Warehouse 24

I stared at the number on the grey steel door in front of me.

This was the entrance for Warehouse 24 film studio?

I knocked on the door; the sound echoed through the alley. No answer.

I knocked again, louder, more insistent this time, and the door creaked open. I glanced inside the darkened hallway and then, with a shrug, headed in. These people really took their “dark and gritty” facade seriously. But if they hired me, I wouldn’t care, and Sal promised I’d be perfect for the role.

Footsteps sounded, quickly heading in my direction. I peered around a corner to see four men in black combat attire, rifles slung over their backs; they walked as if on a mission. Probably running late to be on set.

I tucked myself against the wall, getting out of their way, and ducked into the shadows as they passed.

I must have come in the wrong entrance. I was probably backstage, which would undoubtedly explain the decrepit alley I’d just been in.

As their footsteps faded away, I peeled myself from the wall and kept walking. I’d have to run into a crew member, eventually.

A sound drew my attention, muffled at first, but it sounded like a woman crying. I listened for a moment. She must be an amazing actress; that kind of emotional pain was hard to recreate on screen.

If this were the caliber of actors and actresses I was to be working with, I might very well be out of my league here. But I turned and headed towards the sound.

“Hello.” A soft female voice whispered, voice trembling. “Is anyone there?”

The sounds of chains rattling and then a sniffle.

Chains rattling? What kind of movie did Sal sign me up for?

I came across a door that same garish grey from outside, but with a window framed on the top. I stood up taller and peeked through. A woman lay huddled on the concrete floor, clothes ragged, a shackle affixed to one ankle and chained to the wall, bare feet caked in dirt.

I suddenly wasn’t so sure I had the correct address anymore.

I tried the handle, surprised to find it unlocked. Though if my suspicions were correct, and I’d made a horrible mistake, I’m sure they wouldn’t exactly be expecting visitors. Quietly, I slipped inside. The woman noticed me immediately.

“Shhh..” I whispered, holding up my hands. “I’m here to help.”

She quieted, eyes wild. I walked over to her, trying to make my footsteps light.

And because I needed to know, I asked. “This isn’t a movie set, right?” I whispered to her.

She just stared at me as I pulled uselessly at the chains and said, “No.”

“Who…who are you?” the woman asked.

“I’m nobody. Garret. I’m supposed to be auditioning for a movie…But I think I have the wrong address.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I agree, now how do I get you out of here?”

“You’ll have to chop off my foot.” She said, straight-faced.

I stared at her. “I…what?”

“The key is hanging on the wall. They just did rounds; you probably ran into my friends in the hall.”

“Those four guys in black?”

She nodded.

Heading over to the wall, I grabbed the key and handed it to her. She immediately freed herself, rubbing at the sore spot on her ankle.

“Thanks for that.” She said, rising to stand, a little wobbly. “I’m Tara.”

I shot an arm out, ready to steady her if needed.

“I’m good.”

“Great. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

I peeked out the window, making sure the coast was clear. “How long until the next rounds?”

Tara shrugged, “Hard to tell, they came randomly.”

“How did you end up here, anyway?” I questioned.

“Less talking, more escaping.” She whispered as we made our way down the hall.

“Right. Got it.”

We crept down the corridor I’d just walked, relieved to find it empty, and just as we were about to crack open the door… a voice.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

We turned.

In front of us stood the man I’d seen earlier, except this time he had that rifle aimed at us. Sal would definitely hear about this.

Before I’d fully processed what was happening, I watched as Tara knelt low, sweeping her leg out and taking the man down, his head ricocheting off the cement floor with a sickening crack.

“You’re no damsel in distress…” I muttered.

She glared at me. “Of course not.”

“Than what was all that crying about?”

“Got someone’s attention, didn’t it. Even if that someone was you.”

Couldn’t argue with that.

“Hand me your phone.” She had a knee against the man’s back, rifle prodding him in the back as he began to squirm and cuss.

I handed it over, no questions asked. Not taking her eye off the man, she punched in a number, placing the phone against her ear.

“Yeah, it's Tar, look, I’m inside. We had a situation, but it’s handled. Send back up.”

“Back up?”

Sirens blared in the distance, followed by gunshots and yelling.

Tara grinned. “Back up.”

Using the butt of the rifle, she hit the man still pinned on the ground in the back of the head, his body going limp. Then, holding the door open for me, sunlight streaming through, she said. “Shall we?”

I stared at her as she held open the door and the two of us stepped out into the blinding afternoon sun. I squinted, shielding my eyes.

“Oh, here.” She handed me back my cell phone. “Thanks.”

Tara walked over to a waiting ambulance and was getting checked over, all the while speaking to someone who was taking notes.

My phone rang, and I glanced at it, Sal’s name lighting up the screen.

“Hello?”

“Garret, there you are. Do you have any idea what I had to pull to get you that audition? And you don’t show up.”

“I showed up. Warehouse 24, it… It wasn’t what I expected.”

The line went quiet, and then Sal said, “Dock 24 Garret, not Warehouse 24.”

“Oh.”