Sudden Lockdown

by Amos Talshir

  The announcer’s voice blasted out from the speakers, drowning out Dr. Thomas’s thundering hoarseness. The announcer called the naked man to surrender to the sharpshooters, who were standing hesitantly next to him, their weapons aimed. But first of all, the announcer declared, he had to get dressed. The authorities of the new revolution would not put up with such a blatant violation of public decency. Simon translated the announcer’s language for Charlie. Throngs of fans began seeking shelter in the spaces between the seats. It was obvious to everyone that the volleys of shots were growing near. The doctor’s tall, gaunt body was marked by dozens of infrared dots from the snipers’ sights. Dr. Thomas threw his hands into the air, emphasizing his nudity and spinning in place, displaying his body from every angle. His long gray hair was swept up in the wind, its ends pattering like delicate silver whips upon his hump, glimmering in the blinding illumination of the spotlights. The dozens of sharpshooters spread out on the roof shifted in discomfort as the naked doctor passed by them on his way to completing a full orbit of the roof of the stand. Their eyes and the barrels of their guns tracked his course, illuminated by the beams of the spotlights, like a stripper determined to perform the show to its conclusion. The announcer once again demanded that the doctor cover his nudity, threatening to order the sharpshooters to open fire.

  “Will you believe me, my fellow stadium residents?” Dr. Thomas ignored the announcer’s threats. “A woman has never loved me. I’ve loved many women, paying most of them, but have not known the joy of being loved. Over the years, I blamed my hunchback for my bitter fate. Which of you would be willing to trade places with me? To have a hump? Have you ever thought of the idea of being a hunchbacked man? Wouldn’t every one of you blame the hunchback for your sad fate, for the way women kept their distance from you? That’s what I thought my entire life. A woman would never love a hunchback. Is that the case, my fellow stadium residents?”

  “You are called, for the last time, to cover your nudity,” the announcer thundered through the speakers. “Sharpshooters, at my command, prepare to open fire!”

  “Don’t pay any attention to him, my brothers,” Dr. Thomas insisted. “I was hoping that fate had provided me with the revolution that would bring me love. You got to know me in the stadium, and I’ve also managed to help some of you. What could have been better for me than to be locked up in a stadium for years and to find love? It’s not the hump. I’m the one who repels love away from me. What the thing I could not overcome was, I don’t know.”

  Dr. Thomas’s voice was growing gradually hoarser; however, not only did his body not weaken, but it was filled with a fresh rejuvenation as he walked along the edge of the roof, bathed in beams of light.

  “I’ve decided to give you a chance to make a wish come true, and perhaps to satisfy the curiosity gnawing at some of you. To see a hunchback and gaze at it directly, not just stealing a glance, not being considerate and showing pity. I’m sure most of you have never had that chance in your life. To observe the hump of a man, a soccer fan, a lover of life, yearning for love, who gave you the chance to see that which is always hidden.”

  The sharpshooters tracked the hunchbacked man’s motion, marveling at his disregard for the instructions of the announcer, who embarked on a series of commands to open fire. The orders, given over the loudspeakers, drowned out the doctor’s throaty voice. Tens of thousands of fans booed the cold loudspeakers, which continued to issue commands to fire at the defenseless man, naked at night, cheering and raising his long, white arms toward the heavens. A long, angry “Boooooooo” rose from the stands, directed at the sharpshooters.

  The loudspeakers declared, “Disparen”, shoot!

  Simon’s Adam’s apple dropped, preceding the thunder of the volley of shots, which was not heard. Silence descended over the stadium. The sharpshooters did not shoot. The red dots continued to clatter over the taut body of the naked man, erect in all his glory. The deathly silence swallowed the screams of the announcer, who continued to demand “Disparen” from the sharpshooters. However, they remained hesitant. They paused before the doctor’s taut body and, one by one, lowered their barrels.

  “Every revolution grows old,” Dr. Thomas called out exultantly, “and loses the justification for its existence. You’ve grown obsolete, you outdated revolutionaries. No vision. Three years have taken your message from you. You’ve lost control. You’ve lost the justification for your existence, you’re no longer new. An outdated revolution is not sustainable. My brethren, residents of the stadium, I’ll prove to you that the revolution does not control you. You are resuming being masters of your own fate. I’ll prove it to you here and now, and then you’ll go home.”

  The announcer’s commands to open fire were repeated again and again until they were drowned by the noise of the helicopter, swooping in from a distance toward the roof of the stand. It was clear that the authorities would not concede to the hunchbacked doctor. But it was clear to Simon that the doctor would not concede, either. Dr. Thomas stretched his curved body in front of the embarrassed sharpshooters: “I’m asking you to execute me at my own command. I am the master of my fate. I will determine my own death. I will determine the end of the false revolution. I’m asking you to shoot me. All of you together, a volley from more than a hundred sharpshooters. You can fulfill my wish, execute me according to my command, and thus declare that the revolution has failed.”

  The infrared spots of light huddled on his chest, which was too narrow to contain them all. They merged together, becoming a red, glowing splash of light. The helicopter drew closer, and the wind tunnel shook the sharpshooters’ stances. They hesitated, their eyes focused on their sights. Suddenly, loudspeakers were extended from the helicopter, and a cold voice instructed all the sharpshooters to lay down their weapons and allow the helicopter to gather up the disrupter of the peace.

  Simon had time to aim his video camera and take in the split-second image that took place in the blink of an eye. The naked Dr. Thomas spun in place, turning his face away from the sharpshooters. The hunchback, which was tinted blue due to the chill, was exposed to their eyes, colored by the infrared spots of the rifle sights.

  “The revolution is over,” the doctor roared in his hoarse voice. At his command, all the sharpshooters opened fire in a uniform blast that scattered the doctor’s body parts into the black sky.

  48.

  Batman’s little feet dug into Charlie’s ribs as he opened his eyes at first light. Veronica’s head was lying on his shoulder, with the sleeping baby held in her arms. On Charlie’s other side, Simon’s seat was empty. Charlie immediately sensed something odd, different, perhaps dangerous. Simon’s things were not next to him or under the chair. The little cages he had built in order to train the bat leaders were gone as well. Charlie got up from his seat carefully, taking care not to wake the baby. He scanned the stadium in a bleary look after the night of the self-execution. The strained voice of the doctor shouting out the command to open fire on himself had continued to echo for long hours in the silence of the night. The morning after the doctor’s suicide was different. Beyond the disruption of the peace, something additional, unfamiliar, was hovering in the air. The end of something that was incomprehensible. Something that came after the end.

  Charlie was frightened by the sudden revelation that occurred to him: he was now thinking of what would happen after it was all over. In doing so, he felt that something outside himself was directing him there. Where was Simon? He scanned the area of the stands and the pitch. His eyes discovered his son standing on the center circle, spinning in place and trying to spot something invisible.

  The sun was still not illuminating the stadium. The first light of morning was hidden behind the tall concrete wall stretching east of the stadium. In the west, the stadium bordered on the great sea that Simon and Charlie were planning to swim across. Simon was standing alone on the turf, towering to his full height, fresh and alert. They were
only allowed to leave their seats at first light. Charlie hurried down toward him. He was certain that Simon would be able to explain that odd sensation. Simon spotted him and gestured to him to come over. He began running, using the dimness of morning to find a hiding spot between the posts of the stands.

  Charlie grew confused. Could Simon be running away from him? No, Simon was hiding behind a post and drawing Charlie to him. Charlie was upset, nearly hysterical.

  “Did you notice, Dad?”

  “I felt something weird.”

  “Dad, the sharpshooters are gone.”

  “What sharpshooters?”

  49.

  “The sharpshooters are gone from the roofs,” Charlie mumbled. “Right, I noticed something different when I woke up this morning. Not just the fact that you weren’t next to me. Are you sure they’re not there? Simon, where are they?”

  “Dad, if they’re not on the roofs, it doesn’t matter where they are. What are we going to do, Dad?”

  “Let’s escape,” Charlie said.

  “Let’s think, Dad.”

  “There’s nothing to think about.”

  “Let’s check if the gates are open. Then we’ll take Veronica and the baby, and maybe Rose will come with us, too.”

  “Simon, soon everyone will see that the sharpshooters are gone. There’ll be a stampede toward the gates. People will get trampled. Let’s escape.”

  The sun was dawning over the roofs of the stands, shining on the west side of the pitch. Simon followed his father reluctantly. Charlie was directing them toward the exit gates through the dim passages under the stands. Simon tried to stop and appeal to Charlie. Charlie pulled him after him, his steps determined, ignoring his pleas.

  “Dad, we promised Veronica we’d run away along with her and the baby. We promised her.” Simon felt his hand subject to the pincers of Charlie’s fingers, stopping the flow of blood to his hand, which began to swell and ache. Charlie stormed toward the gates.

  “Dad, you would never do anything like this. All my life, you taught me this is the one thing you can’t do. You said that no matter what happens, you can’t do that.”

  Simon was nearly being dragged across the stone tiles, losing any ability to stand on his feet. His father had never behaved so roughly. Charlie’s lips were trembling, trying to find words that didn’t exist. Stray air was expelled from his mouth, and he did not allow his gaze to meet Simon’s pleading eyes.

  “You said that this was the real test, whether you were a human being or not.” With his last remaining strength, Simon tried to pierce his father’s consciousness. “Dad, when we swam in the heart of the sea and I told you in the dark that I was scared and I couldn’t keep going, you told me you would never leave me,” Simon screamed, digging his heels into the sandstone.

  “I’m not leaving you,” Charlie croaked.

  “You said you shouldn’t betray someone who has faith in you.” Simon was frightened by his own statement. For years now, he had known how sensitive his father was to that word, to that pain.

  “You shouldn’t betray,” Charlie said, as if submerged in a hallucination, with merely a few dozen yards separating them from the gates.

  Simon was frightened by the sight of his father’s face. He shouldn’t have flung that accusation at someone who saw himself as having been hurt throughout his life by those who had betrayed him. He tried to convince Charlie to investigate; maybe it was a trap, maybe it wasn’t what it seemed. He reminded Charlie how wrong he had been when he thought it had been a terrorist attack three years ago. How easy it was to see what you wanted to see and choose the interpretation that was convenient for you. Charlie did not stop. His strong hand was holding Simon’s arm and they were advancing toward the squares of light marking the exits leading to the concourse with the outer metal exit gates. The concourse was flooded with blinding morning light. For three years, they had not dared approach this area. The concourse was out of bounds. In any case, they did not remember the gate area. When they had crossed it three years ago, they were totally focused on entering the stadium and finding their seats in preparation for the championship’s crucial game. Charlie did not remember the massive concourse separating the stadium from the gates. They had about two hundred yards to cross. Perhaps the sharpshooters were aiming for the concourse. He snuck a look up at the stadium roofs. All clear. Simon was the first to notice that the gates were wide open. They approached the gates, which seemed innocuous and inviting. Charlie scanned the edges of the exit concourse in all directions.

  “Dad, let’s bring Veronica and the baby and Rose,” Simon begged.

  No other fans who had discovered the significance of the new situation were present in the gate area. The two of them increased their pace, nearly running. Simon was trying to slow down and draw Charlie to him when the two of them suddenly stopped, several yards after passing through the open gates. They stood frozen on the heightened embankment on which the gates stood, and the blue ocean, filling the space stretching into the horizon, was revealed to them.

  Charlie remembered that when their plane had landed three years ago, they had passed over a very narrow stretch of coast that butted against the walls of the stadium. Therefore, they had not been wrong when they had planned to escape by swimming to the heart of the sea. It had not merely been wishful thinking that had made them envision the great sea. An immense light flooded Simon’s face. The last hesitation gnawing at him drowned at the sight of the blue ocean, stretching until the edge of the world. The great sea restored the bit of self-confidence Charlie and Simon had once possessed. No one else could swim infinite distances like they could. A peace they had not known for three years descended upon the two of them. There was the sea that had embraced Charlie when he swam into the infinite with his infant son before he could walk with a straight back. The quiet engulfed them when they gazed upon the water in tandem.

  “Swimming is like walking,” Charlie said.

  “That’s right, Dad, that’s what I said when I was a kid.”

  “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” Charlie said. “There’s no need for both of us to put ourselves in danger. You stay here, and I’ll go back to the stadium and send Rose and Veronica and the baby to you. If I’m not back in ten minutes, jump into the water and swim; don’t wait for anything better. Just swim to the heart of the sea, and you’ll get picked up there and reach Mom and Emily.”

  “Dad, Mom and Emily need you more. You wait here and I’ll go get Veronica and the baby and Rose. If I don’t come back, you swim home. Maybe I’ll also manage to bring the bats, who’ll help us with Veronica and Batman.”

  “Simon, there are no bats during the day.”

  “You don’t know that, Dad. You didn’t believe that a lot of things could happen. Even the sharpshooters are gone.”

  “That’s true, Simon. Sometimes things you don’t believe are going to happen do happen.”

  “Always, Dad. Things you don’t believe are going to happen always happen. Maybe Rose will come too. Maybe Veronica will come with us, and we’ll all be together.”

  “Simon, I’m going to bring Veronica and the kid and Rose. If I don’t show up, run away. Emily and Mom need you.”

  “I’ll wait for you here, Dad.”

  Charlie began to run madly into the stadium. It was clear to him that he had no more than a few minutes until the terrible thing started to happen. A hundred thousand people grasping the new reality after three years might cause a disaster that no one would know how to prevent. Charlie had to reach Veronica and the baby and get them out of there before that moment arrived when everything collapsed and mingled and shoved and roared and killed. That wretched moment when he could no longer do a thing.

  Charlie returned to a stadium teeming with people who did not understand the change. A great movement, still slow, began, down from the stands toward the exit tunnel. People began to s
hove. The locals streamed in great swarms toward the gates facing the city, dragging the visitors along in the thrust of their mass exodus. No motion was seen toward the gate facing the sea, through which he and Simon had exited. Charlie increased his pace, running toward Rose’s burrow, believing that that was where the two women were hiding with the child. He ran into the masses pushing in the opposite direction. He managed to cross the pitch in opposition to the swell of the throngs, jumping over the bodies of fans trampled under the pressure of the crowd.

  For a brief moment, Charlie lost his ability to see due to the sharp transition from daylight to the utter darkness in the burrow. He stopped, breathing heavily, waiting for his eyes to adapt to the darkness. He had time to tell himself that he had to calm down, just as he knew to stay calm when he encountered a riptide while swimming in the sea. He knew there were few people who knew how to stay calm within a riptide, allowing the currents to toss him out from inside it. Not to resist, not to be swallowed up by the tide of people, not to get lost in the awful noise of the screams. Then he smelled Veronica. The scent of her body reached his nostrils, drawing him to her. She was standing on her feet, confused, tossed about by the stream of people.

  “Charlie, everyone’s gone,” she said. “I’m scared. Batman’s in the tunnel and everyone ran off, trampling others.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find them.”

  “You’re taking care of me, right, Charlie?”

  Charlie wrapped her up in his arms. She was too heavy for him to gather her onto his lap. From the tunnel came the sounds of the throng galloping as it fled. People calling out to their companions, who had been swept up in the human current. Just like swimming, Charlie thought. Swimming was like walking; you only had to take control of your breath. Stick to your route. He managed to gather Veronica’s lanky body and hold her against his chest. He had to find the short path, running contrary to the direction in which the masses were fleeing, and get to the gates facing the sea. He still had a long way to go, he knew, but just like swimming in the sea, he would not think about the distance. He would breathe into his arms and legs and love the motion of his body and enjoy making progress and feeling Veronica’s body connected to his own, cutting through the air like swimming, like fifteen miles in the depth of the sea. Only if he loved the effort could he overcome it. Veronica was crying into his neck, keening for the baby who had disappeared into the trampling masses along with the good Rose. Charlie made his way through the mob, his strong legs carrying him on his long path.