Tomorrow Land Part 2

But hey, Drew was tall and built and had a flashy smile. And Chris was just a beanpole who couldn't manage to put on any weight if he tried. If only he'd gotten Trey's genes, maybe he'd have had a chance.

"Hey... Trey, Chris... will you guys play Barbies with me?" a little voice begged.

Chris looked over to see that his sister Tara had entered the room. Back when she was a baby, his parents had adopted the now six-year-old girl from an African country that had been all but wiped out by the resurgent AIDS epidemic. Sometimes he wished they'd traded his brother for the privilege.

"Yeah, right," Trey said, rolling his eyes. "I've got to get ready for my date with Anna Simmons."

Tara's face fell, but Chris knew how to fix that. "I'll play with you, Tara Bara," he said, pulling out his VR goggles. He didn't have much else going on, after all. "What address are you at?"

His sister chirped with joy. "Dreamhouse Fifteen, on the Blonde and Beautiful server." She grabbed her own sim deck. "Thanks, Chris. You're the best!"

"You just remember that come dessert," he teased as he activated the sim. "I want your portion of Mom's banana cream pie."

"Anything!" Tara promised. Of course, he knew she'd deny it all when it came to actually giving up her sweets, but he didn't really mind.

"Hey, your girlfriend's outside," Trey remarked casually as he headed back up the stairs. "Pretty hot, if I do say so myself."

Chris started, his heart in his throat as he found himself clamoring for the nearest high bas.e.m.e.nt window. Sure enough, there was Peyton, talking to their neighbor, Mrs. McCormick. He smiled. The old woman was his favorite person on their block-besides Peyton, of course. A sweet, cookie-baking grandma-type who'd been his babysitter when he was younger. And even today, she was always around to listen when his parents were late coming home from work, which they usually were. He'd never seen Peyton talk to her, though. Maybe Mrs. McCormick would put in a good word for him. He could use all the help he could get.

But just as he was about to leave the window and switch on his sim, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. Mrs. McCormick. Swaying and stumbling and falling to the ground. In a flash, he was on the stairs. Then he paused, turning back to his sister.

"Meet me in the Glow Cat area," he told her. "I'll be right back."

Peyton, late for her training session with her father, had been rushing home from a fight with Drew at school-he hated how she had to rush home to train every day instead of spending time with him-when she came across her elderly neighbor hobbling down the street. The woman was coughing so hard that at first Peyton worried she was choking. She ran up, placed a hand on the old woman's shoulder and peered into her eyes. "Are you okay, Mrs. McCormick?" she asked.

The old woman grasped her with a bony hand. "I don't know," she said, her voice cracking. "I felt fine this morning. But now I can't seem to stop coughing." She opened her hand, revealing a tissue clotted with scarlet-flecked phlegm. Peyton recoiled. "A few minutes ago I started coughing up blood."

"We need to get you to a hospital," Peyton said, glancing around for a neighbor. She needed someone with a SmartCar, because it was unlikely they'd make it to a hospital otherwise; the old lady was never going to be able to walk. And, to complicate things further, unlike everyone else in the universe, Peyton didn't have an iComm. The tech that had replaced the cell phone was yet another modern convenience her dad forbade, and if she used her jerry-rigged, outdated phone to call home, she doubted he would answer. He never did.

At that moment, Mrs. McCormick swayed. Before Peyton could stop her, the old woman stumbled, losing her balance altogether, her frail, aging body crumbling to the ground. Horrified, Peyton dropped to her knees, attempting to help the old lady to the sidewalk.

"Stay there," she instructed once she was satisfied that the woman was out of the way of traffic and able to sit up by herself. "I'll go try to find someone to help."

"Hey, what's going on?"

Peyton turned to see none other than Chris Parker approaching. After a brief spasm of discomfort, relief washed over her. Maybe he could get his mom to drive them or something, or just call the hospital. "Mrs. McCormick's sick," she explained, giving the pertinent details. "Do you have an iComm? We need to get her an ambulance."

Chris pulled his longish brown hair back from his ear, revealing a tiny headset. He pressed the silver b.u.t.ton at its tip. "Dial 911," he commanded, then waited. "h.e.l.lo?" he said. "Yeah, I'm at 23 Mulberry Lane. We need an ambulance." He listened for a moment. "Yeah, she's an elderly woman. Name's Mandy McCormick. She's coughing up blood." Another pause. "Okay, thanks. Yeah, we'll be right here. No, we won't leave." He pressed the b.u.t.ton again and turned back to Peyton. "Okay, they're sending an ambulance."

"Just hang in there, Mrs. McCormick," Peyton said, patting the coughing woman on the back. "They'll come for you in a minute."

Mrs. McCormick looked up at the two teenagers, appreciation in her watery blue eyes. "Thank you, kids," she said. "You're good to help me." She was overtaken by another racking coughing fit.

Chris sat down beside her and took her hand in his. "Are you kidding, Mrs. McCormick?" he asked. "You know I'd never let anything happen to you."

The older woman blushed like a schoolgirl, and Peyton couldn't help but notice. "Such a sweet boy," she said. She looked up at Peyton. "You know, he comes by twice a week after school to visit me."

"He does?" Peyton was surprised.

"Oh, yes. He reads me all my favorite romance books," the woman explained. "Of course, we skip over the s.e.xy parts. He's just a baby after all. Can't have him reading about b.l.o.w.j.o.bs and boinking."

Chris's face instantly turned tomato red. "Mrs. McCormick!" he cried, sounding absolutely horrified. Peyton didn't blame him. She was blushing pretty furiously herself. And Chris looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there at that moment. Suddenly she wondered if he'd applied for his LTF yet. Probably not. He did seem really innocent. But then, so was she.

Mrs. McCormick reached out and pinched Chris's cheek, then turned to Peyton. "See, this is why we have to skip them," she confided in a stage whisper that everyone in a ten-block radius could probably pick up. "But don't worry. I go back and read them after he leaves. They are the best part, you know." She giggled, then started choking again.

Chris instantly snapped out of mortified mode and reached over to pat her on the back. "Relax, Mrs. McCormick," he instructed in a voice so authoritative you'd never know a moment ago he'd been blushing about boinking. "You're going to laugh yourself sicker." He handed her a clean tissue he'd pulled from his pants pocket. She blew her nose. No blood this time, at least.

"He's such a nice boy." Mrs. McCormick turned to Peyton. "You're a very lucky girl," she added, then winked.

And here Peyton had thought she wasn't capable of blushing more than she already had been. "Oh, we're not... I mean, we're just friends." She didn't want to say that acquaintances was probably closer to the truth.

Mrs. McCormick was taken by another coughing fit, but when it quieted, she squinted up at Peyton. "Maybe for now, dear," she said in a knowing voice. "But I have a good sense of these things. My kids call me psychic."

For a moment Peyton wondered if Chris had paid the woman to say that, then she scolded herself for even thinking it. He wasn't that bad. In fact, despite his unwanted crush, he was kind of sweet. Wasn't that what Avery was always saying? And this more than proved it. The way he cared for his elderly neighbor... well, she couldn't imagine Drew or any of her other friends doing something like that.

"Sorry, Mrs. McCormick," Chris said. "It'll never happen. Peyton's got a better boyfriend than me." He said it completely seriously, without sarcasm, and Peyton felt her face burn even more.

"That's not-" she started.

Before she could finish, a large brown van careened down the street, seeming to come out of nowhere. It screeched to a stop before them. Two men, each wearing a matching brown uniform and a respirator, jumped out and ran to Mrs. McCormick.

Chris leapt to his feet. "What are you-?"

"Get out of the way, son," interrupted one of the men. His respirator made him sound like Darth Vader from those ancient Star Wars movies Avery loved. "You need to get home. We'll take care of your friend."

The two grabbed Mrs. McCormick by her arms and dragged her somewhat ruthlessly toward the van. The old woman cried out in protest, surprised, then broke into another coughing fit.

"Stop!" Chris demanded. "Where are you taking her? We called for an ambulance."

"Yes, we got the report," said the second masked man, pausing. "We're taking her in to get treated. Mount Holyoke. She'll be back in a day or two."

Peyton stared at the men, her brain awhirl with her father's many conspiracy theories. Instead of reacting, she forced herself to stay calm and catalog the details. The masks. The uniforms. The seal on the van. It looked like a government seal, and there was no way this was a normal ambulance.

"Mount Holyoke? Well, Westview's not too far away. Can you tell me when and where I can visit her?" Chris asked. Peyton had never heard him sound so anxious before, but she understood his fears. She also knew Mount Holyoke was in Monroeville, not Westview. Was he testing them? "Or maybe you should tell me your names."

The two men looked at each other. "Perhaps we should take them, too," the first said. His voice was amiable. "Just as a precaution."

The second man turned back to look at them and nodded.

"Take us?" Chris repeated, his confidence fading and his face going white. "Take us where?"

"We're not sick," Peyton added, in case it wasn't obvious.

"Well, why don't we just find out for sure," suggested the second man, still smiling that weird smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Get in the van."

Get in the van? No flecking way. Not with all her father's fears and stories whirling through her head. And it didn't take a paranoid nutjob to see the red flags waving in this situation.

Mrs. McCormick broke into another coughing fit. Peyton took the opportunity to glance at Chris. He caught her eye, looking as freaked out as she felt. Run, he mouthed.

Peyton didn't need a second invitation. She and Chris both took off at the same time, as fast as their legs could carry them. She was surprised they shared an instinct: neither one headed to their respective homes.

When she glanced back, Peyton saw the brown-suited men had gotten Mrs. McCormick into their van and had turned it around, likely to give chase. "Go through the yards!" she cried, pointing. "They won't be able to follow."

Chris hung a sharp right and dove through a neighbor's yard, dodging clotheslines and wading pools, avoiding a snarling dog. Peyton followed, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. What the h.e.l.l was going on here? Who were those men? Why had they just all but abducted a sick old woman in the middle of the street? Why were they now giving chase to a couple of kids?

More running, less thinking, she reminded herself, picking up her speed to keep pace with Chris. Together they leapt another fence and ran into the woods behind a nearby elementary school, dodging trees and stumps and fallen logs. Finally Chris stopped in a clearing, leaning over, hands on his knees, panting heavily. He looked behind him and then at Peyton. "I think we lost them," he said.

"Yeah." She plopped down on a stump, sucking in breaths. "But what the h.e.l.l was that about?"

"I don't know. But that sure wasn't a normal ambulance."

"No. They were government, I think. I saw the seal on their van. They must have intercepted your call. My dad always says the government monitors all transmissions. That's why I'm not allowed to get an iComm."

"What do you think they'll do to Mrs. McCormick?" Chris asked, looking worried. "Maybe we shouldn't have left her."

"We didn't have much of choice," Peyton reminded him. "But don't worry, I'm sure she'll be okay. I mean, just because they're government doesn't mean they're not taking her to a hospital, right? I mean, why wouldn't they?" Still, she couldn't help but doubt her own rea.s.surances, even as she spoke them. What was that thing her father would always say? Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get me.

"I hope you're right," Chris said, kicking at a nearby stone with his sneaker. "I would hate for something to happen to her."

"You really like her, don't you?" Peyton remarked. She couldn't help adding, "Do you really read her romances?" Do you really skip over the s.e.x scenes? she wanted to add, but didn't.

Chris nodded. "I try to stop in after school a couple times a week," he confirmed. "Take care of her like she used to take care of me, back when I was little. And yes, romances." He chuckled. "I know it sounds weird, but there are actually some good stories out there. Full of action, adventure, history. They're not all about s.e.x like most people think." He kicked at the rock again, refusing to meet her eyes. "I know, I sound like a total dork, don't I?"

"Actually I was thinking more like a saint," Peyton marveled. She couldn't imagine any of her friends doing that. Especially not Drew. He'd probably rather commit hara-kiri than spend two minutes with someone over forty. And if he were reading romances, it'd only be for the s.e.x scenes.

Chris blushed. "Thanks," he said. "That means a lot coming from you."

Argh. Here he went again. And just when she was starting to relax around him, too.

"Why do you always have to do that?" she found herself blurting out.

He c.o.c.ked his head in confusion. "Do what?"

"Say things like that. Flatter me."

"'Cause I like you." He gave her a sheepish shrug.

"Well, can you... like me a little less, maybe?" she asked. "It can be embarra.s.sing you know."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I... I didn't realize..." He sounded astonished, shocked that his unrelenting puppy love would bother her. "Yeah, sure. I'll leave you alone."

He looked so wounded, she felt a moment of remorse. "No, you don't have to... I mean..." Now it was her turn to stutter. "You're nice. I like talking to you. I just don't like you like that. Like a boyfriend. After all, I have Drew." She realized it sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as Chris.

Chris screwed up his face. "You sure do. And you can keep him."

Peyton found herself laughing. "He's not that bad, you know."

"If you say so," Chris said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. She leaned out to swat him, almost falling of her perch in the attempt. They both started laughing.

"Oh never mind!" she cried in mock exasperation. She rose to her feet. "Come on. I'm sure the guys are gone by now. And I am so late for my training. My dad's going to kill me."

Chapter Six.

Peyton stared at the boy in front of her, hardly able to believe her eyes. Chris Parker. Her Chris Parker? It was almost too good to be true. What were the odds? What were the chances that on her first trek out into the world, she'd find the guy she'd wanted to see more than anyone else in the entire world?

"Oh my G.o.d!" she cried, throwing herself at him before she could stop herself, her heart practically bursting from her chest. "You're alive! You're really alive!"

He'd certainly changed since she'd seen him last. It was no wonder she hadn't recognized him. His once-scrawny, gangly body had filled out. He now had broad shoulders and an impressive chest, narrowing to a trim waist. He was... lean, but muscular. Handsome, even, with flashing green eyes and a square jaw. Chris Parker had grown into a handsome guy. It was almost odder than the zombie she'd just fought.

"I cannot believe you're here," she found herself babbling, face still buried in his chest. "I thought you were dead."

He stiffened. "What, you think you're the only one who can survive an apocalypse?"

She froze at the coldness in his voice, suddenly realizing how rigid he felt, how unyielding. How uninterested he seemed in hugging her back. She cringed, forcing herself to back away. What was she thinking? In her joy and surprise at seeing him, she'd conveniently forgotten that he might not be so pleased to see her. Not after what she'd done. Or, maybe more accurately, what she hadn't.

She drew in a breath, trying to still her fast-beating heart, trying to figure out something intelligent to say. Should she apologize for what had happened? Try to explain? Would he listen? Would he understand why she'd done what she'd done?

"So you were in that shelter after all," he remarked, giving her a critical gaze. "I must have walked by that place a hundred times since we got back. Never could figure out where the entrance would be."

"It was... hidden," she stammered, her face blazing with embarra.s.sment. "My dad was worried about the government finding it." It sounded so lame when she said it out loud.

"Of course." Chase nodded knowingly. "And where is Mr. End of Days now, may I ask?"

She stared down at the ground, kicking a rock with her toe, hating the cruelty seeping in at the edge of his voice. Obviously he'd not only changed physically, but in other ways as well. She supposed they all had.

"He's down in Florida," she said at last, not knowing why she felt the need to be vague. "I'm heading down there to find him as soon as I gather up some supplies."

Chase pursed his lips, but said nothing. The silence hung in the air between them, heavy and suffocating. It was funny; she'd imagined this scenario a thousand times down in the shelter, fantasizing about finding him again. But never in a million years had she pictured him looking so cold, so angry. She supposed she deserved it though. In fact, she was probably lucky he was even speaking to her.

"Well," he said at last, as if making a decision. "We can probably hook you up with some supplies. And give you a place to sleep for the night." There was no warmth in his invitation. No softness. He might as well be extending the offer to a stranger. In a way, she guessed, he was.

"We?" she couldn't help but query. "Who's with you? The kids from school?"

He shook his head. "Not many left from our original group," he replied briskly, but she caught a flicker of pain in his eyes. "But my brother is great at picking up strays. We've got an even dozen, counting myself. We've been here for two years now, ever since we came back down from the mountains."

So they had gone up to the mountains. She felt an ache deep inside as she wondered how things would have been if she'd gone with them, as planned. If she'd chosen Chase instead of her dad. Once again she felt the urge to apologize, but didn't know where to begin.

"What made you come back?" she asked instead.