Alarm bells (Kerry)

You enter the lift with another person on the ground floor. Somewhere between the 10th and 11th floors, the lift stops and won’t move further.
Tell the story of what happens, using plenty of dialogue.

The lift shudders to a halt. The lights go out. Silence creeps up on me.

I wait for a few seconds for it all to start up again. Nothing happens. I shuffle nervously and feel around in the darkness. I am already disorientated.

“Shit, we’re in a pickle,” a voice murmurs behind me. It’s a male voice. I struggle to recall who else is in the lift.

“I’m on my way to a meeting with the Board,” I explain. “I can’t afford to be late. I expect this will be fixed in no time,” I add optimistically, countermanding the other voice in the lift.

“Lady, didn’t you notice the weather outside?” the voice rejoins accusingly. “That was one hell of a storm. Never seen rain like it, real cats and dogs stuff. And the lightning. Wow, I love it. Nothing like a good storm. I bet the power’s cut. We’ll be here until the firies rescue us, I betcha.”

“Isn’t there a phone or something? Can’t we let someone know where we are?” I fumble in my bag for my mobile phone.

“Well, sure, you can ring someone if it makes you feel better. But they’re not going to come any sooner. Unless you’re about to have a baby or something.”

I feel mildly irritated by his outlook. Why is he so sure about what’s going to happen? It’s as though he’s prepared to just lie down and accept whatever his fate. That’s certainly not my attitude. I switch on my phone and dial my colleague’s number.

While it rings I toss back to him, “You can sit there and do nothing if you like but I’m going see what’s possible here. And, by the way, I’m not the baby kind. Just like a man to think of every woman as a baby production machine. I have a perfectly…Ah, Marie, where are you? I’m stuck in the lift. Between the 10th and 11th floors. What’s going on?”

There’s a lot of static and Marie’s voice fades in and out. “I’m…the street…fire alarms…hurry…gone off…got to get out.” The phone dies. I fold it away thoughtfully.

“What did you find out then?” he asks, curious now to hear what’s going on outside.

“I think the building has been evacuated. Perhaps we’re the only ones left. It was very hard to hear what Marie was saying. I still don’t know what’s happened. She mentioned the fire alarm.”

Putting my concerns into words now, I can feel my heart pumping perceptibly faster. A slight perspiration has formed on my forehead. The temperature is going up in the lift. It’s stuffy.

“I wonder if this is what it’ll be like when I die,” the voice continues quietly. “No sounds, darkness, completely cut off, alone.”

“You’re not alone,” I remind him. He’s beginning to sound a bit depressed, I think to myself. “We should introduce ourselves. My name’s Joyce. I work in this building, have done for ten years.”

“Pleased to meet you, Joyce. I’m Ben. I’ve seen you around. I work here too. The cleaner. Been doing it for forty years next year.”

“Warm in here, isn’t it, Ben? Can you smell something?” I ask cautiously. In the confined space I have become hyper-sensitive to sounds, smells, sensations.

“God, it’s smoke,” he cries. “Not a good sign.”

I sense the panic in his voice. It sends a shiver down my back. I bang on the lift door in a vain attempt to draw attention to our whereabouts. We both shout.

“We’re here. In the lift. Help.”

The smell of smoke is much stronger and we slide to the floor to try to avoid breathing too much of it. I grab at Ben and he puts his arm around me as we lie on the floor. Together. Not alone.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper.