After all,” he continued, “the drug is a hallucinogen − nothing more.” A lie we collectively had been told since the massacre. “The drug is potentially fatal, and we − as the Topeka Region − will see to it that this drug is completely destroyed. It is our responsibility as the home of the State.”