Someone is Watching

Raindrops slid down the glass, forming clear trails through Seattle’s dust. A sudden flash of light followed by a loud rumble drew Debra to her office window. She thought about her cat who would be frightened by this storm and would probably be hiding under the bed by now.

Tires hissed on wet streets three stories below. People rushed along without umbrellas, caught unprepared by the premature autumn storm.

The new client was already fifteen minutes late. She had decided she’d give him until five-thirty, but not a minute longer.  Most people had already gone home by now, and the building was quiet.

On the sidewalk below someone stood looking up toward her window. Maybe it was her flaky client wondering whether to keep his appointment? The last person she wanted to see tonight was someone who didn’t know enough to come in out of the rain.

         She returned to her desk and began a final revision of an article about compulsive disorders and shoplifting. She had six case studies where her clients had improved without drugs, and she thought that would be enough to interest an editor. In Debra’s view, too many doctors prescribed drugs for problems that could be solved in the therapy room.

At last she decided the client was a no-show. Debra stood in the hallway waiting for the antique elevator to groan its way up to her floor. She envisioned the solid stream of cars she would soon face on the bridge across Lake Washington to the Eastside. She couldn’t wait to get home.

Just as the elevator doors opened with a slow wheeze, the ceiling lights dimmed. She hesitated in front of the elevator, but she didn’t like the idea of walking down two dark flights of stairs. She stepped inside and pressed the ground floor button. The elevator started to move.

Overhead, the light flickered once, twice, and then went out. She gripped the handle of her briefcase and stared into the black space. The deathly silence told her she might be alone in the building. People went home early on Fridays.

Her fingers moved across the panel searching for the emergency button. She punched each one in succession, but nothing happened. Even an old elevator should have an emergency button that worked.

“Hello. Can anybody hear me? Hello?”