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“What are you doing?” I say, leaning forward and looking at him again.
“Shhh. Close your eyes. Get back to the bar,” he demands.
The panic subsides as I close my eyes again, intrigued to find out what he’s up to.
“You there?”
“Yes.”
I chuckle to myself as he hums a tune. It’s familiar, but it’s hard to place with only his hum. Then he starts singing. Right there in the midst of this mess we’re in.
“Where it began…I can’t begin to know when…”
My laugh, filled with equal parts terror and confusion, fills the air as he sings “Sweet Caroline” by Neil Diamond. He’s not horrible, but he’s not about to be the next winner of a singing show either. He builds up to the chorus, singing louder, and my fear morphs into worrying about the other passengers and what they’re thinking. I half expect people to yell at him to stop, that it’s not the time for karaoke. But to my surprise, a dad one row ahead of us chimes in. Then, one by one, they all join, a chorus of panicked people coming together to find something else to focus on.
“Sweet Kalico,” he says, during the next round of chorus.
I’m past the point of shock, moving on to, again, finding him adorable. The tune is not as upbeat and fun as you’d find in an actual bar, this version has a more melancholy vibe. Many people clap with him at the iconic “bum, bum, bum” part.
I steal a glance at him with astonishment, and he responds with a humorous shrug as if he’s as surprised as I am.
“Well, this is a first.” A man appears at the side of the train, smiling and holding bottles of water. The song stops as everyone waits to hear what’s going on. Another man joins behind him. They are both tethered to a bar on the side of the stairs. “Is everyone all right?” they ask as they pass out the water. They answer each of our questions thrown at them. “Yes, it’s safe.” “No, it can’t roll backward.” “They are working on it.” And the most important: “We don’t know how much longer.”
Great.
After thirty minutes and the beginning of a sunburn that’ll hurt later, we’re told that we’re going to walk down the stairs. All two hundred feet of them.
“The ride is broken,” they said.
No shit.
I could’ve told them that thirty minutes ago. A group of firefighters appear in full gear and spread themselves out at our side. Shit just got real. They explain that they’ll be releasing us by car. Thankfully, ours is last.
“We’re next,” Paxton says, squeezing my hand.
I exhale a heavy breath and nod. Though deep down, fear courses through me like a chilling wind. Legs trembling, heart pounding. I think I’d rather stay here. But I don’t want him to see me weak. He’s already witnessed me shattered at my weakest, and I’m afraid if I keep showing him that fragile side, he’ll grow tired of playing the hero.
And I’m not a weak person. I’m a survivor who keeps getting herself in tough situations.
When it’s our turn, Paxton hops out of his seat like it’s nothing, puts his harness on, and extends his hand to grasp my shaking fingers. “Look at me,” he instructs as my eyes pop out of my head, seeing how far up we are. The sheer height takes my breath away. Literally.
I take a step over to his seat and plop down, needing to find the air in my lungs.
“Hold on,” I murmur, resting my head against the seat in front of me. I fight the light-headedness. Do not pass out. I repeat the words over and over to myself, and I focus on my breathing. In and out.
“This is the worst part. Once you’re out and standing on the stairs, it’s much better,” the firefighter reassures me.
I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Coming from a person who lives on ladders.”
“Want me to sing again?” Paxton grins when I turn my head toward him.
“No.” I snicker, gripping the chair in front of me as I pull myself up. Once again, he holds his hand out.
That single step is the most terrifying step I’ve ever taken. While it doesn’t compare to the horror of being buried alive, it’s not something I want to ever repeat. With both hands clutching the bar, they secure me to a harness, and while I feel better not being at an angle anymore, the stairway descent is still crazy scary. I blow out a breath through puffed-out cheeks and focus only on the metal stairs beneath me.
Paxton places a gentle kiss on my forehead, standing one step down from me. “You’re doing great, Kalico.”
No. No I’m not.
