The Bunker

Chapter One: Rush Hour

New York City.

As the sun began to grow in the sky a heavy rain started to fall onto the streets below. Hoards of people hurrying along, clutching umbrellas and suitcases as they pushed past one another. Business men and woman rushed to get to the office, homeless watching passerby's drop spare change into their cup. Rush hour was upon them, sneaking up as it always does.

Settled into Midtown Manhattan stood a tall apartment complex. It wasn't the fanciest, more beat down than some of the buildings surrounding it, but still matched the scene. As rain paddled on the roof, water pooled heavily in low spots. The top flat had always suffered leaks, but as the year went on it seemed to get worse. A corner near the door dripped repeatedly into a small metal bucket, the sound becoming more of an echo as the bucket filled closer to the brim.

Across the room, near one of the large windows, was a box spring. It set on the floor without a frame and supported a mattress on top of it. The bed was pushed up as far as it could be to the lengthy window. There was an iPod shuffle lying on the floor beside the mattress, as the person wrapped in metal grey sheets stirred and lifted his arm, resting it above his head, the wire from the headphones intertwined in his fingers. When he finally opened his eyes, he starred groggily at the ceiling. Many would call him handsome, with a well sculpted face and light stubble framing his jawline. But his almond shaped eyes always caught the most attention, being they suffered from Heterochromia, casing one of his blue hues to shade slightly into brown.

When he pulled the headphones out of his ears he reached for the nightstand, his hands pushed at water bottles half full and crumbled pieces of paper before he finally touched the cell phone he was searching for. When he pulled it into view and clicked on the screen, he was less than amused.

5 missed calls.
3 new messages.

Annoyed, he swiped his screen to read;

-Lucas, I need my things. I'm not playing around. It's been six weeks.

-If you are trying to ignore me, it isn't working. I know where you live. We dated for two years.

-Lucas it's literally clothes and books, you can leave it outside your door. I'll be over at noon.

Lucas clicked the phone off without replying to a single message. They were all from the same person, who he didn't care to acknowledge, especially right after waking up. As he tossed the phone back on the bed he leaned up to swing his long legs off. Bare feet touched the cool hardwood and sent a chill up his spine. The heat had not worked very will ever since he moved in, unfortunately Lucas was becoming accustom to it. The apartment was spacious though, a long flat with an open floor plan. The living space had windows that spanned the entire length of the outer wall while the kitchen had rough painted sheetrock all around.

Pulling on a pair of jeans that had piled on the floor near him he shoved the phone into his pocket and stood up. Crossing over to the dresser that was littered with change, lighters, empty CD cases, and turned over picture frames he pulled open one of the drawers and took out a deep maroon v-neck tee, yanked it over his head and began digging in a basket for socks. As he bent over to pull the socks on, his phone buzzed. Lucas was annoyed by the disturbance, but he reached for it and, and without looking, answered it.

"Look, I fucking get it. I'll leave the shit out by the staircase." On the other end he heard breathing, they didn't answer for a moment, which only irradiated him more. Lucas almost said something again, but an unexpected voice answered before he could.

"Oh. Uh, no thank you...sounds like a drug deal done terribly wrong." The voice on the other end was thankfully not female. Lucas sank back against the wall, relieved.

"Sorry Sean. I thought you were Emily." Lucas balanced the cell on his shoulder while pulling on a pair of black work boots and lacing them up.

"Man that bitch is over and done with. Not worth your anxiety. Just give her back her shit." Sean's voice echoed slightly on the other end, probably due to his old cell. Lucas assured him he didn't need to keep using the ancient flip phone, but Sean liked the "feel" of it. Whatever that meant.

Almost dropping the phone as he tied his boot up, Lucas grabbed it, gathered his keys and shoved them into a faded leather satchel. "I know man, she just always says she will pick it up, then never arrives. This time I'm leaving it outside, it's her problem. No more sympathy from me."

On the other end Lucas could hear the faint voices of news anchors. "Are you watching the news again?" While he spoke, he pushed the closet door open to find a small box. It contained a couple sweaters, three books, a cell phone charger, two lipsticks, and a laptop. All things left behind in a hurry to leave without being caught.

Lucas grabbed the box of Emily's belongings and carried it under one arm as he locked the sliding door behind him.

"I know. But things seems serious. Korea did test launches, people are freaking out." Sean was a news junkie. If there was an arrest, he knew all the details. Child missing? Sean would google for updates. Storm approaching? Sean had your three day forecast mesmerized.

"Look, if something goes down, we wouldn't make it anyways. The Big Apple would be number two on that list, Washington being number one. They'll aim for asshole before us." Lucas placed the box beside his door and shuffled down the stairwell, as he hit the first floor landing Sean began in on the real reason he called.

"Mr. President...always having our best interests at heart. How kind." Lucas heard a small laugh, "Anyways, what are you up to today?" They had known each other for years, when Lucas had first moved here from Boston at eighteen, Lucas was a hood rat. No where to go and nothing to eat. Sean, being twenty-one at the time, met him outside a pub he was at and let him crash on his couch until Lucas could get on his feet. Ten years later, they were pretty much brothers. 

"Nothing." Lucas trotted down the steps, "I'm about to grab some coffee, then head to the park."

"You're off today?" He could hear Sean turning the television down.

"You could, uh, say that." Lucas shook his head, he worked at an Auto Body Shop in Upper Manhattan helping out with paint jobs and body work, but he was no mechanic. Which meant he didn't make really good money. "I got laid off."

"Again?"

Lucas laughed under his breath, "Yeah...again."

"Well...hoooooooow about some work?"

Once he stepped outside onto the pavement he realized the rain had lightened up. The black streets glistened as dirty cars roared over them, people still hurried along on their way to work, and soft music drifted through the air from early street performers. Lucas walked down the sidewalk, dodging the business men and woman who hurried past him. "What kind of work?"

"Well you see, it's confidential. This is something serious man, no joke. We need one more guy and I told Kept you'd be the man. It's at the museum. Same work as you did with us at Williamsburg." Lucas tapped a cross walk button and rubbed his thumb across the back of the phone.

"Sounds good, when?" Sean coughed on the other end before answering.

"One thirty. Don't be late." Lucas agreed and said his goodbyes, pulling the phone free from his ear and shoving it back home in his pocket. Originally he was going to visit Central Park and get some sketches done, but making some money sounded much more appropriate. As the light turned green he followed the herd of bodies across the street, making his way for the American Museum of Natural History.