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Chapter 14

I am immensely relieved to hear the voice of the officer. I know this is the first real step to rescue. Obviously, he needs to make an assessment and then get the right tools and people here but getting out of this elevator is beginning to look more like a reality. I wish he had a second hydraulic wedge, but at least he is seeking possible solutions with us.

I worried about Steph positioning the pipe to wedge the doors, but there is really no choice. I certainly can't hold the doors while positioning the pipe, and there's no way Steph could hold the doors open herself. Fortunately, everything goes much to plan, and we are left with a ten-inch gap in the inner doors. Finally, we can converse normally and figure a way out of here.

I tense automatically when Rodriguez seems to question whether we had sat around waiting for rescue. I'm a man of action, and a respected officer, so it rubs me the wrong way. I try to maintain my calm though, and I can see from Rodriguez' reaction to my explanation that he didn't mean offence. To be honest, if he had found a typical businessman trapped in here, he might have been justified in assuming they had done little to effect an escape. And Steph on her own would have really struggled too. After a while, she probably would have tried to attract attention and seek help, but she may not have succeeded if she couldn't open the doors.

I cannot help the slight feeling of dread that washes over me as I contemplate what could have happened to Steph if she had been trapped here alone. It had been a close call as to whether I stepped onto this elevator, and an even closer call that I stayed. She could have been knocked unconscious when the emergency brakes engaged; she could have been trapped in here for days. I send a silent thank-you to whatever force brought me onto this elevator today.

Rodriguez' suggestion that we move away from the pipe as we wait is a good one. So we move back and sit down to wait once more. I breathe deeply and feel a specific tension ebb slightly. Even after we had attracted attention from the woman and the building maintenance guy, I had held the tension, knowing that escape was not a reality until someone with more skills arrived. As we lean back against the elevator wall, I realise I have put my arm around Steph again. That was odd, I thought, it had been automatic, like a reflex, certainly not a conscious move. But Steph doesn't seem to mind and relaxes against me as well.

We wait quietly for several minutes, each apparently lost in our own thoughts. Finally, Steph speaks, and she surprises me enormously when she does, as her thoughts seem to have mirrored my own to an extent. "I'm so glad you got on this elevator with me today," she tells me. "I'm not sure how I would have coped if I'd been here alone."

"I think you would have been ok, Babe," I respond. I am sincere. I might have concerns about what could have happened to her, but I have seen the strength and resilience in her, even in the short time I have spent with her. "You would have found a way to get help, and you would have held on until help came."

She flashes me a small smile, "Thanks. I guess I would have battled through. But I couldn't have opened those doors by myself, so it probably would have taken a lot longer." I nod. There's really no denying that. "I tend to be the kind of person who holds on until it's over, and then I either fall apart, or push it away to live in denial. It's just reassuring to have someone to share the experience with."

"De nada, Babe," I acknowledge. "Actually, it goes both ways, you know. If I'd been here alone, it might have taken me a lot longer to get help too." She looks at me uncertainly. "Think about it, Babe. You were the one who came up with idea to bash on the walls and doors to attract attention. I was still thinking about how to escape myself. And I might have been able to open the doors, but I couldn't hold them open and bash on them. Like you said, it was a team effort." She nods and smiles at me and I cannot help returning the smile and hug her a little more closely to my side.

Suddenly, Steph says, "You know, we've been talking for hours and even planned a date, but I don't even know your last name. Mine's Plum, by the way, like my sleazy cousin."

I chuckle, "Manoso. Ricardo Carlos Manoso. I've always gone by Carlos; I was named for my grandfather Ricardo."

"What does your family do? I mean you mentioned your uncle's restaurant. But what does your father do? My dad retired from the post office about eighteen months ago. He was Postmaster for Trenton for about fifteen years. He worked for the postal service ever since he left the Army after Vietnam. He was a delivery man at first and worked his way up. But he reckons it's getting too much. They're talking about closing down small branches everywhere, and competition from FedEx and UPS is getting extreme. So, dad had enough and took retirement at sixty. He started driving a cab about six months ago, just part time. His benefits are pretty good though, so I think it's more to get him out of the house and away from spending every day with my mom and grandma. Mom's always been a housewife. So was my grandma, although I'm not sure that was really by choice. It was just expected in her generation. I think she would have chosen to be an adventurer or a stripper or something, if she could!"

I can't help chuckling again at her babbling. "My dad worked his way up as well, but in car sales. He started as a salesman, and eventually opened his own sale yard here in Newark. He focuses on imports, German mostly, but his big passion is classic cars. Classics are a big part of Cuban culture and heritage, and he grew up with the stories of my abuelo, my grandfather, about the cars in Cuba. He hasn't retired though, he's a workaholic and I don't really see him ever retiring, at least not voluntarily; much to my mom's disgust. Like your mom, mine's a stay-at-home housewife. Most of my sisters have followed in her footsteps, although my youngest sister has just finished college, studying nursing. And you know my brother's a chef."

Steph nods, "Our dads have something in common. Mine loves classic cars as well, although dad is fiercely pro-American cars. American is always better according to dad."

My lips twitch at that. "Maybe I won't tell your dad that my dream car is a Porsche." She shakes her head at me, wide-eyed. "I told you I stole a car for a joyride at fourteen. It was a Porsche and I fell in love. Never fell out of love. My dad mostly imports Mercedes and BMW, but he does import Porsche on request."

"You didn't steal the car from your dad's yard, did you?" She sounds incredulous.

"Oh, hell no! That would have been suicidal for me. No, we snuck out to a more affluent neighborhood to find something. The Porsche was what we found. For better or worse." I smirk.

Steph shakes her head at that. "I was rebellious too, just never got quite that far. I used to sneak out of my room all the time though. Sadly, for my parents, I had the window that opened over the garage roof. The bathroom was on the same side, while my parents' and Val's rooms were on the other side of the house. So, it was all too easy for me to sneak out and climb down."

Steph went on, "That was as a teenager. But I was rebellious from the beginning. I told you Morelli got me into trouble at six. He was eight, but he already had a really bad reputation in the community. His dad was abusive, and he and his brother and cousins were all running wild, getting away with anything, and causing trouble. Everyone, especially girls, was told to stay away from them. I was too curious and too willing to go against everyone else though. So, when he told me he was going to teach me a game in his father's garage, I followed him. I was disappointed though. He told me it was called Choo-Choo, and I wanted to be the train, not the tunnel."

She chuckles a little at that, but I am struggling to find it amusing. This little prick was sexually abusing a six-year-old! I know people would say he was 'just a curious kid', but as a father, I cannot see it like that. If anyone did that to Julie… Well, let's just say I am definitely beating the crap out of him if we ever meet. Then I remember, he's a cop now. Hmm, so I may need to wait until I have help nearby to hide the body…

I decide to change the subject before Steph becomes aware of the path my thoughts have taken. "What sorts of crime do you think are prevalent in Trenton?" I enquired.

She looks thoughtful, "Well, break-ins and robberies are probably more traditional around my parents' neighborhood. There's definitely some mob activity, but low-key. Nothing really big. In the more run-down areas of Trenton the gangs have moved in though. Drugs and prostitution and chop-shops. Stark Street is the main zone for that. Joe Juniack is the Chief of Police. He is an old Army buddy of my dad's. I've heard him talk about how parts of the city are deteriorating. I think he wants to run for Mayor or Governor someday, says he's going to get the city cleaned up."

Wow, she really does have good connections. Trenton is looking more and more like it has good potential. "Well, Babe, when we get out of here, I'll definitely be employing you to help me explore the possibilities in Trenton. Research and introductions to all your good contacts. But first, and most important, is our date, of course. Japanese food and a funny movie. Tomorrow night?" I suggest.

She nods, a little shyly. "Yes, tomorrow night would be great. I think tonight I'm just gonna collapse and sleep." I agree. I am feeling slightly exhausted, and I wish the rented apartment I was using had a jacuzzi tub. A hot water massage would be great tonight on my shoulders and arms.

I am getting soft. Was it only a couple of years ago, I would spend weeks in the jungle or the desert, lugging heavy packs and weapons, and going days or even weeks without bathing, let alone hot water? It does not take long to get used to having creature comforts and living in relative luxury. I wonder briefly what Steph's apartment is like? But then I remember she is unemployed and even before that was earning at best a standard wage. Her accommodation is likely to reflect her means, and not likely to include many luxuries. I hope it has decent security at least. Most people don't pay enough attention to decent security beyond a lock, usually a lock that just about any criminal can pick.

Suddenly we hear a call, "Hello in there! It's Officer Rodriguez again. Can you hear me?"

I stand and pull Steph up beside me. We move to the doors but stand to the side of the pipe wedged in the door, to peer out and up at Rodriguez. "Officer, we can hear you."

"Hello again. I'm sorry, I'm not sure I got your names before. Carl, was it? And Steph?" Rodriguez asks.

"Carlos and Steph." I correct quietly.

He nods in acknowledgment, and gestures to a portly man with a greying moustache, in a faded grey uniform shirt and hard hat beside him. "This is Ryan Aldridge; he works for NJ Elevator Repairs. He's here to assess the elevator and work out how we can get you out of there. Meanwhile, we've managed to get hold of another hydraulic wedge. It's being delivered within the next twenty minutes, but we might hold off setting it up until Mr Aldridge decides what we should do. No point in setting it up just to have to pull it down again and repeat. Just stay away from the pipe in case it slips." We nod.

Aldridge steps up and says, "Call me Ryan. Officer Rodriguez passed on what you told him happened. I can see from here the emergency brake has engaged. There is a manual release that I can use to disengage the brake, and in theory, we can lower the elevator down to level with the ground floor below you. But I'm a little concerned about what else might happen. Officer Rodriguez says you fell more than one floor before the brake engaged?"

"If that's the ground floor below us, then we fell from the fourth. More than two floors." I clarify.

"That's not good," Ryan shakes his head. "The brake is supposed to engage within thirty centimetres. Less than a foot. The fact that it didn't has me worried." He appears to contemplate things for a few moments. "Run me back through exactly what happened again?"

I recount the story from when we got on the fifth floor. Aldridge asks a couple of clarifying questions about how the jolt and shake felt and what we heard when the brake engaged. It doesn't seem to provide him with any answers if his expression is a guide.

"Ok. No worries. So, I'm going to climb onto the roof and inspect it all more closely. Don't be concerned about me coming aboard. This elevator is rated to 2500 pounds, and the emergency brake is rated to 150 percent of that weight, so nearly 4000 pounds. I'm not going to cause any problems on the roof." He reassures us. "And at this point, I'm just looking. I'm not going to be doing anything that should cause the elevator to move at all."

Rodriguez speaks again. "So, hold tight one more time. Step away from the door and sit on the floor. If you feel like anything is going to happen, lie down flat." That wasn't reassuring, and I can see Aldridge shake his head slightly. I guess Rodriguez is just doing his job from an emergency management standpoint, but I feel Steph shiver slightly against me when he mentions something happening. I pull her back to the side of the doors and we sit. I put my arm around her and hug her as reassuringly as I can as we wait. Again.

I can just see Aldridge as he says something quietly to Rodriguez, lifts his leg over the hydraulic wedge, and steps up onto the elevator car roof.

I'm really enjoying the alternating viewpoints and it's helping me with my writing and developing the characters. Let me know in your comments if you are enjoying it too!