Tomorrow Will Be Better

CHAPTER 1 CHARLIE

CHAPTER 1CHARLIE

February 7, 2090

A long, blaring wail ripped me out of my restless sleep. It took my brain a few moments to process where I was in the darkness around me. The clatter of metal wheels on track and the sharp swaying motion were a comfort: they hadn’t found me. It had been light when I stowed away, finally escaped from my friends turned torturers, but now, in the dark, I had no sense of how much time had passed or even in which direction I was traveling.

Carefully, I propped myself up and crawled to the open doorway as the train lurched and decreased speed. Dull lights glowed through the thick fog in a little cluster ahead, but before I could get a good look, a gust of icy air drenched me with cold rain, and I slid back a few inches.

Are those lights the next stop? How will I explain if they find me?

I rubbed a hand over my swollen jaw, then tenderly touched the scabbing edges of a rough cut across my left cheek. My breaths were shallow; any deep inhalation sent sharp pains through my ribs that I hoped were just bruised. If I wanted to celebrate my sixteenth birthday free of a home for children and free of The Defiance, I had to stay ahead of trouble.

With a hand on the boxcar wall for balance, I pushed myself to my feet. My vision swam, and I rested there until my head steadied. Limping forward, I clutched the open doorway and watched bare fields slide by outside. The damp chill sliced right through my long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans. I had to find somewhere to lay low until I knew I hadn’t been followed. Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward, stretching one foot toward the conveyor belt of moving ground, and let go.

Finally rolling to a stop, I lay flat on my back in the mud, gulping for air as the train clattered down the tracks. The ache in my ribs burned like a fire beneath my skin, and tears welled in my closed eyes as I waited for the pain to ebb. With the train an everfainter rumble, the soft patter of rain filled my ears.

I had just decided I could try to get up when a loud snapping sound shattered the quiet. Sitting bolt upright, ribs searing all over again, I whipped my head around, searching for danger. Did they follow me to the train after all? Are they watching me? Griff would never stop searching for me.

A revving engine sounded, paused, then sounded again. I stumbled to my feet, spinning to survey every dark corner of emptiness. No one stepped out of the monotonous gray around me, though I waited several long moments. When I could no longer tolerate the intense shivering that came with remaining still, I started toward the cluster of lights I had seen from the train, blurred and muted by the fog—my only hope of shelter.

In less than five minutes, my clothes were soaked. My sweatshirt and blankets were back at the Defiance camp in Kansas City, soon to be claimed by some other abandoned kid. What really hurt was losing my notebooks. Pages and pages filled with hundreds of stories I’d imagined from the time I was old enough to write. The notes outlining the details of each day of my life, just in case my own experiences could lend credibility to my writing. They’d be thrown away without a second thought.

Saturated soil tugged at my shoes as I trudged through a field of cornstalks broken and left after harvest, trying to distract myself from my aching injuries, my freezing body. Two beams cut through the haze, closer than the distant lights of what I hoped was a town. The revving engine continued intermittently, sounding closer with each step, but I had more pressing worries. Had I escaped Defiance territory? If so, how long before they made it here in their conquest of the entire country?

The field ended at a gravel road, and from up the road came two voices, the familiar engine rev, and the headlights. I paused outside of the light, debating my next move.

“Try it now. One more time,” a male voice shouted. The engine revved again and then returned to a normal idling.

“We’re just digging in deeper.” The answering voice was female.

I staggered toward the outline of a pickup truck backlit by the headlights that had guided my way. Perhaps they would report me to the authorities for trespassing, but the possibility of shelter and warmth drew me closer. Two figures stood next to a truck with its back tires in a shallow ditch and front end still on the gravel road.

“You can’t push it out alone, Max.” The female silhouette stood with her hands in her jacket pockets. “If we start walking now, we can be back at my house in a half hour.”

“No way.” Max rested both hands on the top of his head with his elbows pointing out. “If I come home without this truck, my tio is going to kill me. He thinks I’m at your house right now.”

“Well, technically I’m at your house right now, and I was supposed to be home before the streetlights came on.” The girl shook her head. “Kinley is going to kill me. We can have a double funeral.”

Max laughed. “When you put it that way, why are we in such a hurry to get home again?”

Something about these two kids, laughing about their predicament, was intriguing. It felt so . . . normal. I wanted to be a part of it, and I felt a strange compulsion to help them. Odd. I had learned to avoid people and the trouble they usually brought.

“Do you need some help?” I barely recognized my voice as my feet crunched on the gravel.

“Whoa, didn’t I just say we could use a guardian angel?” The girl wiped rain from her forehead and stepped into the light, unfazed by an approaching stranger on a dark, rainy night. She wore jeans and a green coat with a hood pulled up against the rain. Despite being drenched and splashed with mud from head to toe, she smiled. “We’re a little stuck.”

Max stepped up next to her. His jeans and a gray hoodie were caked with mud from trying to free the truck. Although he wasn’t any taller than me, he was built the way I imagined a good basketball player would be. In comparison, the girl was a few inches shorter but lanky. I guessed they were around my age.

“Angel? He looks like a zombie that just escaped his grave.” Max tilted his head as if a new vantage point could provide all the answers. “Are you? A zombie?”

The girl elbowed his side. “You can’t just say everything that pops into your head. What do you think you look like right now?”

He mumbled something then gently pushed her arm away. “First of all, it would be the best day of my life if I met a real zombie.” Nodding in my direction, he smiled. “And to answer your question, I believe I look like a mad scientist with a truckload of thistles to experiment on.”

The girl shook her head but smiled. “I’m sorry about my friend.” She took another step toward me, getting a better look at me. Her eyes narrowed in concern. “Are you okay? Do you need a ride home?” Her tone was genuine. “Maybe you should sit down for a minute.”

I obeyed and stumbled to the truck’s bumper. “I’m okay.” There wasn’t much I could say to explain myself.

“I’m reading a book like this.” She studied me curiously. “It’s a mystery . . .”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rochelle. Fiction isn’t real.” Max leaned against the truck. “There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for this guy being here . . . in the middle of nowhere . . .” He frowned.

They both looked at me and I shivered. “I think I’m lost.”

He scratched his head. “Hmm . . . How does the book end?”

Rochelle sighed and sat down next to me. “I would know if you hadn’t called me to go out in the cold rain and dig up dead thistles.”

“They’re not dead.” Max jumped in front of us, suddenly energized. “They’re wintering in a dormant state, but I’m going to turn them into the best renewable fuel to end this fuel shortage once and for all.” He waved his arms wildly. “Just think about it. Thistles are a noxious weed. No one likes them. It’s about time they do something useful. With my help.” He pressed his hand against his chest. “All I have to do is put them in a warm place and trick them into greening up. Then the experimenting can begin.”

I nodded as my mind shuffled through hundreds of scenarios for a story. “Good luck. I hope they don’t turn on you.”

Rochelle laughed. “He has a good point, Max. You’d better be careful.”

Wide-eyed, he looked from me to Rochelle. “It would be like that book from English class. Which one do you like better, frankenthistle or thistlestein?”

“Thistlestein for sure.” Rochelle laughed so hard she could barely get the words out.

I rubbed the back of my hand over an itchy spot on my cheek then pulled it back from a stinging scrape. “Don’t you both want to get out of the rain?” I glanced over at Max. “The two of us can push your truck out.” I probably wouldn’t be much help in my weakened state, but I needed to get out of the cold.

“We’d appreciate that.” He extended his hand. “Maximiliano José Delgado Serano, world’s upcoming greatest inventor and scientist. Everyone calls me Max. This is Rochelle Aumont, my best friend and the only person brave enough to be my assistant.”

I shook his hand, resisting the urge to smile. They treated me as if we’d been friends for years, but I wanted to keep my distance, keep things impersonal. “I’m Keppler.”

“Last name, right?” Max nodded as I did. “It’s like we’re in a cop movie. Right, Aumont?”

Rochelle gave him a funny look then turned back to me. “Ignore Delgado here. He doesn’t take anything seriously.”

I led the way to the back bumper, Max following, and we braced ourselves against the slippery ground. Rochelle got into the truck, and Max and I heaved together. I put all of my weight against it until it rolled forward. With nothing to support me, my knees buckled and I collapsed.

“Keppler, are you okay?” Max aimed a flashlight at my face.

I sat up and nodded, focusing on taking shallow breaths.

Max dropped to his haunches and studied me with wide brown eyes. His hood had slipped off, revealing dark hair cut close to his head. “You’re a lifesaver. I’ll give you a ride anywhere you want to go.”

Rochelle came around the side of the truck, eyebrows lifting when she saw me on the ground. She leaned down and smiled, though it was tight with worry. Her eyes, a startling shade of green, reminded me of the first leaves of spring. “We can do even better than that. My cousin is studying to be a doctor, so she can patch you up.” She stood and held her hand out to me. “And my little sister is practically a chef. She would love to cook for a guest.”

So much for avoiding people and staying out of trouble. Unable to do anything but agree, I let Rochelle take my hand while Max gripped my elbow, and they helped me into the back seat of the truck.

Closed in the warm cab, I felt a little stronger than I had out on the road. Through rivulets of water streaming across the windshield shone the lights I’d noticed from the train.

“What’s ahead?” I asked, pointing.

“My hometown, Maibe.” Rochelle leaned forward. “Maibe, Nebraska.”

A boy with steel-blue eyes and dark hair that fell over his forehead and curled around his ears stared back at me in the steamy mirror. Purple bruises blotched his body and his jaw looked a little swollen. A mess of pink scrapes and angry red gashes crisscrossed his face. I avoided the slightly raised, pink outline of the letter D just below his left shoulder. If I didn’t see that mark, maybe this boy was someone else. Someone who hadn’t promised his loyalty to The Defiance, a family I could only truly escape in death.

Shivering, I pulled on a loaned sweatshirt and pajama pants, both too big. Upon my arrival to the Aumont house, I had been able to avoid the questions I dreaded. What happened to you? Where are you from? Who’s responsible for you? I couldn’t answer any of them honestly.

“You look much better.” Kat, Rochelle’s younger sister, glanced up at me and grinned as she carried a bowl trailing steam to a tray on the table. Her long brown hair, the same color as Rochelle’s, hung down to her waist in spiraling curls. She was thin, but not in the same spindly way as her sister.

“Thanks.” I rolled up my sleeves as aromas of baking bread and cooked vegetables tortured my empty stomach.

“My dad’s clothes are a little big for you.” With careful fingers, she arranged a glass of juice and a sandwich on the tray. “Rochelle could fix that. She does sewing and altering for pretty much everyone.”

I glanced around, feeling a little uneasy again. “Will your dad mind me borrowing his clothes?”

Kat shook her head. “He passed away last year, but he was a generous guy. He’d be glad someone’s getting use out of them.”

I cringed. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“It’s okay.” Kat looked down at her neatly arranged tray of food. “How did you get beat up so badly, anyway?”

“I made the wrong people mad.” A wave of dizziness left me gripping the back of the nearest chair. “Should have known better.”

“Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson.” Kat picked up the tray and balanced it on her arm. “Follow me.” She led me through a doorway into a dining room and turned right into a room partially hidden behind half-opened French doors.

A rush of warmth met me at the homey scene. A large bay window with a cushioned seat filled the far wall, with a desk off to the side. To my right was a couch made up with pillows and blankets, a coffee table, and two armchairs. A fireplace, surrounded by floor to ceiling shelves of books, covered the wall to my left.

Kat lowered her tray to the coffee table. “Dinner is chicken and wild rice soup with vegetables, and a ham and cheese sandwich on French bread I baked this morning. If I’d known we were going to have company, I would have made something better. But I promise I’m planning an amazing menu for breakfast.”

Too hungry to think straight, I collapsed onto the couch, pulled the tray onto my lap, and swallowed half of the food in a minute.

“You really are pretty bad off, aren’t you?” I hadn’t even noticed her sit down in the nearest chair. Now her eyebrows furrowed, blue eyes studying me.

I swallowed the rest of my sandwich and winced as I settled back against the pillows propped behind me. “I’m fine, really . . .”

“One of these days, Rochelle, I’m going to ground you for the rest of your life.” Rochelle’s cousin, Kinley, strode in, stethoscope looped around her shoulders, first aid kit in her hand.

Rochelle followed, shoulder-length brown hair still wet from showering, head hanging. The cousins looked uncannily similar. Kinley stood a few inches taller than Rochelle and wore her hair pulled into a braid that stretched down her back, but in facial features, startling eye color, and lanky build, they were identical.

“I’m sorry, Kinley. I didn’t want Max to go alone.” Rochelle smiled in my direction. “And I never would have met Keppler if we didn’t get stuck. Nothing happens by chance, right?”

Kinley sighed and turned to me, her gaze appraising. Her presence made me feel like a kid who’d just been caught stealing candy from the store. “I should really get you to a doctor.”

“No.” It came out more severe than I intended. “Please, I really am okay.” Doctors asked questions, called the authorities, and sent kids without families to the nearest home for children.

Rochelle put an arm around her cousin. “You’re a doctor. Can’t you just help him?”

“I’m not a doctor yet.” Kinley sighed. “And I never will be if you keep distracting me from my studies.” She sat down on the coffee table in front of me. “How old are you, Keppler?”

I was almost sixteen, but I knew I looked younger than that. Confidence would go a long way in convincing these people I was okay. My chin lifted. “Plenty old enough to take care of myself.”

She surveyed me with eyes the same hopeful green as Rochelle’s but clouded with exhaustion and cynicism. “You’re just a kid. There must be someone out there worried sick about you.”

I shook my head slowly to acknowledge the sad truth. There wasn’t one person in the world who cared about my well-being. Only my removal.

“If there’s something you’re hiding, maybe I should let the authorities figure it out.”

My courage faded with the threat. “P-please don’t call the police.” I couldn’t go back to a home for children or get sent south to Defiance territory.

“Kinley, please.” Rochelle sat down next to her cousin. “He’s hurt and we’re all tired. Maybe we should save those questions for tomorrow.” She rested a hand on my shoulder and I flinched. Human touch was something I had learned to dread. She took the hand away but kept the compassionate look. “Don’t worry. We’re going to help you.”

Kinley nodded and forced a smile. “If you’re okay with a student looking at your injuries, I’ll see what I can do. I promise it won’t hurt much.”

I nodded, and she set about cleaning and bandaging the worst of my lacerations, then checked my temperature, heart, and lungs.

“As far as I can tell, nothing’s broken.” She gently lowered the arm she had been examining. “Get some rest and we’ll decide if you need any X-rays in the morning.”

“Thank you. I won’t be in your way for long.” In fact, I wouldn’t be there when they woke up. If Kinley intended to involve doctors and the police, the Aumont house wasn’t the place for me to hide out.

“You can stay as long as you want.” Kat smiled at me and her entire face lit up. Her blue eyes were so spirited and ready to take on the world. “Right, Kinley?”

“He can stay here for the night.” Kinley folded her arms in front of her. “Then we’ll revisit the question of where he belongs.” Her expression was stern, but a gentleness reflected in her eyes. “Let’s give Keppler some peace so he can rest.”

Rochelle followed her cousin and sister but turned around halfway to the door. “I know today has been rough, but don’t worry. Tomorrow will be better.”

Closing my eyes, I let my imagination carry me to a familiar world in which I owned a house with a library where I spent dreary winter days writing. Pulling the blanket over my head, I pushed the hopeful thought out of mind. I would be back on the street by sunrise.