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Ten strangers are trapped in an elevator together. Will they escape? |
| [Introduction]
Ten people get on an elevator in a thirty story building. None of them know each other. No one seems to be coming to help them and the phone isn't working. What will they do? Will they become friends or enemies? How will they survive? Will they escape? Will something even worse happen to them? I'm leaving this pretty open as far as plot. I'm limiting it to ten people because how many people do you really want to be trapped in an elevator with, anyway? We have ten now, so I'm sorry, there are no more openings. Your first post should introduce your character. Description, personality, any fears they might have...Some graphic content is okay as long as it also advances the storyline or at least makes it interesting! |
| Character: Catherine Alcott Age: 31 Description: About 5'4" tall, 150 pounds (chubby) with long, burgundy hair, sparkling green eyes, and fair skin. Personality: Usually quiet, though not afraid to be outspoken when provoked. Opinionated. Normally friendly. Intelligent and thoughtful. Can seem cold at times, but is actually a very passionate person. Phobias: snakes, heights, falling, wide open spaces. |
| Name: Mrs. Eloise Penchant, wife of Col. Penchant (yes, he rich and famous Age: 29 Description: Eloise is a very tall, straight, and thin woman. Her features are sharp and angular, her eyes are shaped like almonds and are a deep, sensual grey. Her nose is pointed, her chin is pointed, and her lips looked permanantly sucked in. She is slender and elegant, always wearing a dress that hugs her body, and a stylish yellow hat. She holds a long, Cruella-De-Ville-cigarette between her index finger and thumb. Her voice is deep and drawn husky and sexual. Personality: Cold, dahling, absolutely cold. She only likes things that are refined and elegnat-nothing too rash or bold. She has a tendancy to talk condescendingly, and hold in her emotions. Occupation: She is the senior chair of the Household Commitee in her lovely, expensive neighborhood--she is also the mother of three children, whom she only sees after the hour of six on weekdays, and never on the weekends. Phobias: Bankruptcy, uncleanliness, diapers, and dry champagne Secret: Well, yes there is one! Maybe you should try and figure it out, instead of expecting me to flat out tell you! Can you believe these ruffians, dahling? Expecting me to do all the dirty work! |
Jack Finny, 35-years-old, a horror writer. He has wavy black hair, stands nearly 6'4", and is a handsome eligible bachlor if he would just take the time to clean himself up once in a while. Jack has just closed a deal with a publishing company to print his first novel. He is overjoyed - estactic as he enters the elevator - walking on air - and has his cell-phone pressed firmly against his ear. "That's right, Cheri, we just finished signing the damn contracts. Can you believe it? I know it's been a long time, but I never gave up on us, did you? I mean, I just kept writing and writing - trying to make it. Finally, after all these years, someone has taken notice of my work. Let's celebrate, shall we, just like old times. You're the first person I thought of - the only person I know in town. Come on, I wanna paint this baby red and I've got a check for $50,000 that says I can do just that. Are you game? What...? You're married? Whoa, it has been a long time, hasn't it. Well, yeah, best of luck to you too." He flips the phone closed and shoves it in his pocket. |
| Name: Jana Pruett Age: 19 Description: Tall, lanky, blonde hair, green eyes, and absolutely perfect skin. She is usually wearing baggy clothes because she finds them to be more comfortable, though she'll dress up for parties and such. Personality: Usually very friendly, Jana gets uptight and frustrated in situations that she can't handle. Often times, she gets very distressed and emotional. She doesn't like being teased Occupation: Jana is an English tutor for some of the children in her neighborhood that are not originally from the United States and cannot speak or write English very well. Phobias: Close spaces, zits, dirt and dust "Shoot! The office is the next floor up and there are no stairs. You know I'm afraid of the elevator. Oh well...I guess I'll have to deal this time. I mean, what can possibly go wrong?" Jana stepped into the elevator and sighed. |
| Dink is proud of many things. He’s proud of his name—ask him if it’s a nickname, and without uttering a word he’ll pull a faded Kleenex-thin photocopy of his birth certificate from his otherwise empty wallet and present it triumphantly, wagging his finger over the words: Dinkus Tucker. He’s also proud of his ability to, in his own words, “work the system”, which has allowed him to slither through life on the sympathy and ignorance of others. Even if Dink’s vocabulary reached beyond the sixth grade, he would never call himself unscrupulous. An opportunist, perhaps. Indeed, it is his eye for opportunities—such as the time he noticed a sharp edge on that shopping cart at the Piggly Wiggly and cut his hand so bad it needed five stitches and landed him a check for twenty-two grand—that has brought him into this city, this building, this very elevator. Dink has been wronged. Yesterday his new lawyer even said so. He sounded very businesslike on the phone, tossing around words like “libel” and “slander” before getting chummy with Dink and suggesting he stop by. “I know it’s a bit of a drive for you, but hell, you can probably see your place from my office window,” he bragged. And Dink was impressed. Dink’s not a man to read the newspaper, but two days ago that keen sense of opportunity directed his attention to the crumpled Daily Times on the vacant barstool beside him. “Local Author to Pen Deal” the headline read. His eyes drifted: words, words, lots of words, and then blam! there it was: “Having caught a peek of a draft of Finny’s book, I am confident the novel’s villains—most notably the scheming and grotesque Tink Ducker—will terrorize readers for many, many nights.” Tink? Tink Ducker? Who does this Finny think he is? He won’t get away with ruining my . . . my good name! In the elevator, waiting for the doors to close, Dink just wishes this giddy guy with the cell phone would shut up already. |
| Lily, like Jana, is afraid of elevators and tight spaces. She wasn't particularly in the mood walking up 28 flights of stairs, plus the 29 floor didn't have stairs, so she would be stuck on the elevator anyway. "Oh, well... maybe, if I talk to some people it'll make the time go fast." The elevator door opened up and she walked inside the elevator with a few other people. She introduced herself, then the door closed. |
| Name: Floyd Banks Age: 26 Description: 5'7, 143 pounds short black hair with waves, brown eyes, and black skin. Personality: Hood mentality. Floyd grew up in the slums of the city and with his father leaving at the age of 3, it was up to him to grow up quickly to provide for his mother. Floyd lives the life of a hustler, selling whatever he can to make money. Jewellery, weed, cocaine once it makes money he would sell on the street. Keeps to himself, but if provoked will lash out on you emotionally or psychically. Tries to keep his temper in check. Has no friends, so would be seen as unfriendly. . Phobias: The white man. Has been oppressed all his life, so any person of a lighter colour is his enemy |
| Character: Joe Description: average height, thin, unkempt brown hair, and 17 years old. But most of the time Joe doesnt remember his age...or his name...or where he is, because Joe is schizophrenic. Occupation: None. Joe is homeless. Joe is looking for a bathroom when he steps into the elevator. "Damn, its crowded in here," he said and turned to find another restroom, but the door had already closed. "Just piss on one of these poor bastards' leg," said Oz, one of the voices in Joe's head. |
| Character: Nannette Johnson Age: 74 Nannette Johnson is a shell of a woman. Her 5'9" inch frame is held together by a thin layer of skin. Her blue gray eyes, are the same color as her hair. She has not had an easy second half of life. Raised a strict catholic she was taught to supress her specialness, which was fine with Nannette. She didn't like the dreams. Nannette married when she was 20, and had six children by the time she was twenty eight. Life was good. She was young, beautiful, her husband and children loved and respected her and she felt the same toward them. They had planned the family vacation for months and a day before they were set to go, Nannette fell ill. The family wanted to stay with her but she insisted they go and have a good time. The plane crashed killing her whole family. She has been having nightmares for the past thirty years and their contents scare her. Nannette steps into the elevator and stands next to the man who is zipping up his fly. She whispers in his ear. "Good job." |
| Paul Thorn is 26, single, and as round as he is tall – 302 pounds, 5 feet 2 inches tall. He wears his bright orange hair slicked back; no facial hair. He is an unemployed vacuum cleaner salesman who lives with his mother. Paul loves showtunes, and watching porn. His favorite food is black jelly beans. Paul spends his days riding elevators – he enjoys the funny feeling he gets in the pit of his stomach when the elevator shoots upward. He has but one fear in life – that the FDA will outlaw black jelly beans. Paul is somewhat pissed there are so many strangers on his elevator, but doesn’t say anything. He patiently waits, for he knows he and his joy ride will soon be alone. |
| "Oh my gods," Catherine thought. "Did that homeless guy just piss on that annoying guy with a cell phone's leg?" She fought back the urge to giggle and started coughing instead. The others just looked at her strangely. Great first impression there, Cat. She got herself under control and tried not to make eye contact with anyone else. She was staring at the lighted numbers above the door. 1...2...3...4....5 "Hey!" The tall blonde girl, looked about 18 or 19 years old to Catherine, this damn elevator went right past my floor!" She pushed past the others and started banging on the buttons. "Stop that!" the homeless guy yelled. "You'll break my elevator!" Just then the numbers above the door came to a stop between floors 9 and 10. The elevator made a strange clattering noise and came to a jerking stop. |
| "Am I really going to die in a stopped elevator with this bunch of lunatics and...ugh...unclean scoundrals? Eloise thought. She had pushed herself into a corner of the elevator, leaning against the railings with nonchalance, and observing the disgusting scene play out. "Bunch of moronic monkeys," she mummbled as she lit a cigarrette. If they were going to act like idiots, than she damn well was going to smoke. "You can't smoke that in here!" a homeless man yelled toward Eloise. She completely ignored the comment and puffed through her lips. "Wait until my husband hears about this experience. I wonder if this ol' place will ever see business again." Eloise's back was straight and her hair perfectly set in place. The fact that she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, haunted her. "Should have listened to my chauffer. He told me this building was topsy-turvy." She took another drag on her cigarette and yelled towards the middle of the elevator. "Look, now, you see? We stopped, and now we're trapped. I suppose one of you should call for help. I, myself, can't seem to reach into my purse...as, I'm afraid this homeless man might try and mug me for my wallet." She puffed smoke into the closed space. |
This can't be happening. Of all the rotten god damn luck. Jammed? The freakin' elevator is jammed? And that smell--what the hell smells like that? It's like old sour puke. Geez! Jack looked hard at the vagrant, and then shook his head and sighed. It was the sigh of a man who has set down a heavy burden and knows he must now pick it up again. The bum laughed. It was a hollow, bronchial sound that turned into a phlegmy smoker's cough. Jack gave the man a large phony smile. Geez, that guy really stinks. Something thumped against the roof. The elevator heaved like the belly of a pregnant woman. |
| Jana was very angry at first. The stupid elevator went right past her floor. Now she was just frightened. Why was the elevator thumping and bumping like that? The elevator heaved again and Jana screamed. She jumped into the arms of some tall, black haired man. She thought his name was...Jack? "We're going to die!" she hollered, tears running down her face. <i>Come on, Jana, pull yourself together, pull yourself...</i> The elevator heaved and Jack dropped Jana to the floor, right next to the homeless, smelly guy. Jana jumped up and started banging on the doors. The homeless guy screamed and yelled. "You're breakin my elevator!" "I dont care!" <i>Jana, Jana, come on. Calm down. JANA!</i> Suddenly, everything went black. |
| “Well I’ll be damned,” Dink mumbled in the dark as he stuffed both hands into his pockets. He’d spent his share of nights in a drunk-tank, done two brief stints in the county jail, and passed the summer and fall of ’94 staring out a window at the Fox River Mental Health Facility, but never in his life had he seen so many crazy folks in one spot. With bodies flip-flopping and jostling, screaming, crying, and a stench so awful that even Dink pulled the neckline of his T-shirt over his nose, bedlam raged on until the lights flickered to life, and a hiss and pop came over a tiny speaker in the ceiling. “Greetings, ladies and gentlemen,” a man’s voice bellowed, instantly hushing the passengers. All ten looked to the speaker, and in the sudden silence they heard soft footsteps shifting above them. “A few of you may recognize my voice, but for those who don’t, allow me to refresh your memory,” the speaker voice said. “My name is Leonard Bishop.” Lily gasped, Joe closed his eyes, assuming the voice came from that vacant place the voices always came from, and Dink’s wrinkled forehead wrinkled a little more when he whispered to himself, “It’s the old manager of the Piggly Wiggly.” “Perhaps the name doesn’t ring a bell, but I assure you that you’ve all crossed my path and stepped on my toes at some point in the last thirty years or so. Corralling you all—my top ten grudges—in one place took a lot of planning and a good amount of money, but I can already tell it’s going to be worth it. Smile now and wave to the camera. I have a little television up here so I can watch you all and see the expression on your faces as we . . . cross paths one last time.” |
| Dink mumbled again, he couldn't believe this was happening to him. "I knew I shouldn't of taken the elevator today. Figures, when I have that gut feeling." Lily cried, "Please let me off. I'm claustrophobic and I HATE tight spaces like this." "NO! YOU HURT ME! NOW IT'S TIME FOR ME TO GET BACK AT YOU!" Leonard Bishop shouted through the loud speaker. "Mr. Bishop, I don't remember doing anything to you. But is this really necessary to get back at us," Lily asked. |
| Floyd remained in the same position he was in since he entered the elevator. At the left corner with his arms folded into his hoody jacket and his cap pulled low so his face would remain hidden. There were many characters on board the elevator with him and Floyd had studied each and every one of them. Being a hustler he had to watch out for himself everywhere he went. He never knew when he could walk into a trap. The fat man seemed a bit odd, but then again the homeless man wasn't exactly normal. In fact, everyone in the elevator was damn crazy in his opinion. There was some snotty white woman smoking in the elevator (not that he was against smoking, in fact he smoked some of the best weed.....) and not to mention a weird old lady. When the elevator stopped Floyd's hand instantly gripped the gun concealed under his hoody. He didn't whip it out because he had to first see who was after him, but it turned out to be a power outage... a simple error in technology... or so he thought 'Leonard Bishop... i know that bitch....' Floyd thought to himself calmly. 'What the hell is he trying to do now? Just because i gave him a false shipment of drugs he's going to kill me? But he said ALL these people are involved... these crackers can't be doing drugs...' Looking at the girl shaking in the man's hands Floyd just shook his head and watched as events unfolded while he thought more about the current situation. He was a logical guy, he didn't jump to conclusions or act foolishly. Those could get a nigger killed easily in the streets. You had to think logically. So, all he could do at this point in time is listen to the scenario and plan a course of action. Looking up at everyone around him, he hoped everyone else would be able to pull it together so he could get his black ass out of there.... How he hated white people... so stupid.... |
| When Joe heard, “You’re such a good boy,” whispered into his ear, he turned and looked into the gray-haired woman’s tired face. He wanted to shout, “Granny!” and snuggle into her. It had been such a long time since he’d seen her. But before he could get the words out and his arms raised to hug her, everything went black and she disappeared into the darkness. Joe didn’t like the darkness. Scary things lived there. He jerked around trying to see what was making all those noises. A small, orange glow buzzed through the darkness. He swatted at it but it was too quick. Something kept touching all over him. He wanted to scream, but instead he laughed and stepped backwards. Something hard jabbed him in the hip. Light blinked back into his eyes and then Oz screamed inside his head…just for fun. But Oz’s taunts were quickly drowned out by a new, unfamiliar voice. Joe’s wide eyes darted and right away he spotted it…clinging to the light cover overhead. “Such a big voice from that tiny body,” Oz said, “He’s very powerful. Watch out for him, Joe.” Joe did just that, and even when he heard the man beside him say, in a low voice, “Man anger, and the pigs are wigglin’” his stare didn’t divert. But the thought of man anger, and the pigs wigglin’ sure did scare Joe. It wasn’t long before the fly swooped down from its perch on the light cover and Joe witnessed its power as it lunged and dived for the young woman standing with her back to the elevator doors. The little, black fly showed no mercy for her pleas and cries. Joe turned to run, but there was nowhere to go. “Granny!” he shouted as he grabbed the tall, gray-haired woman and cowered down to the floor behind her. From there, he caught sight of what had jabbed him in the back earlier…the gun in the black man’s pocket. Joe jumped to his feet and grabbed for it. The two men struggled. The gun went off. |
| The elevator stopping, the lights going out, even Leonard Bishop's voice booming inside the elevator didn't cause Nannette any undo alarm or stress-she'd been a part of worse scenarios. She just watched the people make fools of themselves. "Granny!" Nannette jumped. Of all the times she heard voices call out to her she'd been mama, or sweetheart. She hadn't been destined to be granny. Nannette smiled to herself as the homeless man hid behind her. Her smile turned to a frown as he lunged at the black man and the sound of gunfire filled her ears. The prissy woman with the cigarette fell to the elevator floor. More panic ensued. A tall young, blond girl began to pound on the elevator wall demanding to be let out. The man with red hair cried out, "Every one off my elevator, now!" "Damn, these are brand new pants." complained one man as he took his hands out of his pants pocket and bent down to wipe away the ash from the dropped cigarette. "She's been shot." the cherubic woman called as she knelt down beside the priss. "He's a commie," the homeless man accused pointing to the black man. "We can't have no commies running around, can we,Granny?" "No, we can't." she took his hand. "You got him. You saved us." The man smiled. So much like her Samuel, Nannette thought. He was always saying and doing things people didn't understand, too "Hey grandma," said the man with the cell phone, "Why don't you have this crazy son of a bitch locked up instead of coddling him?" Nannette looked into his eyes. "May God bless and keep you as you move forth to go fuck yourself, dear." she smiled. |
| Sounding gleeful, Leonard Bishop’s voice once again reverberated within the crowded compartment. “You people are marvelous. In less than a ten minutes one of you has killed…” “No one killed anyone,” interrupted Catherine. “The bullet ricocheted off this big “E” broach she’s wearing; she’s okay.” Catherine aided Eloise to her feet. Joe, pointing the filthy index on his left hand at Floyd blurted, “But he’s a commie.” “Yeah, and you’re a fuckin’ crazy cracker, so what,” shouted Floyd. Phil, with the chubby fingers of both his hands wrapped tightly around a gigantic sized bag of black jelly beans, nodded in agreement. Frantically pushing buttons on his cell, Jack Finny, totally frustrated that none of his calls were getting through, threw his phone against the elevator wall, nearly hitting Jana between her gorgeous green eyes. All the time, over the speaker, Leonard Bishop’s raspy laughter serenaded his hostages. “Shut-up, you sadistic bastard,” blurted Lily to the small speaker, as if it were the one laughing. “Why don’t you kill us all now?” “In due time, Ms. Pruett.I haven’t yet made up my mind as to which method I’ll employ – lethal gas, free-fall, perhaps I’ll rain down upon you a bushel of poisonous snakes.” Upon hearing the word “snakes”, Catherine screamed, “The fuck you will!” She grabbed Floyd’s gun and filled the speaker full of lead, adding yet another disgusting smell to the small box. |
| Floyd grabbed his gun back. "What the fuck is the matter with you, you crazy white bitch?" "I'm sorry, I lost my cool. I'm terrified of snakes." "We really need to think of a plan," Eloise said, softly. She was still a little shaken from almost getting killed, but was quickly regaining her composure. She knew she was the most sensible one of the bunch and it would probably be up to her to keep everyone calm. "Why not climb out through the hatch?" Catherine asked, her voice rising with excitement. "He probably booby-trapped it," Floyd said, pessimistically. "The fucker is crazy." "I think it's worth a try," Eloise responded. "Someone give me a knee up, I'll try it." |
| Eloise thought about why she was here. She may have known more than anyone who this Bishop was. In fact, she knew every part of him. And, now, she was finally paying for her sins. After Jack had kindly given Eloise a leg-up, she uncounciously moved like a escapist. She pushed hard at the top until with a flurry of cement, the square flipped onto the top of the elevator. The voice over the loudspeaker laughed. "Oh, no Mrs. Col. Penchant," Bishop laughed. "You can try that all you want, but each time you do..." Eloise was suddenly thrown on the floor of the elevator, along with everyone else. Several piercing screams rang through the box. The elevator had dropped a little. "Well, then. What do you think?" Bishop laughed again. "Think that hatch is gonna help you?" Eloise had a strong urge to light another cigarrette, but as she looked over the crazy crowd, she knew she was close to death. "Well, now what?" a shaking Jana asked. "Don't look at me," Jack answered. |
| Jana stared at Eloise, glad that she hadn't been hurt. She tried to think. Who was Leonard Bishop? The name did not ring a bell. "Who are you?" Jana asked loudly. "Mr. Bishop, stupid," Jack snapped. Jana turned to glare at him. "I don't remember him. The name doesn't ring a bell!" Mr. Bishop's voice rang through the elevator once more. "Jana! You don't remember me? Leo Bishop? I was your camp counselor. You snuck out on me more than once, sprayed my head with shaving cream, tied me to a rock!" Think, Jana... Her memories flashed back to camp three years before, where her counselors had been a Marie Saint Claire and Leonard Bishop. She had been awfully mean to him. But so had the others... "Why aren't the other kids here?" Jana's voice inquired. Mr. Bishop laughed. "Good question, isn't it, Jana?" Jana started to scream, finally realizing what he meant. The man with the gun waved it in the air, commanding her to stop. Jana kept screaming. Finally, he pointed the gun and shot. |
| After Floyd fired ineffectually into the ceiling, using the last of his bullets, Dink had seen, heard, and smelled enough. “Was all of yah raised in a barn?” he asked over the racket of the passengers and the buzz of the blown speaker. He pushed his way to the doors. “I never even been in an elevator, but I seen the inside of a hundred of ‘em on TV through the years, and they always have a telephone, right in . . .” Dink pulled the knob on the small chrome door “. . . here. See that?” He smiled his seven-toothed smile, then lifted the receiver from its cradle and pressed it to his head. “I already tried it, buddy,” said Finny. Dink only muttered to himself. “There ain’t no buttons, so I guess they got somebody who just sits around at the elevator shop, waiting for a—oh, hullo? Hullo, somebody there?” He waved at the others and pointed to himself and the phone. “You gotta speak up some! It’s damn noisy in here!” The others quieted, locked their attention on Dink. “Hullo?” he repeated. Over the receiver came the now-familiar voice: “Greetings, Mr. Tucker. I hope you found the twenty-two thousand dollars a satisfactory price for your life.” The color trickled from Dink’s frozen face. His gaze darted to the ceiling. “Uh, hi, Mr. Bishop. Wow, sure has been a while since—” The explosive charge in the earpiece was a small one, but large enough to liquefy the contents of Dink’s skull and force a sample of it out his eye sockets, nostrils, mouth, and opposite ear. It was also loud enough to trigger an alarm somewhere nearby, although the terror-struck, shrieking, near-deaf passengers didn’t hear it. Nor did they hear Leonard Bishop laughing, shouting the words, “Let the games begin!” |
| Joe followed the big black fly’s every movement, watching as it touched down on each person, unnoticed. He saw it land on the telephone receiver after Dink yanked it from the box and put it to his ear. And then he watched it buzz away just before hunks of bloody, mutilated skin and skull sprayed over the elevator walls, ceiling, and everyone inbetween. Joe now knew Oz was telling the truth about the great power of the tiny body, and he wasn’t waiting for it to come after him. Clawing like a wild dog, Joe tried prying the elevator doors apart. Nannette saw them budge just a smidgen and rushed over to lend a hand. In no time flat, all hands in the elevator began pulling at the door’s seams, and eventually they slid open. Everyone froze solid and stared. |
| A man, his blue eyes wide with horror and his mouth frozen in a scream stared at Nannette. Fresh blood drip, dropped from where his neck should have been. Nannette closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "Dear, Lord," she whispered before opening her eyes again and surveying the rest of the scene. Arms, legs, torsos, were all strung together forming a human curtain. Some were bone dry and had been around a while. Others, like the man she had first met were freshly dead. Jack was writing in a notebook while Eloise lit a cigarette. Jana let out a blood curdling scream before she vomited. "Man, this is some sick shit," said Floyed as he looked at the contents of Jana's stomach. Joe was frantically swatting at the air. "It's the fly, stay away from the fly! He did this!" "We're going to die," stated Catherine in a matter of fact tone but her hands were shaking. Nannette was sure Catherine was right. She knew what Leonard Bishop was capable of when he wasn't happy. That's why Nannette stopped being his psychic advisor some twenty two years before. It's also the reason Nannette changed her identity and moved very far away. Ironically, her departure had taken place a week before his daughter had disappeared. Nannette pointed to the body parts. "This is how they found Celia Bishop." |
| A ringing buzz, the distant sound of voices, and the sharp sting of having his face slapped welcomed Paul back to consciousness. “Ya okay, Fatman?” “He’s okay; he just fainted, that’s all.” Paul opened his eyes with tentative precaution. Expecting to see carnage, he instead saw his fellow hostages hovering above. “What happened?” “You fainted,” said Catherine, holding back the urge to lay-on another smarting slap. Paul’s eyes shifted from face to face. “You’re all here. Nobody’s dead?” “What are you jabbering about?” asked Eloise as Dink and Jack, popping their nuts, tried to hoist the huge man to his feet. “I saw you,” Paul directed his attention towards Dink, “get the shit blown out of you.” “You were – fuck, man, how much do you weight? – dreamin’, Pal.” Ignoring the calamitous scene, Nanette stepped forward with the first piece of sane action. “Look, she began, “there is no telling how long this prick’s gonnna keep us penned-up in here. Maybe it would be a good idea if we figure out a way to live – for all of us to live – through this nightmare. First, some kind of discrete way of relieving ourselves must be implemented; pissing on each other ain’t the answer. Second, we should pool our food and water.” Phil clutched his jelly beans with both hands even tighter. Looking directly at Phil. Nanette continued, “Third, I suggest for the sake of the majority, the portly gentleman should stand in the middle of this box. Phil quickly piped-up, “Why should I have to be in the middle; I need something to lean against – bad back – you stand in the middle.” “I suggest you stand in the middle because if this box in which we are trapped should suddenly begin to fall, all of us could pile onto your fatness to break the jolt of the crash.” Everyone pushed Phil to the center of the elevator. |
| Catherine thought Nanette could have worded her request a little more politely, but she was right. They stood a better chance of surviving if they had something soft to land on. "Anyone have any ideas on how we're going to get out of here?" Catherine asked. "Or are we just going to wait to see what happens next?" Everyone stared at her, but no one spoke for quite a few minutes. |
| Eloise took a drag of her cigarette and looked around the compartment. The big, fat man was sweating profusely, and Eloise watched with placid fascination as the little droplets rolled down his forehead. "He's going to smell up the damn place," she mummbled, holding the nicotine to her lips. Even though she was frightened, she didn't care too much if she died or not. At least there would be peace and quiet. "Mr. Bishop," she said aloud, neither shouting or whispering. "Are you sure this is what you want to do?" She looked contentedly at her cigarette. "I mean, what if you're caught or something?" It was almost as if she and Mr. Bishop had just sat down to coffee and were having a conversation. Mr. Bishop roared over the speakers, "Oh Eloise Penchantt. Still think you're Mrs Universal Princess, don't you? Good thing your children don't know the slut you really are." Eloise shrugged her shoulders. "My children don't mind me so much," she said, still smoking. "They've got their au pair and their father. Whatever do they need me for?" Nanette sucked air in her mouth; gasping. "Why, what a horrible thing to say!" She shuddered, giving Eloise a horrified look. "You don't deserve to be a mother!" Eloise sat still and silent for a moment, looked up at the ceiling as if thinking about it, took a drag, looked back at Nanette and said, "Tell me about it." Nanette was ruffled and displeased. But at least it was wasting time. |
| Jana was tired of hearing everyone in the elevator argue. She was scared and creeped out. Her life flashed before her eyes. "Everybody SHUT UP!" she shrieked shrilly. "Why argue? Let's be friends! Don't you see we're going to die anyway?" The elevator went quiet. Eloise stared at Jana as if she was some sort of strange bug, or animal, or person. Then Jana tilted her head back and yelled, "Fuck you, Bishop! Get over your freaking life! Get over Celia. She's dead, dammit, dead!" Everyone stared at her. Before, she was the quiet girl, the scared girl. Jana was turning into a monster before their very eyes. "I wish you were dead, Bishop. Why not just goddamn kill yourself instead of hurting us? It isn't our fault your life is so screwed up. It isn't our fault Celia is dead. GET OVER YOURSELF." From high up, Leonard Bishop's voice cried, "Stop it, Jana, just stop." "I HATE YOU!" Jana screamed. "I have a boyfriend! I have a sister, a brother, parents, grandparents. You ruined everything." And she kicked the elevator doors. "If your going to kill me, just do it." The top of the elevator opened up and Jana was plucked upwards. Her scream echoed through the elevator. Everyone hoped she would come back, but nothing happened. |
| "What the hell!" was the first thing Floyd thought as the girl was picked from the elevator. One second she was there and the other she just got lifted from a cable and the top of the elevator shaft closed. The homeless guy immediately began screaming and swatting over his head and the fat guy just started yammering about something. Frustrated and angry now Floyd threw up his hands and shouted, "Shut the fuck up now everyone!" All the remaining people in the elevator turned and stared at him, even the crazy homeless man. " This is not logical thinking here. If we want to get off this shit hole of an elevator we first have to know WHY we're here! Does anyone know who this Bishop man is? The girl who just got taken away obviously did. I know him too. I sell drugs from time to time and Bishop was a client. I gave him a bad supply and that's how he knows me. Dos anyone else know him??" As he finished Floyd looked around the room expectantly |
| Joe knew very well who Leonard Bishop was – his father, but he wasn’t saying shit to anyone, even though he didn’t want to play his father’s sick games anymore – posing as a homeless, crazy schizophrenic to rile up the latest pick of poor saps. Joe had begun to feel sorry for them and decided to help them escape by opening the elevator doors. His father wouldn’t have known until it was too late to do anything though, because when pretending to be after the fly, Joe had slapped the micro camera so its only view would be of the wall above everyone’s heads. But they’d ignored him – treating him like a worthless piece of shit, and shoved the fat man into the center of the crowded box instead; blubbering on about needing something soft to land on should the elevator fall. Joe was beginning to understand why his father played these games – because the human race, in general, was selfish and hypocritical. He didn’t feel sorry for them anymore. Joe wanted to laugh his ass off when the winy little bitch got her ass snatched up through the ceiling and the others shit themselves, but he refrained. He’d have his chance to laugh at them later. Joe pushed himself into a corner for the best view and watched, waiting to see how his father would take the next one out. |
| Nannette's eyes began to focus and she shook her head. "You can't smoke that in here!" Joe yelled at Eloise as she lit up a cigarette when the elevator stopped between floors-just like in the vision Nannette had moments before. She looked at the elevator doors. Were there really bodies strung up out there or had she picked up on Paul's dream state? Sometimes things like that happened. But what about Jana knowing about Celia? Nannette's visions weren't always clear but she was sure of one thing-Leonard Bishop was getting his revenge on the ten of them. Looking at the nine strangers Nannette smiled then she spoke. "Leonard Bishop." Every jaw dropped. Even under the circumstances, Nannette found it a comical sight but she held back her chuckle because this was serious business. "He's behind this." "Behind what?" Jana asked. "Us being here, the elevator stopping, the deaths that will take place." "An here I was thinkin' the white dude," said Floyd indicating Joe, "was the whack job." Nannette shrugged. "Don't believe me. But ahm, you may want to make sure everyone knows you mean no harm with that gun you have or things could get messy." |
| Paul’s right hand acted like the scoop of a steam-shovel as it repeatedly reached into the bag of black jellybeans, extracting two hundred calories worth of the confectionary delight with every retract. With glazed eyes he chewed and swallowed, wishing he were home watching porn. “That’s it!” Paul exclaimed loudly. “I knew I saw you somewhere.” “Saw who,” queried Jack, ogling Paul’s jellybeans, then adding, “Hey, Fatman, how’s about ya sharing with the rest of us?” “Sorry, Bob, I brought just enough for me.” “Jack. The name’s Jack. Who are you talking about?” “Ruby Lipps – that snooty broad who was shot in the broach - she's a porn star.” Nannette responded with a smirk, “That iceberg, you got to be joking. “Maybe you gave Bishop the clap,” said Joe, looking directly at Eloise, “good reason to off ya.” Eloise's jaw dropped. The only thing keeping it from hitting the floor was the tight skin shrouding her skull. "You're mistaken. You have me confused with someone who looks like me." "Show us your ass," said Paul, "I'll bet my bag of jellybeans she has a tattoo of a snake on her right cheek." "I ain't showin' my asp to any of you assholes," shouted Eloise, lighting another cigarette. From her tiny spot in the cubicle, Cathrine shuddered, "This talk of snakes is frightening." Then, a loud banging coming from the exterior of the closed doors, followed by... |
| the elevator suddenly dropped about five feet. Everyone screamed and hit the floor. "What the hell was that?" Catherine gasped, her head was beginning to throb. What a time to get a migraine! The others were strangely quiet. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. Her head was really pounding now. |
| The room was full of a rank stench, an acrid odor with a sickly sweet under-smell--burning sulfur over the reek of rotting flesh. He gagged on it. What is that godforsaken smell. It's making my head hurt. He could feel every throb of his pulse distinctly in his temples, as if it were his mind that hammered out his life, not his heart. The beats were slow--too slow for the amount of apprehension he felt. Jack couldn't conceive what was happening to him, but each blow shook him as if the very structure of his brain were under assault. |
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