February 19, 2007

When the foreshock hit, Marilyn barely noticed. She felt a brief rolling sensation and for a moment she had the recollection of being on a gently rocking boat. She steadied herself by reaching for the elevator’s railing, and she gave it no further thought. Her attention was focused on the illuminated numbers as she sped downward to the P-3 parking level deep beneath her office complex.

She had suffered through a long morning. Her job in logistics, arranging the movement of the company’s products from the distribution center to the retail vendors, was tedious and mind-numbing, as was her dealings with her office-mates who were equally tedious and mind-numbing. Marilyn sighed and glanced at her watch: 12:06 p.m. All she wanted was to get out of her fluorescent-lit prison and drive off site to enjoy a few minutes of mid-day sun.

Lost in thought, Marilyn did not hear the faint rumble or feel the initial shimmy of the elevator. She snapped back to the present when she heard a loud bang and the elevator violently lurched. She lost her balance and was pitched against the wall of the car. As she bounced against it, the railing punched her in the side. She gripped the railing tightly and struggled to stay upright. The lurching of the car intensified and she could hear it banging against the sides of the elevator shaft. The lights flickered for a moment and then went out as the car came to a jarring stop.

The shaking and rattling continued and Marilyn sank to the floor, pulling herself into the corner. The rumbling penetrated the car and underneath the sound she could hear the bending of metal and the loud pop of exploding glass. All her childhood training in earthquake preparedness had not taught her how to handle a quake in an elevator car. There was no table to dive under or doorway to seek refuge. She crouched in the corner, counting the seconds until the shaking stopped. A sickly silence fell, interrupted by the faint sound of auto alarms going off.

Before terror could completely overwhelm her, Marilyn saw a flicker and a small blue emergency light popped on. She jumped to her feet and began stabbing at the Open button on the panel.

“C’mon, c’mon, open….”

She flung open the tiny door on the panel and grabbed the phone receiver. “Hello? Can anybody hear me? I’m stuck in the West Area Employees elevator! Is there anybody there?!” She dropped the phone and braced herself against the railing. She felt the next shock coming.

This time the shaking was far worse.

Her head exploded with pain and it took several moments for her to realize that she was flat on the floor of the car. In front of her was the plastic covering of the ceiling light panel. A sharp corner of the plastic had clipped her forehead. Instinctively, she pulled the scarf from around her neck and applied pressure to her head.

“Mother of God!” she swore.

After a few minutes, she felt the bleeding stop and she was able to focus. She began looking around. There was a hatch in the top of shaft, but she immediately disregarded that option. Climbing an elevator shaft was something that only happened in movies, and, besides, there was no way she could reach it.

She looked at the doors. She ran her fingers along the seam where both sides of the doors met. She was just able to slip her fingers in the crack. She began pushing the tips of her fingers against one of the doors. Her head pounded and she could feel the bleeding start again, but she kept pressing. Then she felt the door give a little. She stopped and looked. It was enough. Marilyn sat down on the floor and placed one foot in the widened crack. She laid back and closed her eyes. She pushed her leg against the door with every ounce of strength she possessed. She felt the door opening little by little and finally, with a swoosh, it slid all the way back.

Marilyn let out a whoop of triumph but quickly fell silent when she opened her eyes and saw the concrete wall in front of her. The elevator car had overshot the P-3 landing. The wall loomed high above her head with a three foot opening at the top. She could see the edge of the landing.

“Hey!! Is there anybody out there?” Since it was the lunch hour, she knew there had to be at least a few people in the parking area when the quake hit, but her voice was drowned out by the car alarms going off and the automated evacuation message playing over and over. She felt the blood start running down her face. She sat back down and began stanching the wound again.

She must have fallen asleep because the woman’s voice did not register at first. “Hey, lady! Wake up! You wanna get outta here or what?”

“What?”

“Lady, you’re a mess. Look at all that blood! Here, grab my hand.”

Marilyn pulled herself to her feet. She dropped the saturated scarf.

“Hurry up, lady. I wanna get out of here before it starts up again.”

Marilyn could only see a blurred face but she saw clearly a dark brown arm with several gold bangles reaching down from the narrow opening. She grabbed the arm with both her hands. Another arm came down and grabbed her wrists. She heard a grunting sound and felt herself being hoisted up the concrete wall.

“Watch yer head, lady. Ai, Dios, you’re heavy.”

Marilyn felt a hand grab the back of her slacks and she was drug over the lip of the landing. She found herself lying on the landing next to a young woman. Marilyn’s eye caught the company I.D. pinned to her shirt: Sarita Alcala.

“Sarita… thank you so much, Sarita. I don’t know how I would have gotten out of there,” Marilyn panted.

“No problem. Lady, we gotta get outta here.”

Sarita stood up. She was not very tall and had a stout, rotund figure. She wore a deep-cut black tank top, a bit too tight for all her curves and folds. A small tattoo of La Virgen appeared above her right breast. She wore a pair of baggy olive-colored chinos. There was chain clipped to her belt with the other end disappearing into a deep pocket. Her face was round and dark. Sarita’s hair was pulled back into tight, glistening braid. She had five or six gold studs in her left ear and huge gold hoops in each ear-lobe. She had a ring piercing her right eyebrow. Her fierce, siena-colored eyes bored straight through Marilyn. She was not sure whether she should be afraid or comforted by Sarita’s appearance. Marilyn relaxed when she realized that she must work in the Print Shop which was on the P-2 level. The creatives in that department were known for their avant-garde attire and non-corporate mannerisms.

Marilyn said, “I think I’m parked in 3-C. Where are you parked?”

“No, lady, we can’t drive out. I already tried. The gates have closed– I guess in case of fire. Anyway, we have to walk out, up the stairs to the ground level.”

Marilyn’s head throbbed. Great. “Okay, let’s go.”

They followed the exit signs until they reached a stark white door. Sarita pulled open the door. A vast darkness spread before them. Sarita started to enter the stairwell, but Marilyn balked.

“What’s the matter? Let’s go, lady!” Sarita motioned for her to follow. “It’s just a stairwell. It goes up, it goes down. There’s nothing in there that’s gonna hurt you.”

“Of course not. It just don’t want to fall again.” Marilyn stepped past her.

“Whatever, just don’t hold me up.”

Sarita stomped up the first flight, Marilyn struggled to keep up, groping the railing in the darkness. Sarita chuckled. “I don’t know why anyone would be afraid of the dark.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“My grandmother was a curandera… you know, a doctor with plants?”

“A folk healer?”

“Yeh, I think that’s what you call them. Anyway, should had this little garden and grew all these plants for her medicine. She used to say to always plant them in the dark, when the moon wasn’t out. They would grow better in the dark—that plants like the night as well as the day.”

“This is all very interesting, but can we slow down a bit? I’m not feeling all that well.”

Sarita stopped and slipped under Marilyn’s right arm. “We’re not going to get out of here if you don’t keep moving up.”

“Thanks.”

“Like I said, you’re afraid of the dark. That’s why you are always so itchy to get out of this building”

“Huh?”

“Your job and those cabrons you work with—they are like darkness, right?”

“I guess….”

“And you deal with it by running out of the darkness.”

Marilyn glanced towards Sarita’s voice.

“I don’t……”

“Ignore them. They are not real. They are like El Cucuy, the boogeyman…just all in your mind.”

“Right…..”

They had reached the ground level landing. Sarita let go of Marilyn and took hold of the door handle. The handle turned but the door would not move.

“What?” Panic started rising in Marilyn.

“The building shifted. The door is stuck.”

Marilyn shoved Sarita aside and began banging on the door.

“Help! Let us out! Can you hear us?”

“Stop it.”

“Why? You said we had to get out of here.”

“We will. Don’t get all crazy. Sit down.”

Marilyn sank to the floor. Sarita sat beside her.

“We’ll just wait here, until help comes.”

“In the dark.”

“Yes, mija, in the dark”.

Marilyn leaned her head against the wall and tried to push away her thoughts. Then, out of the darkness, a sweet voice rose. Marilyn’s Spanish was rusty but she could make out a few words.

As Sarita sang her gentle lullaby, Marilyn drifted far away.

*****

Marilyn squinted and turned her face away from the sun. She came to and found herself lying on a gurney outside her office building. Her eyes focused on a name badge: “EMT Jackson”.

“Oh, my head hurts….”

“I bet it does. You got quite a cut. No concussion though.”

“Where’s Sarita?”

“Who?”

“Sarita. She was with me in the stairwell.”

“Stairwell? You weren’t in a stairwell. You were found in the employees’ elevator by yourself. It took a couple of hours to get you out of there. Don’t you remember?”

“No….I don’t.”

“It’ll all come back to you. I have to go take care of some others.” Jackson rose and went to the next gurney.

Marilyn shook her head. No stairwell?

I moment later she recognized Ms. Yoshimura from Human Resources. She carried a clipboard and looked very haggard. She tried to prop a smile on her face.

“Well, you don’t look too bad for someone who rode out a 7.1 in an elevator.”

“How bad is it? Is anyone… did anyone.”

“Everyone’s fine, thank goodness. The building’s a mess though. Let’s get you checked off the list. I’m making sure we account for everyone.”

“Have you found Sarita Alcala?”

“Alcala? Alcala….” Ms. Yoshimura scanned her list. “No we don’t have an employee named Alcala. And no visitors by that name have checked in today. Are you sure about the name?”

“Nevermind.”

“Okay. You just lie there for a few minutes. We’re going to take you down to County just to check you out. We’ll be sending everyone an e-mail letting them know where and when to report for work.”

Ms. Yoshimura patted Marilyn on the arm and walked away.

Of course there was no Sarita. Marilyn laid back and felt the sun warm her face.

Lori Gloyd © 2007

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