*****
“Well that went pretty well.”
The pair of them, Matt Callaghan and Jane Walker, stood backstage as Today Show aides rushed around packing up their stuff. Everything they’d brought with them was going in Matt’s backpack – Jane liked to keep her hands free in case of attack.
“Hmph,” Jane grunted. She continued to glare at the NBC employees rushing around. One of them, a long black-haired Latina girl who couldn’t have been much older than she was, hurried over.
“Ms Walker, what did your coat-?”
“I didn’t have a coat,” Jane growled, narrowing her eyes. The aide flinched and hurried off in the opposite direction.
“Be nice,” Matt chided.
“Hngh,” Jane grunted again.
“‘Hngh’? What’s ‘Hngh’? Use your words.”
Jane ignored him. “We need to get out of here.”
“We are getting out of here,” Matt replied, “Just cool it a sec, I told Dad I’d get Leno’s autograph. And Taylor wanted Kevin Eubanks’? Come on.” He sidled over and put his hand reassuringly around her hip. “We’re not in a rush.”
“The longer we stay-”
“Yeah, yeah, threats of imminent murder. I know. Just relax.”
“I don’t know how you can say that,” Jane grumbled. She looked around the long hallway full of scattered props. “You’re the one they keep trying to shoot.”
“Yes, well, I have complete confidence in my bodyguard.”
“Don’t joke. This is serious.”
“I know Jane. I’m taking it seriously.” He glanced up and down the hall. “Ooh, I think that’s Andre with my sandwiches.”
The portly, black-suited page with thinning hair and a bowl cut waddled over and handed Matt a brown paper bag.
“Here you go, Mr Callaghan. Straight from the craft table.”
“A gentleman and a scholar Andre, thank you.” Matt opened his backpack and began shifting space for the bag of sandwiches, wedging them delicately between his Converses and civilian clothes. Behind him, Jane rolled her eyes.
“I wasn’t sure which ones you wanted,” Andre stammered, “So I got you two of each; if that’s not enough-”
“Andre, my man, that is plenty. Thank you. I’d give you a tip but-”
“No, please,” said the page, giddy, “Don’t mention it, it’s nothing, it’s just my job.”
“And you do it splendidly. Autographs?”
“Got them.” He handed Matt some signed photos. “Mr Leno and Mr Eubanks say they’re sorry you can’t stay.”
“As am I. But well done. We good to go?” He shot a look over at the nearby burly NBC security guard, who nodded and pushed open the door to the fire stairs.
“Birds are on the move,” he called into his earpiece; then, “Good luck Mr Callaghan. Lady Dawn.”
“Thanks,” Matt thanked him, but Jane was already moving, pulling Matt out the fire escape and down into the concrete stairwell. The door slammed shut behind them as they began to circle down.
“Ok, so security plan says we’re getting off at-”
“B1. But we’re actually taking the back exit from-”
“B4. Got it.” They marched onwards in silence, Jane leading the way, checking impatiently around every rail and bend.
A few moments of concentrated walking passed as they descended floor by floor.
“Sandwiches. Seriously.”
“Hey. I’ve been starving myself all week to look skinny. Or, well-” he re-hefted the backpack, “-you know. Less fat.”
“You’re not fat.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
They continued walking.
“Do you think they brought it?” Jane asked eventually, her eyes still fixed resolutely forward. Behind her, Matt shrugged.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Why wouldn’t they? It makes sense. It’s reasonable.”
“What, that the Black Death was carrying around a locket with…” Her voice trailed off as they passed the door to level 23.
“Better than the alternative,” Matt said darkly, “Better than… you know… Pokémon.”
‘Pokémon’ was the pair’s code word for ‘time travel’. They’d started using the phrase between them in case anybody accidentally overheard what they were saying in public.
“Goddamn Pokémon.”
“Speaking of,” said Matt, “Any more signs of… you know…?”
“The Pokémon trainer?”
“Yeah, him.”
“Apart from one time when I was thinking about playing Pokémon and he showed up to tell me not to because I’d get very, very sick?”
“Yeah, apart from that.”
“No.” Jane’s mouth twitched in a line. Matt frowned.
“I wonder if he’s done now. Like this is mission complete.”
“Maybe.” Jane allowed herself a moment to hope. “I mean the Black Death’s done, what could possibly be worse?”
“See, now you’ve done it,” Matt complained. They continued to trudge down the stairs. “Now everything’s definitely going to go to hell.”
They lapsed into silence, continuing down the concrete spiral.
“What you said back there, about other girls,” Jane asked him, “Did you mean that?”
“Jane,” Matt replied, sounding exasperated, “It was a joke.”
“Yeah, I know. I just… do girls really send you letters?”
“What?” he complained, “Is that so hard to believe?” Ahead of him, Jane narrowed her eyes.
“No.”
Matt struggled not to roll his eyes. “I bet you have more groupies than I do.”
“That’s… that’s not fair.”
“What isn’t?”
“I…” Jane shook her head. “Never mind.”
“Jane,” Matt drawled, lacing the girl’s name with equal parts affection and scorn, “I am not going to leave you for a groupie. I love you. Stop being dumb.”
Jane grumbled something under her breath but nevertheless looked mildly more satisfied. Matt leaned forward and squeezed her hand. They continued to descend.
Finally, they reached the bottom of the stairwell.
“B4,” Matt confirmed, nodding at the number beside the doorway, “See, easy-peasy. You’ve got to go to B4 before you leave the building.”
“Genius. Come on.” Jane shouldered open the door and moved through, Matt following closely behind. He didn’t know a hundred percent where they were going – Jane had been the one who had gone over the maps, and it seemed safer to leave these sort of things to someone who knew tactically what they were doing. Academy training and all that.
“Is that a Maserati…” Matt wondered, as she pulled him past a very low, very fast-looking car.
“No distractions. Come on.” She rounded a cement pillar and locked eyes on the south-side door. “There’s our exit.”
“Well done.”
“Shut up.” She turned to him. “Remember, no hesitation. Hang on once we see sky.”
“I know how to get carried,” Matt grumbled. Then he added: “If we were just going to fly out of here, why didn’t we take the roof?”
“Too predictable. Gotta keep the bad guys guessing.”
“Ah. Knew there was a reason.” He leaned up and kissed her on the cheek. “And they say you can’t have looks and brains.”
“They say you don’t have either,” she smirked.
“Hey, that’s mean. I have fangirls, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come on.” She pushed open the fire escape door, and the pair stepped outside.
Into a sudden wave of noise and light.
“MATT!”
“MATT!”
“JANE!”
“LADY DAWN!”
The two recoiled. Somehow, the alleyway they’d come out into wasn’t empty but heaving – milling with a throng of fans and photographers, paparazzi, people holding up placards. Jane took a step back, trying to keep her face from breaking into despair and shock.
“How…” she hissed, “What…?!”
“Stay calm.”
“MATT!”
“LADY DAWN!”
“GIVE US A KISS!”
“GIVE ME YOUR AUTOGRAPH!”
The door had opened up into a laneway and two small concrete stairs. The pair now stood at the top of those stairs, facing the heaving, flashing crowd standing between them and a clear escape. Matt leaned in close.
“Ah well,” he muttered, “Nothing for it. Through the adoring throng.”
“Matt-”
“Come on. Happy face.”
He straightened up, smiling towards the crowd with a wave, which caused another surge of shrieking and a blinding flash of camera bulbs. Jane forced herself not to grimace. They’re not enemies, she tried to tell herself. These people were on their side. She tried to move her lips into something resembling a smile and raised her hand up into what felt like a stunted, mechanical wave. The crowd shrieked anyway.
She descended the two small steps as members of NBC’s security team came pushing through from the alleyway exits, shouting at the crowd in a vain attempt to maintain order, trying to clear a path. Jane gripped Matt’s hand just tight enough not to break it, and then began moving shoulder-first through the scrum.
“JANE! JANE!”
“LADY DAWN!”
“MATT!”
“WE LOVE YOU!”
“SHOW US THE LIGHT!”
I’ll show you the light in a second, Jane glowered. She resisted the urge to blast out and flatten the entire freaking lot of them. Ahead of her, the security guards were making almost no progress against the legion of fans who were pressing in trying to get a closer look. Necks craned, people flew. A few people were stuck to walls and someone teetered over the crowd on elasticised legs.
“Excuse me,” Matt smiled, following behind her, “Excuse me. Sorry. Coming through.”
Jane glanced back to see that with his free hand she wasn’t holding, Matt had scooped up a felt‑tipped marker and was messily signing a scrap of paper. She rolled her eyes so hard they hurt.
“Excuse me,” she repeated, shouldering her way forward, “Excuse me. Yes. Thank you. Move.”
Shouts and screams. The discordant flash of lights. A sea of faces. Movement and sound.
The world sucked in around them, and Jane felt her chest growing tight, her breathing nervous. She forced herself to breathe, took a moment to close her eyes, then continued pushing slowly through the crowd. Her heart was beginning to pound.
“Come on,” she said to Matt, though she didn’t know if he could hear her, didn’t know if she could hear herself – there was so much noise, people pressing in all around them… she turned, glancing across the crowd, looking for flashes of powers.
She turned back to see Matt following, her hand still in his, his body almost submerged by the excited throng. He smiled.
“It’s ok,” he assured her. Despite his size and how close they loomed, he seemed unflustered by the people, by their yelling and calling and pawing, grasping hands. He paused and stopped squeezing after her, turned around to answer someone in the crowd. “It’s ok.”
And at that moment, behind him, an invisible space flickered, and there appeared a man holding a gun. And before Jane could do anything – before anybody could flinch or scream or run – the man drew the weapon, pointed it at Matt’s head, and fired.
“NO!”