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Chapter 17

My heart is thundering as Carlos puts his arm over me as we lie on the floor of the elevator. Despite Ryan's reassurances, I am really frightened. I cannot help an impending feeling of doom about this. I don't mention it to Carlos, because really, why would he believe me?

Truth is, I have always had a kind of 'sense' when things are off. Whether it's danger or just someone hinky, if I pay attention to myself and my thoughts and feelings, I just feel something. Lately, I have been calling it my 'spidey sense", in honour of Spider-Man.

This morning, when I got on the elevator, my brooding and depression about yet another failed interview meant I was really only paying attention to my work and living situation. I might have felt something off about the elevator, but I really wasn't concentrating on where I am or what was going on around me. Trust my luck.

But this time, the adrenaline and heightened concentration means I am really focussed. And something is off. But I have absolutely nothing to support that idea. I am not any kind of engineer or tech person, so I know nothing about elevators or brakes or even motors. Everyone else seems to think we will be fine, and they are supposed to know a lot more about it than me. So, I keep my mouth shut and just brace myself for whatever happens. But something is wrong. I can feel it. /

If I'm going to die, I can think of worse places to be than held in Carlos' strong, warm embrace. But I really don't want to die. I want that date with Carlos. I want more kisses. And more… well everything. To get any of that, we need to survive this damned elevator!

The elevator falls and we hear loud swearing above us for a split second before we come again to a jerking, shuddering stop. I can't repress the panicked cry that escapes me, and Carlos' arms tighten around me. The fact that we have stopped again should be reassuring, but my sense is still screaming at me, and I know we are still on the knife's edge here. We wait in silence. My eyes are screwed shut, but I can still hear the edge of panic in the shouting voices, although I only catch a few words here and there. Still, they are enough to confirm that we are still in danger, that this situation is still very tense.

How long can this possibly take? It must have been ten minutes or more. What the hell is going on? Why doesn't anyone tell us?

Just as I think I'm about to break down into full-out sobbing, we hear the inner doors being wrenched apart and the noise from outside floods in. We see Rodriguez, who is on another guy's shoulders holding the door and I realise we can now see at least two feet of distance through the bottom outer doors.

That's enough to get out! Are they going to pull us out?

I'm grossly disappointed when Rodrigues tells us they can't pull us out until they find another wedge.

Just hurry the fuck up! Get us out of here!

I know it is not Rodriguez' fault, but I can't help the panic I am feeling. The doors slam shut again, and we are still lying on the floor, braced and afraid. At least I'm afraid. The stress of the past few hours finally overwhelms me, and I feel tears start to leak out of my scrunched-shut eyes. I didn't want to cry. I wanted to be a strong, competent partner with Carlos through this ordeal, but it just becomes too much, and I cannot stop the tears.

My mind races with fear-led questions. If we fall, will we survive? How far will we fall? Will we die, or just be horribly injured? Which is worse? What if Carlos dies and I don't; can I live with that?

The questions are pointless and only serve to increase my fear, but again, I cannot help them. That spidey sense is still going wild. I'm still so scared. Carlos begins to gently rub my back, and I am shocked to hear him begin to sing softly. He's singing in Spanish, so I don't understand the words, but it's a soft and simple tune, it sounds like a lullaby. It's such a wonderful thing for him to do, to sing to me like that, and a couple of extra tears leak out at his kindness and gentleness. His voice is nothing spectacular, but he sings in tune. Despite myself, I feel some of the tension ease from my body.

I take a shaky breath, and finally manage to speak. He still seems so calm and together, I can't help asking, "Are you s..s..scared?" I stammer. "I'm t…terrified."

His arms tighten even further. I'm beginning to worry about breathing if his embrace gets any tighter. But still, I'm sure I asked for that. He replies, "Of course I'm scared Babe. But we've just gotta hold on and we'll get out of here. Ima get ya outta here."

His sudden break into slang is somehow very funny. It's probably hysteria, but I cannot help giggling at his pronouncement. I have no doubt that's what he wanted to do; break through my fear and doom-cycling. I have to play along, "Aiight home skillet, we gonna beat this bitch!" I say a bit shakily. His accent is better than mine, probably because it's real!

He chuckles and gently rubs my back again, "Hella yeah, Babe."

We wait, still clinging together on the floor. It seems like hours, but is probably less than ten minutes, when we hear the doors opening again. Carlos' arms loosen around me, and we twist slightly to see better, as five firefighters work as a team to open the doors and use two planks of wood to brace them about two feet apart.

Rodriguez and another officer are both on two officers' shoulders this time, and the four of them stand forward as Rodriguez speaks. "Ok people, here's what's going to happen now. We need you to move very carefully. Like I told you there are people holding the brake engaged, but we don't want to cause too much jolting and bouncing. So please stay close to the floor and crawl toward us one at a time. We'll lift you over the planks and get you to move to sit onto Matthews' shoulders then he'll lower you to the floor." Rodriguez gestures to a burly colleague who looks to be over six feet tall and well-built. I assume he was chosen as he could handle Carlos' muscled bulk and weight.

Rodriguez pauses a second, eyeing our positions, "Carlos, we'll take you first, since you are closest to the door. Like I said, crawl over slowly…" He stops, as Carlos is already shaking his head.

"No." Carlos said decisively, "Take Steph first. She gets out first in case anything else happens."

I appreciate his chivalry, but I can't let him delay the rescue or place himself in more danger for my own safety. I reach over to cup his face and turn it gently toward me, "It's ok, Carlos. I'll be ok. I'll be right behind you, and you can help Mr Matthews lift me down. Please, we can't waste time, you go first. Go now."

I can see that Carlos is still very unhappy at this, but Rodriguez speaks up again, "She's right Carlos. We're getting you both out of there and we need to move quickly. There are three people holding the brake now, and another on standby. Nothing is going to happen before we get you both out of there. And we need to cause as little jostling as possible. So please, Carlos. Start crawling over to us."

Carlos hesitates another second or so, before looking resigned. But he begins to move, crawling backwards on his knees and elbows, and staying very low to the floor. He reaches the doors. I look around as he starts to lift each leg over the planks of wood, peering backward to position himself carefully onto Matthews' broad shoulders, guided and helped by Rodriguez and the other high-seated officer.

As he moves back, I spot my bag. I reach over and loop it onto my shoulder, and across my chest diagonally. I start the backwards crawl myself as I hear Matthews' grunts as he takes Carlos' weight and moves swiftly to lower Carlos to the ground.

By the time Carlos and Matthews have straightened up, I am already at the door waiting. I sit up, hoping it will help me exit easier if I can see more and see four sets of arms reaching towards me. I take the higher officers' proffered hands and as I move forward, their other hands slide under my arms to brace and lift me over the planks. I see Rodriguez give his head a slight shake as he spots my bag, but he doesn't say anything. The two officers lift me with seeming ease and I carefully position my legs across Matthews' shoulders as Carlos braces me and helps guide me.

I feel a small rush of ridiculous embarrassment as I realise my skirt is hiked up so high my panties are on full display to everyone. I suppose I'm the only one who even notices, let alone cares. Everyone else has far more important things to worry about. But my feeling as Matthews lowers me to the ground and Carlos helps me step off is only overwhelming relief. I almost break down right there and then, knowing I am, we are, finally safe and back on solid ground. But somehow, I manage not to collapse and hold it together.

Carlos takes me back into his arms and hugs me tightly. I can feel his relief as well, and we just cling together for several minutes, taking comfort from each other. Then we draw back, and Carlos kisses me gently and chastely on the forehead. I want to grab him and return the kiss much more passionately. However, we look around and realise five sets of eyes are fixed on us. The fire officers have climbed off each other's shoulders and are looking at us with a little amusement and speculation. Looking around, I can see even more people, obviously curious onlookers from the building, also looking at us avidly. I am sure a small pink tinge comes up on my cheeks, but Carlos looks unaffected.

Safe. Safe. I try to let it sink in. I take a couple of deep breaths.

I can't help myself, and I launch myself at a very shocked Rodriguez to hug him tightly, "Thank you. Thank you. I can't thank you enough. I really thought we were going to die in there. So, thank you." I step back. It's Rodriguez' turn to look embarrassed, and I'm amused to see the pink tinge on his own swarthy complexion.

I turn back to Carlos, who also looks amused, but I feel a thrill as he is quick to reach out and draw me back to his side, with his arm around my shoulders. Was he jealous? But his voice does not betray any hint of jealousy as he speaks, "Yes. Thank you all. All of your crew and Aldridge too. You all were great, and we appreciate your help," he says sincerely.

Carlos' mention of Aldridge seems to bring everyone back to the situation. Matthews begins to guide us back away from the doors further, as the crew moves to start looking at what they need to do next. I glance around to see the foyer is cordoned off, including the stairs and lift area, to prevent the gawkers and curious crowds from approaching us. I wonder if the upper floors have been evacuated, since the stairs are blocked off. I guess it would make sense that they would get everyone out before they started doing the rescue, probably even before Aldridge released the brake.

Matthews takes us over to the side of the foyer, where someone has thoughtfully placed some bottles of water and packets of sandwiches on a coffee table beside a couple of sofas. I see one of the sofas is now missing its cushions. Mathews tells us to have something to eat and drink, and points to some restrooms in case we need them. He tells us we will need to stick around to fill in some paperwork and talk to the captain before he goes back to join his colleagues.

We sit, and simultaneously tilt our heads back to take some more deep breaths.

Safe. At last.

Well, they're out! Finally...so now what? What do you want to happen?