Chapter 2
Resisting the urge to drop to the floor and cover his head, Damon widened his stance and gripped the bar beside him. There had been no deafening explosion or bright flash, but the jolt, sudden silence, and pitch blackness were almost as unsettling as being under fire.
The woman yelped and grabbed his arm in a death grip.
He sucked in a deep breath then slowly let it out, telling himself he wasn't in danger. Unless he counted the fingernails digging into his forearm. Those would leave marks.
The quiet hum of the backup power system surrounded them, then dim white lights turned on, casting an eerie glow over the elevator.
"Are you okay?" Damon looked at the pretty Latino woman beside him, searching for signs of distress. She looked like she was on the verge of tears when she got on the elevator. More trauma wouldn’t help.
She sucked in a deep breath, then slowly let it out before answering. "Yes, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" He looked down at the death grip she still had on his arm.
"Oh, I'm so sorry." She released his arm and shrank back against the wall, still hugging her basket.
"No problem." He eyed the basket. Was she the giver or the receiver? Perhaps it was from her significant other for a birthday or anniversary? His gaze jumped to her hand.
She wasn't wearing a ring.
"I was just startled." The woman looked up, studying the dim lights above them.
"Me too." Damon noted the faint glow of the buttons on the control panel. "What do you suppose is going on?"
"I think it's a power outage."
"But hospitals have back-up generators, right? Hence the emergency lighting." He stepped to the control panel. "Which means the elevator should work too."
She shook her head. "The generators are usually only meant to power vital medical equipment, like in ICU."
Not wanting to accept that as the case, he pushed the button for the main floor again.
A clank sounded above them, and the gears made a grinding sound, but the elevator didn’t move.
The woman let out a groan and slumped against the wall.
A sinking sensation swooped through Damon's stomach. He pushed the button again.
Nothing. No clank. No grind.
He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight, so he could better see the control panel. He pushed the button to open the doors.
Nothing happened.
He bit back the swear word that was on the tip of his tongue. Besides being in the presence of a lady, he'd promised God on that night six years ago in Kabul that he would turn his life around if He would spare him and give him another chance.
Despite the changes he'd made in his life, he still struggled with the cussing. He was in the military after all, and this situation certainly warranted a little colorful language.
"Are we...are we trapped in here?" Her stilted words were strained.
"Afraid so, but it's okay. We'll just hit the call button, and they'll get this thing moving in no time." Faking confidence he didn't feel, he pushed it.
A faint beep sounded.
"Hello?" Damon leaned toward the control panel.
No answer.
He was about to push it again when he heard another faint beep. Then another.
"They must be away from the phone." Tension filled the woman's voice.
Knowing it wouldn't do any good but needing to do something, he pushed the button again.
The beep sounded again, but it was fainter than before. What did that mean?
He tried to force his fingertips into the crack between the doors. If he could pry them apart even a tiny bit, maybe it would trigger a reset button or something.
If they could get off the elevator, they could take the stairs. He'd be a gentleman and offer to carry the lady's basket. Heck, he'd give her a piggyback ride down three flights of stairs if it meant he could get home to his mom's cinnamon rolls.
But the doors were sealed tighter than Fort Knox.
He patted his pockets, searching for his knife or the multi-purpose tool he always carried, then he groaned.
He'd packed them in his checked bag this morning, so they wouldn't be confiscated at airport security.
All he had in his pocket was a BIC lighter—another emergency essential—and the key fob for his rental car.
Neither of which were of use in this situation.
"Hello?" A man's voice came from the control panel.
"Yes, hello." Damon bent down and put his face next to the panel. "We're stuck in the elevator."
"Battery back...failed...no signal...can't see...elevator."
"What did he say?" Damon looked at the woman only to find her expression as bewildered as his.
"Hang tight...get to you...we can...wide...power out...influx...emergencies..." A quiet beep signaled the end of the connection.
"Wait." Damon pushed the button again, but the beep was so faint this time he could hardly hear it. "Hello?"
"I don't think he'll a-answer again." The woman's voice trembled.
He straightened and looked at his companion. Even in the dim light, he recognized the alarm in her big brown eyes. "Did he say widespread power outage?"
She nodded as she drew in an unsteady breath. "I think so. Sounds like it has triggered a bunch of accidents."
"Yeah, it would." A weight settled in Damon’s stomach. He fished his cell phone from his pocket and frowned at the lack of bars. “Do you have service? Maybe we can get a call out to...someone to help hurry this along."
"No, I never have service in these elevators. I think the hospital blocks it, so it doesn't interfere with the medical equipment."
He let out a resigned sigh before dropping to the floor, where he leaned his back against the wall, and stretched out his legs.
"What are you doing?" The woman's voice rose an octave.
"You heard the guy. He said, 'Hang tight.' It could be a while before help comes, so we may as well get comfortable. Well, as comfortable as possible under the circumstances."
"Do you have any idea how many germs are on that floor?" She sucked in another deep breath as she rocked from one foot to the other.
Damon looked more closely at the woman's attire, noting that her dark red clothing was scrubs, not athletic wear like he'd first thought.
He snorted. "If you knew of even half the places I've holed up, you'd understand why I'm not concerned about the germs that may be on this floor." He patted the linoleum beside him.
"I can't tell if you're trying to brag or what." She wrinkled her nose. "But you're gross and kind of crazy."
Damon let out a bark of laughter. "You think this is gross? You should have seen me after I spent a week in the swamps of Florida."
"Swamps?" There was that wrinkle in her nose again.
It was kind of cute.
"Army Ranger School."
"Oh, you're military." She bent down and looked closely at him, then she chuckled. "I guess that explains a lot."
Damon wondered if he should be offended. "So, are you a nurse?"
"No, I'm a radiology technician." She huffed as she set the basket on the floor then shook her arms and rocked from one foot to the other again. "And today was my last day, hence the going away gift."
She wasn't taking the basket to a loved one, she was the recipient. Damon didn't know why, but that knowledge pleased him.
The dim lights overhead flickered then went out.
The woman gasped, and he heard her grapple for the support bar.
He turned on his phone’s flashlight. "Did the guy say something about the elevator's battery back-up failing?"
"Maybe. It was hard to understand him with the way he kept cutting out. But that would explain why the elevator doesn't work and communication with him was so spotty."
"Let's hope they don't take too long to find us; my battery is at forty-two percent. With the flashlight on, it will drain it fast."
She fumbled in her purse and pulled out her phone. "Mine's at fifty-seven, but it never lasts very long either. It's time for a new phone."
He looked up at her again. "I hope you're not afraid of the dark."
She finally dropped down beside him and hugged her knees to her chest. "Not as much as I am of tight spaces."
"You're claustrophobic?"
"A little." She sucked in a deep breath. "Add in the lack of light and no ventilation, and I'm more than a little freaked out."
"Hey, it's going to be okay. We got this." He set his phone on the floor between them, light illuminating upward. "By the way, my name is Damon."
"Graciela. My friends and family call me Grace."
"Pretty name." Now he could finally stop thinking of her as the woman.
"Thanks."
"So, today was your last day, huh?" Keeping her talking was the best way he could think of to distract her. "Your coworkers must really like you to give you such a nice going away gift."
"It is nice, isn't it?" She stopped hugging her knees to pull the basket closer. She rifled through it. Her head suddenly popped up. "There's a candle in here." Then her face fell. "But no lighter."
"You have a candle?" Damon was already pulling the lighter from his pocket.
"You carry a lighter?" She gave him a puzzled look.
"I'm an Army Ranger. I like to be prepared for anything."
"Well, I'm glad you are." She set the candle on the floor next to his phone.
Damon lit each of the wicks. They were short, so the flames were small at first, but it was enough light to see the rosiness of Grace's full lips and just how big her brown eyes were.
"Now, if only there was a battery-operated fan in here." She lifted her head after poking around in the basket again, concern furrowing her brow. "How long do you think it will take to rescue us? How long will the air in here last?"
Damon looked up at the panel behind the lights. "Considering, we heard the gears of the cables engaging, I don't think this box is all that airtight." Her expression remained doubtful, so he went for distraction again. "How long have you worked here?"
"Five years. I really enjoyed it."
"Why are you leaving then?"
"I moved last week and will be starting a job closer to my new home."
"Same kind of job? Or are you going into a new vocation?"