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Catch and Summer left the cinema worried that the New York bound train would be closed due to the evacuation. It wasn't. A rebel group had broken through the barriers to illegally board the train, which automatically made round trips to New York as an evacuation measure for those stranded in the city. In the train, an "Evacuate New York" warning message flashed on the information display with the sound of a blaring alarm ringing, like a nagging mother warning of an obvious danger. It didn't take long for one of the passengers to have enough of it. The display was ripped from the wall and silenced with a blow to the ground.
The nearest safe location from the train was The Opera House. They hurried through the streets—as much they could. Catch was in pain as the last dose of the painkillers he had taken from the Hospital was wearing off. They arrived at their destination to find a group of twenty or so individuals gathered in front of the main entrance. A large man was preventing them from entering. He had a goatee and was dressed like a biker, waving his semi automatic gun as if it were a flag of America, telling people to disperse and get out of the city. The people in the crowd showed no intention of leaving.
Summer pulled on Catch’s arm, guiding him to a nearby condo building. The front door’s window had been smashed open. The lobby was empty and vandalized. They took the elevator up to the top floor. The floor’s hallway had luxurious floral carpeting and wood-trimmed doors marked with gold numbers. Summer checked the three doors. They were all locked. Near the elevator she found a fire extinguisher. It was a big and heavy thing that she had trouble handling. Catch wanted to help her but couldn’t manage to balance himself with any additional weight on his injured leg. She carried it to a room marked 801 and with a series of impressive blows, she struck the door’s electric lock pad until it was smashed through.
“You never cease to impress me,” Catch said, examining the damaged door. “Not sure I agree with destroying someone’s door, but that was impressive.”
“I’m sure they can afford to fix it,” Summer said. She walked to the balcony. Catch remained in the main room, appreciating the modern art decorating the living space.
“Come and see this,” called out Summer. “I have a feeling something is going to go down.”
Catch joined Summer on the balcony directly facing The Opera House. From there they had a good view of the man with the gun and the group around him that had grown restless.
“The president has asked us to close down access to secure locations,” screamed the man, to make sure he was heard by everyone. “Return home, these places aren’t safe.”
“What doesn’t the president understand? They are ‘secure locations,’” shouted someone from the crowd.
“You can’t trust the Red Masks,” said the man. “They are a terrorist group.”
“Who says we can trust you...”
Murmurs of approval rippled through the crowd.
“Calm down, everyone,” he said. “It’s a bad idea to leave your free country to join an obscure terrorist organization.”
Two women approached the man. One of them stood out with her bright red jacket on her oversized frame.
“Step back,” he said to the woman, tightening his grip on his gun.
“You call this a free country when guys like you think they can bully us around,” said the woman in red. She turned to the crowd for their encouragement, which they gladly provided. She continued, “The president doesn’t want us to know what living a good life is like. That’s what he’s afraid of, isn’t it?”
The crowd cheered her on. Feeling empowered, she and her friend took a step closer to the man. “We aren’t going to let you tell us where we can and cannot go.”
“The president says that it is illegal to enter these locations. He explicitly ordered us to prevent anyone from entering them,” he said. “Now, everyone needs to clear this place and go back home. It’s not safe—”
“If the president ordered you to lick his boots, would you do it?” the women in red said. “So, would you do it?”
The other woman, who hadn’t yet spoken, took a ringing phone out of her pocket. After examining it, she showed it to the crowd. It rang again. “This is an important call,” she shouted to make sure everyone heard her.
Summer tugged on Catch’s arm and pointed out a guy in the back of the crowd. He was on his phone. People watching the scene were confused and attentive to what was about to unfold.
“Hello,” she said, speaking loudly—theatrically. “Yes, Mr. President. Of course, I’ll tell him. He’s right here next to me.” She put her phone back into her pocket. “It was your good friend, Mr. President. You know what he ordered you to do?”
“Let me guess,” said the man. “He wants me to let you enter The Opera House.”
“No,” said the woman, gleaming. “He wants you to quack like a duck.”
The man shook his head, not finding this amusing at all.
Someone in the group cried out, “Quack like a duck!”
The crowd joined in, chanting together, “Quack like a duck! Quack like a duck!”
The man was disoriented by this unexpected moment of absurdity. The woman who had taken the call jumped on the man’s gun to pull it away from him. Meanwhile, her friend in red jumped on the man, wrapping her legs around his waist, and clawed his face with both hands. The weight of the large woman on him knocked him to the ground. The onlooking crowd swiftly joined in to help secure the man down. The woman who had taken the mock phone call from the president now had the gun in her hands. She let out a shout of triumph and shot a round of gunshots into the air to celebrate.
A bullet struck the wall behind Catch and Summer. They immediately crawled away from danger to lean against the far wall.
“I just hope that woman isn’t my neighbor in The Virt,” said Catch.
“At least you’d be safe,” said Summer.
“If I stay on her good side.”
“Very true,” admitted Summer. “Very true.”
They waited a few minutes before returning to the balcony. The nearby gunshots had stopped, but the sounds of gunfire resonated throughout the city.
“Listen,” Summer said. “It sounds like a gunfight.”
Catch noticed the shots and then a series of shots coming from a slightly different location.
“Her shots probably struck the wrong people’s nerves,” Summer said. “Something is going down in the streets. I don’t think we should stick around to find out what it is.”
***
Back down in the street, the people were all gone, having already entered The Opera House. Only the guy who had tried to prevent them from entering remained lying on the ground. He was tied down, with a rolled-up sock in his mouth and taped over. He quivered like a freshly caught fish. Summer couldn’t resist the urge to give him a good kick in shins as she passed by his side on her way to The Opera House entrance.
“The indication for the safe location said to go to center stage,” said Catch.
The others from outside were nowhere to be seen. They explored the stage, not sure what they were looking for.
“Come see this,” said Summer, looking at the floor between her feet.
On a trapdoor on the center stage was carved in the wood, To safety in square lettering.
“It’s in the trap room,” said Catch.
“That’s really a thing?”
“Yeah, they keep equipment and props down there,” he said.
They opened the trapdoor and descended the spiral staircase. It was deeper than they had expected.
The trap room was packed tightly with a messy pile of costumes of all sorts.
“It’s the same thing here,” said Summer, pointing at her feet where there was another trapdoor. This one was different. It had a groove in it. To open it, they slid it sideways, revealing a smaller cubic space beneath. At about four feet high, it was just big enough for four people to sit in—perhaps six people could squeeze in tightly if they were thin and ready to be intimate. A message was heard as the words spoken scrolled along the floor.
“You will be transported to safety and given all that you need. Remove all clothing—you may keep underwear. Anyone attempting to enter with a concealed weapon of any kind will be killed without hesitation upon arrival.”
Catch looked back at the pile he had taken to be costumes for the performances. He then recognized the large red jacket of the woman who had stood up to the man with the gun.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” asked Catch.
“Totally,” said Summer, who was already getting undressed.
They were seated in the transport chamber but hadn’t yet closed the trapdoor when they heard the sound of a crying child.
“What was that?” asked Summer.
Catch stood up, his upper torso above the transfer chamber’s opening. The sound of a crying girl approached. The trapdoor to the stage above opened. A man descended several steps until noticing Catch. He was holding a little girl, who was perhaps four years old. He let her down in the middle of the staircase. The girl held back her crying, sniffling and wiping away the tears that marked her cheeks.
“Take her with you, please,” the man said. He had blood stains on his shirt. “They’re coming to close this place down. We aren’t going to let them do that.”
Before Catch could respond, the man was gone. The trapdoor closed behind him.
By this time, Summer had come out of the transfer chamber and was inviting the girl down the stairs.
“Don’t be scared,” she said softly. “My name’s Summer, and this is my friend Catch. You can come with us.”
The girl examined them and slowly descended the spiral staircase. She had blond hair tied in braids.
“Was that your dad?” asked Summer.
She shook her head timidly. “He got hurt,” the girl said. “They shot him.”
“Oh, no,” said Summer. “Is he okay?”
“He told me it didn’t hurt,” the girl said. “I didn’t believe him... There was lots of blood. He wanted me to believe him, so I pretended what he said was true.”
“I’m sorry.” Summer opened her arms offering a hug. The girl walked over and accepted it.
“What’s your name?”
“Daisy.”
“Daisy is a lovely name,” said Summer. “Where’s your mother?”
“I don’t have a mother.”
“Don’t worry, dear, neither do I,” said Summer, her eyes glossing over.
The girl pulled back and asked, “Why are you naked?”
This made both Summer and Catch laugh.
“To go someplace safe,” said Summer. “They will only let us in if we undress.”
“That’s funny,” the girl said, not smiling
They heard gunshots.
“We have no choice,” said Summer. “Please, don’t be shy.”
“I’m not.” The girl undressed without complaint.
They sat in the transfer chamber. Summer closed the trap above them.
“The transfer has been denied,” said the automated voice. “Capacity of the safe location can only accommodate two more individuals.”
“But she’s just a little girl,” Summer screamed out.
“The transfer has been denied,” repeated the voice. “Capacity of the safe location can only accommodate two more individuals.”
“Fuck,” said Summer.
“I’m sorry,” said the girl.
“It’s not your fault,” Summer said to the girl. “It will be okay. I’ll let you go with Catch. He is a very nice guy. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, he’s cute,” said the girl, blushing.
“We are going to get along just fine, you and I,” said Summer.
Catch took Summer aside. “I’m not going to leave you here alone,” he said. “I’m going to stay with you.”
“And leave her alone?” said Summer. “I’ll get to another location and meet you inside.”
“I’ll go and get to—”
“With your injured leg you can’t move fast enough. Besides, I know the underground network like the back of my hand. I’ll get to another location safely. I promise, Catch. Go with Daisy and wait for me.”
“Summer don’t...” He was shaking his head, squeezing her hands, not wanting to let them go.
They heard gunshots hitting The Opera House building.
“I must go, now,” said Summer. They kissed quickly. Summer pushed herself out of the space, Catch watched as she grabbed her clothes and ran out. The bullets resonated out front. He was worried for her.
“I think she really likes you,” the girl said to Catch.
“You might be right, about that,” said Catch, trying not to cry for the little girl’s sake. He slid the trapdoor shut and sat next to Daisy. He felt his heart lift into his throat as the chamber descended into the safe location far below.
