Future Shock (17 page)

17:30

We return to Future-Adam’s house and spread our supplies across his massive kitchen island. An assortment of cleaning products. Baking soda and sugar. A party-sized bag of ice. I lean against the counter and try to imagine what we’ll use them for but come up blank.

“Now what?” Chris asks.

Adam takes off his jacket and hangs it on the back of a chair. “Now we put those chemistry classes to good use.”

“Uh, I failed chemistry,” Trent says.

“That’s okay. We’ll need your cooking skills too.”

Over the next hour, Adam puts all of us to work. With Trent, he makes smoke bombs by cooking sugar and baking soda in a skillet with some other chemicals. This makes a smooth, brown mixture that they form into little round blobs and bake in the oven like cookie dough.

Meanwhile, Adam and Chris make chloroform using the cleaning products and all of the ice we bought. They work so fast I can barely keep up, but Zoe and I assist them with whatever they need, providing an extra hand or bringing them more supplies. In the downtime, we sketch a map of the building’s lobby and sixth floor, using my memory and her drawing skills to create a rough estimate of the layout.

When we’re finished, we have eight caramel-colored blobs and five wet rags doused in chloroform. Adam swears they’ll all work. I just hope it will be enough to get us inside.

I check my watch. “We still have a few hours before we meet Lynne. We should get some sleep.”

“Not sure I can sleep,” Chris says. “I’m too amped up.”

“Me too.” Trent says, but he yawns. “Okay, maybe sleep does sound pretty good.”

We split up and shuffle off to different bedrooms. Adam and I lock eyes, and without a word, he slips his fingers into mine. We don’t speak as we walk down the hallway and find an empty room with a queen-sized bed, then shut the door.

I remove my jacket and slip off my shoes. My clothes are still damp underneath, as are Adam’s. There’s no way we can sleep in them.

I’m not shy. I slide off my shirt, leaving me in only my bra and jeans, and hear his sharp intake of breath. He removes his own shirt and tosses it aside, giving me another look at his toned chest.

I lead him to the bed and sit on the edge, looking up at him. I’m tired and I know I should rest, but now that we’re alone, the last thing I want to do is sleep. These might be my last few hours alive. My last few hours with Adam.

He stands in front of me and runs his hands through my hair before touching my cheek, my chin, my neck. My muscles tense with anticipation but not fear. Never fear, not with Adam. I close my eyes and let him explore. I expect him to kiss me, but his fingers brush my arms. When I open my eyes, he’s staring at the ink on them.

“I love your tattoos.” He traces the vines running down my forearm that wrap around a pink flower, a dahlia, with a name written below the petals. “‘Esperanza,’” he reads. “What does it mean?”

“It’s my mother’s name. It means ‘hope’ in Spanish.”

“Hope.” He touches the other tattoos on my arms—the spiderwebs, the black stars, the blue waves. His hands trail across my shoulders and to my back, finding the last of my tattoos. A flock of birds, inked across my back as though they are flying up into the sky. “And this one?”

“It symbolizes freedom.” Turning eighteen and escaping the foster care system. Being free and independent. Being able to live without fear.

He leans down and presses his lips to my back, over the lowest bird on my spine, and I gasp. I’m frozen in place as he kisses each of the birds, moving up to my neck.

I can’t take it anymore. I turn around and pull his mouth to mine. Our lips meet and fire dances between us. We fall back on the bed, our legs twisting together, my bare skin pressing against his. Somehow his glasses come off. I kiss his face, his neck, his shoulders, and everything in between. His hands tangle in my long hair, his hips rub against mine, and I moan against his mouth.

I might be dead tomorrow, but I have tonight with Adam. I want to make it count.

I roll on top of him and reach for the front of his jeans to undo the fly. As I pop open the top button, his mouth tears away from mine. “Elena—” He breathes heavily. “I can’t…I mean, I’ve never—”

I freeze with my hand on his jeans. “Never?”

“No. But I want to. Now. With you.” He looks away, clearing his throat. “I just…wanted you to know. In case it wasn’t good or something.”

Oh my God, I’m such an idiot. We’re moving way too fast. I don’t want Adam’s first time to be rushed and desperate and in some strange place. My first time was like that, in the back of some guy’s car. With Adam, I want it to be special.

I might never get that chance with him. But he still deserves better than this.

I climb off him reluctantly. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

“Elena…” He sits up and reaches for me, sliding his arm around my waist.

“We’ll have time later,” I say and hope it’s true.

“Will we?” He stares off into the distance, then meets my eyes. “Elena, I don’t want to go back to our time.”

“You don’t?” Adam has every reason to go back. Why would he give up his future?

“We could stay in the future. Not go into the aperture. Live the rest of our lives here like this, together.”

It’s tempting, so tempting, but I shake my head. I might not be giving up much by staying here, but Adam will lose everything. “Your mom needs you. And the cure—you have to develop that someday.”

“I know.” His head drops. “I just…my future self said he never saw you again after we got back.”

I touch his chin and lift his head up. “You’ll see me again. I promise.”

But the same fear is inside me. Why
didn’t
we contact each other after we got back? Was it future shock, making us forget this moment ever happened? Or was there just no time between when we got back and my death?

“Good, because I’m not going anywhere.” He smiles and he’s so cute, with or without his glasses. And far too good to be with someone like me. “I said I’d protect you after all.”

I curl up beside him, resting my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me and holds me against him. I can hear his heart pounding and place my hand on his chest, feeling his life pulse beneath me.

For the first time all day, I relax. I forget everything that’s happened, and everything yet to come, and savor this moment. I might only have a few precious hours left alive, but in Adam’s arms, I feel immortal.

20:59

The car drives itself into Aether Corporation’s underground garage and parks in Future-Adam’s spot. We jump out and slip on our backpacks, now filled with our added supplies from Aid-Mart. I have the gun with me too, even though I pray I won’t have to use it. My insides dance with nerves and anxious energy, but I’m ready. We’re actually doing something to change our future.

“Everyone knows what to do?” Chris asks.

We all nod and mutter “yeah.” Zoe’s eyes are wide, her hands tightly gripping the straps on her backpack, while Trent rocks back and forth on his heels with a grin. Adam pulls out the jammer and flips it on, the light changing to green. I check both my watches, counting the seconds as they tick by.

At precisely 3:35 a.m. the door to the stairs opens and Lynne peeks her head out. Emotion crosses her face when she sees us, but I can’t tell if it’s relief or worry. “You’re here.” She steps back so we can enter the stairwell. “There are two guards in the lobby, but otherwise the building seems empty. Good luck.”

“Thanks again for your help,” Adam says.

Trent hands her a walkie-talkie headset like we’re all wearing. “If you see or hear anything, let us know with this.”

Lynne disappears up the stairs to head back to her office as part of our plan. I count two minutes on my watch, then nod at the others. We crowd together and start up the stairs, the jammer in Adam’s hands keeping us off the cameras.

Once on the sixth floor, I lead the way through the hallway, tracing the steps from my memory. We pass the door to the lab and creep past empty cubicles, listening for sounds of anyone else on the floor until we reach Future-Adam’s office. Adam lets us in with a scan of his hand, and we quietly shut the door behind us. I let out a long breath. So far, so good—but now the real work begins.

“Which panel was it?” Chris asks as he drags a chair over.

“This one,” I say, pointing to the spot in the ceiling that Future-Adam poked at.

Chris steps onto the chair and nudges the panel loose. He peeks his head inside and then turns back to us. “Looks good. Zoe, you ready?”

She’s biting her nails again, staring up at the dark space over Chris’s head. “I guess.”

“You can do this,” I say.

Adam pats Zoe on the arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right here if anything happens.”

“Okay.” She looks up at the ceiling and then takes a deep breath. “Ready.”

She climbs onto the chair with Chris, and he lifts her into the crawl space in the ceiling. Her neon-green kneepads flash as she pulls her legs inside, and then she vanishes in the darkness. There’s a long bout of coughing, but then I see a bright beam from her flashlight. Her blue-haired head pokes out again. “Ugh, it’s really nasty up here.”

“You won’t be up there long,” Chris says, hopping off the chair.

“You know where to go?” I ask Zoe.

She waves the map she and I made in her sketchbook. “Got it. I’ll let you know when I’m over the lab.”

After she takes off, Adam hands Chris the jammer. We each check our supplies again, and then Chris heads to the door. “All right, let’s go.”

He and Trent step outside, but I turn back to Adam. “Will you be okay here?”

“I’ll be fine.” He kisses me quickly, but I can see the worry in his eyes. “Be careful.”

“I will,” I say and then join the others in the hallway. I hate leaving Adam behind, but he’s much safer staying in the office than with us. Besides, his presence there will make Zoe feel better, even if she doesn’t actually need him.

“So you and Adam, huh?” Chris asks as we head to the elevator.

“Guess so.” I haven’t exactly been
hiding
whatever this is with Adam, but that doesn’t mean I want to talk to these guys about it either. Things are still a bit too new and uncertain, and I’m not about to try to explain it, especially not to Chris of all people.

“Doesn’t seem like your type.”

“He’s not, but…” I shrug, hoping he drops it.

“Just keep your eyes open. Something doesn’t add up about him.”

A dash of doubt trickles back in, but I shove it away. Yes, we still don’t know why Adam is the only one not “purged” by Dr. Kapur and Aether Corp, but maybe we’ll find out once we get into the lab and find the old files.

“Enough girl talk,” Trent says as the elevator opens and we step inside.

We snap on thin surgical masks and yank on latex gloves. From a plastic bag, I remove two of the chloroform rags and hand one to Chris, while Trent grabs a caramel-colored smoke bomb from his backpack.

As the elevator nears the lobby, I press my back against the side wall. My heart pounds, adrenaline making me jumpy. I’m tempted to get the gun out, but I have to hope that Adam’s magic rags will work. Chris checks the jammer one last time and then shoves it back in his jacket. Trent flicks his lighter on and off.

The door opens with a loud
ping
. Trent lights up the smoke bomb, then tosses it into the lobby. We rush forward after it, following the trail of smoke rapidly billowing out, which oddly smells of burnt sugar. I dart behind the front desk with Trent at my side. Together we grab the guard there, who’s just getting up, and hold him while I shove the wet rag over his mouth. He struggles against us, but we manage to keep him still long enough for the chemicals to take effect. His body sags to the floor as he passes out.

Through the smoke, the hazy figure of Chris fights the second guard. Trent joins him, and they bring the guy down. I’m breathing hard through my mask, my eyes watering from the smoke, but I say a silent thanks to Adam for giving us a way to take out the guards without actually hurting them.

We drag both limp bodies behind the desk and then survey the empty, smoke-filled lobby. The guards are each wearing two flexis, just as Lynne said they would—one for their personal use, and one with the Aether logo on it to control the security systems here. Chris rips off one of the Aether flexis and puts it on himself, while Trent and I spread through the screen of smoke, keeping watch.

I hit the button on the side of my walkie-talkie headset. “The lobby is secure. How’s it going, Zoe?”

Her voice crackles through the speaker. “Don’t. Even. Ask.”

“What, you’re not having fun in there?” Trent asks.

“Very funny,” she says.

Chris looks like he’s staring at the floor, but he must be doing something on his flexi. “Like Lynne said, I can’t open the lab from here, but I’m disabling all cameras in the building and cutting the alarms so they can’t alert the police or fire department. I’ll need, like, two minutes.”

“Not a problem,” Trent says.

The seconds crawl by as we wait. Every muscle in my body is tense, waiting for another threat. Trent’s disappeared into the smoke. Chris sits behind the front desk, his eyes unfocused.

I hear a soft footstep behind me and spin around. Something hits my arm and my entire body jerks and spasms like I’ve been electrocuted. Sharp pain shocks through me and then I’m on the ground, looking up at a guard with one of those electrified batons. Karma’s come to bite me in the ass.

The guard kicks me in the side and I scream. Or I try to, but no sound comes out. My body won’t work. I can’t move my arms or my legs. I gulp down air, panic rising in my chest. I have to get up. I have to
fight
.

A figure moves in the smoke, silent as a shadow, creeping up behind the guard. Trent bashes the guard in the back of the head with his flashlight, but it’s not enough to knock him out. They fight, their figures hazy, while the numbness in my body fades enough for me to move again.

With a shaking hand, I grab the plastic bag in my pocket and pull out another of the chloroform rags. With my other hand, I try to push myself to my feet. One of my legs works, but the left one still feels like it’s asleep, all painful tingles and weakness. I lunge at the guard as I topple over, pulling him down with me. We hit the floor hard, and I jab my elbow onto his chest, then press the cloth against his mouth. Trent helps me hold the guard down until he collapses.

I drop the rag and fall back on the cool floor, struggling to catch my breath. Tremors of pain echo through my chest where the guard kicked me. I shake my leg out, trying to get some feeling back into it.

“You okay?” Trent asks, helping me up.

Each inhalation feels like someone’s poking my lungs with a butter knife. My ankle hurts too; I probably twisted it when I took the guard down. But I just say, “Yeah. Thanks for the help.”

“Hey, I owed you one.”

We drag the unconscious guard through the dissipating smoke to the front desk to stash his body with the other two. Each movement sends hot flashes of pain through me, and I have to lean on the desk for a moment until they pass.

“We’re done here,” Chris says into his headset. “You in position, Zoe?”

“Yep, I’m over the lab now.”

“All right, we’re heading back up.”

We get back in the elevator and exit on the sixth floor. I limp a step behind Trent and Chris, cursing my throbbing ankle and ribs. I do
not
have time to be injured right now.

We stop to get Adam from his office, and as soon as he sees me clutching my side, he rushes over. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

I shrug. “Got in a fight with a guard. I’m okay.”

Adam gives me a wary look like he’s going to argue, but Chris speaks into his headset. “We’re ready, Zoe.”

“Okay, lighting it up now,” she says.

We move down the hall to the lab and wait in front of the door. I lean against the wall to ease the pressure on my ankle and toss the bag of chloroform rags to Chris. There are only two left, but we shouldn’t need more than one.

Zoe’s voice crackles in our headsets. “Fire in the hole.”

She’s got one of the smoke bombs Adam made and should be setting it off in the air duct above the lab. Once the smoke enters the room, the guard will think there’s a fire, hit the alarm (which Chris cut off), and run out—giving us the perfect moment to douse him with chloroform and then sneak in.

We gather around the door, listening, but I don’t hear anything. No smoke creeps out from under the door. Did she actually set it off? Maybe the smoke bomb isn’t strong enough, or the guard doesn’t think it’s a big enough threat to leave.

The door clicks. It flies open, and there’s the guard, running out. He jumps when he sees us waiting for him, and Chris and Trent easily force the rag over his mouth. He falls limp, and they drag his body inside while Adam wedges something in the door to stop it from closing.

We’re in.