The Metropolis Series #2: Quinn Beyond Bounds

EVERYONE LOVES something, but one can never have too much of it. Take a burger, for instance. You’re in your favorite restaurant, and you treat yourself to lunch as the sauce just melts in your mouth. Tasty, right? Order another one, though, and you won’t really feel as good as you once did. You might as well get a stomach ache or a heart problem with all that grease—or an empty wallet. (Hey, it’s an expensive restaurant. You’re treating yourself, remember?)

The same thing goes with two Curtises. One Curtis was enough to get me flustered and have my heart perform little somersaults in my chest. Meanwhile, having another one around gave me vertigo.

It scared me how much the two looked so alike: red hair, pale skin, freckles, and a St. John’s uniform. However, what set the other Curtis apart was the mortified expression on his face.

“What are you doing with him?” the second Curtis asked me. “That’s not Curtis. I am.”

“No, Quinn,” the first Curtis said. “Don’t listen to him. He’s an impostor!”

“Who are you calling an impostor, you impostor? I’m Curtis, and you know it. Right, Quinn?”

“Are you seriously gonna listen to this guy? He’s not Curtis. I am.”

“No, I am!”

They were so absorbed in their skirmish that I took the chance and bailed. I had enough of this weirdness; I needed to get out, find a way to escape this nightmare. I wiped my lips, rubbing off the remains of Curtis’ kiss with my sleeve. I was stupid for falling into a trap like that.

I promised myself that I would never be fooled again.

I ran past a couple of students studying—pretending to study—and they each gave me a “hush!” as my feet met the floorboards. When I was finally out of the library, I thought that I could breathe.

I was wrong.

In fact, I wasn’t even at St. John’s anymore. I was in a place that was way too familiar that it scared me even more than it should.

The arcade.

The place was not only loud in a literal sense. I shivered as I remembered how Curtis and I danced around the claw machines and whack-a-moles. Not that it was an unpleasant memory; it was the happiest I had ever been, and that was what made it hurt the most.

A cold breeze embraced me as I heard music. It was far too familiar to ignore—especially since it was the very song Curtis and I danced to…

It was a good song, so good that I had to stop my feet from tapping and my heart from skipping.

Then I saw him.

Some students had gotten in trouble for going to the arcade in their school uniforms, but for now, those were the least of my concerns.

I found Curtis by the dance arcade, killing every move like he was born to do so. The game’s disembodied voice showered him with compliments, and the screen flashed with stars and trophies like fireworks on New Year’s Day. As the beat slowed down, Curtis looked at me with a beckoning smile. Even with his eyes off the screen, he still got perfect combinations, and his score exponentially skyrocketed.

“Hey, Quinn!” he called. “Wanna dance?”

His feet were mesmerizing to watch, and the way they moved so perfectly to the rhythm created a luring trance in my head. Curtis was like a siren—a dancing siren—calling me to join him, and once I did, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to escape.

“C’mon, Quinn,” he said once more. “It’ll be fun!”

He materialized before me, taking my hand. He led me to dance with him, which was actually quite fun, just like the last time. We were in sync. We were meant for this. This moment was ours—until the game decided to ruin it.

What are you doing? it asked. That’s not the right way to groove!

I looked into Curtis’ eyes. There was something in them that glinted, and he stared at me like a madman. He twirled me around so forcefully that he got me stumbling off my feet, so he caught me in his arms as he smiled, his teeth blinding white.

“We had so much fun dancing, didn’t we?” he said.

I gulped. I was falling for Cassandra’s games again. I needed to get out of here!

But of course, this world had other ideas.

Initiating hard mode! the game’s robotic voice then declared.

All of a sudden, the song’s mood changed. Instead of feeling swept away, my feet felt like they were linked by chains, and my ears rang as the music amplified. I tried to run, but Curtis would just reach out his hand and pull me back in. I made desperate glances around the room, trying to find a way out.

A stuffed panda was sitting on the bench just right in front of us, and he stared at me with his beady eyes and a cute little grin. I then realized that I had forgotten all about him. Curtis had won him in the claw machine when we went on that date; we must have left him alone when we left the arcade that day.

I then scolded myself for thinking about a stuffed panda when I needed to find my way out of this situation.

Curtis continued to spin me around, which wasn’t all that fun anymore. My vision blurred, and all I could see were the faint lights of the arcade screens streaking against the lenses of my glasses. When I could momentarily see clearly, my eyes were on that panda again, and I noticed how close he was to my grasp. He was fluffy; if I slept next to him, his fur would probably give me allergies.

That was when a solution popped into my head. In one swift motion, I grabbed the stuffed panda and shoved it straight into Curtis’ face. Once he was distracted, I ran for the arcade’s exit. The games that surrounded me might have flashed brighter than the town’s square on Christmas day, but I never dared to look back.

Out in the open, the smog in the Metropolis’ air didn’t feel so bad. Skyscrapers glinted on the horizon, and the beating sun hurt my eyes. I needed a place to go, and fast.

I could hear Curtis calling my name.

I figured that it wasn’t the time to overthink. I ran to the nearest store I could find, not even bothering to read what the sign said. A bell rang as I stormed into the place—

And what were the odds that it’d be the ice cream parlor—another place directly related to Curtis?

Wonderful.

The customers stared at me as I caught my breath. I recognized them; there was the nice lady, the dad and his toddler, and all the other people that had once turned into zombies. It was surreal how happy they looked and how welcoming their smiles were.

The more I stared, the more I could tell that this world wasn’t real. For one thing, the ice cream parlor was actually a few blocks away from the arcade, and I had just run across the street. This world, Cassandra’s dark, twisted cove, was keeping me here, making me want to stay.

“Hey there, Quinn!” a voice said from behind me.

I shrieked.

I turned to the door, and I was stunned to find Curtis in a pastel blue uniform. He held up a notepad and smiled. “May I take your order?”

“No!” I exclaimed, pointing a finger at him. “You’re not real. You’re not real!”

I spun on my heel and trudged off. This was getting ridiculous. What was Cassandra trying to prove?

There was a door labeled AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY at the very end of the ice cream parlor. I hadn’t noticed it before, but I made my way toward it in hopes of an escape route.

“No, Quinn!” Ice Cream Curtis yelled. “You don’t wanna—”

I opened the door—only to almost fall into a pit.

For a while, I found myself staring into nothingness; the void was drawing me in.

Was this the way out?

Before I could come to a conclusion, Ice Cream Curtis grabbed my wrist, pulling me back into the parlor and closing the door shut.

“What did I tell you?” he screeched. He held my face, lifting my chin up so I could look into his eyes. “This world is trying to trap you, and it’s mad. All those other me’s you’ve escaped from are all out to get you now.”

As if on cue, there was a thunderous knock on the parlor’s front door. To prove his point, Ice Cream Curtis rolled up the blinds to show me three other Curtises in school uniforms, but their eyes glowed red as their nails—no, claws—scratched the glass.

The customers acted like they saw and heard nothing. They continued to eat their ice cream merrily as they did nonchalantly. I envied them.

I released myself from Ice Cream Curtis’ grip, running toward the door where the AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY sign hung. I swung it open, and nothing but a normal storage closet stood before me.

“Quinn, you need to trust me,” Ice Cream Curtis said. “You can’t keep running away from them. It only gets worse.”

At this point, I couldn’t think straight. I looked to where all those Curtises knocked relentlessly on the door, and the door itself looked like it was about to break.

Ice Cream Curtis extended a hand. “Come with me,” he said, his eyes full of sincerity. “I can show you the way out.”

It was tempting, indeed. This Curtis was different. He didn’t flirt with me or make me stay. Maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth.

As I was about to take his hand, I heard someone say, “He’s lying, Quinn.”

I turned my head to see none other than Rachael herself, eyeing me like she was either waiting for me to make a mistake or hoping and praying that I didn’t.

“Remember what I said…” she added.

When I blinked, Rachael had mysteriously disappeared.

This world was becoming weirder and weirder.

A hinge from the parlor’s door broke free, and it rolled across the tiles with a clang! Ice Cream Curtis looked clearly panicked by this, bouncing impatiently as he held up his hand and waited for me to take it.

“Come on, Quinn,” he urged. “We don’t have much time!”

I turned to him, narrowing my eyes. “How do I know that you’re not one of them? For all I know, you can just be some kind of trap!”

At this, Ice Cream Curtis flinched, wrinkling his nose, and he gazed at me with a pair of wild eyes. He smiled wryly.

“I see,” he said, his tone silvery. “Smart girl.”

Rachael was right. This Curtis was lying, too.

The way he had turned into a monster and attacked was enough to prove it, and I had nowhere to go.