Page 39 of Rushed

Simpletons.

Only they matter as the train wreck occurs.

“Julia, Julia! Are you in there? Answer the door if you are!”

It’s Gail. I like Gail. Straight-laced Gail. We’ve gone out a few times together for drinks and to let off some steam after a large deal was completed. I consider her a friend, probably my only friend here at the firm.

“Gail, I locked the door. Hang on!” I creep across the detritus strewn across my once perfectly manicured room, stepping over the crushed framed artwork. The shattered glass left scratches and tears on the edges, destroying it beyond repair. What a waste.

I scramble over the paper-white lilies that I meticulously tended and nurtured from bulbs. They’re crushed. Their delicate flower and green leaves lay bleeding into the white wool carpet, tainting it.

Fuck, I’ll never get that out.

I push past the thoughts of this room ever being the same and reach for the handle. Clicking back the lock and opening the door, I see a frazzled and frightened Gail.

“Julia, we need to go. We need to go now! Come on. Jerry’s leading us down the back stairs. He saw some of the others going that way and we need to go, now. It’s not safe here.”

I hear her, but I don’t comprehend how it’s not safe here.

They told us to stay.

They said not to leave.

I didn’t leave. I stayed.

“But they said not to—” I stop. Staring into the hallway past Gail, I notice the pictures are askew where blood stains from cut hands have smeared across the once immaculate white walls. We’re always perfectly manicured and professional. How could someone taint the company in such a way?

“We have to go. Please come with me. I’m scared and I need you. Please?” Gail begs me, her eyes pleading.

As the smoke flows all around us, dulling the once bright day, she seems so stark against the gray haze. The look on her face is that of pure terror; I’ve never seen her scared. She’s always fearless in negotiations, never giving ground. She never shows her cards, a woman of pure strength. If she’s scared, I need to be there for her.

“All right. Let’s go, Gail. Lead on.”

Carefully watching where I place my hands, I start down the hall. I don’t want to touch anything. Who knows what it could give me? I use the door frame to follow Gail out of my office and into the communal hall where it's always seemed so expansive in the past. Normally, you could easily float past a mail cart with two cups of coffee and a messenger bag, all without scuffing anyone else or the wall. Now, it seems confined and tight as people scramble towards the exits at either end. I guess the elevators aren’t working, as no one even tries. They quickly bypass them, staring straight ahead at the large, glowing red signs. Gail takes my hand tighter as we pass through the throng of panicked faces. Some are hunkered down on the floor, looking dumbfounded and bewildered, with their heads in their hands as they rock back and forth.

“Wait! I forgot my laptop. If I have to finish the case from home—”

“Julia, there won’t be time. We need to get out of here, now!”

I start back to the room as another shock rocks the floor again. I brace myself against the wall, holding onto Gail’s hand tightly, as if she will stop the motion.

“Jules, come on, we need to go! The laptop isn’t worth it. Please. I’m scared, and I need you with me.” Exhaling, I nod and agree. This isn’t the time to worry about asshole politicians.

This isn’t safe anymore.

They told us the building was safe, but they were wrong. I believe it now.

We reach the stairwell doors and push through. There are so many people in the escape route that I earn an evil stare from a well-suited gentleman that took the door to the shoulder. I look away, avoiding the confrontation as I won’t apologize. It wasn’t intentional.

We empty into the staircase, following along behind the suited man, starting our long walk down to the street level. We’re on the twenty-first floor. I realize today was the wrong day for my brand new Jimmy Choo’s. I know that by the time we reach the bottom they—and I—will be ruined.

Hell, this day is ruined. My job will be ruined if I don’t finish that deposition. But I can’t worry about it now. Tomorrow I’ll go back and grab my things after the craziness has died down.

Following the slew of people in the slow trodden march down the stairs, I notice the unnatural calm. Everyone is quiet. As the building creaks and groans, it creates a silence. It’s almost as if the walls are in pain, and we are giving it grieving space. The only sound from us is that of our shoes on the cement, clicking down one stair at a time.

Click.

Click, click.

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