Page 61 of Up In Flames
I took them down the stairs to the basement and buzzed us into the archives. The records room was a maze of boxes. The storage system was imperfect, but I knew I’d find the oldest records at the back.
“Are you working from oldest to most recent?” I asked, because that’s how I’d do it.
“We thought that would be fine,” the one named Shera said. She seemed to be the leader of their little pack, and the other two were willing to follow her. My chest constricted as I remembered Rita. She’d have liked Shera.
I grabbed a cart and loaded it full of boxes, sneezing at the amount of dust that billowed off of the boxes. If not for the raise,I might have complained about the task. It was below my pay grade, that was for sure, but who better for the shit job than the new guy. The interns loaded up the other two carts.
“Will we need to get you every time we want to get into the records room?” Shera asked. “That seems like an inefficient use of your time.”
“I’ll talk to Simon and see about getting you an access card.” Anything to get me away from the dusty records room and away from the basement.
The basement was my least favorite place in the building. It was used for storage, meaning no one was ever down here. The lights were on, but every sound echoed down the empty hallways. Instead of carpet, the floors were tile. The click of my shoes on the floor reminded me of a horror movie. The wheels of the cart added to the aesthetic, wobbling and squeaking all the way to the elevator.
The elevator that went to the basement was an old piece of machinery, dating back to when the building was first been constructed. I couldn’t say that I was entirely pleased to take it up a few floors, but it beat lugging a box at a time up and down the stairs.
“We’ll go up first with this cart and then you two follow. Remember, conference room B.”
I thought about taking the stairs back up to the fourth floor, but I didn’t want to look foolish in front of a bunch of interns. It was a short elevator ride. I could manage. The doors of the small box whooshed open, and I pushed the cart in first. There wasn’t a lot of room with the cart in the elevator with us, but at least I wasn’t going to be in there with two carts.
I hit the button for my floor, then the button to close the doors. I kept my eyes on the number above the door, each floor that ticked away decreased my anxiety. Somewhere after thelight flicked to indicate we were on the third floor, a terrible noise shook the elevator. It came to a stop.
“Fuck,” Shera said.
And then nothing.
Nothing at all. I hit the buttons on the panel, desperate to get it to move, but it was useless. The elevator was fucking stuck. And I was stuck inside it.
Trapped.
Trapped without my cell phone because I’d left it on my desk up on the fourth floor. I kept it in my desk to alleviate some of the temptation to constantly text Will. We both tried to respect the other’s work schedule, only sending the odd message when it was important. From here on out, though, I was never going anywhere without my phone.
“My phone isn’t getting reception in here.” Shera raised her cell above her head, trying to find a signal. She quickly gave up. “I’m sending a text, hoping my phone will grab a signal and it can get out.”
All wasn’t lost, though. Despite the rock in my throat and the sudden tightness in my chest, I managed to keep my head long enough to press the button with a phone on it. The call was answered on the second ring, connecting me with building security.
“Hi, yes, this is Oren Reid. I work on the fourth floor. I’m stuck in elevator B between the third and fourth floors. Please tell me there’s a magic button I can press to get this thing moving again.”
“How many people are in the elevator with you, Mr. Reid?” On the other end of the phone I heard the telltale clack of fingers on a keyboard. Hopefully that meant help was on the way.
“Just me and one other.”
“Do you require medical attention?”
“No.” Not yet, I thought. But I kept that to myself. The last thing I wanted to do was cause undue alarm about my wellbeing. I might feel like I was going to die, but I was definitely safe. Maybe.
Hopefully.
“We’re okay,” I repeated, though I was suddenly breathless and light-headed. I leaned against the cart for support, not trusting my legs to keep me vertical.
“Mr. Reid, can you press the button to open the doors? Sometimes that’s all it takes to get the elevators moving again. Press and hold for at least five seconds.”
Each agonizing second was punctuated with me mentally chanting please in my head.Please fucking open. Please don’t be fucking stuck. Please work.
Nothing.
“Nothing.”
“Okay. That’s fine. I’ll see if I can get them open from this end. Just be calm. You’re safe.”
