Tomorrow (Chapter 2)

Samantha Byrne stood dead still, hands and knees shaking while she looked on at the four people in front of her. They simply stared back, both motionless and completely devoid of expression. She dared not take her eyes away from the silent figures, but from what she could see in her peripheral, she was in the middle of a gray wasteland, wisps of white smoke spread around her and the apparent “family”, who were unblinking. There was virtually nothing in the barren gray atmosphere; land and sky seemed to be one in the same, and it all remained morbidly silent.
Sam couldn’t remember how she had gotten there, or any events prior to when the family had spotted her.
And what a family they were.
The father- or at least Sam assumed it was the father -stood in the middle of the small group, with a stance she could only describe as protective. His flesh was burned beyond recognition, and from what Sam could see through his tattered clothing, his arms and legs were blistered and bleeding, while the same went for his unchanging face and bald scalp. There was something oddly familiar in those brown eyes of his, although impossible to decipher do to the overall disfiguration of his features; a chunk of skin was missing from his cheek, and his split lips were oozing an unsettling clear liquid.
The woman who stood beside him was a shell of a human, nothing more then skin covering bones that were years over-worked. With barley any hair, scars covering her entire face, and a filthy dress that hung limply on her emaciated body, the last thing Sam expected was such brilliant eyes. They were the same shade of chocolate brown as the man who stood beside her, but they stared at the female gear with such intensity -such…life- that Sam would never had known they went with such a tortured frame hadn’t she been standing right there.
The children were what bothered Sam the most.
Neither of them was over the age of five, but horrific gunshot wounds on the young boy and girl had left holes and trails of blood on their clothing, which took away any semblance of innocents that most certainly used to be there.
The girl stood behind the charred leg of the man, peeking out from behind, although her face remained like the rest of theirs; eyes full of life, but expression completely unreadable.
Despite the morbid picture, Sam couldn’t help but realize the young girl mirrored the stance of any other toddler; Shy and closed off to strangers, and depending on her parents for protection and guidance.
The boy seemed slightly older, but still kept close to the woman who stood directly behind him, his head not even reaching her waist.
Time seemed to stand still as Sam looked on at the disfigured family, whishing she knew how she had gotten there, or who these people were, or why she was there in the first place.
Fear was defiantly the prominent emotion in her scattered senses, although it was dull, in the back of her mind. She felt no need to scream, run, reach for her side arm, or anything of the defensive sort.
The fear she felt was more like guilt.
She couldn’t help but feel like she had intruded on an extremely intimate moment -no, reunion- between that broken family.
A family. Those words were all it took.
One more look at the group- the group that was both dead, but very much alive -brought one name into Sam’s head before everything vanished.
Dom.

(Sam’s P.o.V)
I wake up to find myself in a cold sweat, tears running down my face while instincts tell my body to sit straight up.  Before my hands can reach the boltok on the bed-side table, my eyes adjust to the brightly lit room, and I find myself home, on Azura, early morning sunlight streaming through the large picture window on the far side of the room. As I gasp for air, I glance around, making sure the events that had just seemed so real were only a dream. My eyes land on the clock on the far side of the room. It’s only seven.
Well, at least I made it through the entire night…
Nightmares are nothing new to me, but they’ve defiantly been comin’ more often then not. Hell, I’d go as far as saying they’ve become a regular routine, ever since the war ended.
Especially ones about Dom.
It takes a few seconds for the cries to subside, my fingers running through my hair and I try to rub the tension away.
My breathing is still ragged as I kick the quilted blanket off my feet- probably using more force then necessary- while wiping the back of my hand across my face, attempting to brush away the tears and rub the sleep from my puffy eyes at the same time.
The hard-wood flooring is cold beneath my bare feet, so I take long strides over to the dresser, pulling out a fresh tank top and pair of cargos, already combing a hand through my sleep-tussled hair.
I have to get away from this hotel.
Bernie and Hoffman are coming today, and I will be waiting for them on that pier, painful or not. But that still won’t be for a few more hours, and in the meantime, I have to clear my head, and that means getting away from this hotel.
There’s only so many places you can go- and people you can avoid- when living on an island, but being cramped into one massive building has only heightened the chance that I’ll snap at someone unintentionally if I don’t get some fresh air every now and then.
After I brush my teeth and throw on a pair of boots, I finish my ensemble by tying a bandana under my bangs before heading out the door.
The long hallways have become crowded in recent days, and between the men and woman who occupy the rooms, and the boxes of items that are being stored in the hall for the time being, I find myself longing for fresh air; one plus to living in this convoluted hotel is the ocean-side view, and more times then one, I’ve wandered down to the surf, simply to enjoy the salty air.
After what seemed like an eternity of wading through a sea of people, I trudge down the main stairs, into the massive lobby.
A delicious aroma meets my nose before I can get outside, and I suddenly realize that I had negated the idea of breakfast. I deliberate the idea of food for a moment, and then decide breakfast would probably be in my best interest if I plan on wandering around the island for a better part of the day.
By now, I’ve learned the layout of most of the hotel, so finding the mess hall- which was basically one of the dining halls converted into a sort of cafeteria- has become a lot easier.
When I get there, it’s easy to see that plenty of people have been up long before I have; the entire room is filled up, and dozens of conversations have been mixed into one annoyingly loud voice.
Over at the counter, there’s toast, eggs, (powdered but still smelling delicious) pancakes, and even some bacon.
And coffee.
Lots and lots of good, strong coffee. I imagine the scientists who used to work here needed to stay awake for ungodly hours, and coffee was most likely the thing that kept them going, judging by the stockpile of the stuff we found in the back room.
As soon as I finish piling a little of everything on my plate and poring myself a cup of black coffee, I begin scanning tables, looking for an empty chair. Navigating through crowded tables with both hands full is no easy task, and after a few minutes, my wrists start to hurt. I was just about to go sit in the lobby when I spotted Baird at the far side of the room; his blonde hair and goggled forehead make it impossible to mistake him for someone else.
He was all by himself at the small table, which could only mean one of two things; either he sat by himself purposely, and gave the cold shoulder to anyone who tried to join him, or, nobody felt like sitting with the antisocial bugger.
So, if I take the empty seat, I’ll either make his day, or piss him off. It’s defiantly a win-win situation.
While I push through the large crowd, I can see Baird supporting his head in one hand, while using the other to tap the blunt end of his pencil across the table, which is covered in papers.
“Mind if I sit here?” I ask plainly while approaching, gesturing to the empty chair with a nod of my head.
He looks up with surprise, like he hadn’t noticed me. By the way he hesitates, I can tell the chair is empty for a reason.
“I can sit somewhere else if you’d like.” I decide to humor him, because I really don’t feel like getting in an argument right now. Not today.
He stares up at me with blank eyes for half a second before blinking twice, shaking his head before saying “Ugh, no…its fine. Go for it.”
Odd.
He seems…out of it, and as I sit down across from him, he doesn’t even flinch as I shift his papers out of the way of my plate.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, but I continually find myself looking back at Baird. It’s weird to see him so put out; his tired blue eyes simply roamed over the papers on the table without their usual enthusiasm.
“You ok Baird?” I finally have to ask when he decides that the papers are of no interest, turning to look out the window instead.
He gives me a quick look-over, and then folds his arms over his chest defensively.
“Are you?” he must have noticed the puffiness around my eyes- damn his attention to detail.
It’s typical for Baird to answer a question with a question, so I decide to play along.
“Well, did you at least eat something?” There’s no plate in front of him, so I figure breakfast is as good a topic as any.
“Not hungry.” He replied simply, rubbing the temples of his head with his first and third fingers. After he moved his hand away, I notice the dark circles under his eyes, and I suddenly find myself feeling anxious for him.
I muster a smile.
“Blondie, you know full well that that if you don’t eat your breakfast, you won’t grow up to be big and strong. Bernie already explained this to you.” At that point, a curse or an insult from him would’ve been a relief. All I got was a mumbled “Funny.”.
Those simple replies were really getting to me, so I gave him a face to mirror my feelings.
We stared at each other for a few silent seconds before he reached for my plate, and took one triangle of toast. He then proceeded to take a small bite, chew it, swallow, and then place the bread back on my plate. His eyes stayed locked with mine the entire time.
“Happy?” Well, at least his expression was back to it usual cynicism.
I’m glad I got through to him, if only a little. I was just about to answer when a familiar voice from across the room caused us both to turn. The type of drall in the man’s accent was like nobody else’s around here, and I find myself smiling as I stand to greet him.
“Dizzy. Where the hell have you been? We haven’t really had the chance to talk lately.” I wrap my arms around his neck, careful to avoid the brim of his large straw hat as he returns the gesture.
“Well, you know how it is around here darlin’. I think everyone is being kept pretty busy. Too busy if you ask me.”
“Yeah, well I’m changing that. You and me are going to sit down at the bar really soon. Do some catching up.”
“It’s a date.” He answers with a smile before turning to Baird.
“Hey son, watcha’ been up to?” Dizzy looks genuinely confused that me and Baird had been sitting together, and I don’t blame him. When people bring the names Baird and Sam together, “lovebirds” is usually the last thing that comes to mind.
“Just busy being force-fed.” Baird gives me a quick look, and I think I see something like humor in his eyes. “How bout’ yourself?” He stands to shake Dizzy’s hand with a small but serious smile, and then starts putting his papers away.
Dizzy’s hand seemed to stay extended, even after Baird let go. He gives me a look that says what the hell does that mean? and I simply mouth the words “Don’t bother.” while giving Baird a playful nudge in the back. He grunts under his breath as my shove causes him to lean forward, halting his work momentarily.  
“Baird has just been busy Diz. That’s all”
Dizzy nods back, still looking slightly confused as he clears his throat.
“Well, I don’t want to be the nail in the coffin, but that’s kinda’ what I’m here about, Baird. Lieutenant Stroud was lookin’ for ya earlier, and she asked me to find you. She says one of the generators is down on the fifth floor again, and she was wonderin’ if you could do somethin’ for it.”
“Typical.” Baird breaths, placing the last of his papers in the bag before turning back to face me and Diz. “Nice seeing you Dizzy. Byrne.” He gives me a slight nod before walking over to the elevator.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Dizzy turns to me, eyebrows raised expectantly.
“Did I miss that much between you two, or…what?”
I scoff, rolling my eyes while linking arms with him, making my way to the front door. There was no denying that my relationship with Baird had changed ever since he had spoken to me a few days ago, but that didn’t mean there was anything romantic going on between us. Far from it.
“It’s not like that Dizzy. He just seemed…I don’t know…drained. I thought I might try talking to him.”
“And?”
I give him a look, and he cringes. “That bad huh?”
“You know how Baird is. Talking isn’t really his forte.” I stay silent for half a second, but then continue, my voice lowered considerably. “It’s just…he wasn’t eating anything…He wasn’t acting like himself y’know?” My expression takes up one of concern as I recall the dark circles under the mechanics eyes.
Dizzy gives my hand a reassuring squeeze while we slowly make our way through the continually growing crowd, and I appreciate the gesture.
“I’m sure he’s fine Sam. Everyone is goin’ through something right now, and we have to remember that Baird is human, just like the rest of us. Even if that’s hard to believe sometimes.”
My mind immediately races to an image of Dom, every detail of his face still perfectly clear. I didn’t know him for as long as Delta, but I’m still finding it hard to cope without him. It never really occurred to me that Baird would take his loss with such difficulty, but then again, Baird tends to keep his feelings to himself.
“You excited to see your girls?” I finally speak again while nearing the door, making sure to log away all of my thoughts on Baird; I would have to talk to Bernie about this.
“You bet.” He responds, but he didn’t even need to speak; every detail of his expression lights up with joy and excitement whenever someone mentions his daughters. Marilyn and Theresa are his pride and joy; the two people who really keep him going.
“You’re a good friend Dizzy, and an even better father. Thanks for everything.”
I give him another hug when we get to the door, and he smiles as we part.
“Any time darlin’. And I’m holding you to that drink.” He calls over his shoulder while walking down the hall, and I can see him shake his head with a laugh.
When I open the door, I’m greeted by bright rays of morning sunlight. After my eyes adjust, I can see that the sky is a brilliant blue, and there isn’t a single cloud. Any other time, I would’ve considered it perfect. But not today.
As I walk along the beach, I know that breaking the news about Dom to Hoffman and Bernie isn’t going to be easy, but I guess we’ll have to cross that proverbial bridge when we get there.