Behind The Voice
Page 3
CHAPTER THREE
The trace of the whisper of my name had long faded away as I sat and stared at the glowing 14 button. I was coming to terms with the fact that I was truly stuck in here, at the mercy of the man-made mechanisms and machinery of this elevator.
Why no one had come to my rescue, or why I hadn't even heard any sounds of an attempted rescue was beyond my comprehension.
Forgetting my cell phone in my car today was probably the worst mistake of my life to date. I already mentally strangled myself and kicked myself repeatedly moments ago. I even crossed the line and stomped on my own toes.
I could have watched my fingers blur into a tan haze as I texted up a flurry of letters to spell out helps and I’m stucks to any number of people in my contact list. I likely would have made an attempt at calling some, but no one answers their phones anymore.
And who am I kidding? It would have been for my mere enjoyment only, it’s not like any of them could have helped me in any way.
I looked back up at the monitor hoping that there would be some new blurbs on it by now, as I had been staring at the same information for the past hour.
The ebony blackness of the monitor yawned back at me. I blinked, and blinked again, thinking that there must have been something wrong with my eyesight. The monitor was just on moments ago, keeping my sanity in check with questions, quotes and vibrant pictures. Now it was gone. There was nothing there.
I felt a strange tingling sensation spreading throughout my body. Starting in the depths of my stomach, it traced the lines of my veins under my skin, leaving the little hairs all over my body standing at attention in its wake. Making its way up to my neck, it slipped up and over my ears, where it met at the top of my head and crashed back down over my body, seeming to exit out from my feet.
I stared at my toes and half expected to see something other worldly oozing out from them and pooling up onto the carpeted floor of the elevator. I knew that if I did see that happen, it would have been the physical manifestation of my sanity.
I was losing it. I needed to get a grip and focus on something, anything, since my precious news monitor had been plucked from me. So I focused on the only other thing that was more dreadful than being stuck in an elevator for an hour, ten flights up. Work.
Staring at the glowing 14 again, I was right in the middle of trying to remember if I had called a particular client or not when I heard his voice for the second time.
Cordelia.
Smashing through my thoughts like a temper tantrum throwing six year old swinging his arms and legs through his little sister’s perfectly stacked blocks of A-B-Cs. It was strong enough this time that I knew for sure there was someone in the elevator with me. I knew I hadn't imagined that voice. It was too strong, and too close.
I looked up from the glowing button to finally see the man who must be behind all of this. I didn't have enough imagination in me to form a face to the voice, but I didn't expect what I saw.
An empty elevator.
I looked from corner to corner of the elevator, top to bottom, thinking that somehow the man was just outside of my line of vision, refusing to accept the fact that I was really losing my mind.
Cordelia.
The man's voice came again. Soothing, and strong, had there been a face and body attached to the voice I imagined he would have been quite handsome.
The elevator fell silent again and I dared to exhale the pent up breath that I had been holding in since the voice purred my name.
Cordelia.
This time I shot up from my seated position in the corner of the elevator and gripped the handrail that was solidly attached to the wall, unlike (I feared) my sanity.
There was no doubt about it now. Someone was speaking to me.
"Who's there?" I questioned out loud. Realizing that I sounded like a panic stricken teenager caught in a really bad horror film, I quickly added, "My name is Cordelia, and I'm stuck in this elevator. Please get the doors open so I can get out of here."
My eyes darted from one point of the elevator to another point, again searching for something, anything, while my brain attempted to straighten out what was happening.
Cordelia.
"Please!" I called out, "Can you hear me? The elevator is stuck, I can't get out."
Yes. I can hear you.
The voice seemed to come from nowhere and at the same time everywhere. It didn't make any sense and I immediately tried to find hidden speakers and intercoms in the walls and ceiling. I was sure there were speakers of some kind in here. There had to be.
What are you looking for?
The voice asked, his inquisitive tone hanging in the air.
Puzzled, and a little uncomfortable, I looked around and questioned, "I'm…what do you mean? You can see me?"
Yes.
"Then why aren't you helping me?" I asked, my tone becoming abnormally stern.
I am helping you.
I looked up again at the ceiling, once again expecting to see someone moving ceiling tiles and that outstretched hand begging to be gripped. I wasn't even sure if they had those escape hatches in elevators or if that was something that Hollywood made up, but at this point I didn't want to believe there was one less exit from this elevator, especially with a disembodied voice speaking to me.
I caught myself waiting for the voice to say something again so I could ask more questions about the help it was supposedly providing. When I realized with astonishment that I was hoping for the voice to continue talking, I laughed out loud.
"Oh my God, I've lost my mind," I commented to myself…and whoever else might be listening, "I've really lost it, I'm holding conversations with myself in an elevator."
Can I help you find it?
The voice asked. I furrowed my eyebrows at this question. Though it lacked any sarcasm or mocking in its tone, I couldn't figure out any other meaning to what he had said. So I decided to ignore his question, which to me seemed to be the best option.
Jokingly I asked, "If you're helping me, then turn the TV back on so I don't bore myself to death."
The dark monitor suddenly blipped to life. Wanting to ignore as long as I could the meaning of what had just happened, I ignorantly read the news and blurbs for a minute or two, until I just couldn't push back the nagging question anymore.
Sighing, I asked the air, "How did you do that? Do you have control over the monitor?"
I have control over everything.
The response sent frozen lizards scurrying down my spine, their little popsicle toes leaving icy dots of footprints behind. I shivered at the thought of what this meant.
I decided to question the voice, I was either going to call his bluff about being the master of the elevator universe, or I was going to get an answer that completely baffled me. Either way, it wasn't like I could go anywhere so I may as well play along.
"If you have control over everything, then why don't you just open the doors and let me out?" My voice took on a slight inflection of snootiness.
Because I don't want to.