Take Me Tomorrow

Chapter Five: Run if Anything Happens

When the Albany Region began to break down, steel became harder and harder to come by. Lumber was next. The resource provided upkeep to the trains, rail cars, and stations—the only mass transportation system the regions had—and it was in such high demand it supposedly wiped out the Madison Region, leaving behind a deplorable ice land. Now, most of it came from the Boise Region, where the military was trained. Rumors said most of the military's training was hauling lumber onto the trains, where it'd be brought to the State and redistributed by citizens not quite good enough for the military, not quite bad enough for jail. I was glad Broden wasn't good enough. The lumber industry killed more often than not. And as long as they didn't chop down my trees, I was okay. Or so I told myself. I tried not to think about the main trade between lumber and food, from us to the rest of the country. Once the Topeka Region took the lumber, we'd ship the food back out to the other regions. Our connection to food, the railway system, and to the other regions was supreme. It was why we were the center, the home of the State. It was also why the lumberyards were under high security. Not only were they transports for supplies and resources, they were one of the only ways an illegal could sneak in—or out. Considering what my father told me, being this close was a risk. A huge one.

"So, you're meeting an old friend after curfew, and that's it?" I pressed, carefully.

"Broden is under the impression that Noah is in town," Miles informed me as I dug through my memory for any mention of the name. I had never heard of Noah before.

"Noah is back," Broden said, pulling a square object out of his sweater to cradle it in his hands.

"What's that?" I asked.

Miles sat up from the backseat to lean between us. "An old tape recorder. It was in my mailbox this morning."

I concentrated on the road as we neared the corner of town. "Why your mailbox?" I asked. "And who is Noah?"

"An old friend," Broden repeated the same information over and over again.

"But why the tape recorder?" I interrogated, expecting more. "Why wouldn't he just call you?"

Broden ignored my question and pressed the play button on the recorder. A rough voice floated out, "Meet me under the birds. 2:36 p.m. Park inside the fence."

Before I could ask about the birds or the horrible timing we had, Broden glanced at Miles. "He wouldn't joke."

Miles stared out the window. "You know I'm not going in there, right?"

Broden didn't respond. We remained that way, silent for only a few moments. The road curved, and the streetlamps flickered, brightening as we passed them. If the lights weren't motion censored, the entire street would have been enveloped in darkness. Even with the dim lights, the area near the lumberyard felt deserted.

"Sophia," Broden whispered, his body suddenly rigid. Miles sucked in his breath, and instantly, I knew what had them panicking. A cop was parked at the edge of the lumberyard, watching the road only a few yards ahead of us. Last time I had been in this situation, Lyn and I were pulled over, questioned, and lucky enough to be let go. This time, I was confident we were fine.

"Sit back," I instructed.

Broden bent over, and Miles hit the floor, covering himself like a child. The boys didn't know what to do, and I wanted to laugh at them as I drove past the patrolman without red or blue lights following us.

"You can sit up now," I said after we passed the cop.

Broden's eyes widened as we continued to drive, and then he spun around to hit Miles' shoulder. "We did it, man," he cheered, his nerves expelling with his shout. "We got past him."

"What?" Miles perked up like a prairie dog, turning his head to look around in all directions. His jaw dropped. "How—"

"I told you, I am good help," I said, wiggling in my driver's seat.

Broden's cheering stopped as he pointed a few yards in front of us. "There, Sophia. We need to go in there. You know what to do, Miles."

I squinted at the building in front of us. "But it's closed—"

"I know it is," Broden said. "Keep driving."

My hands shook as I pulled the turning indicator, steering the Jeep toward the gated-off parking lot. The copper gate was normally shackled shut, but tonight was different. The red bars were pushed apart, and one silver chain wrapped around the metal spring. My heart stopped as I pulled the car in, rolling past the open gate. Broden instructed me to park, and I did, unable to believe what was happening.

Miles, as quick as I had ever seen him move, darted out of the Jeep and sprinted toward the gate.

"He's locking the gate behind us," Broden explained, revealing what I should've figured out. They knew the gates would be open. Miles was here to watch over it.

"Who's this Noah kid?" I managed to ask.

Broden opened the car door and swung the black bag I had given him earlier over his shoulder.

I followed him. "Is that stuff for him?" I did not think my father's weapon was going to a complete stranger.

Without answering me, Broden walked around, checking the bag like he was afraid the objects would escape him. His eyes flickered at me, but then he stared into the darkness of the trees. Before I could demand an explanation, footsteps rushed toward us.

Miles spoke before I saw him, "It's locked." He breathed as his features dissolved out of the blackness. With his black clothes, the dark turned Miles into a shadow. To see him standing in front of us made my stomach twist. Miles, the hard-working student, was a natural at trespassing, and Broden didn't look surprised at all.

"You coming with or not?" he asked.

Miles shook his head. "There's a cop right there. It's too risky, even for me."

Broden checked his arm's splint. "Wait in the car, then," he said blankly as if he had expected Miles' reaction. "Run if anything happens."

Miles didn't budge. "You're going by yourself?"

Broden shrugged. "I didn't come this far to leave Noah standing there, now did I?"

"I'll go," I volunteered. Both of them gaped at me, so I repeated myself. "I drove you two here. I think I have the right to go to—wherever you're going."

"Sophia," Miles sighed. "You don't want to."

Broden lifted his hand to Miles. "She can come if she wants."

"What if you guys get caught?"

"Then, we're all in trouble," he pointed out, "whether she's waiting in the car or not."

Miles mumbled curses to himself. "I can't believe this."

"Believe it," I said, marching over and pulling the black beanie off his head. "Now, give me your jacket."

...

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