Chapter 2

Everyone filtered out through the white door into the uncertainty of the hallway. There was something unnaturally huge about the corridors as they moved through them, circling the square area around the lobby. There were hundreds of doors and infinite entrances (or were they exits?) and thousands of tiles of varying shapes and sizes making up the floors, walls and ceilings. It was as if the place was made of cubes and octagons and triangles. The people walked slowly and apprehensively, like lost children wandering a discarded attic. They followed Mr. Locke into the lobby, and filed before the four elevators. They stood dwarfed by the huge gleaming columns as each leader pushed the 'up' button.

"Guess it's a good thing we ain't pressed for time..." muttered Sawyer. Michael looked anxiously in all directions, his grip on his son's hand tightening until Walt complained.

The elevators simultaneously reached the lobby.

Vincent barked.

The castaways embarked into their respective elevators. The heavy chrome doors slid shut soundlessly.

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Inside the first elevator, Jack pressed the red 'roof' button. Idly he blinked around the elevator. It was muggy with the smell of chemicals and sweat. Evidentially, The Junction was impeccably kept and disinfected daily. Everyone had been in the jungle too long. The chemical smell stung and irritated.

"Hold my hand tight, Walt." Michael whispered to his son. Walt complied, and gripped Vincent's leash tighter as well.

The dog barked at Mr. Eko.

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"What happens when we get to the top?" asked Charlie inside the second elevator.
Mr. Locke raised his eyes to the ascending elevator numbers.

106th...107th...108th...

"I don't know, Charlie." Locke replied laconically. "If there's no one there, we try to get to the choppers. If we get caught...we run." "And if we get to the helicopters," Sun said carefully, "who will pilot them?"
Locke turned to Sun. The whole elevator looked to him for the answer.
"We'll do our best, Sun." Replied Locke.
Jin raised his brows and nudged Sun. Sun whispered to him what Mr. Locke had said.
"I don't mean to sound pessimistic or nothin' mate, but if no one can pilot the damn choppers, we're kinda stranded, aren't we?" said Charlie, tilting his head.
His back turned to the group, Locke grinned. He looked over his shoulder.
"Don't worry about the helicopters, Charlie, we'll cross that bridge when we get there.You just take care of Claire and Aaron."
Protectively, Charlie slipped an arm around Claire's waist. Both of them had butterflies. Charlie held her a little tighter.

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In the third elevator, Ana Lucia shifted her weight on the balls of her feet. Her head remained tilted upward, watching the numbers rise.

217th...218th...219th...
How fast are we going?
Will the hall be clear?
How many bullets...?
...two clips, I have two clips...
Who can pilot a chopper??
...I'm responsible...we all are...

She eyed the people behind her, reflected in the mirror-like surface of the chrome elevator doors.
"When we get to the top," she said slowly and as confidently as she could muster, "everyone needs to stay inside the elevator. When I leave, you follow and stay behind me. If someone bad starts shooting, get down on the floor and crawl for cover. Under no circumstances do you panic or run into the open."
Shannon and Boone stared at the Hispanic's reflection in the elevator door.
"Have you done this before?" asked Shannon suspiciously.
Ana looked at the cross-armed blonde.
"Yes, I have."
No she hadn't. Not until the Island. She was a rookie. She'd done the training scenarios, filled for backup, rode partnered patrol. Taking point wasn't her specialty, although she was trained for it.
Ana broadened her posture. "Listen up, follow my lead and hopefully we'll get to the roof in one piece."
Shannon didn't look convinced.
"I should warn you," mentioned Boone, looking wry, "my sister isn't so good with the whole listening concept.
Libby chuckled quietly. Shannon glared daggers at her brother.
"Shut up, Boone."

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400th...401st...402nd...

Sayid tightly gripped his weapon. That time was nearing now. He was ready. Ready to come out shooting if need be. He glanced at the people behind him. He had arranged them into an amateur fire-team. Sawyer and Danielle took up the rear with a hand-gun and a rife respectively, in order that they may lay down covering fire. In the center, a middle-aged former lawyer fingered his knife curiously. Young Alex was armed with three grenades and her trusty slingshot.

"Remember, everyone keep behind me, do not shoot unless you know for certain you can make the shot—"

Sayid's words were interrupted by the sound of an eruption overhead. Alarmed, he looked upwards. A screech of grating metal drove against his eardrums, and presently, the elevator began to shake. The violent quaking of the lift drove everyone inside to their knees. With a nauseating lurch, the elevator dropped, throwing everyone's stomach up into their throats. They were falling now, abruptly and with great speed. Or were they going up very fast? At this speed, anything could be happening. It was like being a piece of dirt sucked into the vacuum intake, or being a granule of cosmic matter pulled into the timeless void of a black hole. The frightening part was, despite the violent rumbling and the horrible screeching of the lift grating against the walls as it fell (upwards or downwards? Does anyone know?), they could still see the four shaking corners of the elevator, the chrome handle-bars, vibrating as if they were alive, and worst of all, the numbers display.

The most frightening thing was the numbers display!

The digits on the number display spun by endlessly, blurring into the 700's, the 800's, the 900's and finally the 1000's, and past and beyond, turning orange and then green and then blue and then red, and at some moment – no one falling knew – they stopped being digits and became something else.

The blurred glyphs finally stopped.

With a lurch, the falling ceased.

The screeching died.

Unconscious bodies were sprawled on the bottom of the elevators.

Music was playing.

Slowly, a voice bled through the silence. It was a strange voice in a strange place. It was Freddy Mercury:

I'm burning through the sky yeah!
Two hundred degrees
That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit
I'm trav'ling at the speed of light
I wanna make a supersonic woman of you

Don't stop me don't stop me
Don't stop me hey hey hey!
Don't stop me don't stop me ooh ooh ooh (i like it)
Don't stop me don't stop me
Have a good time good time good time good time good time good time...

NOTES: Lyric Credit: Don't Stop Me Now - Queen

The madness continues! Please R&R. Thank ya so much. :)