The Metropolis Series #3: Quinn and Cassandra
32. Seconds to Midnight

I’D FORGOTTEN THAT Philip was supposed to call me. I had been so detached from everything that I would spend hours sitting on the floor with Julio’s lighter. I’d light it up and gaze at the small flame, watching it flicker until its vibrancy hurt my eyes.

Then, I would kill it and stare into nothingness.

When my phone finally rang, I could barely hear it. The sound would try to get my attention, breaking through the fences I’d built around myself. But it only seemed to get louder the longer I ignored it, and eventually, it won. I picked up my phone.

“Hello?” I croaked.

“Hey, Quinn,” Philip said. “I was able to talk to Mr. Simon. He’s ready to see you. I can come with you if you’d like.”

“Really? That’s great.”

As I spoke to him, I realized that any sort of emotion had been drained from my voice. I initially wanted to know what had happened to the Metropolis and why it suddenly looked like a tacky musical production on steroids. However, as I turned toward the red sky outside my desire to look for answers faded.

“Hey,” Philip said. “You okay?”

I blinked. “What?”

“You don’t sound so good. Is everything all right?”

I wondered if the news on Julio had reached the Archives. Mr. Simon most probably already knew, but I wasn’t sure if he’d tell his employees about it. I imagined that they’d be worried knowing that the leader of the Spanish House, the ever so fervent defender of the Metropolis, was no longer around. Maybe the devastation would be enough to corrupt a few of them, a situation Mr. Simon would actively try to avoid.

Besides, I didn’t want to spill my grief on Philip. I didn’t think we were close.

“Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Philip asked. “Mr. Simon told me about what happened to your friend, Julio…”

“Oh…” My voice dropped. “I see…”

“I’m sorry, Quinn. I didn’t know him, but I’m sure he was a really good friend.”

“Yeah… He was…”

“Must have been hard to take it all in. Are you sure you still want to see Mr. Simon?”

“I’m sure,” I insisted, clearing my throat. “The sooner we find out the truth, the better.”

“I see…” There was hesitance in Philip’s voice, but he went on. “So, where should we meet?”

“You know this place called The MacGuffin?”

“Of course I do. I can be there in an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you by the entrance.”

“Sure. See you then.”

At a little past two, I started getting ready to meet Philip. Ms. Louise had been lending me some clothes and slippers, and I realized that most of her wardrobe consisted of polo shirts, graphic tees, and jeans. They were all a bit too big for me, and most of them were either black, brown, or murky shades of green and purple. I decided to go for a plain black shirt and tucked the hem into a pair of faded jeans. I then put on the cheap pair of sneakers that she was kind enough to buy for me. I only had the heels I wore to my outing with Julio, and there was no way I could survive walking around the Metropolis’ cracked sidewalks in those.

Once I was dressed, I tucked Julio’s lighter in my pocket, slung my small bag over my shoulder, and stepped out of the bedroom. I found Ms. Louise completely dressed in her MacGuffin uniform as she lay on the couch outside the door. She must have been taking a nap between shifts, and seeing her there made me feel bad that I was once again leaving her premises without her knowing.

I lost Julio the last time I’d done that.

So I wouldn’t repeat my mistake, I tore a small piece of paper and wrote her a note:

Meeting a friend. Won’t be out long. —Quinn

I stuck it on the TV and headed out the door. I made my way through the apartment lobby, walking past the lady at the front desk who watched telenovelas on her phone. I then climbed down the rickety steps at the side of the building and walked toward The MacGuffin’s front entrance. Through the glass doors, I found Philip waiting for me in one of the booths. I stepped inside the café and approached him.

“Hey,” I said.

“Oh hey.” Philip put down his phone. “Ready to go.”

“Yeah.”

We hopped on a bus outside and headed uptown, further into the Metropolis. I wondered if things were going to get weirder the longer I looked through the window, and from what I’d seen, they didn’t. The city maintained the same level of craziness throughout the trip. If people were dancing around on the previous block, they were still on the next.

And the next.

And the next…

Eventually, I pulled the curtains over the window. I got tired of all the bright, flashy colors.

Meanwhile, Philip and I barely spoke to each other during the trip. I asked myself if he already knew what was going on with the Metropolis. Had Mr. Simon told him anything yet? Was it bad?

The answers drew near as the bus turned toward a small commercial area, and not long after, we reached the street where the ice cream parlor stood. Philip and I got off the bus, and hanging on the shop’s front door was a sign that read:

CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

Thank you for your understanding

Philip pulled out some keys from his trousers and unlocked the shop’s entrance. As I stepped in, I was greeted with the smell of dust as I walked through the door. The lights were off, and the chairs were placed upside down on the tables. I followed Philip into the staff room as he opened the trap door to the Archives.

“Let’s go,” he said.

We stepped onto the ladder and descended into the dark. When I squinted my eyes, I saw that the Archives were in disarray. The bookshelves were still aligned, but the Author’s works were all over the floor, the pages pouring out of their spines. The study toward the end was no different. Overturned books and notebooks were everywhere, and on the couch was Mr. Simon, lying spread eagle with a notebook on his stomach. His chest rose and fell, and his faint snores filled the room.

Philip walked toward the study, avoiding the books in his way. “Mr. Simon,” he called. “Quinn is here.”

He stopped by the couch, waiting for Mr. Simon to wake up. When he didn’t, Philip bent down and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Mr. Simon jolted awake, his eyes darting around the room.

“What? Where?” Mr. Simon muttered.

“Sir, it’s me, Philip,” Philip said.

Mr. Simon let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, my boy. It’s you.”

“Quinn is here to see you.”

“Hello, Mr. Simon,” I waved.

“Ah, yes. Hello.” Mr. Simon stood, motioning toward the couch he’d just been sleeping on. “Both of you, sit. We have some pressing matters to discuss.”

As Philip and I sat next to each other on the couch, Mr. Simon pulled out the chair from the desk and sat across from us.

“Now,” he began, placing his hands on his lap. “The Metropolis, as we know it, has seen some drastic changes for over a week now. I checked and double-checked the Archives to see what answers they could give me. It took me longer than I thought it would because I wanted to make sure my findings were accurate. I was afraid of making devastating assumptions, but it’s been days, and I suppose it’s safe to say that I have reached my conclusion.”

Mr. Simon’s pause made me nervous. In the silence, I heard my heart pound, ready to burst right out of my chest.

“Philip,” he then said. “Do you have the Lethe water?”

“Yes,” Philip replied, pulling out a small vial from his pocket. He opened it and pointed the brim to his chest. “I’m ready, Sir.”

With that, Mr. Simon let out a long, deep sigh. “The changes in the Metropolis is the Girl Beyond Bounds’ doing.”

“What?” Philip and I gasped.

The vial in Philip’s hands trembled, but he let out a deep breath and steadied himself. “I’m okay. I’m okay…”

“H—how is this possible?” I urged Mr. Simon. “How could she—”

“Only the Author’s powers could indeed make a change this significant,” Mr. Simon explained. “And that could only mean that the Girl Beyond Bounds has taken over those said powers. Then, there’s the Spanish House losing their first in command. We are truly in a dire situation…”

Then, he opened a desk drawer, spilling out a big black notebook on the floor. It twitched like a dying animal, spitting out words like blood. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t stop staring at it. I didn’t need Mr. Simon to tell me whose records those were.

They belonged to me. I remembered them from my last trip to the Archives.

“And this all leads to you, Ms. Vasquez,” Mr. Simon said eerily, looking down at the notebook with a darkened expression. “I now understand why the Girl Beyond Bounds chose you as a host. She saw great power in you that she wants for herself, and she has finally fostered the ability to steal it.”

At that, Philip slowly turned his head toward me with a wild look in his eyes. “Wait… so that means… you’re—”

“Easy now, Philip,” Mr. Simon warned. “Deep breaths, my boy. Deep breaths.”

Philip closed his eyes and complied.

“But yes, Quinn here is indeed the manifestation of the Author’s abilities. Only she can stop the Girl Beyond Bounds now that she’s accumulated all this power. I do not want to put so much pressure on you, but you may be our last hope…”

Mr. Simon’s words seemed to just bounce off my ears. I couldn’t accept it. With the recent failures I had with my powers, there was no way I could manifest the Author’s abilities.

“But I don’t seem to have such powers,” I began. “Well, not anymore, at least…”

Philip’s eyes widened. “So you had powers?”

“Well…”

I didn’t know where to begin. I was afraid of overwhelming Philip with so much information. Then again, I was glad he was with me. I wasn’t sure if I could deal with being alone with Mr. Simon.

“That is what brings me to our next point of concern,” Mr. Simon said, stroking his chin. He eyed the twitching notebook once more. “The Girl Beyond Bounds may have stolen your powers, but I believe that she hasn’t stolen all of you yet.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re still here. And two, I have the records to prove that the Girl Beyond Bounds’ modifications to the Metropolis are just surface level. She doesn’t seem to have the ability to change the basic mechanics of this world and write everything from scratch. For one thing, Lethe water seems to still work against corruption, but the question is, for how long?”

The mention of Lethe water got my brain to work. “Julio, he… he believed that dousing Cassandra in Lethe water will stop her once and for all. That was how he tried to defeat her before he…”

Then, my voice failed me. I didn’t want to cry in front of Mr. Simon, so I sat still and tried to contain myself.

“It’s a possible solution, yes,” Mr. Simon nodded. “But it may not be the most efficient one. You have to catch her first to do that, and she has proven to be quite the cunning type. It may not be easy to contain her.”

“So, what else can we do?” Philip asked Mr. Simon.

“I do not know yet, but we need to act quickly…”

With those words, he stared at me somberly, his single red eye glinting through his wistful gaze.

I hesitated. “Why is that…?”

“From the looks of it, you are all of what remains of the Author,” Mr. Simon began. “Your records are telling me that Cassandra’s actions are taking a hefty toll on your body. She is very close to stealing your entire existence, and if she manages to do so, then the Metropolis will be hers to take.”

The notebook continued to twitch by his feet, but it began to slow down, wheezing with every convulsion.

Mr. Simon let out a tired, small sigh. I began to understand the situation, but letting the old Archivist confirm my fears brought another level of dread upon my shoulders.

“She could strike at any moment, Quinn,” he said softly. “You may have very little time left…”

I never thought that my dying wish would be to eat as much ice cream as I possibly could. When we stepped out of the Archives, Philip offered me some ice cream from the parlor even though he knew it wouldn’t do much. A serving of the best ice cream in the world couldn’t change the fact that Cassandra was stealing my body and taking the Metropolis for herself, but I still accepted his offer.

Philip went through the ingredients in the fridge and made me a banana split—with extra syrup and sprinkles. When I had my first scoop, I couldn’t stop. The coldness numbed me down, and I craved it. That week was the worst the Metropolis had to offer, and I didn’t want any of it—

“Ugh,” I muttered, clutching my head.

“Brain freeze?” Philip asked.

I nodded.

“You were scarfing down the bowl like your life depended on it.”

“Well, it seems like I don’t have much of it left.”

Philip sighed. “Quinn, I know it’s tough. I wouldn’t know what I’d do if I were in your situation, but you heard Mr. Simon. You have the Author’s powers—”

“Had,” I corrected him, my mouth filled with ice cream.

“Say what you want, but remember you’re the source of Cassandra’s powers. Without you, she’s nothing.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Okay, that was wrong.” Philip cleared his throat. “What I’m trying to say is that your powers must still be in you somewhere. We just need to find a way to get them to work again. Mr. Simon and I will not stop looking for answers. We’ll get through this…”

It bothered me how much like Julio he sounded. I wanted to believe him, but it was hopeless. It was funny how quickly I’d gotten from not wanting to get in trouble with my parents to where I was: All along, I was the person I’d been looking for, but someone else had taken that identity away from me.

The clock was ticking on me. Mr. Simon couldn’t tell how much time I had left before Cassandra would fully take over. It could be a week, a day, or maybe even an hour.

I took another spoonful of ice cream until I was done with the whole bowl. “Can I have another one?” I asked Philip.

“No,” he said sternly. “And it’s getting dark. Shouldn’t you be heading home or some—”

Before he could finish, his eyes widened. He then narrowed them as he looked around the room.

“Did you… feel that?” he asked me.

I looked up from my empty bowl of ice cream. “Feel what?”

“I dunno, but something isn’t right. I can’t tell what it is. It’s like…” He looked down at his palms. “My existence… It feels different.”

If I weren’t so depressed, I would have reacted differently. Instead, Philip’s words swam through my ears, and I paid little attention to how confused he looked.

“What do you mean?” I then asked, trying to keep up with the conversation.

“I’m suddenly aware of things—a lot of things…” he murmured. “But at the same time, I feel detached from them. Why is that…?”

Before I could reply, Philip’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

The person on the other line spoke.

“Oh hey, Rachael. What’s up?”

The two conversed with each other for a while, and the longer they did, worry grew on Philip’s face.

“St. John’s? What’s wrong with St. John’s?”

The mention of St. John’s got my attention. I tried to piece together what Philip and Rachael were talking about just from the former’s reactions. Things looked bad, that was for sure, but Philip didn’t mention any details.

“I see…” he then said, nodding slowly. “I’ll be there.”

He then hung up.

“What’s going on?” I asked him.

Philip shook his head. “Students are going insane at St. John’s. The teachers are trying to calm them down, but some are freaking out themselves.”

“Wait, what do you mean? Why are they freaking out? What’s going on?”

“You know, running around, screaming, breaking down crying… And I don’t know yet. Rachael said she’d felt it, too: that strange sense of awareness and detachment I had. The way Rachael said it, she suddenly felt lost…”

Lost…

That word repeated itself in my head. I didn’t know why; it seemed so small and insignificant, but it brought back memories. It was late, and I was in a car riding deep into the surrounding forests of the Metropolis. It was the day Julio and I first met.

I was once a character in the Author’s story, he’d said. I was so lost. Found myself wandering here in these woods for a while…

“That was how many students described it, too,” Philip continued, emerging from his seat. “And shortly after, everyone started breaking down. I’m going to St. John’s to see what’s going on.”

“I’ll go with you,” I said. I stood up slowly from my seat.

“Are you sure? Quinn, you don’t look so good. You’re pale, and your eyes look tired. Maybe you should get some rest and—”

“It’s okay. It’s about time I went back to school. I want to see what’s going on.”

Philip considered my words. He looked like he wanted to argue with me, but he didn’t.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

We gathered our things and left the ice cream parlor, leaving the empty bowl of ice cream on the table.

Amidst the vibrant red sky, the dancing crowds, and the flashing street lights, St. John’s was the same as it could ever be. It stood pale and gray amidst the vibrancy, making you think that Cassandra’s sinister makeover had left it untouched. I followed Philip across the parking lot to the school’s main entrance as the campus walls loomed ahead. As we walked past the rows of cars, I caught the sight of something familiar from the corner of my eye.

I stopped. My parents’ car was parked outside the campus. Leaves gathered on the windshield, blocking my view to the inside.

“Philip, wait,” I called.

Slowly, I walked toward the vehicle and peered through the windows. When I found my parents inside, I felt guilty. What were they doing? Had they been waiting for me all along? I had avoided their calls and messages for an entire week, and it didn’t feel right to face them.

But I would soon find out that making amends with my parents was the least of my worries.

I didn’t waste any more time. I tapped on the window to the passenger’s seat and got Mom’s attention. She had eyes like saucers and a crude smile on her face. Dad turned to me, and he too had that same, unsettling expression. I had seen it on all of the Metropolitans I’d passed by, but seeing it on my parents was another level of creepy.

“Mom…” I stammered. “Dad…?”

Mom leaned toward the window. “Excuse me,” she said, her voice almost singing. “But who are you?”

I couldn’t believe it. Mom didn’t know who I was.

I struggled to form an answer. “I… I’m Quinn—Quintana. Your daughter…?”

“What are you talking about?” Dad laughed mockingly. “We don’t have any kids.”

“What?” I gasped. “But—”

“Leave us alone before we call security,” Mom said, but she sounded so cheerful like she’d just won the lottery. She’d never sounded like that in my life.

I turned around, knowing that talking wouldn’t go anywhere.

I had a bad feeling about what just happened, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“What happened back there?” Philip asked me.

“Let’s just go,” I said as I walked past him.

Philip shrugged and followed me to the main campus.

I thought that avoiding the topic would help distract me, but my mind didn’t shut up. My own parents didn’t know I existed. It was a sign that I was quickly slipping away from this world.

But I knew that I needed to keep hanging on the minute I stepped into St. John’s main campus. As Philip had mentioned, students, staff, and faculty were in a frenzy. Some were running around screaming, some were staring blankly at a wall, and the rest curled up on the floor and sobbed uncontrollably.

“Whoa,” Philip gasped. “It’s much worse than I thought.”

And it was. It was different being in the middle of it all, hearing choirs of distraught voices echoing all around you. Philip and I walked slowly amidst the crowd, looking for familiar faces. I wondered where the rest of Deus Ex Machina were. Where was Rachael? Curtis? As I searched, I found Bree sitting on the floor by the lockers. Her body trembled, her knees were up to her chest, and her face was buried in her hands.

“Bree…?” I approached her.

Philip turned in Bree’s direction, as well. As he did, Bree lifted her head, and I was surprised to find tears streaming down her face. Her ruined mascara drew heavy black lines down her cheeks as her lips trembled. Her eyes darted around the room, and she could barely look straight at Philip and me.

“Bree, what happened?” Philip asked.

“I—” Bree squeaked. “I… don’t know… I was just…”

She then broke into loud, piercing sobs. Philip bent down to comfort her. I never thought I would see Bree like that. She had always been so confident and bursting with energy. Perhaps I had thought that she would be the one leading everyone. During the eve of the Founding Festival, I saw how she had taken over the crowd when students slacked off to prepare. I imagined the same scenario taking place in the middle of all the madness.

But that wasn’t the case. And it concerned me.

Then, Rachael emerged from the other end of the hall. She marched toward us with her phone in hand.

“There you guys are,” she said. “My God, I’ve been looking all over the place. Oh, and Quinn, where have you—”

She paused when she looked at me. Then, her eyes widened.

“Quinn,” she gasped. “What happened to you? You look pale.”

I held up a hand. “We can deal with that later. What’s going on? What happened to all these people?”

Her brows creased. “Hmm… I can’t say for sure yet. I’ve been set on finding you guys. Well, I guess it’s just Curtis and Harumi left. Let me see if I can reach them. Signal has been whack…”

Rachael unlocked her phone to find the screen flickering. “What the…?” She hit the side of her phone. “You were working fine just earlier. Why are you acting up now?”

She hit the side again. And the screen went black.

Philip looked up. “Phone’s not working?”

“Yeah,” Rachael sighed. She pressed her phone’s power button and held it for a few seconds, hoping to revive the device. She groaned when it didn’t. “This is not good.”

“Damn,” Philip said. “It’s going to take a lot of allowances to be able to afford a new phone.”

“It’s not that. And if I were to get a new one, it would be useless. It’s another sign…”

“Of what?” I asked.

Rachael’s eyes were filled with conviction as she looked at me.

“The Metropolis,” she whispered. “Do you know of it?”

I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t want to corrupt her.

That was when Philip stood. “She knows,” he said slowly. “Why?”

Rachael paced around in front of us. “Certain detachment,” she began. “That feeling of being lost, everyone freaking out, and now even my phone stopped working…”

Then, she stopped.

“I’ve felt and experienced all of this before,” she said, looking concerned. “It feels so weird… to know everything…”

I narrowed my eyes. “Wait. You’re not saying—”

“I get why everyone’s acting all weird. We’ve all been forgotten…”

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