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My voice comes out shakier than I’d like, and I bite my tongue before I start begging them to hurry up and get me out of here. I’m just sharing the facts, that’s all.
“Don’t worry. We’ll have you out of there in just a jiffy,” he calls. “We’ve gotta get the shaftway doors open before we can get the hoistway doors open, so it’ll be a few minutes.”
I suppose I should be grateful that he sounds so calm but I’m actually annoyed that he doesn’t sound more concerned.
After ten minutes or so, the doors are forced opened with the help of something that looks like a very fancy crowbar, and I find myself looking up at Jeremy and Mikey, who I grew up with. A third firefighter with red hair is doing something in the background. The floor of the elevator is about four feet below the door, so it’s more than just a step up. I wonder if they’ll throw down a rope ladder or something.
“Heya, Blaze!” Mikey waves cheerfully. “You hurt?”
“Hi, Mikey.” I manage a weak wave back. “Not hurt, just…”
I’m about to say freaked out, but it feels too vulnerable to admit it. I’m actually shaking with adrenaline. Mikey and the Chief are being so calm and collected, and I don’t want to go all fainting-princess on them, but inside my head, I’m screaming, Let’s skip the fucking pleasantries and get me out of here!
“I’m fine,” I finish in a mumble.
“We’ll have you out of there in just a moment,” Jeremy replies, and I just hate the way he says it. It’s his calm, in-control fire chief voice, the kind he’d use with any victim. There’s not a hint of anything personal in it. I’m just another girl trapped in an elevator to him. “Randy here’s going to make sure the power is turned off, and your assistant has cordoned off the first-floor elevator entrance.”
“Awesome!” I reply with as much chipper cheeriness as I can muster.
And then the elevator slips again.
I can’t help it—I scream. Books tumble to the floor with a crash, and I stagger against the wall, clinging to the handrail as if my life depends on it. I look up in a panic. Mikey and the Chief are staring down at me from six feet now. The gap where the doors are has shrunk to just a couple of feet, and their expressions have morphed from cheerful on Mikey’s part and cooly professional on the Chief’s to seriously concerned.
It’s not really an improvement.
Mikey grabs a phone and turns away.
“We’re calling for backup,” Jeremy’s voice is still calm but there’s the slightest tremor to it now.
“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere,” I answer.
I hope.
I know what the Chief is thinking and why he doesn’t want to say it. If the elevator falls all the way, I crash to the basement level. But if it does one of those lurchy falls while I’m crawling through the gap, it might squash me or cut me in half. Neither of these are very appealing prospects.
Mikey gets off the phone. There’s a quick, muttered conversation between the two of them, then Jeremy turns reluctantly to me.
“We’ve called for backup,” he says. “We’re going to have to get you out from the top. It’s unlikely the elevators will fall all the way, but if it falls even a little bit while you’re getting out, you could be seriously injured.”
I could be cut in half, is what he’s not saying. Imagining what the outcome would look like if I were halfway through the gap when the elevator slipped again makes me shudder.
Even so, the idea of just waiting here isn’t much fun either.
“Okay.” My voice cracks as I say it. Great. As if things weren’t going badly enough already, now I’m on the verge of going all damsel in distress and bursting into tears.
“Fuck it,” Jeremy mutters, and suddenly, he’s sliding through the gap.
“Chief, what the—” Mikey begins, but the Chief is already in, landing with surprising lightness given his size on the elevator floor in front of me.
I’m stupidly happy to have him there—and equally horrified. “What are you doing? Now we’re both stuck!” I also wonder if adding his extra weight to the elevator is really what we need now.
“Protocol.” He punches the emergency STOP button on the panel.
“You could have told me to do that!” I protest.
He looks at me, sheepish and defiant all at once. “You looked faint. I thought you might need CPR.”
None of this is funny, but I laugh giddily. I’m grateful that I’m not alone, and I’m terrified that now we’re both in danger, and I’m absurdly happy that after everything, we still seem to be on speaking terms.
