Tomorrow Land (2 page)

“Does Drew have
his
license?” Avery asked.

“Of course. And he’s not happy about having to wait for me, let me tell you.” Peyton slid her VR goggles into their protective case and handed them back to her friend. “He’s constantly suggested we SWL.”

“You mean break the law?” Avery raised an eyebrow.

SWL—Sexing Without a License—had some pretty severe penalties if you were caught. Extended quarantine to make sure you didn’t have a disease or an unauthorized pregnancy, along with exposure through the media for public ridicule and contempt.

But in reality, there wasn’t exactly a sex police peeking in windows, waiting to bust people who dared get it on in an illegal fashion. After all, everyone knew how virulent the disease was and how gruesome its effects. How could they not know with those UN Biological Division advertisements playing 24/7 on every media outlet? Even if you didn’t agree with the laws against unlicensed fornication, it was safer to stick to those partners who had their CCs.

“Let’s face it, if my dad has his way, I’ll be a virgin until I’m ninety-nine years old and eligible for Medicare.” She rose to her feet, not feeling like talking about it anymore. “Anyway, I’m gone. Good luck and I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

Erin gave her a small wave and a smile. “See you.”

Peyton headed up the basement stairs and into the main house, on her way to the front exit. As she pushed open the basement door, she couldn’t help but steal a peek at all the glorious technology, entrenched in the family’s modern living space. Avery’s parents weren’t rich by any stretch, but they had all the latest gadgets: the refrigerator that reminded you which groceries you needed, the music system that sensed who was in the living room and adjusted its music accordingly. Of course, Peyton didn’t have an iChip like everyone else and so it remained on “Sounds of the Twenties”—classic hip-hop that had been all the rage in Avery’s parents’ day—as she passed through. The sound system had no idea of her secret love for music from the 1980s… which was perhaps for the best. After all, hearing “I Want Your Sex” would have just depressed her.

Walking out the front door, she squinted into the bright afternoon light and gazed around Monroeville, their suburban South Carolina subdivision. The sun was high in the sky and a slight breeze was the only relief from its heat. Her ears picked up the sounds of lawnmowers buzzing, while a particularly loud bird screeched from above. Normal real life sights and sounds were always a bit disconcerting after spending time in a VR deck.

She headed down the street, passing Chris Parker’s house, wondering if he was still playing virtual basketball or if he’d gone back to
Knights of the Living Dead
once she’d exited the game. His silly crush on her had always been cute, but was now bordering on obsessive. And if Drew found out… well, let’s just say Chris didn’t stand a chance against her boyfriend’s surgically enhanced fists. And as annoying as he could be, she didn’t want anyone hurt on her account. Maybe she should speak to him. Cut him off, once and for all. Though that would be hurting him, too. Albeit in a less physical way.

She arrived home to find her mother sitting at the kitchen table, her tablet propped up in front of her, reading some email. It was the only relatively high-tech gadget in the low-tech room and it was still probably twenty years old. No Smart Oven, no iDishwasher, no Super Fridge like at Avery’s house. Like everything else, her dad had forbidden it all.

But despite the lack of modern conveniences, Peyton’s mother had made the most of the space. After all, all the technology in the world couldn’t make a room this cozy and warm. It couldn’t manufacture the smell of freshly baked cookies. And the pretty silk rose centerpiece her mom had found at a flea market last month gave the room a cheery vibe.

“Hey, Mom,” Peyton greeted her, grabbing a cookie from the tray sitting on the stove top. The VR games always made her a bit sick to her stomach and she hoped to settle it with carbs. “What’s going on?”

Her mother looked up. “Not much, sweetie,” she replied. “Just answering some party invitations. The Nixons are having a huge bash this year, but they waited forever to send out the notes. I’m going to have to go shopping
this nanosecond
to find something to wear.”

Peyton smiled. For as long as she could remember, her mother had always been a social butterfly, flitting from party to party, always happiest when she was around other people. That was how she and her dad met, many years ago, when he was still a dashing government employee and she was the child of a state senator. Peyton’s grandmother had been ecstatic that her socialite daughter had snared such a great man and patriot. She’d become less than pleased since.

But Ashley Anderson was a woman who stood by her man. During the rough times, during the prison sentence… even afterward. It was hard on her, Peyton knew, to have the neighbors whisper about the crackpot she’d married. Ashley’s parents had begged and pleaded for her to walk away over the years, but Ashley always refused to leave. Peyton admired her mother’s stubborn sense of loyalty, even if sometimes she wondered if it wasn’t a bit misplaced.

Peyton looked down at the invitation. “Sounds fun,” she said. “Can I come?” She didn’t really have a burning desire to attend an adult party, but she hated to see her mom be forced to go alone. And she knew her father wouldn’t touch an invitation like this with a ten-foot pole.

“Of course. If it doesn’t interfere with your training schedule,” her mother replied, reaching over to brush a lock of hair from her daughter’s eyes. “You know how your dad is about that.”

“Yeah,” Peyton said, rolling her eyes. “Believe me, I know. If I bring it up, he’ll probably tell me that I shouldn’t bother to buy a dress. ‘No, no!’ he’ll say, ‘The End of Days is right around the corner, and there won’t be any parties ever again!’”

Her mother smiled and rose from the table. “Yes,” she said. “He probably would. But I’ll tell you what, sweetie.” She plucked a bright red silk rose from the table’s centerpiece and stuck it playfully behind her daughter’s ear. Then she grabbed her hands and twirled her around the kitchen. “Come with me to the party. If the world does end, I want you dancing by my side.”

Chapter Two

Four Years Later…

The last dance was done. And so was Ashley Anderson.

Peyton swallowed back a lump in her throat as she laid the silk rose down on her mother’s silent chest. The fake flower had faded over the last four years, from its original brilliant crimson to a dull, orangey pink, its petals curled and frayed. The simple flower had been a decorative mainstay in their little underground hideaway—a centerpiece for rehydrated dinners, a hair ornament to wear to their imaginary balls. Now it would serve its final purpose: an undersized funeral bouquet. It seemed wrong, somehow, that an object that had once brought such laughter and joy had now been reduced to a symbol of Peyton’s loss.

She fanned herself as sweat dripped between her breasts. Walking to the far end of the fallout shelter turned underground apartment, she checked several gauges. The ventilation system hadn’t been working properly for months now, and she wondered how long it would be before it conked out altogether. Lately everything down here seemed past life expectancy.

Except for her mother. Ashley Anderson could have lived longer—
should
have lived longer. Except for the fact that she’d lost the will to do so. But she’d somehow managed to hold on until yesterday, not wanting to leave her only child alone in their underground prison, going crazy with solitude. But once July 1st, 2034 rolled around, the day the time-locked titanium shelter doors finally clicked open, she was more than ready to say her final goodbyes.

Of course, in a way, she’d already said goodbye years before—her heart still beating, but her mind too addled with pills to be anything more than a restless ghost. On the good days, they’d played old-fashioned board games and planned imaginary parties. They’d dance to the old record player her dad had brought down and watch old 20th century videos on something called a VCR. But lately the good days had been few and far between.

Still, when Peyton realized what had happened—how many pills her mother had taken—she was furious. But her mother refused to apologize. She’d lived her life. The world had moved on and she wanted to move on with it. Would Peyton really begrudge her a dance with the angels?

Her mom had made her choice. Drugs over her daughter. Death over life. And there was nothing Peyton could do about it. She wondered what her father would have said when he found out what his wife had done. Would he have called her a coward? Remind Peyton that only the strong would survive in this brave new world? Tell her it was better this way—that now she had nothing to slow her down from her mission?

She glanced over at the door. When it unlocked itself yesterday, she’d been too wrapped up in caring for her mother to push it open and see what was outside. Who had survived? Who had died? What had happened to her friends? And most importantly, what had happened to Chris? Had he and his brother found a way to stay alive? Were they out there somewhere? Would he remember her? Recognize her if he saw her again? Some days she barely recognized herself.

She shook her head. It was more than likely she’d never find out what happened to the Parkers. After all, it wasn’t as if she could just iGoogle them. And perhaps it was better this way. At least she could imagine he and his brother were alive somewhere, up in the mountains, living a happy, safe life in a brave new world. And she could avoid the most likely scenario: that they, like almost everyone else, had died. Or worse….

Peyton twisted the air conditioning temperature gauge to its coldest setting, then headed back to her mother’s bed, swallowing the lump in her throat as she looked down at Ashley Anderson’s fragile frame. The woman looked so peaceful now, lying there as if she didn’t have a care in the world. And maybe she didn’t anymore. The idea should have made her happy, but instead it made her angry. Her mother had taken the easy way out, leaving her only daughter alone to face the world.

Until she found her father, that was. She never thought she’d be so eager to reconnect with him.

Feeling tears threaten, Peyton headed back to the makeshift gym and pulled on her boxing gloves. She raised her fists and smacked the punching bags as hard as she could, trying to exorcise the pain and fury welling up inside of her. To get it out of her system so she could move on. Because that’s how her father had trained her. To focus on emotion was to be self-involved and short-sighted. And Peyton was, at the end of the day, her father’s girl. He’d made sure of that. Even before the apocalypse.

After a few rounds versus the heavy bag, Peyton realized she was only prolonging the inevitable. Putting her gloves away, she reconciled herself to going. There was nothing to hold her back now, nothing to keep her in this sterile place, this sanctuary, this prison. She had her mission, after all. She had to find her father. She had to save the world. She didn’t have any time to waste.

“Goodbye, Mom,” she said, leaning over to kiss her mother’s cold forehead one final time. “I hope you’ve found your dance partner at long last.”

*

As Peyton stepped out from the underground bunker, she was immediately struck with wonder at the outside world. After four years inside, she’d forgotten how vast it was, how beautiful. The sky was painted a vibrant blue, sprinkled with puffy cotton-like clouds. Wildflowers tumbled across sagging porches and poked defiantly through cracked pavement. Her favorite oak tree was still standing, strong and majestic in the center of their front yard, its branches stretching high into the sky, as if to worship the heavens.

The scent of honeysuckle tickled her nose and Peyton sucked in a large breath, delighting in the fresh, clean, and warm air that seemed so much sweeter than the stale re-circulated stuff she’d been stuck breathing for the last four years.

It was strange. For some reason, down in the shelter, she’d always envisioned the outside world to have become a gray wasteland, strangled by stormy clouds that mirrored the loss of humanity below. She’d expected a graveyard, a desolate landscape, a world with acrid winds and a sepia palette. But, it turned out, nature hadn’t mourned man’s destruction after all. If anything, it appeared to be celebrating its newfound freedom from gardeners and landscaping, a once-tamed suburbia transforming into a feral forest full of emerald life.

She stuck out her arms, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin for the first time in four years. She wanted to skip down the street, dance, cartwheel. Run for ten miles without stopping. Enjoy a world without boundaries after years in a cage.

After doing a little shimmy of joy on the front porch, she stopped herself, looking around, self-conscious, even though she knew there was no one to see her. The thought sobered her a bit. This beautiful world would most likely be empty. Or practically so. And now she didn’t even have her mother by her side. A new emotion gripped her heart: sadness, the beauty of the world fading as reality sank in. Though she’d mourned her previous life for four years on the inside, it was different to suddenly experience its loss firsthand. Back in the shelter this reality had seemed unreal, distant. Like something from a film. Actually stepping out into the world and seeing the empty, debris-filled streets, the houses crumbling from years of neglect, made the whole situation a lot more real and a lot harder to swallow.

It was the silence that felt the eeriest. Not that her middle-class suburb had ever been a bustling metropolis, but there had been sounds all the same: the droning of lawnmowers pushed by dads on their days off, the screams and laughter of kids playing wild games of tag, cars streaming down the nearby interstate, beeping away their road rage. Planes flying overhead. Normal, everyday, take-them-for-granted sounds. All were now swept clear by an overwhelming, almost suffocating silence. There wasn’t even birdsong.