Closed Doors
They can hear their rescuers outside the shiny metal doors. The screeching of metal being pried open echoes through the small space. They are silent. No one speaks. They just wait for the nightmare to end. Their eyes avoid the other side of the room, the source of their distress. They are lost within their own thoughts. Each goes back in their memory to when it all began, wondering what they could have changed if they had known how it would end.
It was a dark, cloudy day. Everyone had already gone home, anticipating the storm that would last until the morning hours. These four had worked nearly until the building's closing by some unlucky happenstance, personal choice, or perhaps intervention of fate. It was beginning to meet the weatherman's expectation of the worst storm in the city for years. The wind whipped the rain in every direction until the drops smacked against the buildings of the business district. Cars echoed the death cries of the rain drops on their hoods. Pedestrians with umbrellas, almost as dark as the sky, ran for cover from the torrent of rain and wind. The gusts could be heard whistling inside the elevator where four people stood.
Four employees, two men and two women, in business casual dress waited in the elevator, facing ahead with eyes avoiding the others and toes tapping, impatient for the elevator to descend. They watched the overhead screen slowly count down as they left floor after floor behind. Forty-three. Thirty-eight. Twenty-five. It was when the little red numbers reached fourteen that the elevator jerked to a stop. All four passengers looked toward the ceiling, eyes scanning the top of the car questioningly. With one more shudder, the elevator beeped and was plunged into darkness. A shrill scream echoed in the tiny space before the emergency lights blinked on. Three pairs of eyes glanced toward the woman now pressed against the mirrored back wall of the car.
"Sorry" she said, turning pink.
The sudden bounce of the car disrupted one of the men's briefcases. He leaned over to stand it up. He straightened and smoothed his expensive looking suit over his rounding belly. The other, a tall thin man in cheap khakis and a button-up polo, reached over to press the alarm button on the console. A permeating ring sounded until he released the button.
A burst of static and a security guard on the main level asked, "We've received an alert that your elevator has malfunctioned. Is everyone ok?"
"We're ok. There are four of us stuck here," said Mr. Tall and Lanky.
"Look, we've got power out all over the building and it could take the fire department awhile to get here because of the storm. Just sit tight and we'll get you out of there as soon as we can." He finished by adding, "Thank you for your patience," after which a click was heard.
Mr. Tall shifted his glance toward the others in the cramped elevator.
"We might as well get comfortable. It sounds like we have awhile to wait."
The other man pulled on the bottom of his suit jacket and marched to the console. His finger jabbed at the alarm button. He yelled, "You need to get someone up here to fix this elevator. Now. I have things to do."
"He can't hear you. He cut the connection."
The man with the nice suit turned to face the tall man. Their eyes met—a clashing of swords, but before any more words could be shared, the woman who shrieked earlier addressed them.
"Well," she said with a shrug, "since we will be here for a while why don't we introduce ourselves? I'm Penny. It's short for Penelope. I hate that name, don't you? My grandmother picked it." She spoke with a bounce in her voice, a smile as bright as her bleached-blonde hair on her painted lips.
Her cheery introduction and her low-cut lime green blouse grabbed everyone's attention. The men stepped apart and nodded to her in acknowledgement. After another moment of silence, Penny asked with an accompanying flip of her platinum hair, "And what are your names?"
The man in the suit spoke first. "My name's Bruce. Bruce Renheart."
"I'm Jeremy Dacey. Nice to meet you."
Bruce spoke again. "Of all the days for the elevator to break down…" He trailed off. At a confused look from Jeremy, he explained. "I have to send a very important document to the CEO of the company by midnight tonight. It's vital that I get home and fax it over," he said, more to himself than to the others. He looked up, saw their blank faces, and sighed in exasperation. His voice rose with frustration. "I could miss the next opportunity for promotion if I don't play my cards right. This elevator's delay is endangering my future in this company's management."
"I'm sure there are plenty of people in the city that have lost power too. We'll just have to wait until the fire department frees up and can come get us" Jeremy said.
"I don't have time to wait for the entire city to get power. If I don't get that next promotion, that's it. I'll have to go somewhere else to further my career, but this company has the best insurance policy. I'd have to pay a fortune for medical if I'm working somewhere else."
"Yeah. You're right," Jeremy replied, "your medical insurance is more important than the thousands of people who have no power."
"Hey, you don't know what I've gone through to get here, Buddy. I've given up more little league games and ballet recitals than you could even count. If I don't get this promotion then it was all for nothing," he said softly, a hint of regret in his voice.
"If you feel so badly about missing your kid's performances, then why don't you go home to them when the day's over, rather than working all night long to get a promotion that you don't need. Judging by your clothes, you don't need any extra income to support your family."
He paused, a look of sadness in his eyes, "Other people in this city will have to throw away all the food in their refrigerator because of this power outage. Their kids will be hungry for the next month because they can't afford to buy more groceries. Think about other people. This isn't all about you."
Bruce, offended at his interjection, shoved his short, thick finger into Jeremy's chest. Jeremy's only response was slapping Bruce's finger away.
"Now boys," Penny said, smiling uneasily, her eyes glancing nervously between the two, "let's just take it easy. Remember, we are in an eleva-"
Penny was cut off when Bruce shoved Jeremy into the mirrored wall of the car. Rage kindled between them fanned by the frustration of the situation. Penny's anxiety grew when she saw Jeremy approach Bruce with hate and anger in his eyes. Bruce's fists clenched. No one seemed to notice the frightened woman who had been standing with her back to the corner the entire time. She was small and pale-almost frail. She approached the men saying, "Please, sto-"
Before she could finish Bruce drew back his arm. He failed to notice the frail woman, now almost directly behind him. His elbow connected with the edge of her jaw and the momentum snapped her head back. She cried out in pain and took a step back, but she tripped on Bruce's forgotten briefcase. She fell, her arms outstretched, still trying to catch herself. Before anyone could react to the fact that she had been hurt, the back of her fragile skull cracked along the metal railing edging the elevator's walls. She crumpled to the ground, her eyes dull and sightless. A puddle of bright red blood spread along the car's railing and wall, pooling where she had slid down to rest in a lifeless heap.
Bruce turned, regret on his face and an apology on his lips. He looked down at the woman and saw the scarlet pool quickly spreading in a halo around her head. His eyes widened. The other three people in the elevator stared at the body that had, until a moment ago, held life.
"Oh my God. She's dead," Penny whispered her eyes wide, and her heart beating fast. "She's DEAD." She kept repeating the same thing over and over, becoming more and more hysterical each time. Jeremy grabbed her and cradled her head to his chest, belatedly realizing that she shouldn't have to see this. That none of them should have to see this. Their anger had boiled over and someone else had gotten killed over it.
Penny's tears soaked the front of Jeremy's well-worn polo, her previously perfect makeup staining it with black streaks. Bruce, realizing what he had accidentally done, sank to his knees his eyes still trapped in her unwavering and blank stare.
Hours later, they were all sitting on the floor of the car staring at their own reflections in the mirrored glass. They looked at themselves, but saw nothing. The firemen's voices were muffled, but becoming clearer. The silence had gone uninterrupted since Penny had stopped crying about an hour before.
"What was her name?" Bruce softly asked.
"I…I don't know" Penny said, just as softly.
"We never even asked her name" Jeremy said.