Solitude Creek (Kathryn Dance 4)

Somebody shouted: "Don't both call at once! Are you fucking crazy? You'll block the circuits!"

"What, were you born in the fifties? They can handle more than--"

Then an otherworldly scream filled the car; the biker had lost control, lost it completely. Screaming, he grabbed the shoulders of the elderly woman in front of him and boosted himself up onto her.

The orderly heard a snap as the woman's clavicle broke and she screamed and fainted. The biker didn't even notice; he scrabbled forward atop the shoulders and necks and heads of the others and slammed into the elevator door, breaking nails as he tried to pull the panels open. He was screaming and sobbing. Tears and sweat flowed like water from a broken pipe.

A slim African American woman--an aide, what used to be called candy stripers, in colorful scrubs with teddy bears on them--muscled her way forward and gripped him by the leather collar. "We'll be okay. It'll be all right."

Another scream from the huge man, the sound piercing.

She was unfazed. "Are you listening? We'll be all right. Breathe slowly."

The biker's red, bearded face leaned toward hers. Close. He gripped her neck. He was looking past her and for a moment it seemed as if he'd snap bones.

"Breathe," she said.

And he started to.

"You're all right. Everybody's all right. Nothing's happened to us. We're fine. There're sprinklers. The fire department's on its way."

This calmed four or five of the passengers, but among the others panic was growing.

"Where the fuck are they?"

"Jesus, Jesus. We're going to die!"

"No no no!"

"I feel the heat, the flames. You feel that?"

"It's underneath us. It's getting hotter!"

"No, please! Somebody."

"Hey!" the woman aide said calmly. "Just, everybody chill!"

Some people did. But others were still in the grip of panic. They began pounding on the walls, screaming, ripping the hair and clothes of their fellows to get to the door. One woman, in her forties, knocked the biker aside, jammed her nails into the seam between the sliding doors and tried to muscle them open, as he had attempted. "Relax, relax," the aide said. And pulled her away.

A man screamed into the intercom, "Why aren't you answering? Why aren't they answering? Nobody's answering."

Sobbing, cries.

Someone defecated.

The orderly realized he'd bit his tongue. He tasted blood.

"The walls! They're hot. And the smoke."

"We're going to burn to death!"

The orderly looked at the doctor. He was unconscious. A heart attack? Had he fainted?

"Can't you hear us? We're stuck." No response from security.

"No, no!"

More screams.