He got in the elevator. He would ask himself later why he did that. The answer he kept coming back to was this. She wasn't panicking. She was scared he could see it in the set of her jaw.
The way she was holding her arms, but she wasn't panicking. And a person who isn't panicking in a bad situation is either very calm or very focused. And either one of those things was worth something. The doors closed. The elevator started moving for 11 floors.
Nothing happened. Then the car lurched. The lights inside flickered once sharp, sudden. And then the car stopped moving and the lights went out. And Darius heard the emergency brake engage with a sound like a vault door closing.
Complete stop. Complete darkness. 3 seconds of silence. Then Victoria Hayes's voice absolutely level. Tell me this isn't as bad as it sounds.
Daredus put his back against the wall and slid down to a seated position on the floor. His tool bag in his lap and clicked on his work light. The LED beam cut through the dark of the car and landed on her face. She blinked once. It might be exactly as bad as it sounds, he said.
But I've been in worse. She looked at him for a moment. Then she slid down the opposite wall and sat on the floor of the elevator across from him. Tell me something useful, she said. Because my phone is dead and I'm assuming yours isn't working either, or you wouldn't still be sitting there.
No signal. Has been since I was in the mechanical room. She was quiet for a second. That shouldn't be possible. No, he agreed.
It shouldn't. Another silence. The storm was audible, even hear a low structural groan moving through the building. Vibrations you felt more than heard. What's your name again?
She asked. Darius Coleman. How long have you worked on this building? Darius. About 8 months.