them. A big metal trash can.
“This way,” Zoë said when they came to an intersection, and veered to the right. The elevator doors she’d been searching for gleamed dully in the low light, and she yanked out an arrow, kneeling before her bossy companion could say a word.
She’d done it so many times before—slipping the tip of the arrow into the crack of old elevator doors—and levering them open. There was always the danger of loud creaks or other noise, but this time, they opened, rolling apart heavily but silently.
Huh. Mistress Luck. First time in a long time the bitch had shown her softer side.
“Come on,” Zoë said, peering into the dark shaft. The doors were barely wide enough for her to slip through—good thing the other woman was skinny too. She reached back and grabbed her companion’s hand and angled it so that the light shone into the dark—something she wouldn’t have bothered doing if she were alone.
“Hot damn.” The elevator was down, instead of up, on the basement level…which left the top of the big box only a few feet down. Releasing the light, Zoë reached for the metal cable nearest and tested it with her weight…not that she was going far, but she didn’t want the noise if it collapsed.
Just as she was ready to slip in, she heard a crash. The large trash can. She jumped into the shaft, grabbing onto the cable. “Get your ass in here,” she ordered in a fierce whisper.
The other woman didn’t need to be told twice. “Close the doors,” she said urgently, for the first time fear sounding in her voice. She’d grabbed a different cable and they dangled next to each other in the dark.
“You grab one, pull it toward the center. They won’t close all the way…” Zoë began, but her tag-along was a quick study and she’d already begun to tug on the heavy doors. The backs of their hands bumped as the doors closed nearly all the way, leaving a crack only as thick as a set of fingers.
She turned off the light without being told. “I don’t know how far up I’ll be able to climb.”
“No, we’re going down.” Zoë slid about four meters and her feet touched the elevator roof. Moments later she had the top of it open—a trick she’d learned from watching a few spy movies, and one that had come in handy for escaping
gangas
more than once. The little trap door gave a deep groan when she pried it open, but it was so low that she had hope if their pursuers heard it, they’d think it was just normal building sounds.
“What the hell is that horrible smell?”
“What—oh.” Zoë realized that in the close area of the elevator shaft and their proximity, her hunting shirt was doing its job. Stinking. “It keeps the
gangas
away.”
“Crap. I would say.” Her voice sounded plugged up all of a sudden, and Zoë smiled. The woman continued, “Are you going to give me a name? In case, you know, I have to get your attention? Or at least thank you for helping me? You were going to help me, right? I saw you shoot that zombie.”
Yeah. Whatever. “Zoë.”
She dropped silently into the inside of the elevator and had the pleasure of landing on something soft and musty. And then part of it moved, and she stepped away, disgusted. Snakes were so fucking annoying.
The nameless woman hung by her fingers from the top of the elevator for a long moment before finally letting herself drop. “Don’t like heights,” she said breathlessly, pulling to her feet.
“Watch out for the snake,” Zoë said helpfully.
But instead of a frightened or at least surprised reaction, her still-nameless companion said nothing but “What’s the plan?”
“We hang out in here for a bit. They’ll have to give up sooner or later, and they’ll never find us in here.” Zoë grinned in the dark. Surely the woman wouldn’t want to stay in the small space with her stinky shirt and a snake for very long.
If she didn’t, she could go on her fucking merry way and maybe Zoë would have another shot
“This way,” Zoë said when they came to an intersection, and veered to the right. The elevator doors she’d been searching for gleamed dully in the low light, and she yanked out an arrow, kneeling before her bossy companion could say a word.
She’d done it so many times before—slipping the tip of the arrow into the crack of old elevator doors—and levering them open. There was always the danger of loud creaks or other noise, but this time, they opened, rolling apart heavily but silently.
Huh. Mistress Luck. First time in a long time the bitch had shown her softer side.
“Come on,” Zoë said, peering into the dark shaft. The doors were barely wide enough for her to slip through—good thing the other woman was skinny too. She reached back and grabbed her companion’s hand and angled it so that the light shone into the dark—something she wouldn’t have bothered doing if she were alone.
“Hot damn.” The elevator was down, instead of up, on the basement level…which left the top of the big box only a few feet down. Releasing the light, Zoë reached for the metal cable nearest and tested it with her weight…not that she was going far, but she didn’t want the noise if it collapsed.
Just as she was ready to slip in, she heard a crash. The large trash can. She jumped into the shaft, grabbing onto the cable. “Get your ass in here,” she ordered in a fierce whisper.
The other woman didn’t need to be told twice. “Close the doors,” she said urgently, for the first time fear sounding in her voice. She’d grabbed a different cable and they dangled next to each other in the dark.
“You grab one, pull it toward the center. They won’t close all the way…” Zoë began, but her tag-along was a quick study and she’d already begun to tug on the heavy doors. The backs of their hands bumped as the doors closed nearly all the way, leaving a crack only as thick as a set of fingers.
She turned off the light without being told. “I don’t know how far up I’ll be able to climb.”
“No, we’re going down.” Zoë slid about four meters and her feet touched the elevator roof. Moments later she had the top of it open—a trick she’d learned from watching a few spy movies, and one that had come in handy for escaping
gangas
more than once. The little trap door gave a deep groan when she pried it open, but it was so low that she had hope if their pursuers heard it, they’d think it was just normal building sounds.
“What the hell is that horrible smell?”
“What—oh.” Zoë realized that in the close area of the elevator shaft and their proximity, her hunting shirt was doing its job. Stinking. “It keeps the
gangas
away.”
“Crap. I would say.” Her voice sounded plugged up all of a sudden, and Zoë smiled. The woman continued, “Are you going to give me a name? In case, you know, I have to get your attention? Or at least thank you for helping me? You were going to help me, right? I saw you shoot that zombie.”
Yeah. Whatever. “Zoë.”
She dropped silently into the inside of the elevator and had the pleasure of landing on something soft and musty. And then part of it moved, and she stepped away, disgusted. Snakes were so fucking annoying.
The nameless woman hung by her fingers from the top of the elevator for a long moment before finally letting herself drop. “Don’t like heights,” she said breathlessly, pulling to her feet.
“Watch out for the snake,” Zoë said helpfully.
But instead of a frightened or at least surprised reaction, her still-nameless companion said nothing but “What’s the plan?”
“We hang out in here for a bit. They’ll have to give up sooner or later, and they’ll never find us in here.” Zoë grinned in the dark. Surely the woman wouldn’t want to stay in the small space with her stinky shirt and a snake for very long.
If she didn’t, she could go on her fucking merry way and maybe Zoë would have another shot
Similar Books
