Delphi, Eganene
Elisabeth watched her brother disappear into the dark room, her eyes on his shoulders. He was acting strange, even considering how messed up everything was. Obviously, this whole night was awful, but he didn’t have to focus his anger on Bekka’s grandmother. It wasn’t like Agatha had anything to do with this.
She considered following him. He was a bear when he was upset and he seemed especially unreasonable tonight. Elisabeth rubbed her temples as she stared at the black doorway. It was weird standing here alone.
It was more than just the fact that they were locked out. Nothing was making sense! Elisabeth could have sworn they’d been alone on the 6th floor when Agatha appeared in front of them. Where had the old woman come from and why was Bekka missing?
Why were they searching Bekka’s apartment? Wouldn’t Agatha have already checked there? Elisabeth had so many questions.
Normally, she’d have just launched in, asking everything, but half the things she wanted to say sounded crazy. Whatever was happening, she and Jamie were experiencing the same thing. She listed the possibilities. Food poisoning could cause fevers. Her drink could have had been spiked. Elisabeth sighed. The whole thing was ridiculous.
Nodding to herself, she decided she wasn’t going to solve the mystery standing in the hallway. She would find Arthur. He would let them back into their room. Then he could help Agatha look for Bekka.
She and Jamie should have gone looking for him first thing. If they hadn’t been so disoriented, they’d have done it already. Peering down the hall towards the stair, she realized the whole corridor was dark. She took a few steps and stopped, looking back over her shoulder to where Jamie and Agatha had disappeared inside the apartment. Bekka’s grandmother meant well, but Arthur had keys.
Determined, she headed down the staircase, slowing at each hall to see if anyone was awake. The rug under her feet had holes in it and the paint was just about peeling off the walls. Even the lights seemed dim. There was something wrong with the building.
She had to tell Jamie, she thought with a sigh. The building wasn’t right. He had to see that.
The 6th floor felt warmer and she stopped, confused. She decided to check her hall again. Maybe they’d been trying to get into the wrong apartment. While she walked, she undid the top few buttons of her pajamas.
The apartment radiators were enormous contraptions. If someone had cranked the heat and gone to bed, they were risking a fire. Remembering a prevention video she’d seen in class, she pressed her palm against the wooden doors. Her apartment and the next several were a normal temperature, but 609 was warm to the touch. She didn’t know who lived in there since they had only been in 601 for a couple of weeks.
She should warn them. She checked the door again. No, the door to 609 was definitely warmer. Whoever lived there might be in real danger.
Gathering her courage, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and smoothed her pajamas. If she was wrong, she’d at least appear sane. She pounded against the doorframe.
She waited, expecting to hear footsteps. Sweat on the back of her neck trickled between her shoulder blades. Nothing. She tried a few more times, slamming her hand into the frame. Either the people weren’t home or they were definitely in trouble. Gingerly, she tried the doorknob. The metal was warm in her hand, but it turned easily.
Surprised, she realized it was open. Using her palm to push, she put her eye to the widening crack. “Hello?” she called as warm air rushed out.
No one answered.
Louder, “Hello? Anyone home?”
Again, nothing. She thought about running for Arthur, but there was no guarantee that he was there. She stepped inside and closed her eyes against the waves of heat.
Shielding part of her face, she squinted into the darkness. The hall light was too dim, but she spied a set of unlit candles and a matchbook on the table beside the door. She took one and lit the wick.
They must have had quite a party, she thought, surveying the wreckage. Sequins were spread across the kitchen table, and shiny scraps of wrapping paper littered the carpet. She would hurry, find the thermostat, turn it down and leave.
There was a window, but it looked like the owners had covered it with curtains. Elisabeth put the candle back on the table and felt along the wall. In her apartment, there was set of switches only a few feet from where she was standing. Hot and nervous, she wanted to get this done and get out.
If only she could see a little better! Elisabeth fought a flare of frustration and wiped the salt out of her eyes. Even if she couldn’t find the thermostat, she could help these people. In her apartment, the radiator was located in the kitchen. Most places had a standard floor plan. She would look there first. Once she found the radiator, she could turn the release valve under the body. After she loosened that, it wouldn’t work at all.
Edging towards what she hoped was the window, Elisabeth’s foot struck something soft. She froze, concerned she had just kicked someone’s dog. When nothing moved, she tried to step over it.
“Ughhhh,” came the low moan from beneath her.
Trying not to breath, she put her leg back down.
Not a dog, a person. Maybe they’d been overcome by the heat and passed out. She rushed back for the candle, realizing she’d been wrong. There hadn’t been a party and there wasn’t any glitter. Instead, the floor was covered with shards of glass.
Grabbing the candle, she hurried back to the man. He was lying immobile on the tiles and she felt a shot of panic. What if he was dead?
Elisabeth knelt beside him, searching for blood. She didn’t see any, moved the light close to his face and set it down. Curled up in the fetal position, he was wearing a business suit. She couldn’t see his face.
“Hey, are you all right?”
The man’s mouth was hidden beneath his arm, but she didn’t think he’d responded. She shook him gently. “Hey, Mr., are you all right?”
His arm slid off his face to land in her lap. One of his gold rings, a band of linking circles struck her knee. “Milly,” he muttered.
Wondering how long he had been unconscious, Elisabeth rolled him gently onto his back. He was about thirty, with dark hair and a handsome face. His eyelashes lay on stubbled cheeks. Despite the sweat stains and dried mud, his clothes looked expensive.
“Are you ok?” she said, shaking him.
His chest rose and fell rhythmically and Elisabeth thought he seemed calm. Just looking at him made her feel relaxed, too, as if the apartment was nothing to worry about. Sagging from the heat, she felt her body slipping towards him.
The man moved fast, wrapping his arms about her and pulling her down on top of him.
“Hey!” she squealed. She was pinned, the muscles of his arms flexing as she tried to pull away. She struggled, wriggling violently back and forth, but he didn’t release her, didn’t even seem to notice that she was there. He was still unconscious.
“What are you doing?” she yelled in his ear.
The muscles of his arms were tense and unyielding. He didn’t respond.
She had to wake him up.
“You never had to,” the man groaned softly. “There were other places. I’ve seen them.”
Elisabeth was having trouble understanding was happening. The man didn’t even know she was there. His breath was warm on her cheek and he was breathing evenly. She quit struggling, wondering if that might cause him to let go. She listened to his inhale and exhale. She was so tired all of a sudden.
“Wake-up!” she yelled into his ear.
He didn’t even flinch.
Who was he talking to? Was Milly his girlfriend? The man was silent for a few moments and she felt herself growing drowsy again. There was nothing except for his slow inhale and exhale and she felt her eyes close.
Their breaths quickly fell into sync, each inhale occurring at exactly the same time. Crushed against him, she could feel his heart beating against her cheek.
“Kantanaloo, down by the river,” the man said happily.
She jerked, aware that she been motionless for some time. Using her elbows to push herself up, she attempted to break his grasp. He was holding her so hard it almost hurt. His fingers pressed into her back. To make matters more uncomfortable, his belt buckle was jabbing into her ribs.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
“I…,” she started and then abruptly his mouth covered hers. She pulled away, only to push back on the wall of his arms. He was kissing her and she arched as far as she could manage, but it wasn’t enough, his lips were on hers.
“You need...” she managed finally, making a little space. It could have been the heat or her dizziness, she didn’t know why, but when he kissed her again, she let him. She could feel his heartbeat, calming her, lulling her, soothing her. The feel of his lips on hers was not unpleasant. Caught in a warm bubble, it was as if her thoughts were muffled and her reasoning gone.
His blue eyes opened, unfocused, unseeing. His hair was plastered to his head and his shirt was soaked. His face was flushed, dark circles of color blooming on his pale cheeks. What the hell was happening? They need to get out of there!
He relaxed his hold and she pushed back into a crouch and scrambling away. What the heck had just happened…why had she… Abruptly, she stopped wondering. The room had grown cloudy with smoke, the darkness around them murky and thick. Fire!
“You need to get up!” she screamed.
He didn’t move.
She yelled the words again, but his only response was to close his eyes and open his mouth.
She grabbed his arms and tried to pull him up, but he was well built and had a hundred pounds on her. Elisabeth started shoving him away from the cabinetry, coughing roughly. She pulled his arms over his head and began dragging him towards the door. As she reached the living room, orange light flashed in the kitchen.
She lost her grasp. The man’s arms, back and head thumped against the floor. She winced, worried she had hurt him, but there wasn’t time to check. A flash of flame was tracing its way up the kitchen curtains. Her palms were too sweaty for a good hold, but she grabbed him higher on his arms, where the cloth of his suit jacket provided more friction.
Her head was pounding, the odd sensation she’d felt when the man grabbed her replaced by the pain of her previous headache. The kitchen was glowing orange, the fire spreading across the curtain rod towards the cabinetry. The old building was almost completely carpeted. The flames would spread quickly.
Elisabeth swallowed, squeezing the man’s upper arms. One, two, three, she pulled with everything she had, arms and legs flexing. She could do this. One, two, three, she pulled again. Inch-by-inch she jerked him along the floor towards the door. His head lolled from side to side, the movement jolting him so that his wet hair slapped against his face.
She pulled and coughed, again and again. She kept hoping the man’s eyes would open, but they didn’t. A loud popping sound made her flinch, but after an eternity, she made it to the door and grabbed its frame. Using one hand and throwing her weight into the last tug, Elisabeth heaved the man over the threshold and into the hall.
As soon as he was out, she let him fall to the floor, crawled to her knees and slammed the door. It had only taken a few minutes, but that fire was going to spread fast. Inhaling the fresher air, she searched for the alarm. The walls closest to her were empty, and she ran the length of the hall, her feet pounding against the carpet. When she found the small, red box with a black handle by the stairs, she pulled.
Nothing happened. No alarms, no sprinklers, nothing. How was that possible? The unconscious man lay where she left him, his arms extended above his head and his skin was the color curdled milk.
“Jamie!” she screamed, but her brother didn’t answer. “Agatha!” No one came out of the rooms and her brother was flights above her. It was an easy decision. As fast as she could, she pulled the man further from the door. Her arms were tired, but she didn’t want him to get burned while she was gone. Satisfied, she bounded up the stairs.
She made it two floors before she had to stop. Shivering uncontrollably, the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention, Elisabeth doubled over. Her skin felt like it was covered in gel, the tingling sensation and goose pimples spreading across her body. Cold at first and then moments later, she was hot to the touch, her vision swimming as she staggered against the railing.
Had she inhaled too much smoke? She closed her eyes and gripped the bannister, the heat racing through her body as she pulled back the arm of her pajamas. Was she having an allergic reaction?
She could have inhaled something back in that apartment.
Elisabeth shook her head. She had to keep going, had to keep climbing. She made it up another half a flight before she realized the sensations were lessening. Soon they disappeared altogether.
She could see clearly again. Pulling back her sleeve, her skin returned to normal. She shook her head and started jogging.
“Jamie!” she shouted as she reached the landing. She didn’t wait for an answer, but she ran the length of the hall to Agatha’s apartment. The door was open, but there weren’t any lights.
“Jamie! We gotta get out of here,” she yelled. “There’s a fire!”
It was too dark to see, but she thought she could make out a window in the kitchen and took a few steps towards it. The pale glass seemed to glow softly from the outside. “Jamie! We gotta go!” she called again.
She held her breath to listen.
Where were they? She waited a few seconds and then moved slowly into the room. The thick scent of burning cloth covered her clothes, but strangely, it smelled like charred meat. The thought made her uncomfortable.
“Do you hear me?” she yelled. “We gotta get out of here. There’s a fire!”
No response. It was cold in the apartment, a sharp contrast to the heat downstairs. The sweat on her body began to cool, leaving her feeling the same odd sensation she’d experienced on the stairs.
“Jamie!” she yelled as loudly as she could. Her ears rang from the effort. “Jamie! Come on!”
Silence answered her and she realized they must have left. Maybe they had gone for Arthur, too. They might have walked right by her while she was pulling that guy out of the room.
Reaching the hall, she retraced her path to the 6th floor, hearing a dry hacking cough. The man she’d saved was sitting up, his head hanging between his knees as his shoulders heaved. She thought he looked like he was about to pass out again. “You ok?” she asked, heading towards him. The air was cloudy.
The man’s head jerked up, his black hair obscuring his narrowed eyes. His hand moved even faster, slipping into his jacket pocket. “Who are you?” he demanded, his words slurred.
“Whoa,” she said, stopping. He was probably confused. “There’s a fire in your apartment. I pulled you out.”
He said nothing, but shoved his hair from his face with his free hand. His blue eyes never left hers.
He looks like a cop, she thought, a really sick cop. His face was the color of blanched vegetables. He appeared angry and confused. Maybe it wasn’t booze, she thought, maybe he was into something harder. His expression made her uneasy, like she was the reason he didn’t feel well.
“A fire,” she said with exaggeration, gesturing towards his door. “We gotta go.”
He moaned, getting to his knees. She watched as he took his hand out of his pocket to brace himself against the wall. Never taking his eyes from her face, he tried to take a step towards her. Unbalanced, he staggered and nearly fell.
“I…I think I’m going to need some help getting downstairs.”
Elisabeth went to him and placing an arm under his, let him rest his weight. His body was still too warm.
Looking over at her, he raised an eyebrow. “You’re stronger than you look.”
She guessed it was his form of a truce. He couldn’t move fast, but with her help, they made it to the steps. Using his free arm to grasp the railing, they wobbled down step by step. She worried that he was going to fall and take her with him.
Somehow they arrived safely, but Arthur’s desk was deserted and an out of order sign hung on the elevator. She shivered, less from the change in temperature, but for the strangeness of the room.
“Thanks,” the man said.
Elisabeth glanced at him. It had taken a lot to get him down here. Gracelessly, he dumped himself on the steps, letting his his head hang between his legs. His back rose and fell with the deep breaths he was taking. He has to be ill, she thought. If he was just drunk, he wouldn’t be winded, he would be puking.
“You need a hospital,” she declared, pacing over to Arthur’s desk. Dust covered the entire surface. She swore and asked, “Where’s the phone?” When he didn’t reply, she stormed back to the steps and glared up the stairs, “Jamie, where are you?”
“Who’s Jamie?”
She headed towards the lobby window, “My brother.”
“You think he’s still upstairs?”
“I don’t know.”
“But that’s where you saw him last?”
“Yeah.” She peered down the snow-covered sidewalk. There were no fire rescue vehicles and the road was deserted. “Do you have a cell?” she asked, turning back.
He shook his head, “How’d you pull me out of the room?”
“My mom’s in the military. She taught me a few things.”
Had Jamie already gotten out? Maybe he had taken Agatha and Arthur to safety. But if the alarm wasn’t working, how could they know about the fire?
They could have smelled it, she thought. But where were the rest of the residents? Arthur wouldn’t have just left them.
Elisabeth nodded, “We need to find a phone.”
“Do you live here?” he asked, trying to stand.
Elisabeth watched him take a step toward the exit and stumble. He threw out his hands and caught himself on the wall. “I don’t think you should do that,” she said. “I think you’re messed up from falling, I…”
“I fell?” he asked.
“You were out cold when I found you,” she said, helping him back to a sitting position. “Look, I…I’ve gotta find my brother. I pulled the alarm, but it doesn’t seem like anything happened.”
The man looked at her oddly, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. Giving up, Elisabeth replied, “Ok, Mr., I’m gonna go now. You gonna be OK by yourself?”
“I…I’m not sure. I think I’ll some help getting outside.”
Elisabeth grimaced, torn.
“I bet your brother went to find an, uh, a fire man.”
Elisabeth shrugged, tugging on her ponytail, “Maybe.”
“I...,” the man coughed. “I know you want to wait for your brother, but I don’t think staying here is such a good idea. I’ve got a friend who has a house nearby. If you help me to her, I’m sure we can call for help there.”
Elisabeth didn’t like the idea. Her brother wouldn’t have just left her, but if he’d gone for help... She shook her head, “Look, I don’t even know your name. I’m pretty sure it would be a better idea for me to stay here.”
With exaggerated movements, the man craned his neck so that he could see the stairs behind him. Clean-shaven, his neck looked eerily exposed. When he didn’t look back down, Elisabeth followed his gaze.
Above her, the steps circled upwards, the wood railing a serpentine curve. The light was dim, but she could tell the area above her was hazy. “There’s smoke in the halls…”
“We need to get out of here,” he replied. Extending his hand, he continued, “My name is Peter.”
“Elisabeth,” she said, grasping his hand.
His palm was hot and his grasp strong. Pulling her gently towards him, his eyes locked on hers. “Elisabeth,” he said, “I’ve seen fires before and this thing is going to go quickly. We need to get out of here. My friend doesn’t live too far away and judging from that smoke upstairs, this isn’t anywhere you want to be. You helped me. Now, let me help you.” He regarded her candidly. She felt herself flush.
“I don’t…” she tried to say, but the words slipped away. His thumb caressed the back of her hand, leaving trails of sensation that made it difficult to focus. She had lost her train of thought. Looking at him, she shuddered, long, protracted shivers traveling the length of her body. She was thinking about the way his lips felt on hers, the press of him as he held her against him..
“Elisabeth,” he said again. Her chest tightened with anticipation. “We have to go, Elisabeth. I need your help.”
“But, my brother…” she managed, her voice a whimper. What was wrong with her? Pulling her eyes from his, she looked upstairs. She could see the smoke. It hung in a thick cloud at the 6th floor, its grayish tendrils drifting upwards, clinging to the walls.
“How old is your brother?”
“Seventeen,” she said, taking a deep breath.
The man still held her wrist. The lights around them flickered weakly.
“I’m sure he is old enough to take care of himself,” he said, attempting to pull himself up by the banister.
“Yeah, but what if he…” she started, but the man wobbled and she moved to help him.
“He knows you wouldn’t stay in a burning building. But, Elisabeth, I need help.” He was looking at her seriously.
She wanted to help him, “I guess I could…”
Suddenly the man’s weight shifted so that she was holding him up. Embarrassed, he said, “I’m going to need you to get me out of here.”
Moving so that the weight of him rested more evenly, she pushed open the door and helped him out into the storm.