Borrowed Tomorrow

When my mother asked me to start writing about my day and things I remember about our past life, I thought she was really losing it.

More than normal.

But it’s been about a week of writing, and I have to say, I am glad I listened to her.

Just don’t tell her that. She will never let me forget it.

Today I spent most of my day with Elliott. She’s getting more curious about the world around her and asking me a lot more questions. I don’t know what to tell her anymore. My basic “we are just on vacation” and “the world is sick” is no longer cutting it for her.

I want to ask my mom what I should tell her, but I know she would tell Elliott too much. She would give her all the information and let her process it on her own, not really dealing with the consequences.

Elliott will sleep with me for the rest of her life if I don’t sugarcoat it for her.

Eight is too young to understand what’s going on and not be terrified to death.

I’m terrified to death.

I don’t need to try to calm my nerves every day and hers as well.

I took her down to the beach, let her play in the sand, then forced her to listen to me read about the ecosystem in the water she was playing in.

“James,” the little brunette with curls said, staring up at her brother.

“Yes, Elliott?”

He looked down at her momentarily before looking back up and scanning the area once more, just in case.

“When can we go home? I miss my friends and my teachers.”

“I’m not sure, Elliott. It’s not safe out there.”

“Why not?”

“El, we talk about this every day. When will you give it a break?”

She shrugged before diving her Barbie back under the water.

The boy sighed, staring at his little sister. When he heard a tree branch rustle, he pulled his crossbow a little closer and scanned the area again, slowly making his way closer to his sister, trying not to show fear on his face.

“El,” he said quietly.

“Yes?” She looked up at her brother with a smile.

“Can you come here please?”

She got up without a second warning and made her Barbie swim toward him.

After a few minutes of standing still, he called it.

“Let’s go back home. I bet Mamabear hasn’t eaten yet, and I’m sure babybear is getting hungry too.”

He shooed her toward her things still on the beach. She grabbed her little towel and purse, skipped back to her brother, and grabbed his outstretched hand.

“Can I have a piggyback ride?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

He bent down, removing his crossbow from his back before hoisting his little sister onto him. He didn’t even mind that her wetsuit soaked the back of his shirt. She held on tight to her Barbie and purse.

“Hold tight to me,” he said, trying to stabilize her.

She held tightly around his neck and put her chin on his shoulder.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yep!” she answered in delight.

He made the sound of a horse and pretended to gallop up the steps to their current home, all while looking every which way for potential dangers.

When he got to the front door, he peered through the glass to make sure it looked okay. He opened the door slowly and took in a big whiff through his nose.

The smell of the sick could be found easily once you knew it.

“Safe?” she asked.

“Yep.”

He nodded, though he still planned to go room to room and check. It was a good assumption it was safe without the odor lingering. Fresh sick didn’t smell as badly.

He locked the door and put up the three wooden barricades before taking his bow into each room while his sister sat on the counter and played with the Barbies she left up there that morning during breakfast.

My father hasn’t been back in three days.

He’s never gone this long. He left for a full twenty-four hours once, and I didn’t sleep for a single hour.

I’m starting to get worried. I want to call him on the walkie, but I don’t want the noise to possibly disturb him and put him in more danger.

I need him back. I need the buffer between me and Mom.

She’s getting into her old habits of not eating and not talking to anyone, and for Elliott’s sake, she needs her mother around. We need to pretend like everything’s normal and functional.

Then again, this is normal for my mother. She gets obsessed with something and won’t stop until it’s done.

But at this rate, she might never solve this, and we will never have a mother again.

I don’t like going into the bunker. I feel trapped down there, and I can’t shake the panic feeling of possibly having to live down there one day. I go down long enough in the morning to get my run in on the turbine so the place will have enough electricity to get us through the day and night.

I’ve been having to add a couple extra miles. My mother is using more power than she should for whatever experiments she’s working on now.

I can’t wait for the summer sun to return. I hate running in the morning without someone to share the load.

I’m close to making Elliott walk a few miles.

I remember when the cabin was her obsession. Making this place “ready for whatever is coming.” I didn’t think much of it when I was younger. We came up to the cabin all the time, just Mom and me. Mom worked with contractors during the day and was with me at night, both of us learning to use a bow and arrow.

I thought one day we would go hunting together.

I thought the idea of my vegetarian mother hunting was hilarious.

I had no idea what she had planned for me.

While she was here with me, my dad stayed home with Elliott and taught her about plants and gardening.

I can still remember the day she went to my father and asked for money for this project. She doesn’t know I overheard their conversation, but I did.

The real reason why she built this fortress.

Mom’s a scientist. A very good one too.

She worked for a pharmaceutical company, one of those massive ones with shiny commercials and names normal people only know because they hear them listed after side effects on TV.

I never understood most of what she did, but I knew she worked on medications. Important ones. The kind of medication people talked about like it might change everything.

Then something changed.

Meetings got longer.

She stopped sleeping.

She started spending every spare dollar on the cabin.

My father was livid. He said she was overreacting.

But she wasn’t.

She was right.

She’s always right.

“James!”

He heard the voice calling from up the ladder into the house, Elliot’s awake earlier than normal. Is she having problems sleeping while dad is away too? Should he talk to her or wait for her to say something to him?

“Almost done. I’ll be right up,” he yelled, looking at the energy levels on the wall in front of him.

He should do another few mile to assure they would have enough electricity tonight, but he didn’t want to leave his sister alone for too long. She would start getting nervous all alone.

He slowed down the machine and took the towel, wiping off his sweat. He stopped it fully and got off, taking some water from his bottle. He went to the intercom on the wall and pressed the call button.

Unsuccessfully.

This time, he knocked on the door. He looked through the small pinhole and saw his mother working. Typing in the code, he opened the door slowly.

A loud rush of classical music came pouring out. He poked his head in enough to see a small woman in a long white coat moving on her wheeled stool from one lab counter to the next. He watched the woman he’d idolized his whole life through another bulletproof glass room.

Knocking on the window, he yelled, “Mom!”

Nothing.

Unlocking the next door, his nerves started to fray as he got further and further from his sister. Breaking each and every protocol of closing and locking every door in the lab. But the fear of not hearing his sister’s screams outweighed the protocols.

“MOM!”

He tried again, turning down the music and facing her.

“What, James?” she asked, exasperated.

“We haven’t seen you in a day. Can you please come upstairs for a while?”

He asked calmly, trying not to sound like he was begging.

“What day is it?” she asked.

“Friday.”

“Has your father returned?”

“No. It’s what I want to talk to you about. Plus, Elliott has been asking where you are, and I just don’t know what to tell her anymore.”

She nodded, but looked back into her microscope.

“I’ll shower and be up in fifteen minutes.”

“Please do. I need to talk to you about this shit.”

He pushed off the table harshly and went to the door, shutting all the doors on his way out, but not before he heard the music start up again.

He sighed heavily before climbing the ladder.

“Morning, sunshine,” he greeted his little sister, who was sitting in her room.

“Morning.” She didn’t look up from her dolls.

He went to the security room and checked all the immediate cameras surrounding the house, then switched to the ones around the compound.

Nothing to see.

It relaxed him enough to allow himself a shower.

“I need to shower, little one. Will you please come sit in the bathroom with me?”

“Are you scared, James?”

“Of what?” he asked nervously.

“The shower.”

He knitted his eyebrows together.

“No. Why would I be afraid of the shower?”

“Because you always want me to sit with you.”

“No, kiddo. I want you to sit with me so you can breathe in the steam to help your asthma.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Fine, but I get to choose breakfast then,” she said before getting up and going into the bathroom.

It wasn’t the only reason he liked her in there with him. He didn’t like being in a different room than her. God forbid all the security systems failed and something managed to get through and he couldn’t get to her in time.

The thought was enough to send James into a crippling panic.

He’d take her downstairs when he ran if he thought it wouldn’t pique her curiosity too much and cause her to demand more information. He avoids taking her anywhere near the lab, Elliot is smart, like their mother and she asks real questions far above her age bracket.

“What do you want to do today?” he asked her while showering.

“Fish,” she said.

“Alright. We can fish after some schoolwork.”

“C’mon,” she whined.

“I let you go two days without doing any schoolwork. How long did you think it would last?”

“Forever,” she mumbled.

“Too bad, kid.”

He poked his head out to see her make a grotesque face.

“When is Mommy going to come back?” she questioned.

“Today,” he said, not sure if that would be true or not.

He turned off the shower and put his hand out.

“Can you hand me the towel?”

He felt the soft towel hit his hand and took it into the shower with him. He dried off and put the towel around his waist before opening the curtain.

Taking a small moment to remember what it was like to shower alone without the crippling fear that something would kill his little sister for the split second he didn’t have an eye on her.

“How you feeling?” he asked.

“Steamy.”

She got off the toilet and opened the door, bouncing out into the main area.

“Hi, Mommy,” she said.

He walked out with a shocked look on his face and saw his mother in the kitchen working on pancakes.

She had obviously showered too. He knew the shower had decontaminated her, but he hated when she’d been working and then made them food. Remnants of something she missed under her nails.

“Hi, Mom,” he said.

“Hi, kids.”

She kissed her daughter’s head, then her son’s cheek, too short to get to his head.

“Go get dressed. Did you check the cameras today?”

He nodded, still in awe she came out without him having to nag her again.

“Check them again, then come out for breakfast.”

She squeezed his hand and went back to the stove.

He looked at Elliott, who was beaming, watching their mother’s every move.

He remembered when he used to look at her like that.

Going into his room, he shut the door and sighed out a moment of peace.

He hadn’t had a real moment of rest for himself since his dad left.

Taking the small moment he’d been given, he flopped onto his bed and allowed himself to close his eyes. Hearing some music come on in the kitchen, followed by the sound of his sister giggling, peace moved across him.

He smiled, sighing, wondering how long this would last.

Getting up and going to his closet, he pulled out some clean clothes. Seeing a familiar box, he knitted his brows.

His mother was unpredictable. She could burst in on him at any moment without so much as a warning knock.

Elliott had been sleeping in his bed with him for two weeks, and he hadn’t seen another person in almost two months. At least, not a real, live person he wasn’t related to.

He succumbed to his teenage hormones and pulled out the box. He put the box on the bed and locked his door. Grabbing an old towel, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked through it.

Photos from old magazines.

Printed photos of his girlfriend in her bathing suit.

It didn’t take much to get him going, and it didn’t take him long to finish.

He cleaned up and lay back on his bed, closing his eyes and letting his mind wander to losing his virginity to his girlfriend.

I thought it wouldn’t be so bad.

That the idea of surviving would be enough to keep me from missing other people.

My old life.

But I do. I miss having my friends over and talking about school, sports, playing video games. I miss taking a shower without my little sister in the room.

I miss texting girls and trying to convince them to go out with me.

It’s selfish, I know.

Most of them are probably dead by now. Most people who are still alive are probably thinking about how they’re going to eat tonight, how they’re going to survive another day.

But I do.

I miss it a lot.

I miss the feeling of security. That when I woke up, the worst I might have to deal with was maybe some gang-related fights in school and maybe I’d get in the way somehow.

I want to look for my friends in the hallway.

Kiss my girlfriend.

Fuck, I miss her.

“James.”

He heard a faint knock.

“Coming.”

He put his journal away, looked himself over in the mirror, unlocked the door, and went into the kitchen.

“Hi, sunshine.”

He sat next to his sister, who was trying to fit as much pancake into her mouth as possible.

“Hi,” she said through a mouthful of food.

“How are your studies going?” their mother asked.

“Good,” he lied.

He’d been ignoring his as much as Elliott wanted to ignore hers.

“Journals?”

Elliott nodded.

“We’re both doing them,” he confirmed.

“So what about your father? Have you tried to contact him?”

“No. Too afraid of the consequences it could have.”

He spoke vaguely, looking down at his sister and then back to his mother, hoping she caught the hint.

“Mom, when can we go home?” Elliott asked.

James’s breath hitched, not knowing which way his mother was going to answer.

“I don’t know, baby,” she answered simply.

“Have you tracked his car?” she asked her son.

“Track his car?”

“Yeah, the low jack on the car. Did you track it with GPS?”

“Mom, the satellites aren’t—”

“James,” she started firmly. “I know the main ones are down. I would not have suggested it if I thought it wouldn’t work. Go get me a tablet from the security room.”

James nodded, fetching a tablet. He walked back into the kitchen and handed it to his mother.

She typed in some things.

“He’s moving. He’s fine. On his way back toward us now.”

She handed it to her son.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” he asked, upset with his mother.

“You didn’t ask.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“James, I don’t think that tone is necessary.”

“Isn’t necessary? He’s been gone almost four days. Do you even care?”

“Of course I care, but I figured it would take him this long to go there and come back.”

“He told me he’d be back that night.”

“He didn’t want to worry you.”

Her cavalier attitude was causing James to see red.

“This has to be a fucking joke. Are you fucking with me?”

“James, language.” She nodded to Elliott.

“You two thought that I wouldn’t worry my father was gone longer than when he said?”

“Yes.”

He breathed in deeply.

“You’re out of your fucking minds. What the hell is going on?”

“I think you need to remember your place, son.”

“My place? What place is that, Mother? Carefree teenager? Or parent? Protector of this house and Elliott? Teacher? Security guard? Runner? Shooter?”

“Do you have something to say to me, James?” She held his gaze.

“Now I know you’re messing with me.”

He laughed to himself, then looked over at his sister, who had her hands over her ears and her eyes shut tightly.

James leaned down to his sister, removing her hands.

“Look at me,” he coaxed.

His sister opened her eyes to meet his. The same dark brown eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” he promised.

“It’s not the yelling. There’s a scary person outside,” she said, looking up.

Both James and his mother shot a look at the creature lurking outside by the driveway.

“James. The bow,” his mother said quietly. “No sudden movements.”

She walked slowly to Elliott, not taking her eyes off the creature, while James grabbed the bow and arrow from his room.

“Can you hit him?” his mother asked, pulling Elliott into her arms.

“Yes, but the second I open that door, he will smell me. I don’t know how well I’ll do with that kind of pressure,” he admitted honestly.

“Okay. I’ll grab a rifle.”

She took Elliott in her arms and went to the closet for a rifle.

“Stay close, baby.”

She kissed her daughter’s head.

He nocked an arrow on his crossbow. She put bullets into the rifle.

“On the count of three, okay?” she said to James.

He nodded.

“You have this. You’ve shot from farther away and with more targets, okay?”

He nodded again.

“You have this,” she reassured.

“Okay.”

“One. Two.”

She opened the door.

They both stepped onto the deck, and the creature smelled them instantly.

It turned.

Then ran.

James fired.

The arrow flew straight and buried itself between the creature’s eyes.

The body collapsed instantly.

Neither of them moved for a second.

Then they both let out the breath they’d been holding.

“Get back inside,” his mother ordered.

James backed through the doorway while she covered him with the rifle.

The second they were inside, she slammed the door shut and started reapplying the barricades.

“Check the cameras.”

James scooped Elliott into his arms before she could protest.

“You’re safe, baby girl.”

She buried her face in his shoulder.

He carried her into the security room and sat her down in the chair while he started scanning the camera feeds.

Driveway.

Beach.

Tree line.

North trail.

Generator shed.

Nothing.

He checked again.

And again.

His mother appeared in the doorway.

“How did he get so close without detection?”

“I don’t know.”

He cycled through the cameras a third time.

“Is one of the alarms down?”

“I don’t know, and until Dad comes back, we can’t test them.”

“James,” Elliott whispered.

He turned immediately.

“No. No, you’re okay.”

He dropped to one knee in front of her.

“You’re okay. I’m okay. Nobody’s going anywhere.”

She opened her arms.

He pulled her into a hug.

“Take care of her,” his mother said. “I want to reboot the system.”

James nodded.

He picked Elliott up and carried her to his bedroom.

“Want to watch a movie?”

She nodded against his chest.

“Okay. Which one?”

“Frozen.”

“Of course.”

He stopped in the kitchen long enough to grab the tablet.

The creature’s body was still visible on the driveway camera.

Blood spread across the gravel.

He’d have to burn it later.

The smell would linger for days otherwise.

By the time he got back to his room, Elliott had already burrowed beneath his blankets.

“Here.”

He handed her the tablet.

She immediately pulled up the movie.

James climbed into bed beside her.

“I’m going to stay up here until your father gets back,” his mother said from the doorway.

“Cool.”

James didn’t look up.

“Want to watch the movie with us?” Elliott asked.

“Maybe later. I need to clean up first.”

“Good.”

His mother looked at him.

He still didn’t meet her eyes.

I try not to hold much against my parents.

They’re doing the best they can.

Parenting has to be hard under normal circumstances.

Throw in the apocalypse and I can’t imagine it gets easier.

But being a kid isn’t exactly easy either.

They treat me like an adult when it’s convenient for them and then like their child the second I ask questions they don’t want to answer.

I wish they’d just tell me their plans.

Include me.

I had to kill a creature today.

That’s what Mom calls them around Elliott.

Creatures.

Not infected.

Not zombies.

Creatures.

Elliott saw it before we did.

I keep thinking about that.

I rely too heavily on the security systems.

I trust them because they’re there.

Today reminded me they’re not perfect.

Something got through.

I need to find the hole.

I won’t sleep until I do.

Maybe we need traps.

Pits.

Bear traps.

Something.

Mom hates those ideas because then hunting becomes dangerous too.

I’d rather hunt in dangerous woods than be hunted in my own house.

James lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

Eventually he glanced at the clock.

Usually around this time Elliott would knock on his door.

Tonight she didn’t.

Curious, he stepped into the hallway.

Soft reading drifted from across the hall.

He followed the sound.

His mother sat in Elliott’s bed.

A book rested in her lap.

Elliott was already asleep.

Blanket tucked beneath her chin.

Thumb in her mouth.

For a moment, she looked younger than eight.

His mother looked up.

“Did you cover the windows?”

He nodded.

“Checked the cameras recently?”

He nodded again.

“Do you want to talk?”

He looked away.

Then nodded once.

His mother set down the book and kissed Elliott’s forehead.

“Goodnight. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

She quietly left the room.

James followed her to the control room.

He immediately started checking cameras again.

More carefully this time.

His mother handed him a beer.

“How are you, kid?”

James stared at the can.

“Seriously?”

“What are rules when there’s no government?” she asked.

He accepted it.

“I hate being away from her.”

His eyes stayed on the camera showing Elliott’s room.

“Did you uninstall the camera from your bedroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t need somebody watching me every second. I’m capable enough.”

“I know you are.”

He laughed.

“That’s kind of the problem.”

His mother winced.

“I’ve been asking a lot from you.”

“You need me to. The least you can do is acknowledge us once in a while.”

“I know.”

“No. I don’t think you do.”

She leaned back in her chair.

“I made a breakthrough.”

There it was.

The obsession.

“I wanted to keep working while I had momentum.”

“You can’t do that when it’s just me and Elliott up here.”

“I know.”

“You need Dad around too.”

“I know.”

Silence.

Finally James asked:

“So where is Dad?”

His mother looked at the monitors.

Not at him.

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

That was never a good sign.

“We got word from a colleague of mine.”

James waited.

“He and his family are alive.”

“What colleague?”

“Dr. Anderson.”

James sat up straighter.

“The Andersons?”

His mother nodded.

“They survived?”

“Yes.”

“And Dad went to get them?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

James laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because he was angry.

“Who thought that was a good idea?”

“Both of us.”

“Fantastic.”

“James.”

“No. Seriously. Fantastic.”

His mother sighed.

“I need help.”

“With what?”

“With the cure.”

The room went quiet.

“Dr. Anderson worked on the project with me. If there’s any chance of understanding what’s happening, I need him here.”

More mystery. More questions.

No answers.

Just how Mom liked things.

“More people means more risk.”

“I know.”

“More mouths to feed.”

“I know.”

“More chances for something to go wrong.”

“I know.”

“But you’re doing it anyway.”

“Yes.”

Because of course she was.

His mother never did anything halfway.

“Where are they staying?”

“The basement bedrooms.”

James groaned.

There went any chance of privacy.

“What about his wife?”

His mother looked down.

That was answer enough.

“She didn’t make it.”

James nodded.

“Are the boys old enough to learn how to shoot?”

“Maybe.”

“I can’t babysit everybody.”

“You won’t have to.”

“Mom.”

“You’ll have help.”

“From who?”

“Margaret.”

James remembered her vaguely.

Smart.

Quiet.

Weird.

Always reading something.

“She’s about your age now.”

“Great.”

“You’ll like her.”

“Doubtful.”

His mother laughed.

An actual laugh.

It startled both of them.

Before leaving the room she stopped at the doorway.

“James.”

“Yeah?”

“If you ever have to choose.”

He already knew what she meant.

He held up a hand.

“Don’t.”

“James.”

“I know.”

His mother nodded.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

After she left, James sat alone in front of the camera screens.

The driveway.

The woods.

The beach.

The dead creature.

Somewhere out there, his father was bringing strangers home.

Somewhere downstairs, his mother was trying to save the world.

And upstairs, his little sister was asleep because she still believed he could protect her from everything.

James checked the cameras one more time.

Then one more time after that.

Just to be sure.