Future Shock (16 page)

15:16

We stroll under the arch of the Santa Monica Pier sign and onto the rickety wooden walkway heading toward the ocean. The beach stretches to our left and right, the sound of the waves mixing with laughter from farther down the boardwalk. The clouds have thinned out now, and a soft moon peeks over the twinkling dark water and the bright lights of the Ferris wheel.

The pier is another classic Los Angeles landmark, and like Hollywood Boulevard or the Central Library, this one hasn’t changed much in the last thirty years. The most obvious difference is that there are more roller coasters at the end of the pier now, jutting out over the waves and curling into the sky. I stop and take a long breath of the salty air as memories of happier times come back to me, mixing with the creeping dread of seeing the spot where I might die in a few hours.

“What exactly are we doing here?” Chris asks.

“Getting something to eat,” Adam says with a shrug.

“Yeah, but there are a hundred restaurants between Lynne’s place and here. We could have stopped at any of them.”

“I just thought we should have some fun,” I say, thinking quickly. I can’t tell them the real reason we’re here. “Tomorrow might be our last day alive, and we’ve spent all of today running from the cops and searching for clues. That’s not really living.”

Zoe nods. “She’s right. We should enjoy every minute we can.”

“Sounds good to me,” Trent says, grinning.

Adam flashes me a warm smile, and it rekindles all those feelings from when we kissed. I pushed them deep down while we were with Lynne, but now they bubble to the surface again. We hang back a bit from the others, walking close and sometimes brushing shoulders, but otherwise not touching.

We pass by shrimp shacks, an old-fashioned arcade, and tourist shops with
Los Angeles
or
Santa Monica
written all over mugs, sweatshirts, and random tchotchkes. Most of them look like things you could buy back in our time, except for a snow globe with a miniature version of the pier inside, complete with moving roller coasters and Ferris wheel, seagulls flying overhead, and crashing waves. It looks as real as the pier we’re standing on, yet fits in the palm of my hand and has no glass surrounding it. I turn it upside down and sparkly lights appear instead of snow, dancing around the tiny pier. They vanish the second they hit the “ground.” The birds continue to fly in circles, and when I touch the water, it’s cool and wet. Incredible.

The icy wind whips my hair and I shove my hands in my pockets. A few tourists pass by, some wearing shorts and looking surprised that Los Angeles could get this cold. There are a few locals too—couples on dates or people who got off work and are heading for a bar. But for the most part the pier is empty. People in LA just don’t go out when it rains.

We stop to check out a group of balloon animals for sale that seem to be alive, twisting into different shapes and colors as we watch. One forms a dachshund that barks out loud, tail wagging. Another becomes a big, round happy face, smiling at us while it changes colors every few seconds. There’s also a dolphin that seems to leap through the air, a bird that flies back and forth, and a T. rex that roars and stomps around. The last one is my favorite.

“They’re all programmable,” the vendor says. “You pick the shape and whatever you want it to do or say from dozens of options.”

Zoe buys a butterfly that flits around her head, shifting between different sparkling colors, while Trent gets a black cat that curls up on his shoulder and purrs. They can’t take them back to the present with us, but at least they can enjoy them for the next few hours.

There are lots of restaurants on the pier, including a Mexican restaurant that’s been there forever, but we decide to eat at one of the little food stands outside. It’s automated like the Frosty Foam we visited earlier in the day. A few seconds after we each punch in our orders—and pay with our fake IDs, courtesy of Wombat—it pops out hot burgers and fries, along with sodas and warm, sugary funnel cake. We grab our food and sit at a long wooden table that’s still damp from the earlier rain.

“So, do you think this plan will work?” Chris asks as he unwraps his burger.

“Hey, no talking about that now,” Trent says, waving a fry around. “We’re supposed to be having fun, remember?”

“Fine.” Chris snorts but drops it. For a few minutes we just eat, everyone too hungry to talk. But as soon as most of the food has vanished, he starts up again with a new question. “All right, what are you all gonna do with your money from Aether Corp?”

I stare at my funnel cake as the wind spreads powdered sugar all over the table. Chris’s words assume that we’re going to make it out of this mess alive and that Aether is still going to pay us even if we blackmail them. But I guess for the moment we’re pretending that everything is going to work out.

When no one responds, Chris keeps talking. “Guess I’ll go first. Like I said before, I signed up for this thing for my son. I wanna marry my girl, do it right, be a real father. None of this shit I went through growing up with a crack whore for a mom who didn’t even know which john knocked her up. My son is gonna have two parents and a house. He won’t be sent to juvie at fourteen for jacking cars like I was. He’s gonna go to college one day.” He bunches up the empty hamburger wrapper, crumpling it in his fist. “And he sure as hell won’t go to prison. Not if his father is around. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You’ll be a good dad,” Zoe says.

“Maybe. First step is being there, right?”

I don’t know if that’s true. My life wasn’t that great when Papá was around. But I do admire Chris’s devotion to his family.

Zoe takes a breath and goes next. “I want to get my sister—get custody of her when I turn eighteen in a few months, find us a place to live. It’s…it’s my fault she doesn’t have a family. I thought I was protecting her by reporting my parents for…what they did to me, but then we got split up.” Her voice falters, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t want her to grow up alone like she did in this future.”

Adam puts his arm around her. “It’s not your fault, Zoe.”

I nod. “You did what you could to keep her safe.”

“I guess so. And…” Zoe shakes the ice in her soda as she stalls. “And I’d like to go to art school. Aether said they could help me with that too.”

I smile at her. “You’ll be a great artist.”

“I hope so.” She turns to Trent, who’s next in the circle around the table. “What about you?”

“I have some uh…Well, I got caught stealing at a convenience store. Twice. Not a big deal, but Aether said they’d help me get rid of the charges. And with the money…” Trent digs around in his jacket, then pulls out what must be his last cigarette. “Well, it’d be nice to not sleep on the streets anymore.”

“How long have you been on the streets?” Adam asks.

“Just the past year or so. The guy in my last foster home thought I was hitting on his wife, which was gross ’cause she was totally old. He told the social worker I stole from him, and I figured I was better off on my own. But shelter-hopping and squatting in abandoned buildings gets old after a while.” He lights his cigarette and inhales sharply. “Aether can set me up for life. Freedom and security. That’s what I want.”

I totally understand that desire—it’s behind everything I do too. The others look at me, waiting for my answer, but I pick at the edge of my cake. My plans seem so insignificant compared to all of theirs. And I’ve spent the last ten years keeping myself hidden, keeping everything personal tucked deep inside me where no one can see it. I don’t know how to show that side of myself now.

“I want to go to college and become a social worker,” I say. Zoe jerks her head up, and Chris raises his eyebrows.

“Why?” Trent asks, incredulous.

I know why they’re so surprised. Most social workers are dicks or, worse, idiots. They don’t give a shit about the kids they’re supposed to help, or maybe they’re just so overworked they can’t actually find time to give a shit. But they’re not all like that.

“When I was seven I was put in foster care. I was scared and injured, and I had no one. But the social worker who helped me, she actually cared. She made sure I was safe, set me up in a good home. She promised nothing bad would happen to me, and when she was around, nothing did.” My eyes tear up a little—from the wind, I tell myself—and I blink the water away. “Of course, it didn’t last. She disappeared, maybe got transferred or had a baby or something. But if it weren’t for her, I don’t know what would have happened to me. I just want to be that person for some other kid.”

My head drops. I’m suddenly exhausted by laying my soul out on the table like that. The others are silent, all staring at me. I’m sure they’re going to tell me I’m stupid for having a dream like that, but instead Chris lifts his soda in a toast.

“You’ll be a great social worker,” he says, and Zoe nods. Adam squeezes my hand under the table.

“Yeah, that’s an awesome goal,” Trent adds.

Their words make my chest ache, and I duck my head so they can’t see the emotion in my eyes or the redness of my cheeks.

“What about you, Adam?” Chris asks, leaning forward. “Why are
you
here?”

It’s the question I’ve been pondering myself, ever since I first saw Adam. I asked him the same thing before and he never answered me. Then once we got to the future I was too distracted with everything else going on to ask him again. But I can tell it’s been on Chris’s mind this entire time—and with the way he’s looking at Adam now, I wonder if he started this conversation just to get to this point.

Adam pulls his hand away from mine and adjusts his glasses. “My mom. She’s…she’s having a hard time right now, and I’ve been working two jobs to pay the bills. I’ve had to postpone going back to school and gave up my scholarships so I could take care of her. But Aether said they’d get her some help, pay off our debt, and let me go back to school. They even offered me an internship with them while I’m in school or a job once I finish…which I guess my future self took, since he began working for them.”

Sounds like his mom has a problem—an illness? Alcohol? Drugs? I guess it makes sense he wouldn’t want to talk about it before. I remember his story of how she taught him origami. She clearly means a lot to him, and it must hurt a lot to see her like that.

“What about your father?” Chris asks.

“He left when I was five, started a new family in Florida. I’m the only one my mom has.”

Chris studies Adam for a minute and then nods. I can’t tell if he’s still suspicious of Adam, but for now he seems to be letting it go.

There’s a long moment of tense silence until Trent bundles up all his trash. “We still have a few hours to kill,” he says. “We should check out the rides. I want to get on that new roller coaster.”

“I’m going to take a walk on the beach, clear my head,” I say, getting up from the table.

Adam jumps up a little too quickly. “I’ll go with you.”

Chris smirks, and he and Trent exchange a look that says they know exactly what’s going on. But they’re wrong. I’m not planning on a make-out session.

I’m going to find the spot where I’ll die.

15:43

Dark waves hit the shore, lit by faint moonlight and the lights from the pier. My shoes sink into the sand as I start toward the first lifeguard tower. It would be romantic except I walk a bit too quickly, just a step or two in front of Adam.

“Where are we going?” he asks, struggling to keep up.

“This way.” My pace increases with each tower we pass. Each step becomes harder, but I keep going.

By the third tower, Adam’s breathing hard. “What’s the rush?”

This is probably not what he expected when he said he wanted to walk on the beach with me. But honestly, I was hoping to do this alone. “I just want to look at something.”

We pass the fourth tower. Almost there. The lights from the pier are distant now, the sand below me gray, the water pitch-black.

Adam catches up to me and bumps my shoulder with his. “Are you dragging me off somewhere so you can have your way with me?”

I can’t help but smile. “Yeah, you’d like that.”

“Very much.”

I wish I
were
leading him on some romantic rendezvous. But now we’re in sight of the fifth lifeguard tower and I slow, my steps faltering. The tower is empty, and the only thing around us is sand. Far at the back of the beach is an empty parking lot. The pier is a distant vision of twinkling stars. All I hear are the waves and Adam’s heavy breathing beside me.

I walk around the tower slowly, but there’s nothing here. I don’t know what I expected. Some clue to tell me why my life will end here. Some explanation. A puzzle piece. But I’m just as confused as before we got here.

Adam watches me, his forehead creased with worry. “Elena, what is it?”

“This is where I’m supposed to die tomorrow. The place where I…” My voice trails off. “I guess I just wanted to see it.”

“Have you ever been here before?”

“No. I can’t figure out why this is the spot I’d choose. But the file in your future house said it was here by the fifth lifeguard tower north of the pier.”

He takes my hand and pulls me toward him. “It doesn’t matter, because that’s not going to happen. We’re changing the future. I promise.”

“I know,” I say, although I wish I felt as confident as he is. We have a plan, and I think it will work, but doubt still creeps in. The future is a noose around my neck that gets tighter with each passing minute.

“C’mon,” he says, dragging me back toward the pier. “Didn’t you say we should do something fun?”

I suppose he’s right. If this is my last day alive, I should really
live
it. Up ahead, I see the faint lights of the Ferris wheel changing colors as it spins, and I let Adam lead me toward it.

A few minutes later, a safety bar drops down across our laps, trapping us in the car. It’s barely big enough for the two of us and we’re squished together, our arms and thighs pressed against each other’s. Despite the icy wind tangling my hair, I’m warm all over.

The Ferris wheel lifts up with a jerk, and Adam lets out a little “Aah!”

“Are you okay?” I ask.

He looks a little sick but turns to face me, pointedly not looking down. “Sure, sure, just fine. Why are we doing this again?”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.”

“No, of course not.” He peers down for a quick second and then jerks back. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“You’ll be fine. I rode this thing when I was a kid. If it’s been here for thirty-plus years, I’m sure it’s safe.”

“Or it’s a decrepit old machine that should have been replaced years ago.”

“You’re right. That must be it.”

I lean against him, watching our breath make clouds in the air as we climb higher into the sky. From up here we can see everything—the black water and gray sand, the roller coasters with people screaming as they ride them, the stretch of boardwalk with all its colors and movement and life.

“My parents took me here for my birthday when I was a kid,” I say. “One of my few happy memories of the three of us. Mam
á
and I rode this Ferris wheel together, and afterward I ate cotton candy and got it stuck in my hair. We watched people fish and we played in the sand. It was my one truly perfect day.”

Adam is silent for a minute, while cheesy carnival music plays in the background. “What happened to your parents?” he finally asks.

I close my eyes, the memories replaced with much darker ones. I never talk about what happened, and I don’t know if I can find the words to do so now. But I’ve told Adam everything else, and maybe with this one last piece, he’ll finally understand.

“Papá drank a lot, and he was angry all the time. Some nights he’d come home and take it out on me and Mamá. Mostly my mother. Mamá tried to protect me, and most of the time she could, but…”

I rub the face of my mother’s watch, blinking rapidly to fight back tears. “One night he—he wouldn’t stop, and he had a golf club, and there was blood everywhere.” Now that I’ve started, I can’t hold back, the words bursting out of me like water from a broken dam. “I thought he was going to kill her. I jumped in front of her and yelled at him to stop. I tried to fight him, but I was only seven, and he hit me with the club. I fell, and he—he kept—”

My body shudders from the vibrant memory and Adam wraps his arm around me. His warmth at my side spurs me to keep going. “Mamá stopped him. She wouldn’t let him hurt me. I ran to the phone and dialed 911, screaming the entire time. The dispatcher could barely understand me. But in that minute it took me to call, he hit her in the head, over and over. The police came, but they were too late. She was gone.”

I bury my face against Adam’s shoulder, struggling to breathe, and let the pain wash through me until it subsides. Adam holds me close, his hand rubbing my back. “It’s not your fault,” he says into my hair.

I pull back and meet his eyes. “Adam, I’m just like him. I lose control and hurt people too. I’ve tried my entire life to bury that part of myself, but the anger
always
comes back. It’s in my blood.”

“You’re nothing like him,” he says, resting his forehead against mine. His hand slides up to brush a stray tear off my cheek.

Our lips touch, and the kiss starts soft and slow, but then it grows stronger, our hands clinging to each other. We kiss like we only have seconds left in this world, like we’re running out of time and this moment has to last for an eternity.

“Hey, lovebirds, ride’s over,” a man yells behind us.

We’re back on the ground, the carriage rocking slightly. I unpeel myself from Adam and stumble out, dazed. Adam grabs my hand as soon as we’re both out and flashes me a smile.

We reach the end of the pier where three old men sit with lines hanging over the side. We lean against the railing across from them, listening to the sound of the water lapping against the pier. The Pacific Ocean stretches before us but I can’t see the horizon, only darkness and then a sprinkle of stars.

“Why would anyone fish here?” Adam asks as one of the men tosses his line.

He’s probably trying to distract me from our earlier conversation, but I go with it anyway. “I don’t know. It has to be toxic.”

“Maybe the beach is cleaner now?”

“Yeah, right.”

The wind picks up, tangling my hair in front of my face. Adam brushes it back, staring into my eyes. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re pretty cute with those glasses too.” As soon as I say it, I realize
I’m
the girl Future-Adam was referring to earlier in the day. Adam’s eyes widen and he laughs, and I know he remembers that moment too.

He wraps an arm around me, and I lean against him as we watch the fishermen. Adam doesn’t recoil from my touch, doesn’t run away or look at me like I’m a monster. I can’t believe he would accept me, knowing what’s in my past and what I have the potential to become tomorrow—but somehow he does.