Ainsley hid out of sight behind a row of non-fiction books, filed with care under a laminated sign boasting their Dewey Decimal System call numbers. Removing some books so she could see, she rested her head against the bookshelf and watched. She held her breath.
After a torturous five minutes, the doors to the elevator opened to an empty box, with metal railings. Not the enclosed walls of a traditional elevator, but more like one about to lead them down to the depths of coal mine. A gray light beamed down into the box from the side railing. It blinked twice, but sustained its glow.
“No way,” Dean said shaking his head. “That thing looks like it’s about to take me into the pit of hell.”
Darla scanned the box and swung her gun from one corner to the other. “Come on,” she nodded toward the elevator. “Let’s see where this takes us.” She looked at the button on the side: there was only one choice. Taking a deep breath, ignoring the pit in her stomach, Darla’s finger was lingering above the round circle. “Come on,” she called back toward her friends, but they were motionless, hesitant. The air around her smelled like dirt and rust.
“You could be walking into an ambush down there,” Dean said. “Darla...don’t...”
Ainsley whimpered. “I don’t know...it’s so dark. I’m done with the dark. No more dark.”
With a deep breath, Darla took the barrel of her gun and pushed it into the button. Dean and Ainsley watched her with their eyes wide, and their mouths formed into circles of worry and fear. The elevator doors began to close, eclipsing the library and the world above, and steeping Darla into darkness.
From outside she heard Dean swear and he pushed the button in a vain attempt to stop her. Then she jumped back as Dean’s outstretched hand pushed its way into the closing elevator doors. He wrestled them open, but the elevator did not stop its slow descent. Darla looked up, through the topless metal box, as she traveled downward, Dean’s face growing smaller. And without warning, he swung his body down into the blackness of the hole and dropped. He crashed into Darla and hit her to the floor; he landed on his ankle and crumpled into a heap. Dean yelped in pain.
“You could’ve killed us both,” Darla said to him, angry. The light in the corner the elevator illuminated Dean’s face, and she saw that he was in pain. He winced as he tried to push himself to the side while cradling his foot in his hands. “Are you okay?” she asked.
He nodded.
From above them they could hear Ainsley’s panicked voice calling to them, but her small shrieks became smaller and traveled further away. The light from above disappeared entirely, and it was getting colder.
“Will she be okay there by herself?” Dean asked.
“Maybe you should have thought of that before you dropped fifteen feet into a moving elevator,” Darla replied. “Can you stand?” she asked him.
“Yup,” he replied and he allowed himself to be helped up. He leaned against Darla’s shoulder.
“You didn’t have to come with me,” Darla said, the elevator bounced further down, and made no movement to stop anytime soon.
“I’m a coward,” he replied.
Darla looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “A shocking admission,” she replied with a grin.
“But,” he continued, eyeing her, “I wasn’t going to let you do this by yourself.”
Her smile faded and she turned to face Dean. “Thank you,” she said.
“Thank you.”
She was dismissive. “I’m scared,” she added after a beat.
“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”
The lift slowed, the gears screeched, and then the whole thing came to a stop. Nothing happened. They stared forward at a shiny wall. Darla took a step forward and pushed on the wall and it shifted under her touch and slid forward. Light flooded their metal container, and Darla pushed the door open more, and then finally all the way.
Extending beyond them was a long hallway. It was well lit, but empty. They moved out of the elevator with caution and began to traverse the stretch of space before them.
“Where are we?” Dean asked in a whisper.
Darla shook her head and placed a finger to her lips.
They continued to walk, cognizant of their footsteps against the tiled floor, their eyes trained forward on the exit in front of them. This hall was empty, but there was no indication of what they would find behind the next closed door. They turned the knob when they reached the end and to their surprise saw the metal doors of a second elevator. They pushed the button and held their breath.
The doors opened and they stepped inside. Dozens of shiny buttons lined the panel but a hand scanner beeped angrily when they attempted to press one, spitting back an error message: Unrecognized user.
They stood there confused and shaken. This was the only way out of their current floor—which contained the elevator to the surface—and without a code, or a registered hand swipe, their journey would be over before it had begun. Before they had time to assess the best way to navigate their roadblock, they heard a small peal, and the doors closed automatically. They started to move down.
Darla swore and pushed her body against the side, obscuring her body from view. Dean followed suit on the other side, tucking himself into the corner.
Down they traveled. And when it stopped, and the doors opened, they held their breath and waited.
A large man in a uniform walked steadily on to the elevator with them. He spotted Darla first and went for his gun, but Dean punched him in the jaw with a well-placed blow and the man reeled backward and stumbled to the floor. Dazed, he took a swipe at Darla, but she held the gun to the center of his forehead and leaned down so he could feel her breath against his face.
The doors closed. Dean reached in and unhooked the gun and the holster, and left the man without a weapon. The man’s hand went to his other pocket, but Darla stepped on his arm. She shoved her foot into the ground and dug her heel into his flesh. He cried out.
“See what he was going for,” Darla ordered and Dean reached down and pulled out a walkie-talkie. She tilted her head, “Oh, I see. Calling for back-up?”
The man scoffed. “You won’t get ten feet off of this elevator,” he spat. Then he scanned the faces of Dean and Darla closely. “Who are you?” he asked, his eyes locking into Darla’s. “You’re not Copia residents. Where the hell did you come from?”
“Copia?” Darla scoffed. “That’s what this place is called?”
The man eyed the gun and tired to jerk his hand upward, but Darla’s foot was firm and she pushed harder, until he fell backward to the ground. “You don’t know what you walked into,” he said weakly. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let me go, and then you’ll quietly disappear back up toward the surface. That’s my present for you today…and you have no idea what it’s worth.”
“Oh? You’ll just let us walk out of here? Like it’s no big deal?” Darla dropped down over him and pushed her gun harder into his forehead. “A ploy made by a man who has clearly lost the upper hand,” she added. “I’m looking for some people and maybe you can help me find them.”
“You won’t succeed,” the man said again. “It doesn’t matter if I take you where you want to go or not...you have thirty minutes to get out of here or you’re going to die. And you can take me with you. But this won’t end well. I’m more confident in your failure than anything else right now.”
“Why don’t you humor me,” Darla continued. “Maybe we can start with a name you might know. I’m looking for Ethan King.”
The man laughed and shook his head. “If it’s Ethan you’re after then you’re going to have to shoot me.”
“Why?” Darla asked.
“Ethan’s long gone, lady.”