A Fine Cast of Characters - J. Dane Tyler [6]
Her hand spread in her empty pocket. No phone.
Had she dropped it when the old man scared her? She scanned the parking lot, one eye wary for the old itinerant, her nose keen for his stench. She bent and looked under the car where she’d collapsed. Nothing.
She stood up and eyed the rear door. She listened.
Silence. The sound of traffic on the busy street outside seemed muffled here behind the building. She clenched her hand to stop the tremors.
Rose huffed a sigh, drew a deep breath and let it out slow. She stepped toward the door, listened, stepped, listened. She pushed the door open and it swung aside and creaked at the end of its arc.
She listened again. Nothing moved. Unless the old man hid in the shaft itself, the building was empty.
She stepped inside, wary of the hole, and moved beyond it, toward the front of the building.
She exhaled a sigh of relief. Her purse was where she left it. She rummaged through, inventoried contents, rifled through her wallet. Cash, credit cards, ATM card ... all there. Satisfied, she dug for her keys, trotted to the back door, locked it, and moved back into the front room. She dropped the keys back into her bag, wrung her hands, bit her lip, and stared at the shaft.
She bent back over the purse and scanned. She couldn’t see her phone. She emptied the purse of larger items, until only a smattering of detritus remained at the bottom.
No phone.
A panicked thought stabbed at her mind, chilled her.
Had she dropped the phone in the stairway when she’d fled in terror?
Rose looked around. The black hole in the floor beckoned her, mocked her.
She didn’t want to look there. She had no problem admitting the hole scared the hell out of her. She didn’t like the idea of approaching it.
She didn’t have any choice, though. She needed her phone.
She took a hesitant, light step toward the shaft. Another.
She realized in a sudden flash of understanding she couldn’t sneak up on a hole. She coughed and her cheeks flushed despite the dead quiet solitude. She cleared her throat, summoned her dignity and marshaled her courage.
She strode to the edge of the staircase with all the confidence she could muster. It wasn’t much.
She blinked at the ceiling for five seconds, ten, drew a long breath. She shut her eyes, looked down, then opened them. Her heart slammed against the roof of her mouth and destroyed the scream diving for her lips.
She stood at the metal door, her phone and her flashlight at her feet.
Her head spun, and she felt the world tip in at an insane angle beneath her. She panted for breath and a fine sheath of sweat broke over her skin. She teetered and crashed against the cold concrete wall and the rough texture jabbed her tender scalp. She slid down onto the bottom tread in horrible slow motion, like sinking in molasses, unable to stop herself, no strength in her legs.
Her head fell back as her butt hit with a heavy thud on the step. Rose faded, the edges of her eyesight graying and fading. She shut her eyes and tried to breathe, tried to will herself to recover muscular movement but she toppled back against the other treads. She couldn’t hold her head up. The back of her head jarred against another step and a whizzing scattershot of sparks left contrails over her field of vision.
She panted, gasped, gulped for air. She shut her eyes, willed herself to not be at the bottom of the shaft, she imagined it, it had to be her imagination, she never went down the stairs ...
Her heart throbbed. The pulses sent squishy, ringing sounds through her ears. She tried to calm herself, breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth, focused on slowing her heart rate. A moment later, she felt strong enough to sit up. The shaft opening seemed far, far above her.
The door leered at her with the cold menace of an abusive boyfriend.
Rose shrieked when her phone rang and shattered the silence.
She sobbed in relief, bent and with a weak, shaky hand, picked up the phone. She collected herself while