What Tomorrow Brings Read online

  “This book is my favorite,” her father told her. “I must have read it a hundred times. I want you to have it. I believe it will mean as much to you as it does to me. Promise me you’ll read it before I see you next.”

  “Daddy, I don’t read.”

  “Kit, promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  Kit never did. She would on the flight. It was at least one last thing she could do for her father.

  “I love you so much,” the soldier said. “This is the only way.”

  Kit lifted her eyes then felt the presence in the middle seat next to her. His arms brushed against hers as he adjusted in his seat. “Good book,” he said.

  She flipped over to the cover as if she didn’t know what the title was and she smiled politely. He had only spoken two syllables to her and Kit knew the man wasn’t from Seattle. His heavy southern dialect bled though his words. He had a pleasant face that was buried beneath a scruffy five o’clock shadow and the brim of his baseball cap rested at the top of his forehead.

  Kit inched over some more toward the window. Space was tight and she knew that bright green neck pillow was going to be tapping the side of her head the whole flight.

  He grunted. “Uh, so much for premium seats and extra leg room.”

  Kit looked over. His knees nearly touched the back of the seat in front of him, where hers didn’t come close. He didn’t look that tall, perhaps he just had long legs.

  “At least the drinks are free with these seats, right?” he said.

  “Yes.” Kit replied, then repeated that simple smile and nod. She didn’t want to be rude, but she also didn’t want to engage in conversation. She wasn’t in the mood.

  He didn’t really say much more during the rest of boarding, he just played with the air system and light.

  Kit opened the book. Maybe he would see she was occupied and he wouldn’t bother her.

  Finally, everyone was on board, the flight attendants started closing the overhead bins and moving things round. Kit tried to focus on the first page, but the soldier kept up his phone call.

  “I’ll get in trouble. I can’t tell you. I have to go. I’ll find you. I promise I’ll find you. Leave. Now.” The soldier paused. “I love you.”

  Kit lifted her eyes from the pages.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” the man next to her said.

  Kit didn’t respond.

  “Ma’am?” he tapped her on the shoulder.

  He was talking to her? Kit faced him. She was clueless that when he said ‘ma’am’ he meant her.

  “Looks like no one is sitting there.” He pointed to the empty aisle seat. “I’m gonna move there. I just don’t want you to feel insulted.”

  “I’m sorry … why would I feel insulted?”

  “I mean, I don’t want you to think you smell or anything. You know me suddenly getting up.”

  “I won’t be insulted and I won’t be worried you think I smell.”

  “Sweet. Thanks. Bit more leg room.” He scooted over, moved left to right before finally moving his leg into the aisle. “Ah,” he exhaled. “Yeah, that’s better.”

  When he closed his eyes, Kit saw that as a sign that things would get peaceful. The soldier was done arguing, the southern guy was going to nap and Kit was going to dive into that book. It was a little late, she wouldn’t be able to discuss it with him, but if it was the last thing she did she was going to keep her promise and read that book before she saw her father again.

  FOUR – REVELATION

  Regis Rolland wasn’t a bad person, nor was he complicated. He was just a quiet man and deep thinker, his quietness was often misunderstood as attitude or pompous. Especially as of late, his father’s death was just the final straw in a long series of events that emotionally beat Regis.

  His sister Deana championed him for being anti-Mark, while his mother and Kit chastised him for not being supportive. Regis didn’t hate Mark, he loved his baby brother, but he was just tired of picking up the pieces of his younger siblings’ life.

  It was fine and well when Mark would blow through a relationship, but his recent change of heart didn’t just hurt his wife, it hurt his seven year old son. The person Mark seemed to forget about. When the repo company came and took his wife’s car, Regis bailed her out. When they were foreclosing, Regis stopped it. Mark’s soon to be ex, Liza worked hard but didn’t make enough money to cover all of Mark’s debt he left behind. When his son Brice needed shoes and food, Regis was there, never thinking twice. Where was Mark? A thousand miles away, flashing his mortgaged porcelain smile and SAG card making minimum wage acting in a Bruce somebody, or other film.

  Regis didn’t want thanks, he just wanted his brother to do what was right. Maybe Regis was wrong, maybe Mark just couldn’t. Maybe Mark didn’t know exactly what was right because like Regis was doing now, somebody had bailed Mark out of trouble his entire life.

  Deana knew, but Kit didn’t. Regis didn’t tell her because he just didn’t want to shatter her delusion of her loveable baby brother. He just stopped talking to Kit for fear he’d run his mouth.

  Although he knew, now with the passing of their father, it was really not the time to be at odds.

  His father always had a way of keeping everyone together. Maybe his passing was one of those ways.

  Regis felt bad that he didn’t help Kit with her bag. After she declined a simple slice of pizza, she certainly wouldn’t want his help. She probably would have said, “No thank you. You suck.”

  That would destroy him, Regis was already having a tremendously hard time. His world crashed again with the death of his father, now he not only was on a plane filled with nervous soldiers, he was seated between two of them.

  Internally it was a lot to handle.

  When he first was seated between them, Regis struck up a conversation with the soldier to his right.

  “You boys out of Lewis?” Regis asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you being deployed?”

  “You uh, can say that.”

  “Godspeed. My son was out of Fort Lewis. Seventh infantry division.”

  “So are we. Does he still serve?” the soldier asked.

  “I suppose in another way. He was killed in combat,” Regis said. “A few years back.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, sir.”

  “Thank you. So …” Regis took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to control the emotions that always took over him when his son was mentioned. “You take care of yourself wherever you’re going...”

  The conversation caused Regis to sink into thought and sadness. He adored his son and loved him more than life. When Phillip died, so did a part of Regis. He felt for the soldiers, especially since they all seemed tense.

  That was evident as the flight progressed. He guessed it didn’t help that in flight services such as wifi and movies went out an hour after takeoff.

  That didn’t bother Regis. He had that book to read. His father had given it to him when he visited four months earlier for Christmas. He never recalled his father reading it, though his father claimed it was his favorite. It was an old book, the pages thick, rigid and brown, original cover. Regis wanted to read it, not because of the subject matter, but because his father wanted him out of all the siblings to have it. Handing it to him wrapped like a present like some sort of secret father son gift. He made Regis promise to read, Alas, Babylon, before they saw each other again. Regis tried and made some progress, but as the flight continued, the continuous tapping was a distraction.

  The young African American soldier next to him didn’t sleep. He didn’t relax at all, he sat almost at attention, eyes forward as his hand tapped continuously in nervousness on the armrest of the seat. Was the young man scared of flying, or was he going somewhere that scared him to death?

  About the third time Regis looked at the nervous fingers, he noticed what caused the tapping. The young man held a cross in his hand.

  He was scared.

  More than a
nything Regis wanted to ask the young soldier if he wanted to pray with him, but he didn’t want to be viewed as some weirdo. Instead, Regis tapped his hand fatherly and asked. “You alright son? Can I buy you a drink to calm you?”

  Almost automated, the turned his head to Regis and stared.

  His eyes held horror.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What … what time is it?”

  Regis looked down to his watch. “Two minutes after one.”

  He shut his eyes tight and swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple moved. “Oh God.”

  “Dalton,” the soldier to Regis’ right softly scolded.

  Regis kept his focus on Dalton. “What’s wrong?”

  Dalton shook his head. “Just … thinking of my mother. My brother. I didn’t … I didn’t say goodbye.”

  “Dalton,” the other soldier warned again.

  “There’s time.” Regis said. “You can call when we land. If that’s not possible, give me the number, I’ll call for you.”

  At that second, following a blurted, “Excuse me”, Dalton stood up.

  “He’ll be fine,” the other soldier said.

  “I’m sure,” Regis replied. “I think I need to use the rest room as well.” He stood, placed his book on his seat and had every intention of finding Dalton. Something didn’t sit right. If it was something official, then Dalton couldn’t, nor wouldn’t say anything.

  Mid way down the dark aisle, Regis spotted the reading light in the middle of all the dark. That light illuminated his brother.

  Regis planned on nodding at Mark when he passed until he noticed what book Mark was reading.

  Alas, Babylon.

  Seeing that the seat was empty next to him, Regis took that book and that seat as a sign from his father.

  “This seat taken?” he asked Mark.

  Mark blinked long and placed the book on his lap and smiled. “Act … actually it is. She went to the restroom I think. Lady in a red sweater. See her?”

  Regis looked to the line of people waiting to use the rest room. “She’ll be a while. I’ll just …” Regis sat down and placed his hand on his brother’s leg. “I see you’re reading.”

  “Yeah, Dad gave it to me. How about that?’

  “How about that.”

  Mark trailed his fingers against it. “Don’t get mad. Dad gave it to me. He wanted to me to read it. It was his favorite book.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “I’m not much of a reader, but Dad made me promise to read it.”

  “Then you should.”

  “I am.” Mark put his hand on the cover. It was a newer version of the book, a later edition.

  “How are you doing Little Brother?”

  “Not good, Big Brother.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be. Dad’s gone. We didn’t even get to say goodbye. We didn’t say goodbye.”

  Surprising Regis, Mark leaned into him, seeking comfort on the shoulders of his older brother.

  Regis absorbed that moment, he loved it and it felt good, right. Every bad word, argument and negative thought over the past few weeks seemed to disappear. There was an unspoken truce at thirty thousand feet. He knew his time with Mark on that flight would only last until the red sweater woman returned, until then he’d make the best of it and he vowed to continue once they landed. If he could, Regis would find time to talk to Kit before the end of the flight, as well.

  It was what he had to do. It was what his father would want them to do.

  Not long before Regis was thinking about how his dad had the ability to pull everyone to father, and for some strange reason, through some old book, he was inadvertently doing it again.

  FIVE – BROTHERS

  At first, Mark wished the woman in red would have taken the bribe. He offered her fifty bucks to switch seats with his brother. It had been weeks since he and Regis spoke and it just felt so good to him to be sitting with his brother. During Red Sweater Woman’s extended bathroom break, they talked about being kids, going fishing with their father and other childhood memories. They didn’t talk about the recent events that caused the horrible riff.

  They did however, talk about the book.

  Mark could have talked to Regis the whole flight, but the red sweater woman returned. She refused to give up her aisle seat for a middle one.

  “Even to sit between two hot soldiers?” Mark asked.

  She grumbled.

  Regis apologized for using her seat and told Mark, “Read up. Dad would want that.”

  “I will,” Mark said. “And Rege … thanks.”

  Regis nodded, winked and walked back to his seat.

  Mark, after giving a smug smile to Red Sweater woman, opened the book.

  “Thank you,” Regis told Dalton as he slipped back into the row, lifted the book from his seat and sat. “Are you better?” he asked.

  “Somewhat.”

  “Me, too.”

  Dalton the soldier looked at him with curiosity.

  “My little brother.” Regis pointed. “He and I, well, have been having some issues as of late and I just went over and talked to him. I just … I just … I’m glad we spoke. I feel much better.”

  “Good. You’ll need each other, especially now.”

  “Did I tell you our father passed away?” Regis asked. “Because that is really intuitive of you.”

  “Not intuition. “ Dalton peered across Regis to the other solider who was sleeping. After lifting a finger, he took the book from Regis’ lap, lifted a pen from his own front pocket, opened the cover and began to write on the first empty space he saw.

  Regis waited, he thought Dalton’s behavior very odd. First quiet, then nervous, now talkative and sharing some sort of message. Then again, he thought, the poor kid was going off to war. Things made a bit more sense to Regis after thinking about that being the case. Dalton was nervous. Perhaps it was some secretive deployment, and Dalton was rushed out before he could bid his family goodbye.

  A deployment, a prelude to some sort of conflict wouldn’t surprise Regis. After all tension had been high between US and Russia. Even his father made mention earlier that it was unprecedented and the worst he had ever seen.

  Dalton needed to share something with Regis. Something the other soldier couldn’t know he told him. He probably was giving Regis the contact information for his mother.

  After he was finished, Dalton slipped his pen back in his pocket, closed the cover of the book, handed it to Regis and stared forward.

  Regis flipped open the cover. He expected to see a name, a number, maybe even an email address, what he didn’t expect to see was the first sentence.

  ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you’ll know soon enough …’

  That sentence was followed by a passage that not only took his breath away, it made every fiber of his being freeze. He closed the cover of the book, shifted his eyes once to Dalton and ran his hand over his mouth to hide his heavy exhaled.

  ‘Dear God,’ Regis thought.

  Then after making the sign of the cross, he closed his eyes and prayed.

  GROUND ZERO CITIZEN – ONE

  Washington D.C.

  Since receiving rave reviews from his mother in regards to his peanut butter and ramen noodle dish, Terrence Hill always wanted to be a chef. Not just some cook in a kitchen flipping burgers and frying wings, he wanted to be the top dog, the one who ran the kitchen, the one everyone called, “Chef.”

  More than a great cook, Terrence was a great guy.

  The only son of a single working mother, Terrence not only got above average grades in school, but he worked to help his mother pay the bills.

  He wanted badly to go to college, more so, culinary school, but it wasn’t in the cards when he was younger. His mother developed breast cancer when Terrance was twenty-one and he held down two jobs to pay the household bills and get her medical treatment.

  School would come, it really would.

  It was during that rough time cari
ng for his mother, working part time at the discount store and almost full time at Pasty’s Restaurant when he met his future wife, Macy.

  She was the same age, was working as an aide in the hospital while going to school.

  He envied that, while she envied his strength.

  His mother beat the cancer, went back to work, and Terrance continued at the diner.

  Three years later, right after her graduation and becoming an RN, Terrence married Macy.

  He got a better job at a better restaurant, still making low wages. The dream of being a chef still far away. He could be head cook, line supervisor, but without that education, he would never be chef.

  Terrence shared his dream with Macy. She didn’t ridicule, she knew how well he cooked. After all she gained twenty pounds off his cooking the first three years of marriage.

  By the time he was thirty-two Terrence had two baby daughters under three and his mother moved in to help.

  His dream of being a chef waned, until that fateful snowy night. It was his youngest daughter’s sixth birthday and he wanted to get home. Like most people in the food and beverage industry, Terrence switched jobs a lot. At that point, he was working at a bistro that closed at eight. It wasn’t creative cooking, just burgers, sandwiches and other simple stuff.

  Washington D.C. was hit was a crippling storm. Everything shut down. Half of his employees didn’t show and they only had three customers all day.

  Terrence wasn’t even sure his beat up Toyota would make it home. He was closing down, the whole street was deserted, and the snow blew hard making it difficult to see. Yet, it was hard to not see when a motorcade showed up.

  Four SUV’s and a limo.

  Only one person had that type of security in D.C.

  A CIA agent accompanied a man that identified himself as the Secretary of Defense. The Secretary told Terrence that the roads were completely impassible and it would take a good couple hours to get to the White House. The president was starving. “What can we do?” the secretary asked.

  Terrence replied, “I’ll get my butt cooking.”