A/N: For future reference, I was trapped in an elevator for two hours when I was six, so I'm basing the mechanics of elevators by my experience. However, that elevator was in a skyscraper instead of a hotel/apartment building, so events might be different there than mine was in the skyscraper. Also, I wasn't a sixteen year old boy with claustrophobia. :P

And whoas, guys, this chapter is long. Sorry it took so long, lol. It was being difficult. *glares at chapter*

Enjoy!

…

"I spy with my little eye—"

"The elevator buttons."

Carlos frowned at Logan. "I didn't even say it yet."

"Is that it?"

"Well, yeah." Carlos crossed his arms. "But that's not the point of the game."

Logan rolled his head around his neck and blinked blearily. "Carlos. I'm bored."

Carlos sighed. Logan must've had a concussion. He'd been repeating that phrase for who knew how long and he didn't seem to realize it. "I know, Logan."

"I mean, seriously bored."

"I know, Logan."

The only thing keeping Carlos from hyperventilating—because that's all he wanted to do every time he opened his eyes and found himself back in this tiny, cramped elevator—was Logan's loopy-ness. It was as entertaining as it was terrifying. Carlos knew it was like his duty to keep Logan awake, otherwise bad things would happen. So he played rock, paper, scissors, I Spy, and Would You Rather to try to succeed in preventing Logan from falling asleep.

It would be fun if it weren't so scary.

And so boring.

Carlos stood up and stretched. His arm felt amazingly better, with nothing more than a slight painful twinge every time he jostled it. Logan really should be a doctor—he definitely knew his stuff.

"Carlos?"

"Yeah, Logan?"

"I'm bored."

As if on cue, the elevator light winked out. In the same instant Carlos felt his stomach drop—and then he realized that it wasn't just his stomach dropping. The whole elevator car was plunging downward. He was thrown to the floor, smashing his head again against something hard. The drop stopped as suddenly as it came and forced him to roll, crashing into Logan—or at least, he thought it was Logan.

Carlos lay against his friend for a long time, eyes squeezed shut. The floor buzzed and shook at irregular intervals. He lifted his head finally and opened his eyes, trying to pick out Logan in the darkness.

"Logan?" he whispered.

His friend didn't answer. Carlos could feel panic rising inside of him and had to work to clamp it down. He felt around in the small space and came across Logan's arm. Next to it was something hard and smooth—upon further inspection, he realized that it was Logan's phone. The battery was partially jammed, and Carlos had to work to put it back in place. As it did, the screen lit up with the Verizon start-up logo. Carlos squinted against the sudden light as it stabbed into the darkness.

He turned it towards Logan's face and noticed that his eyes were closed. His breathing was unsteady and hitched at times. Was that a bad thing? Carlos didn't think it could be very good.

"Aw, Logie," he sighed, drawing his knees to his chest. He honestly didn't know what to do. The start-up ended and flashed to Logan's front picture. There were no bars of service in here. Was that just because they were in an elevator, or did the cell towers get knocked down? Was the latter even possible?

Creeeeeak.

What was that? Carlos' head shot up and he looked around frantically for the odd creaking noise. It sounded metallic, but the only thing metal besides the railing was the door.

Creeeeeeeeeeeak.

Carlos stared at the sliding metal doors. What…? Then, without warning, both doors seemed to pop, letting out a hiss as the air escaped through the new cracks, and fell towards Carlos.

He let out a short cry of terror, scooting backwards until his back pressed against the wall, and his legs came up to block the doors from caving in on him. The metal rested against his feet, surprisingly lighter than he thought they were going to be.

But now he was trapped. What would happen if he moved out from under here? Would the doors fall and crush him? Carlos looked over and saw that Logan's arm and legs were both in the path of the doors. If they fell, Carlos wouldn't be able to get to Logan in time to protect him.

Carlos wouldn't help the whimper escape him as he hugged his knees to his chest. Now he really couldn't move. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he tried to brace himself, and move into a more comfortable position. No good. Any shift and the door inched forward.

"This sucks!" Carlos shouted, hitting his head back against the wall. Frustration bubbled up inside of him. He hated being stuck here. He hated not moving. He hated that he couldn't do anything to help Logan, or that Logan couldn't do anything to help here. Despite his friend's claim that they had plenty of air, Carlos' breathing hitched. Panic mode set in. Without Logan to look after, the claustrophobia was inching in again.

He pushed himself up on his hands, straining against the doors. Carlos shoved against the wall with his back—irrational, maybe. He wanted to get out. Thrashing seemed like the best way to accomplish that, except it wasn't doing anything to help him. After a few seconds Carlos came to that realization and slumped against the wall, exhausted. His chest felt tight, like something was lying on it. And he couldn't breathe.

It took Carlos a second to notice that the doors were no longer braced against his feet. He frowned and looked up at them, spotting how they leaned against the wall over his head without the support of him keeping them up.

Carlos suddenly felt stupid. Duh. He cautiously got out from under the tilted doors and peered into the crack that the doors made. This was the elevator shaft? It was pitch black—he couldn't see if the wall was yards in front of him or inches. He felt like if he spoke, the words would be swallowed by the darkness and no one would ever hear him.

He tried it out. "Hello?"

The sound felt muffled. That was probably just his mind playing tricks on him, but he couldn't help but feel strangely suffocated.

Carlos turned and reached blindly for Logan's cell phone. He'd dropped it on the floor when the doors caved in, but finding it proved easier than he thought it would be. With the press of a key the room lit up in the pale blue glow from the screen. Carlos directed it towards the elevator shaft.

The bright beam of light basked the shaft in shades of blue. Carlos saw the wall extending five feet from the car—close enough to touch it if he reached. And there was a metal bar jutting from the wall that was thick enough to stand on.

These bars seemed to be all over the elevator shaft, Carlos realized. They never crossed the path of the elevator car, but they crossed the shaft multiple times like a giant, pitch black jungle gym. Maybe if he and Logan climbed them, they could make it out of the shaft.

Even as the excitement rose at the idea of escape, Carlos felt dread creep in as well. Logan was still unconscious for one thing, and Carlos didn't think he was strong enough to pull him up with him. And even then, they'd have to climb with no safety net and no security cables to catch them. Carlos could probably do it if he had a lot of time and a lot of light. But there was nothing but the cell phone to help him.

Carlos drew his head back in to look at Logan. There was no response from him, and Carlos was scared that the last bump on the head made his concussion even worse. What if he never woke up? He could be comatose right now. He could be dying.

He looked back out at the shaft, and then at Logan's slack face. He could stay and try to wake Logan, but his concussion wouldn't help with him climbing through the shaft. But if he escaped from the shaft, he might be able to find help. But he'd also have to do it alone.

Carlos let out a shaky breath, hating this decision.

"I'll be right back, Logie." He whispered the promise to his unconscious friend. Then he placed the cell phone between his teeth and carefully climbed over the doors.

This isn't so bad, he thought, trying to squelch the terror that suddenly sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach. Right. Just don't look down. Easy.

Carlos took a deep breath and shone the cell phone at the bar across from the door. Before he could change his mind, he shoved off against the sides and jumped.

He hit the wall hard and almost fell, but the ridges in the wall helped him hold on. Balancing unsteadily, Carlos wavered for a second before motion came to rest and he finally stopped wobbling. Okay, step one complete. He took the cell phone out of his mouth and shone the light above him. Perfect—the next story was only a few feet above his head. All he had to do was somehow jump high enough to reach the bar suspended across the shaft, climb onto it, and then figure out a way to open the magnetized doors without falling to his death.

Right. Easy.

Carlos grasped the ridge on the side of the ledge he'd jumped onto and slowly, carefully maneuvered himself until his back was touching the wall instead of his stomach. He guesstimated the distance between him and the bar. Then he looked down into the suffocating blackness below him.

"Here goes everything," he said aloud. Carlos could almost see the words blinking out of existence as soon as he spoke them.

He closed his eyes tightly. Then, with one last look, he jumped.

His hands hit the bar, amazingly, but he hadn't accounted for the cell phone in his hand. His left hand caught the bar and his whole body jerked, pain shooting up his shoulder as he swung from one hand. The sudden sweat on his fingers almost made him let go, but Carlos reached up and wrapped his elbow around the bar. He closed his eyes for a second, and then pulled himself up until he was straddling the metal bar. Carlos was suddenly happy that hockey gave him good upper body strength. Or at least, he thought it did.

Whatever. He was one step closer to his goal. Carlos shined his makeshift flashlight on the door below him. He could touch it with his fingers, but that wasn't saying much. He reached over and brushed his fingers against the crack between the doors. Much to his surprise, they parted a little. Elated, Carlos leaned over—almost falling off of the beam—and tugged hard on the newly widened crack.

The doors slid open. They were still magnetized. Awesome! The doors opened, revealing the bright red carpet of the Palm Woods hallway. Carlos had never been more happy to see it. Light flooded into the shaft, illuminating things he hadn't noticed before with the weak glow of Logan's cell phone: the multiple bars, the cables, the ridges and ledges that poked out from the doors. Carlos looked back at the elevator car he just climbed out of.

The cables looked tangled with each other, sparking at the top where the pulleys resided. Terror made his stomach drop. Logan was still in there! Should he go back? He looked back at the open door and the enticing hallway. If he could get there, he could help Logan—he was sure of it.

Carlos slipped the cell phone between his teeth again, his mouth suddenly dry. He grasped the bar with both hands and lowered himself so that he was hanging from it. Then he used his legs to kick back and forth, back and forth, building up momentum. When he feet swung so hard they almost touched the top of the door to the hallway, he let go.

Impact. Carlos tried to tuck and roll, but he'd never been good at that. He hit the ground hard with his knees, and the rest of him followed, rolling until he hit the opposite wall. He lay there, dazed, until his shoulder started to scream at him. In the adrenaline he'd barely noticed that climbing through the shaft had strained his previously-dislocated shoulder, and the rough landing was the last straw.

"Ow," he gasped quietly, reaching up to touch the shoulder gingerly. Great. It was probably dislocated again.

But that didn't matter. Carlos' eyes widened as he leapt to his feet. He made it! Now all he had to do was get to a phone and call the police. His eyes fell on the stairs.

He was so relieved he could've cried.