section up top. Then when the drillâs over, we head back to our offices.â
Mark supposed that, all things considered, fire safety was something they had to be especially concerned with in the Hive.
After an interminable timeâMarkâs watch said it was fifteen seconds, though it had felt like an hourâhe pushed his way toward the display.
âShouldnât the doors open or something?â
He tapped the DOOR OPEN button repeatedly, but nothing happened.
The alarm kept going, though.
âItâs supposed to stop at the nearest floor,â Ella said.
Mark turned around to see that she, too, had moved forward.
Then the lights in the elevator went out.
Emergency lights came on a moment later, but now the tiny space of the elevator felt even tinier in the much dimmer illumination.
The fire alarm had also stopped. As annoying as it was, Mark found he preferred it to the deathly quiet that ensued in its wake.
Mark felt panic well up inside him. Sweat started to bead on his brow and elsewhere.
A small part of his brain registered that his chest was getting sweaty too, which meant it was going to mix with the coffee. That small part wanted to giggle hysterically at the idea of salty coffee.
Mark had never considered himself especially claustrophobic before. In fact, heâd happily hid in closets as a kid, particularly when he was playing hide-and-seek with his two brothers, and he certainly would never have agreed to work in the Hive if he had any problem with enclosed spaces.
But then, he had never been trapped in an unmoving, dimly lit elevator before, either. He was starting to get nostalgic for the Muzak âSound of Silence.â
Ella, meanwhile, had the presence of mind to grab the emergency phone. Mark admired her good sense, and thought maybe he would have the courage to ask this one out.
âHello?â she said into the phone.
A moment of silence passed.
âHello?â she said again, more forcefully this time.
The sweat on Markâs brow intensified proportionately to the increased urgency in Ellaâs tone.
When she started pushing buttons next to the phone, seemingly at random, Mark feared the worst.
âThe lineâs dead.â
Now Mark knew that the sweat and the spilled coffee were intermingled and it was even odds as to whether or not his perspiration would stain the new shirt more thanthe coffee. He could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage.
He clutched his coffee cup so tightly in his right hand that the cardboard started to dent. With his left, he hit the ALARM button, which did nothing, then started punching buttons at random.
âWhatâs going on? Has this ever happened before? We have to get out of here! We have to get out of here!â
He started pounding the door.
One of the other men in the elevator said, âTake it easy.â
Mark turned angrily on the man. âYou take it easy!â Now his heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest, his breaths coming more rapidly.
âQuiet!â Ella cried.
Blinking, Mark looked over at Ella, who was holding up a hand. He tried desperately to get his breathing, at least, under control.
âQuiet,â she said again, now speaking in a whisper.
Ella was looking up and squinting as if trying to hear something.
Mark couldnât hear anything, except for the pounding of his heart.
Then he caught it. A low buzz, increasing in intensity.
Another alarm?
Then as it got louder, he realized what it was.
Screams.
People screaming.
There was something else, too. A low rumbling that was just under the screaming sounds.
At its loudest, Mark was able to place the screaming: it was just to his left.
Now the sweat that seemed to cover every inch of Markâs body went cold as he started to realize what it was he was hearing.
Both the screaming and the rumbling started to diminish.
That, Mark knew, would happen as the next elevator over plunged