Tomorrow Land Part 7

"You're going to be fine!" he said, trying to sound cheerful. "What hurts? We'll fix it!" His hands roved his brother's body, seeking out injuries. It was then that he saw the wound in Tank's lower back and side. It had been concealed by the way he'd been lying, but it was grievous. Chase felt the gorge rise in his throat and leaned over to let it out.

"Chase, focus!" Tank commanded, his voice weak but determined. His skin was very white. "The kids need you. I need you to promise me you'll look after them. You're all they have now."

"But... I can't!" Chase cried, his life flashing before his eyes. "I can't take care of them. I can barely take care of myself. Look what happened to Tara! I couldn't save her!"

"No, you couldn't save Tara. But you can save these children. Do it for Tara. And for me."

"But I'm not like you. I can't lead them," Chase said.

His brother's face twisted in a combination of anger and frustration. "Grow the fleck up, man," he growled. "There's no one else."

Chase paused, anguished. Then he swallowed. "I promise," he said. "But G.o.d, Tank, what will I do?"

"You'll manage." Tank's eyes rolled up in his head for a moment, then he drew a deep breath and forced himself to focus on Chase. "You're stronger than you think. You're not a screw-up-or you don't have to be. I have faith in you. And... I love you."

"I... I love you, too."

But he'd said it too late. His brother's eyes were closed, and Tank's final breath had just escaped in a long, torturous wheeze. He was dead.

Chase threw back his head and screamed.

Chapter Eleven.

Chris followed Peyton down the stairs.

"Dad, this is Chris. Chris, this is my dad," Peyton called as they entered the bas.e.m.e.nt. Her father was sitting in a lab off to one side, working on some kind of metal gizmo. He set the device down, came out of the workshop, and shut and locked the door behind him. Off-limits to tourists, Chris guessed.

"Ian Anderson," Peyton's dad introduced himself, putting out a hand. The guy looked like a mad scientist with his shock of graying hair and wild blue eyes. Hard to believe he was Peyton's father. "It's nice to meet you, son. I saw you two playing basketball outside. It's great to see kids enjoying real sports in this day and age. Everyone's always inside on their sims twenty-four-seven. Missing out on what the great outdoors has to offer."

"I thought it was stellar," Chris agreed. "I'd never played before. Of course, I'm kind of sweaty and gross now." He sniffed his armpit and made a face.

Ian slapped him on the back. "Nothing wrong with a little sweat," he proclaimed. "It'll put hair on your chest. Now, what can I do for you kids? I'm kind of busy at the moment."

"I know, Dad, I know. But I figured you'd be interested in this." Peyton paused. "I should have come to you before, but... well, I wasn't sure if it was important and didn't want to bother you. Have you heard anything about weird disappearances related to illness? Anything to do with the government? A few days ago Chris and I came across Mrs. McCormick from down the street. She was acting all sick, coughing up blood. We called for an ambulance, but instead this strange brown van showed up. It had a government seal. They took her away."

Chris noticed she didn't add anything about them being chased. He guessed she just didn't want to worry him.

"That was a few days ago, and she hasn't been back to her house since," Peyton said. "I figured she might have died, but-"

"I called all the nearby hospitals," Chris spoke up. "They said they were taking her to Mt. Holyoke, but the guys in the van didn't really even know where it was-and no one there's heard of her. And when I went searching some of the internet forums about this, I found similar things are happening other places." He crossed his fingers that he wouldn't get the usual lectures about accessing unauthorized sites; adults seemed to think that what the government banned really shouldn't be talked about. He figured Peyton's dad, if anyone, would feel differently. After all, he was about as anti-establishment as anyone could get. "Peyton thought maybe you would have read or heard something else."

Ian looked distracted. "Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "No, I haven't heard anything."

"Is there... is there any way you could take a look?" Chris pressed. He didn't want to be rude, but he was worried about Mrs. McCormick, and Peyton's dad seemed the only option for information. Rumor had it that he knew all sorts of people in high places, although not all of them were friendly. "That woman was like a grandmother to me," he added. "I'm worried something really bad might have happened to her, and she's got no one else who'd care."

Peyton's father sighed. "What did the van look like again?"

"Brown," Peyton replied. "And like I said, there was a government seal on the side."

"The men had brown uniforms, too?"

"Yes," Chris said, remembering. "They did."

"Cleaners," Mr. Anderson said. "Government cleaners. They're called the DNP, the Department of Natural Progressions, but basically they get paid to get rid of messes."

"Messes? What mess could an old lady like Mrs. McCormick be in?" Peyton spoke up. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Look, our government has its own agenda that we can't even try to understand. You two are very lucky they didn't come after you," her father said sternly. He waggled a finger at Peyton and Chris. "The next time you see a van like that, leave the area immediately. I don't care who they're taking away. Do not get involved, whatever you do."

"But-" Chris started.

Mr. Anderson glowered at him. "No buts," he said. "It's dangerous and stupid for you to mess with government operations. They don't care that you're just kids. If they think you know something, they'll remove you without a second thought."

For the first time, Chris felt true fear crawl through his stomach. He'd been nervous when he and Peyton were chased, but that had just felt like something from a Smart TV show or a sim. Was this guy right? Would the government actually do something like "remove" him? It was tough to credit.

Of course, they had given chase, and Mrs. McCormick really had disappeared.

"Okay, Dad, we got it," Peyton said, grabbing Chris's hand. She began to drag him upstairs. "Government agents are bad. We'll stay away."

"Mock me if you will, daughter!" Ian called after them. "But mark my words. This is the End of Days we're living in. Many will fall. Only a few will rise again like phoenixes from the ashes. And they will create a new Heaven and a new Earth."

Wow, the rumors were right, Chris marveled as they reached the top of the stairs. Peyton's father was out of his d.a.m.ned mind. End of Days, indeed! How ridiculous was that?

They stepped out into the living room, and Peyton closed the door behind them. Chris noticed her face was flushed. Was she embarra.s.sed by what her dad had just said? She shouldn't be. He didn't judge her by her parents. He tried to avoid judging anyone by anyone else.

"Hey, kids, come in here!" cried a woman's voice from the kitchen. "I want you to try out my new cookies." Chris raised an eyebrow. Wow. It was like jumping from an Operation: Terror sim into a Mrs. Rogers's Kiddietime sim around Peyton's house.

They entered the kitchen to find Peyton's mother setting down a plate full of delicious-looking cookies. The room was warm and smelled like chocolate. The creepy feeling Chris had felt down in the bas.e.m.e.nt started to dissipate. At least one member of Peyton's family was normal.

"I need your opinion," Peyton's mother told them. "Are these good enough to sell at the church bake sale this Sunday?"

They obediently tried the cookies. "Mmmmm," Chris said. "These are delicious." And he wasn't exaggerating to get into her good graces; he hadn't tasted such a wonderful cookie in forever. "Thanks, Mrs. Anderson. Can I have another?"

Peyton's mother beamed at him. "Of course," she said. Then she turned to her daughter. "I like him," she mouthed, but Chris caught it.

Motherly approval? Nice.

Peyton didn't know what was more embarra.s.sing: her crazy father talking about the end of the world or her matchmaking mother. Her mom had never liked Drew; she was going to be thrilled when Peyton informed her of the breakup.

First she had to get rid of Chris, though. Grabbing another cookie and motioning for him to follow her outside, she hoped he'd take the hint and go home. Not that she minded his company; it'd been good to have someone to play basketball with today. But now she was ready to wallow again in the pain of the whole Drew situation. Why hadn't she walked away when she'd had a chance? Why hadn't she broken up with him before this? And why had she thought it was a good idea to break his nose? Now everyone in school was going to think she was crazy like her father. That was just the reputation she'd been trying to avoid.

"Sorry my dad wasn't more helpful," she said, wandering over to the nearby stone wall. Chris followed, evidently not interested in saying goodbye yet. What a surprise.

"It's okay." He shrugged, hopping up on the wall. "I mean, he's right in a way. Not about the end of the world or anything, but he's probably right that it's a good idea to stay away from government agents. I'm glad we ran."

She half-laughed. "Me too. And I'm glad I didn't tell him what really happened. He probably would have locked me in my room for the next four years."

"Well, he just wants to protect you," Chris said. "Which is nice."

"Yeah, real nice," Peyton snapped. "Do you know that I'm stuck every day after school doing martial arts training with him? It's so I'll be prepared for the so-called coming apocalypse."

Chris looked surprised. "Really? That's hardcore." He paused, then added, "Though, maybe it's a good idea? Just in case?" He was trying to be nice. She'd give him that.

"Whatever." She shrugged. "Personally I fail to see how martial arts will help if we're talking Armageddon." She sighed, feeling suddenly old. "The world will either end or it won't. There's nothing we can do about it. There's nothing we can do about anything."

"You're still upset about Drew," Chris observed, picking a piece of broken gla.s.s off the top of the wall. Their neighbors liked to have rowdy barbeques and, try as they might, the Andersons were never able to get rid of all the after-party evidence that ended up in their yard.

"That obvious, huh?" she said with a sigh. "I guess I just feel stupid. Like such a loser."

Chris made a face. "You feel a loser? If anyone's a loser, it's him."

He was sweet. But he had no clue. "You don't understand," she said. "My family's weird. I just punched out the most popular kid at school. Tomorrow I'm going to be a total social outcast, some leper that everyone will go out of their way to avoid. I'd kind of hoped... well, this is what I'd wanted to avoid. Drew was..." She trailed off, not knowing how to explain. "I'm no one without him," she said at last, hating how vulnerable she sounded. But what it did matter now? "I'm nothing."

Chris frowned. Then he reached out and grabbed her hand in his. She watched in confusion as he pried open her fingers and proceeded to deposit the shard of gla.s.s into her palm. She looked down at it puzzled, then back up at her friend.

"Tell me. What is that?" he asked, his voice ultra serious. "What is that object in your hand?"

Was he for real? "A piece of a broken beer bottle?" she asked, looking at him skeptically.

"No." He shook his head. "You're wrong."

"Um, I'm pretty sure that-"

"What you're holding in your hand is a diamond."

She laughed bitterly. But the laughter died in her throat as Chris took the shard back and held it up to the sunlight. Peyton had to admit, it did have a beautiful sparkle from that angle. Almost... diamond'esque.

"Sure, it may look like a piece of gla.s.s busted off a beer bottle," he said, "but it's not. It's a diamond. That's what I say it is-and who are you to say that I'm wrong?" He handed it back to her. "It's Drew's problem if he can't see the precious gems in his driveway. Don't you make the same mistake."

His words. .h.i.t her just right, and Peyton's breath hitched in her throat. This was without a doubt the sweetest, nicest thing anyone had ever said to her. She stared at the diamond, seeing it clearly now as a precious gem. The most precious gem she'd ever seen.

"Thanks," she said, closing her hand around the offering, wanting to keep it close. "I'll try to remember that."

"Good," Chris said. His voice was breathy. Suddenly she realized how close he was to her. His leg brushing hers. His face only inches away. She shivered. What was wrong with her? Wasn't she trying to get rid of this guy? After all, she couldn't possibly be attracted to him. Tech-head Chris Parker? Surely she'd never want to... kiss him?

He leaned over, a deadly serious look in his eyes, and for the first time she found herself noticing their color-green with swirls of blue and yellow. Kaleidoscopic eyes. Beautiful. Maybe she was wrong about him. Maybe she'd been ignoring something deep inside of her. Maybe she should kiss him, just to see what it'd be like...

Just before his lips could brush hers, she heard her dad's voice calling her name, bringing her screaming back to reality. She remembered all the reasons she hadn't wanted to date Chris in the first place, and she realized what an act like this would mean. She'd be leading him along, allowing him to build hope where there shouldn't be any.

She leapt off the wall, putting as much distance between them as possible. "Coming, Dad!" she called. Shooting Chris an apologetic look, she shrugged and motioned to her house. "He needs me," she said, feeling awkward and lame. But what had she been thinking? Chris Parker? The breakup with Drew really must have thrown her.

Chris stared at her for a moment, gla.s.sy eyed. "Oh, no problem," he finally said, recovering at last. He hopped off the wall. "Thanks for the basketball and letting me talk to your dad. I'll catch you at school." And with that, he turned and walked down the drive. He didn't look back.

She, on the other hand, found herself watching him all the way down the street until he turned the corner and headed into his house.

Chapter Twelve.

Peyton had been busy comforting the crying children and cleaning off her razors when she heard the scream. More danger? But no, this wasn't a cry of pain. More like a cry of anguish, amplified to a shocking decibel. And it sounded like Chase.

"Stay here," she instructed the children. Then she ran to investigate.

Around the corner she found him, crouched over Tank's blood-soaked body, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. "Oh G.o.d," she murmured. Tank wasn't moving, and from the looks of him she was pretty sure he wouldn't ever move again. Spud must have gotten him before going after the children. This was not good. Not good at all. Tank was the one who had saved all these children. Set up the shelter. Run the group. What would they do without him? And how was Chase going to deal with losing yet another member of his family? It was like Tara all over again.

"Oh, Chase, I'm so sorry," she said, feeling useless and stupid. What could she say? What should she do? There seemed no practical way to provide comfort at this point. No words were going to help ease this pain.

"Go away!" he growled, not looking up. "Just go away and leave me alone."

The grief in his tone was heartbreaking and she realized he was blaming himself all over again. Just like he had with his sister. Peyton remembered the day like it was yesterday. Tara's broken body on the stage. Chase's death pallor. The way he refused to accept it was anything but entirely his fault.

"Chase, look at me. This is not your fault," she tried, though she was pretty sure it wouldn't do any good. Just like it hadn't done any good the first time around.

Sure enough, he whirled around to face her, his eyes wild and unfocused, his expression a storm of rage. She took a step back, frightened, suddenly, of what he might do. Remembering how little she knew about him now. Remembering how much he'd changed.

"Not my fault?" he repeated with a hysterical bark. "Not my fault? I was supposed to be watching him. I told Tank he was fine. If I'd been there..."

"If you'd been there, then Spud would have killed you instead of Rocky," she said firmly.

He dropped his face in his hands. "That would been preferable," she thought she heard him mutter.

"Chase-" She reached down to touch him, wanting desperately to comfort him in some small way. To take away some of his pain like he'd once done for her. But as her hand connected with his shoulder, he jerked as if he'd been shocked, instinctively slapping her away.

"I said go away!" he cried. "Haven't you done enough already?"

She stumbled backward, tears threatening her own eyes at his cruel words. She knew he didn't mean them-that he was just acting out of blind pain-but that didn't make them sting any less. And maybe, in a way, he was right. She should have never come here. Should have never allowed herself to be distracted from her mission. If she weren't here, Chase wouldn't have wanted to play basketball. He would have been with the children or on guard duty when trouble erupted. Maybe he could have saved his brother and Rocky.

Maybe this was all her fault.

She had to get out of here, now. Nighttime or not. Zombies or not.

"Goodbye, Chase," she said softly, turning on her heel, not waiting for a reply.