Chapter 2, Part 4 "Javier" Wednesday, June 1, 2033
As I walk home from the L-train, Maxime is sitting on his front porch steps which is unusual because he's always on his computer. He's sitting in the shade of the porch overhang wearing cargo shorts and a tee-shirt with some Chinese writing on it, but the afternoon sun is shining on his pale bare feet. I walk over, sit down next to him, and tickle his bare knee. He giggles and jerks his leg away. I like to make him laugh. We look at each other and he leans in and gives me a quick kiss on my lips just because he can. I smile. He notices that I'm staring at the two phones in his hands. "Remember when we promised each other that we'd always be honest?" he asks.
"Yeah. No secrets."
"C'mon," Maxime says as he takes my hand and lifts me off the steps.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"You'll see," Maxime says with growing excitement.
I'm led through his living room and kitchen, down into the basement, and across the room to a door -- a door I've seen many times because Maxime and I have often played billiards down here in his basement ever since I moved into the neighborhood. In fact, it was his mom who told my mom about the house for sale next door five years ago.
"Here," Maxime says as he hands me one of his phones. I know it's not his usual phone because we play with each other's phones all the time. It's different, but an otherwise normal-looking phone. "Put it right here." He points to the wall next to the doorknob.
I don't question him. I trust him. I know I'm about to find out what this is all about. I'm intrigued. I place the phone where he tells me, and I hear a click.
"Open the door," Maxime says with that same jubilant facial expression he had upstairs. Now I understand that this is his, `I have a big surprise, and I'm really excited to show it to you,' facial expression. He's never tried to surprise me before. Not like this. I smile. I like smiling. Maxime raises his eyebrows and smiles more in response to my smile. The word exuberance pops into my mind. My excitement grows as I feel Maxime's grip tighten on my hand. Of course, I don't show it. That requires conscious effort and I still need lots of practice with that.
I open the door and see a long dimly lit descending staircase, longer than the one from the kitchen to the basement. Knowing Maxime wants me to go through the door and down the stairs, I proceed with him close behind me and Aslan bringing up the rear, wagging his tail. It's a long way down, and I realize I've been counting the steps as my foot lands on number 26. When I reach the bottom, I've counted 40. What stands before me is a door like I've seen only at the entrance of bank vaults. Maxime is still gripping my hand, almost to point of causing pain, but I don't say a word for fear of crushing his excitement. I had no idea he was so strong.
"Put the phone here," Maxime says as he points to a spot on the wall next to a keypad, and as I place the phone on the wall, he presses some numbers on the keypad. After turning a big handle on the door, I see a small light on the keypad change color and hear a slight hiss as Maxime slowly pushes the door inward.
I know I'm supposed to display some sort of emotional response of surprise or shock in this situation, but instead I feel fascination and intrigue. I'm enjoying this, and I'm with Maxime. No matter what's happening or where you are, when you're with the one you love, you're not lost. You're where you're supposed to be.
Still holding my hand, Maxime leads me through the door and before me is a small windowless apartment with a cozy living room, dining room, and kitchen at the far end. I see doors along each side of the room, translucent ceiling lighting, and a huge TV in the wall. Aslan follows me through the big vault door as if this is nothing new to him.
"I'm not supposed to show you our bunker, but you're my boyfriend. Wait ... are you my boyfriend?"
After pondering for a few seconds, I say, "I guess so. I hadn't really thought about it. Okay, we're boyfriends," I say. "I guess this means no cheating, huh?"
"Yeah, right. Like that's an option for either of us. Anyway, I don't want any secrets between us. You know my parents are army Captains, right?"
"Yeah," I respond.
"Well, they were offered a secret mission by the Department of Defense."
"What kind of mission?" I ask, but looking around this room with concrete walls and no windows, I might be able to guess what that mission is.
"It's our family's job to help the government with clean up and rebuilding if something ever happens."
"Like what?"
"Apocalypse. Civilization breakdown. You know. The usual doomsday stuff."
"Doomsday stuff?" I say as I give Maxime a perplexed look which I'm not sure if I got right or not.
"Look at me, Javier. I'm serious. When this house was built back in 2028, the Department of Defense built this bunker underneath it. My parents and I were assigned to live in this house. I'm not supposed to tell anyone about our bunker. But ... I'm telling you."
"This place is really cool. And it's even cooler that you're not supposed to tell me," I say.
"Now, promise me you'll keep this as our secret."
"I promise," I respond.
"And if the end of the world ever comes, I promise not to come down here without you?"
"A promise for a promise," I say. "But what about your parents?" I ask.
"I don't care. They'll let you in if the alternative means leaving me outside."
"What was that phone you were using to get in here?" I ask.
"The government gave us special phones and told us to keep them with us, like literally on our bodies, all the time. We were also told never to be more than fifteen minutes away from this bunker, regardless of the mode of transportation -- on foot, by bicycle, or by car."
"That's why you've never been on any trips since I moved here," I say.
"Exactly."
"What if your parents come home right now?"
"That'll be the fun part. I'll hide you, like they do in the movies. I have the perfect place where I know they'll never look."
I don't feel like asking anymore questions for now. Instead, I want to explore. I need more information. Questions can come later. That's how my brain works best. "Can I look around?" I ask.
"Sure. Mi casa es su casa. I'm gonna put a pizza in the oven."
"Extra cheese, please."
"You got it."
I try to open the first door on my right and find it locked. Maxime gets busy in the kitchen at the other end of the room. I'll ask him what's behind this door later. I try the next door on the right and find it unlocked. Inside is a dark room with two dim computer screens, more keyboards like the ones Maxime uses upstairs in his room, microphones, and wires going in every direction. Maps of the greater Chicago area are hanging on the opposite wall. This is a totally intense place. I like it.
The last door on the right, off the kitchen, is also unlocked. Behind it is a large well-stocked storage room with lots of food, some medical supplies, a few tools, and quite a few boxes with various labels identifying what's inside. I see a trap door in the floor and another one in the ceiling. I'll explore those later. I turn around and walk into the small kitchen.
Maxime's done grating the extra cheese, puts it in the frozen pizza, and puts the pizza in the oven. He turns around to face me and looks up into my eyes. The look on his face is different now, not like it was when he was full of mischievous excitement as he led me down the stairway. He looks serious now, his eye contact is ... fierce ... yeah, that's the right word ... and I grapple with this new side of my best friend, sensing an awakening within myself as well. He's waiting. I just stare at him, knowing he wants something, but not sure exactly what. I'm still thinking about this place and how I want to explore the other doors I haven't opened yet. As I study his face, I see what I saw the other day when I kissed him for the first time. And we're alone now. My mind races to find a similar situation in my memory of some scene in a book I've read or a movie I've watched and just as quickly as the pictures begin flashing through my mind's eye, I stop myself. This is Maxime. I don't want to copy anymore. I want to be me, honest, whoever that is. I owe my boyfriend that much, at least.
Deep down, I really do know what he wants. Pretending to be confused is a bad habit I use for distancing myself from others. Closeness increases anxiety. But this is Maxime. My hands slowly reach out between his arms and sides, my arms lovingly wrapping around his upper torso, pulling his body against mine until I can feel his heart beating against my chest. His arms reach up, and I feel his hands settle on my head, his fingers working through my hair, pulling my head down. Our heads tilt, our lips meet, and this time our kiss is slow and soft and sweet and gentle ... and long. I like his breath because it's his. I love everything about him because it's his. My eyes feel hot. The wet streaks on my cheeks come from the realization that my brain has finally given way to my heart -- something I've always dreamed of, but feared I might never experience. Our teeth bump a few times as his hands grip my hair more forcefully, pulling me toward him with more and more passion. Our chests press together as my arms embrace him more tightly, my fingertips feverishly digging into the softness of his back, eventually pulling his shirt up and kneading his smooth skin first with one hand, and then both hands, pulling him into me ever more tightly all the while. Struggling to breathe, we finally break off our kiss, panting laboriously as we come up for air. Looking into Maxime's eyes only fleetingly, I pull him close once again, bury my face between his neck and shoulders, my lips now feeling his pulse, and finally I whisper, "I really love you a lot, Maxime."
"Yeah ... me too, Javier," Maxime says between ragged breaths.