The Day Before Tomorrow

The Tamar Black Saga - Book Four

THE DAY BEFORE TOMORROW

By Nicola Rhodes

© copyright 2009 Nicola Rhodes

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

In the same series

Djinnx’d

Reality Bites

Tempus Fugitive

The Day Before Tomorrow

Faerie Tale

Anything But Ordinary

Rise of the Nephilim

Pantheon

Tomorrow is a fresh start, a new beginning.

Tomorrow, I’ll make the change.

Tomorrow, I’ll go on a diet.

Tomorrow, I’ll find a new lover.

Tomorrow, I’ll move to the South of France.

Tomorrow, I’ll write my thesis.

Tomorrow, I’ll find a new job.

Tomorrow, I’ll find enlightenment.

Tomorrow, things will be better. 

Tomorrow, all our dreams will come true.

All the things we would do, if only we could get into   Tomorrow.

So, what will we do with today?

And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see.

And I saw, and behold a white horse:  and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him:  and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.

And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, Come and see.

And there went out another horse that was red: and power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the earth, and that they should kill one another: and there was given unto him a great sword.

And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, Come and see.  And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand.

And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine.

And when he had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, Come and see. 

And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.  And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.

REV. VI.  1 – 8 

Who can comprehend the motives of Heaven?

Lao Zi, Spring and Autumn Period
. 

~ Prologue ~

M
any hundreds of thousands of millions of billions of … Look – it was a long time ago, okay?  When this lump of rock we call home was still a sphere of molten fire, and there was no sentient life in the galaxy, mainly because the parking here is so lousy.

The gods were arguing.  Well, all right, they were not gods, not as we understand the term; they were more like filing clerks.  They kept the files of the universe in order, adding new and deleting or archiving old, as appropriate, keeping everything in its proper place, in this universe and others.

‘Sentient life?’ said one in a contemptuous tone.  ‘There is no sentient life in this sector, Crispin, that’s why I took this job.’

‘Ah, but there
will
be Talbot,’ said Crispin.  ‘All the data predicts it. It will evolve on that planet there.’  And he pointed to the fiery and rather small planet on the screen.

There was laughter.  ‘There?’ said Talbot. ‘Please? A greeble bug couldn’t survive on
that
!’  

‘The planet …’

‘If you can
call
it that,’ he was interrupted.

‘The planet is cooling, and anyway, you can’t argue with the data – look.’  He changed the screen to a complicated table of numbers and letters.  The others looked.

‘He’s right you know,’ said one eventually. 

‘Damn,’ said the one named Talbot, ‘is it too late for me to ask for a transfer?  Sentient life is such a lot of work.  I didn’t sign up for this.’

‘Neither did I,’ said another gloomily.  

‘I take it we will have both real and unreal life?’ said a young one enthusiastically. There’s always one – the office junior, who is too clever for his own good, the whizz-kid. 

‘Yes,’ said the second one, ‘very good, Matlus. First the real life, will appear, and then the unreal,’

‘Wicked!’ said Matlus. 

‘Why is that?’ said the one who is a bit slow, and never went on the firm’s executive courses (there’s always one of these too). 

‘Sentient life is imaginative Dolus,’ explained Matlus.  ‘So it always creates unreal life, by its unreasoning belief in it, see?’

‘No.’

‘Crispin?  How soon can we expect this life?’ asked Matlus. 

Crispin referred to the data. ‘Couple of billion years, give or take.  We should get busy.’

 ‘Get busy doing what?’ asked Talbot. 

‘Sentient life needs certain things,’ explained Crispin.  ‘Certain moral codes and emotional support, passions and purposes, things like hope, and love and even hate.  Things like that.’

‘Why?’ asked Dolus.

Crispin lost his temper. ‘You should know all this stuff. I bet Matlus does.  Get him to explain it to you.’

‘Teacher’s pet,’ muttered Dolus.  

‘I’d be happy to,’ said Matlus, smugly.  

‘Ah!  Mrs. Bennt,’ said Crispin, as a fat housekeeper, waddled in.’

‘You wanted to see me sir?’

‘Yes, indeed Mrs. Bennt, we have a lot to do.  Do you have the box?’  

~ Chapter One ~

D
eath stalked the dark streets, hungry and restless.  This was because Mrs. Death had thrown him out again, after another row about whose turn it was to wash the dog, or was it take out the rubbish bags?  Why had he ever got married?

He headed for the pub.

After several pints of old peculiar, he heard a strange tune playing in his ears.  He reached inside his robes.
Damn mobile phones
.

War was coming! – slowly. His horse was, after all, over 2000 years old. 

He was in a bad mood. Well he always was, what with being War and all.  But today he was in a worse than usual mood, trudging along this dusty highway when he would far rather have been at home watching the football.  Still, duty was duty, and he had had the call, so he had to go.  He moseyed along muttering under his breath.  ‘2000 years, they couldn’t have waited until the World Cup was over!  Huh, s’not like I don’t have anything better to do.’ And so on. 

Famine was widespread – he took up two sofas now, and was getting bigger. The boss was going to be furious.  Not that he was not doing his job, taking food out of the mouths of mortals the world over, but he was not supposed to be eating it all himself. 

And now that the call had come in, how was he ever going to get on his horse?  There was nothing else for it; he would just have to lose some weight.  It was not as if he did not have a working knowledge of the concept, he was the one who had invented dieting, after all.  But the irony, the cruel irony of it – Famine – on a diet.

Pestilence took the stage; the crowd roared.  This was the life, sex drugs and rock and roll.  That was the way to spread disease these days, and he loved it.  He loved it so much that he had formed his own band, the better to facilitate his work.  Then he had got sucked in, the bright lights, the adulation, the girls.  But soon it would all be over, he had had the call, he was a little sad about that, but at least he would go out with a bang.  But first – one last show. He strummed his guitar, gripped his mike and roared over the screaming crowd ‘Hello Bug Tussle!’

~Chapter Two ~

T
he phone was ringing. Denny gave it a black look and turned to Tamar. ‘It’s for you,’ he asserted sourly. 

Tamar sighed.  He was probably right, but she felt that she should at least make a token protest.  ‘How do you know?’ she said.

‘Call me psychic,’ he quipped.  ‘I just got this funny feeling in my balls,’ he continued,  ‘like they were being squeezed in a vice, and I thought, who wants to do that to me?  And the answer just came to me in a flash. It’s …’

‘Okay, okay, very funny,’ snapped Tamar, cutting him off.  ‘You can shut up now.’  She glared at him.  ‘I’ll answer it, shall I?’  She picked up the phone, which, in violation of all natural probability, seemed to be ringing more insistently the longer it was ignored.

‘Hello’

‘Oh, hi Mum
.’  She gave the triumphant Denny an acerbic look, and he retired to the living room and switched on the TV quietly, though, so that he could still hear the conversation, or at least one half of it.

‘Yes Mum, everything’s fine …’

‘Well, I’ve been a bit busy…’

‘No, of course we aren’t fighting …’

‘He’s at work, I …’

‘Because I fell in love with…’

‘Well I think it’s a good reason – Mum, look if you’re just going to … (sigh) okay, okay.  How’s Dad?’

‘No, I’m not pregnant yet.  I’ve only been married for…’

‘No, he’s not; he’s fine, more than fine actually.  Do you want the lurid details?’

‘That ought to shut her up,’ thought Denny.  But of course, it did not.

‘No he is not infertile; I’m still on the pill, if you must know.’

‘Because I’m not ready for a baby yet.  I have a career to think about, I’m trying for my Law degree.  I don’t have time for…’

‘No, it is not because I think Denny would make a bad father.  Why can’t you just…  Mum?  Mum?’

She glanced up to see that Denny had put his finger on the cradle, cutting off the call.  He gently took the receiver out of her hand and replaced it.  She stifled her recriminations when she saw his face; it was as white as a sheet. 

‘Come on,’ he said hoarsely, and led her into the living room. 

Tamar switched off the television; she and Denny looked at each other in despair.  He took her hand and squeezed it with a wan smile.

‘So, that’s it,’ she said.  ‘We’re at war.  I can’t believe it’

Denny did not say: ‘It’ll be all right.’ Because it clearly would not.  He did not tell her not to worry, because she would anyway, and rightly so.  All he said was: ‘I’ll be drafted, I suppose.’

‘Will you?’ she asked ‘I thought World War Three would be a nuclear war.’

‘No, not if they can help it,’ said Denny.  ‘Weren’t you listening?  Besides, they wouldn’t be so stupid – would they?’ he sounded a little uncertain.  ‘No, they wouldn’t! – Surely?  They’d be just as afraid as anyone.’

‘Huh, if by “they”, you mean the world leaders,’ she said. ‘Why should
they
worry?  They’ve all got cosy little shelters to run to.  They’ll be all right.’ 

This was inarguable. 

Denny sighed.  The Prime Minister, when making the announcement – in suitably sombre tones – had, by dint of cunning words and phrases, seemed to explain the situation quite clearly. But when Denny went over it in his head, he realised that he could make neither head nor tail of it really.  He suspected that the PM could not either.  It was perfectly clear from the announcement that the world was at war again, but everything else was vastly more confused.

Tamar looked out of the flat window down at the dirty streets.  They seemed so peaceful; it was hard to believe what she had just heard. Everything looked just the same.  She had expected to see people running about in panic, army recruiters stalking up the street to take the young men away – to take
Denny
away.  She felt her throat constrict.  No, not Denny, it just was not possible.  They had only been married a year, although they had known each other since school, and had been sweethearts since the age of nineteen.  She was not ready to lose him so soon.  And Denny was not exactly the military type.  It occurred to her – although she pushed the thought away – that he might die.  What would she do without him?