by Leo Romero
A noise startled her. She pressed herself up against the nine and listened. Radio chatter was going on somewhere up above her. Blacklake were most probably congregated in and around the ninety-seventh, protecting the nest. She should've foreseen that. She huffed and checked her watch. 5:54. She had six minutes to make contact before their promise of hurting Dom came to fruition. She looked away in anger and assessed the situation asap. She could either face them head on and hope there were only a few of them to deal with, give herself in (yeah, right!), or find another way up to the ninety-seventh.
It's a no brainer, she thought to herself. I've come this far, I'm gonna finish this.
So, it was option one or three.
She listened in once more. There were multiple radios chattering up there. That put option one out of the question; it was way too much of a risk. She blew her cheeks as she worked on a plan. The stairwells above were now blocked. The elevator was out of the question. There had to be another way.
The radio chatter grew louder, indicating they were heading her way. "Quelle surprise," she whispered to herself with an ironic grin. She dipped straight into floor ninety-five like a pool of quicksilver. Once in there, she hugged the wall and waited. She knew she didn't have time to waste, so she took the opportunity to work on a way up to the ninety-seventh. The ninety-fifth was a vast open space. Loungers and more tables and chairs were laid out on the customary smoke-gray carpet. The whole floor was lit up with a dull blue haze, giving the floor a cave-like ambiance. She scanned the area, looking for answers. Over to the left was the elevator. Out of the question. She rocked on her heels. Her eyes fell on the windows, more pertinently, the observation deck; a glass box jutting out of the building for visitors to take in a bird's eye view of Chicago.
A crazy idea sprang up in her mind. She instantly shook her head. "Oh no, no, no, no, no way, Trixie," she said to herself with wide eyes. "No way."
She then realized it was the only way up.
She grabbed her forehead. Then checked her watch. 5:56. She didn't have time for debate.
She huffed and approached the observation deck like she was walking to the dentist's chair. She stepped inside the box, her boots clacking against the glass floor. She stared out of the glass; Chicago sprawled out far and wide. Below her feet, a hundred stories fell all the way down to a distant ground. She shivered with vertigo. She glanced up. The protruding deck had a glass roof. If she could get up on top of it, she could get up to the next floor.
She grabbed her head, a sudden bout of dizziness rocking her. I can't believe I'm even contemplating this. "No way. No way!" she said to the glass box.
But, it was the only clear way. And she knew it. She had to get up there quick to save them.
She closed her eyes. "Why me?" she groaned. "I told him I didn't want to get involved in any of this vamp hunting crap!"
But, the cold truth was that she either did it, or Dad and Dom died.
She opened her eyes again and grumbled to herself in anger. She then spun away to go and snatch up a chair. She took it to the observation deck, setting it down on the glass floor. "I must be crazy," she stated as she stood on the chair and checked the roof for some kind of latch. It was made up of two glass panels, each of them locked with three small latches. Trixie reached up for one and tried to open it. It was stiff from under usage, but with a hard squeeze it popped open. She unlatched the other three and then pushed the panel up; it became ajar. A gush of ice-cold air flooded in, shivering her to her bones. She pushed the panel fully open to be greeted by the ever-brightening sky. She then reached up and grabbed the edges of the glass enclosure. Her palms stung.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then hoisted herself up. In an instant, the atmosphere morphed from confined office drudgery to free-as-a-bird open air. Her hands screamed, but she took the pain, levering herself up, planting her butt down on the adjacent panel. The cold air bit into her, the outside world a dizzying, endless vacuum. She threw her legs up and across, before getting on her knees and shuffling along to the edge.
"Oh my God, what am I doing? What the HELL AM I DOING?" she screamed in anger as she turned and popped the roof window shut once more, with no way of levering it back open. Now she was permanently locked outside. The thought was beyond terrifying.
"Don't look down, Trixie, don't look down," she told herself.
She looked down.
Ninety-odd stories of mayhem rushed up to her head, sending it on a carousel of horror. She panicked. A hot gasp bolted from her chest and she slipped back, her midriff hitting the thin ledge separating the floors behind her. She gripped onto the ledge for dear life, her eyes shut tight, her body juddering. "This isn't really happening, this isn't really happening!" she gibbered. But, the cold morning air smothering her defied that hope. She popped her eyes open again; the world sprawled away ahead of her: a blue, green, and gray collage of urban and suburban life set against a clear light-blue sky. Huge buildings stuck out of the ground like mere matchsticks, the streets dotted with toy-like cars. Any people walking around were nothing but dots. High above it all, a brilliant dawn sun bathed the world with its first rays of the day. The view was breathtaking, staggering, but hellish in its reality.
Her stomach churned, a sudden giddiness overcoming her like she was drunk. "My God. Why? Why? WHY?" she shrieked. No one heard her.
A flock of birds passed by, gliding effortlessly through this crazy height like it was nothing. She let out a crazed giggle as she watched them fly by, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, why can't I be like you? Just like you." They made it look so easy.
The lead bird squawked before they all vanished around the side of the huge building.
She sucked in a shuddery breath. The air was the cleanest and crispest she'd ever inhaled, but it burned like the fires of Hell. She couldn't move, fear had her rooted. She glanced down; her knuckles were bone white from gripping onto the ledge.
"Come on, Trixie. You gotta get moving!" she urged herself, realizing the seconds were ticking by.
She sucked in a huge breath. She wiped her bleary eyes and then bravely ventured to slide her back up the wall and glass behind her. She made it upright and it was even worse. The world spun like a kaleidoscope. Fresh tears burst from her eyes. The fear was overwhelming. It was dream-like but horribly real. So real it was almost unbelievable. Her legs trembled, her head whirled. "Why! Why! Why!" she cried. "I should've just given myself in!"
A gust of wind then picked up and cut right into her. The tears on her cheeks burned icy cold. She pressed herself up against the wall like a piece of Velcro, willing the wind to stop. It pushed her head to the side and she cried more. "Please leave me alone. Please leave me alone!" she shouted against it. "Please!"
The wind showed mercy; it died down and some semblance of calm took over. Her breathing began to slow, her head starting to clear, her senses thankfully growing accustomed to the alien surroundings. "Okay," she whispered to herself. "Let's get moving."
She turned on the spot to face the building. Glass panels surrounded with strips of wall stared back at her. She ignored what was going on behind her and looked around for any nooks and crannies to get some purchase. There was the ledge she'd been holding onto beneath the window ahead of her; she now saw it was about the width of half her foot. Not great, but better than nothing. She jammed both her feet into the gap between the ledge and the window pane until the bridges of her feet hurt. She then looked left and right. Around the edges of the window panes were thin grooves, just big enough for her tiny fingers. She squeezed both of her hands into the grooves and curled her fingers around as much as she could. They locked her in, the bandages wrapped around her fingers ironically giving her a better grip. Suddenly, she felt more secure; the wind would have a hard time unsticking her now.
Right on cue, the wind picked up for a brief moment. Trixie pressed herself against the glass and closed her eyes, willing the wind to calm. The whole time, she felt more solid, less su
sceptible to being blown away. The wind petered out and she opened her eyes again. "Okay," she said. And then looked up. She laid eyes on the top of the building and that dizziness rocked her again, this time from a reverse angle. Among the haze, she spotted the ninety-seventh floor. Her destination. Two glass panes represented one floor, with a similar ledge to the one she was standing on separating each floor. Right now her feet were wedged between the ledge and bottom glass panel of the ninety-sixth, the protruding observation deck having cut out the ninety-fifth entirely. It meant she only had to get up to the ledge above her, two panes away.
As easy as that, huh?
"Oh God..."
She sucked in a lungful of icy air before she began to slide her right hand up the side of the pane, her cheek pressed against the glass. She reached the top edge of the pane, sliding past the small gap between the upper and lower pane of floor ninety-six. She pushed her hand along the upper pane as far as she could, before she sent her left hand up the opposite edge to join it. With each passing moment, butterflies flew with more freedom in her stomach, causing nausea to grow more intense. She ignored her discomfort as she slid her hand up past the gap separating the panes, and then along the upper panel of ninety-six as far as she could. Once there, she tightened her grip on the upper pane with both hands. Now she had to get her feet up into that gap between the panes. And that was the fun part...
She paused, taking a moment to steady herself. She puffed her cheeks. "I'll never see Spiderman the same way again," she said before she raised a tentative foot up toward the tiny groove between the panes, fear surging through her.
A moment of panic rocked her.
She abruptly pulled her leg back and jammed her foot into the ledge once more. "I can't do it! I can't do it!" she cried. Her head collapsed against the pane ahead of her.
She stayed that way for a few seconds. Just enough time for her strength to gather. She didn't have time to waste. She had to get moving. She had no choice.
"Come on, Trixie, you've got to do it," she then said to herself through gritted teeth. "You've got to. It's only one floor. You can do it!"
She reopened her eyes. "Okay, come on, let's try that again."
She tried to blank her mind, to not think about what she was doing; to just go on an auto-pilot, get the job done slow and steady and make it there alive. She raised her trembling leg up once more, careful to aim her foot for the groove. This time, she made it further, and further. A jolt of adrenaline shot through her stomach, just as her foot reached the groove. She jammed her foot into the gap, her knee literally touching her chest.
She let out an agonized groan. One foot was home, now she needed to get the other one up there.
"Please, God. Please..." she begged, her eyes closed, her throat lumpy. She tightened her grip and steadied herself. "Please make it!" she whispered. With a gasp, she hoisted her foot up. For a brief moment, her mind became a black hole of uncertainty as she felt her body rise up. At the same time, she didn't feel it as if she had been taken over, possessed by some other force. Her heart stopped beating, her chest became still, that upward journey lasting forever, its final destination a horrible mystery.
She focused in on that tiny groove, using the leverage of her strong thigh muscles to propel herself up the side of the building, her body like a vulnerable leaf caught in the wind. If she missed the gap, she'd be left dangling.
Make it, Trixie! Make it!
Her aim was perfect. She poked her toes forward and they found the gap; she squashed her foot in until it hurt. She became upright, tightening her grip on the sides of the pane. She then threw herself into the glass, hugging it like it was her lover, her breath coming back to her hot and harsh, her heart pounding. She almost choked on her own relief.
Then a terrifying realization set in, shattering any relief: she was suspended in midair on the side of the building, stuck to it like a fly. If she slipped, she'd die. If the pane gave way, she'd die. It was an intoxicating experience like being so drunk she could hardly walk.
Don't look down, don't look down! she told herself.
She looked up instead.
The ledge of the ninety-seventh was just above her. Repeat the procedure and she'd be home and dry.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy! she heard Miranda say in her mind.
Her hands were starting to hurt from all the intense gripping. They were throbbing, begging for a breather. But no can do, they'd all just have to bear it. She ignored her sore hands and focused solely on that ledge above her; her new goal.
She took a moment to compose herself before she released her right-hand grip and reached up for the ledge. She grabbed hold of it, her heart jolting with excitement. She reached up her other shaking hand to join it.
"Careful, Trixie, careful," she whispered to herself.
Her hand hovered over the ledge, trembling. Then she clamped her hand down on it, gripping it hard. Just as she did, her right foot slipped out of the groove. Her heart lurched, her breath bolting from her chest. Her reflexive grip on the ledge tightened. She groaned in fear, one foot now dangling on the air.
In the ensuing panic, something dropped out of her belt. Her head snapped back. Her eyes bulged. She watched the dart gun spin like an Olympic diver as it fell into a faraway distance. Any second and she'd join it. She gasped in horror. She turned back to face the building. She threw her dangling foot back in, hoping to stub the toe end back into the groove.
"Get in that gap!" she screamed at her foot. It jabbed the glass pane an inch too low; it bounced back out into the danger zone. She tried again; she missed it once more. Fear juddered through her. The muscles in her arms flexed as hard as they could, taking almost all of her weight; they ached as the strength deserted them.
GET IN THAT GAP!
She raised her panicked foot higher and threw it forward. This time, it found the gap. She pushed in hard, so hard her toes hurt. Her arms relaxed and the strength slowly returned. She gripped everything tight, relief washing over her like a cool shower.
"Do not do that again!" she scolded herself.
She took a moment to regain her composure; she still wasn't in the clear. She needed the safety of the ledge beneath her feet and not a tiny groove. She removed her right hand from the ledge and worked it up the side of the pane above as far as she could. She then sent her other hand up and then she straightened. Her head popped up past the glass window of the ninety-seventh. She wished she could see inside, but it was like staring into a coal mine. A brief moment of panic hit her; if Leviah was just on the other side of the glass, he'd now be able to see her. She huffed in frustration; it was too late to worry about things like that. Let the chips fall where they may. If he could see her or not, it didn't matter. The important thing was to get into the ninety-seventh.
She got back in the groove. She was now set to get her feet up to the ledge where she'd be home dry. She eased her hands up the sides of the pane as far as they'd go, her legs tense and trembling. Just hold on a little longer, she told herself. Just a little longer.
She stole a quick breath before removing a shaky foot from the groove; her other leg tensed harder as it took the strain. She raised her dangling foot up toward the ledge, her breath and mind frozen. Adrenaline was pumping around her body and it wasn't helping. It was making her jittery. She could taste her heart; it was hot and uncomfortable like having a morsel of food lodged in her throat.
She did her best to blank it all out and push on. Her foot found the ledge. Now with a small platform to work with, she could propel herself up. She paused, muttered a tiny prayer while she set herself. She pushed down, and then up.
Her thigh flexed, levering up her other leg.
Her heart stopped. Her other foot found the ledge. She let out an agonized choke as she jammed that foot into the ledge alongside the other. She groaned as she straightened, her thighs aching. Once upright, she hugged the pane ahead of her for dear life. She closed her eyes and panted with relief.
"No m
ore climbing," she gasped. "Thank God no more climbing." The cool glass pane was heavenly on her hot cheek, even though she was shivering with cold. She dug her toes into the groove as far as they'd go. Her breathing was crazy erratic. She was there. Floor ninety-seven. She'd made it; not the route she envisaged when she was back in the lobby, but still, by nook or crook, she'd made it to the ninety-seventh.
"I made it," she said to herself, with a drunken-like laugh. The sense of irony of hanging off the side of the building was toxic. A hot juddering breath escaped her.
Now she just had to get into the floor. Quick. She removed her cheek from the pane, a small patch of condensation she'd left on the glass evaporating in seconds. She stared right at the glass; it glared back at her, a black mirror. Her tired reflection greeted her. My God, I look like crap! she noted with horror.
But, it wasn't the time for stuff like that.
She got herself back in the game. She had no idea what was waiting behind the glass. But she knew for sure that if they could see her, they would've dealt with her by now. Maybe luck was on her side after all.
She looked up and around. There were no latches or open windows for her to utilize. It meant she had to force her way in. But how?
Nice one, Trixie, she scolded herself. You didn't think of how you'd get back in before you jumped on the side of the building did you?
She wasn't strong enough to punch her way through. She glanced up. Then down. Nausea shot from the ground all the way up to her head like a hit of gas. She fell forward on the glass, giddy and sick. "Don't look down again," she told herself. But, in doing so, she actually saw the answer. And it wasn't easy.
She groaned. "Why me? Why me?" she lamented, but it was the only clear way in.