“Sure.” Jacob retreated, leaving me alone with Ivy.
I edged farther into the closet, closer to the little girl. “Does Jacob scare you?”
Another trembled rocked her small frame. She nodded.
“Because he reminds you of your dad?”
Another nod.
“He won’t hurt you,” I told her, moving a mop that blocked my path to her. “He’s not your dad. You’re catching him on a bad day too. He isn’t usually like this, all loud and grumpy.” I shifted aside a bucket and took another step toward her. “He’s sad because he can’t find his sister, but he’s not mad at you. He’s actually really grateful that you’ve been such a big help to us so far.” I squeezed past the handle of the floor polisher, finally within reach of Ivy. “I promise he won’t hurt you. No one will. Not while you’re with us.”
I offered her my hand. She stared at it for a few moments.
“I don’t want to go back to my dad,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to,” I said. “You can stay with us.”
She placed her hand in mine, and I pulled her to her feet. Together, we made our way out of the supply closet, where Jacob waited for us in the hallway.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said to Ivy. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m really sorry.”
Ivy sniffed and wiped her nose on the ratty sleeve of her sweater. “It’s okay. Georgie told me that you’re sad about your sister. Don’t worry. We haven’t checked the whole building yet.”
Jacob knelt down to look Ivy in the eye. “Where would you hide if you got stuck in here during the blackout?”
“The cafeteria,” she said without hesitation. “We passed by it earlier. It’s in the middle of the building, so it’s safest, and there’s bound to be food and water in there.”
“Let’s go then,” Jacob said.
Ivy led the way, spurred on by Jacob’s confidence in her. He occasionally gave her directions to keep her on course as we jogged through the hallways.
“You’re good with kids,” I said to him, our elbows bumping together. “I didn’t know that.”
“I used to babysit Pippa when she was little,” he replied. “My mom and dad thought it was weird. They didn’t get why a fifteen-year-old boy wanted to look after his four-year-old sister. They wanted to hire a sitter, but I didn’t mind. I loved playing with her. Kids are just—I don’t know—so naive and unaffected. They don’t have to think about all the terrible things yet. I think talking and interacting with them resets your perspective. It definitely helps me see things in a more positive light. Left up here, Ivy.”
“So does that mean you want to have kids?” I asked as we followed Ivy around the corner.
“Yes. Don’t you?”
These were things we probably should have talked about before we got engaged. Children had never been on my to-do list. While I had no qualms with other people’s kids and even enjoyed their presence, I had no desire to produce any of my own. It had taken me years to shake off the feeling of dread that rode along on my back when I’d left my father’s property, to stop myself from thinking that every person in the pharmacy had a hidden agenda, to keep the loud, intrusive thoughts at bay. Those habits and emotions had been hammered into me by my own father. It wasn’t his fault—he was sick and confused—but the last thing I wanted was to accidentally pass on my own shortcomings to some poor undeserving baby.
“I haven’t really thought about it,” I told Jacob.
“We should talk about it.” He skidded across a slippery part of the marble floor, nearly slipped, and flailed his arms to right himself. “And we should talk about what you told me outside.”
My lungs, already working hard to keep pace with Ivy’s lightspeed pace, tightened up. “We should talk about it, but let’s find Pippa first. Besides, we might not have a future at all.”
Jacob stumbled. “What do you mean?”
“Not because of us,” I clarified quickly. “We might not make it out of this blackout alive.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’m being realistic.”
We jogged through the main entryway of the school, where an eloquent staircase with a balustrade carved out of rich dark wood led to the second floor. Ivy raced past the three sets of elevators on the far side of the room and disappeared into a dark hallway. As Jacob and I caught up with her, she emerged out of the gloom and ran smack into us.
“Whoa!” Jacob steadied the girl. “What’s wrong? The cafeteria’s that way.”
She panted hard, scanning the massive entryway from the oak front doors to the enormous staircase. “I heard something.”
“In the hallway?”
“No, out here.”
“What did you hear?” I asked her.
“I’m not sure. Shh.”
Jacob and I fell silent as Ivy roved the room. I strained to hear something other than Jacob’s deep breathing and Ivy’s gentle footsteps. Faintly, the clamor of the crowd at the gate made its way into the space beneath the illustrious domed ceiling, but other than that, I wasn’t sure what Ivy was listening to. She continued to trace the outline of the entryway, taking her time as she moved along with her ear pressed to the walls.
“What are the odds we picked up some crazy little kid who hears voices?” Jacob muttered to me under his breath.
“Even if she does, I’m inclined to trust her,” I whispered back. “She got us in here, remember?”
Ivy moved to the opposite wall toward the line of elevators, peering up at the needle above each lift that indicated which floor it had stopped at. The one in the middle was stuck between the one and the two. Ivy leaned against the door.
“Here!” she exclaimed, waving us over. “There’s someone in the elevator!”
Jacob and I sprinted across the entryway to join Ivy. Jacob pounded on the elevator door.
“Hello!” he shouted. “Is there anybody up there?”
“Jacob?” a voice replied faintly. “Is that you?”
“Pippa!”
Chapter Seven
“Pippa!” Jacob thundered on the door of the elevator. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay!” she yelled back, her frustration dampened by the metal doors. Other voices overlapped with hers. She wasn’t alone in the elevator. “We’ve been trapped in here for hours! I haven’t had anything to eat or drink, it’s absolutely freezing, my ankles are the size of bowling balls, and I can’t even tell you how desperately I have to pee!”
“Pippa, try to stay calm,” I called up. “We’re going to get you out of there.”
“Is that Georgie?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Thank God,” Pippa said. “If there’s anyone who can pop open a rogue elevator door, it’s you.”
I grinned at the unusual compliment. “I appreciate that, but unfortunately we don’t have anything to pop it open with at the moment. I’ll have to go find a crowbar or something. Who else is up there with you?”
“Jaime and Emma,” Pippa answered. “Girls from my field hockey team.”
“Seriously, Pip,” another voice said. “How relieved are you that you’re in here with us instead of Sebastian?”
“Emma, I really don’t want to think about my ex-boyfriend right now.”
“Sorry.”
I rolled my eyes. “Girls, is anyone injured?”
“Nope,” Pippa answered. “Just pissed.”
“What about Jaime?” I asked. “I haven’t heard from her.”
“She’s paper-bagging it.”
“She’s what?”
“She’s claustrophobic,” Pippa clarified. “We’ve been trying to keep her from having a full-blown panic attack, so she’s breathing in and out of a paper bag. What the hell is going on out there? We yelled for help for hours. Why didn’t someone come earlier?”
“The whole city is out of power,” Jacob said. “Something fried the grid. Georgie thinks it was an EMP blast. Phones and cars are out too. The cops haven’t b
een able to get anywhere because of the road blockages.”
“Great,” Pippa said. “We’re stuck in an elevator, and it’s straight up post-apocalyptic out there. I can’t wait to get out of here. How are we coming on that rescue mission, guys?”
“Working on it,” I called. I turned to Jacob and Ivy. “You stay here and keep them calm. Don’t let Jaime freak out any more than she already has. I’m going to go try to find something to pry open the doors with.”
“Can you find us some snacks too?” Pippa called down. “I’m famished. Seriously, I’m about to pass out.”
“I’ll do my best,” I told her. Then I kissed Jacob’s cheek, patted Ivy’s shoulder, and went on my way, heading down the dark hallway to the cafeteria.
The cafeteria itself was dark and creepy. The long tables had been folded up at the end of the school day yesterday and stacked against the wall. The tall figures cast strange, ominous shadows across the floor. My boots clicked against the tile as I headed for the serving counter. The food trays were clean and empty. The trash had been taken out. The kitchen staff had prepared the cafeteria for breakfast the next day. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. The school could open Monday without a hitch if the power behaved.
I jumped over the serving counter, sending a loud thud through the room, and knelt down to shuffle through the boxes beneath the counter. They were full of plastic utensils, packages of condiments, and spare lunch trays. No juice boxes or snacks. I moved on to the actual kitchen. There were no windows at all, so I lingered in the doorway to let my eyes adjust. Like the serving counter, the kitchen had been cleaned and readied for the next school day. I rummaged through a collection of industrial utensils, wondering if the metal tongs for flipping burgers would hold long enough to pry open the elevator door. I tested them against the floor, stepping on one end and pulling the other up against the sole of my boot. They bent easily in half. With a sigh, I threw them in the garbage.
Two doors led off from the kitchen. One was simply marked with a brass plaque that read Storage. The other was made of shiny thick metal, so I assumed it led to the walk-in freezer. I picked the storage room, hoping to find some nonperishable food items to bring back to Pippa and her friends.
“Jackpot,” I whispered to myself as I entered the store room. The shelves were lined with boxes and boxes of snack bags, juice pouches, packaged peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and canned vegetables. I reached into the one closest to me, and a ruler smacked across the back of my hand. “Ow, shit!”
A figure stepped out of the shadows, a spindly woman taller than me with black-framed glasses and a round narrow face like a barn owl’s. She held the ruler at the ready. “That, young lady, does not belong to you.”
“Let me guess,” I said, nursing the sting on the back of my head. “You’re the lunch lady.”
The woman’s thin shoulders broadened, and her chest puffed out as though I had ruffled her feathers. “I am Mrs. Valachovic, the headmistress of this school, and you are trespassing on private property. How did you get in here anyway? We locked the gates and barred the front doors.”
“You forgot the back,” I said wryly. “And there’s a gap in the gate. Listen, lady, I’m not looking for trouble—”
Someone else emerged from behind the shelves, a squat man whose multiple chins spilled over the collar of his starched button-up shirt. “You heard the headmistress,” he said. “You don’t belong here. Get out.”
“Seriously, my boyfriend—”
But the longer I protested, the more people emerged from the shadows, faculty and staff that had been stuck in the school since yesterday’s blast, about ten or twelve individuals collectively. They advanced like the front line of an army, forcing me out of the store room and pressing me against the serving counter in the cafeteria. When my back hit the counter and I had nowhere else to go, I held my hands up in surrender. I didn’t imagine this was how it would go down, at the mercy of several educators, each demanding answers from me.
“Who else did you let in?”
“What did you take?”
“What do you want?”
“Help! I want help!” I finally shouted, shoving one of the teachers away and rolling backward over the counter. I slid under the warming lights and across the empty trays to land on the other side. The teachers rushed to find the opening at the end of the counter rather than jumping across it, which gave me time to catch my breath. “Please listen! I didn’t come here to rob the store room. My boyfriend’s sister goes to school here. Her name is Pippa Mason.” Jacob’s last name was the secret password. The teachers stilled their advances at once. The Masons had donated several thousand dollars to the school. Everyone here knew Jacob, Pippa, and their parents. “She’s stuck in the elevator with two of her friends,” I rushed on, taking advantage of the opening. “We just need help to get them out, and then we’ll be out of your hair. I swear.”
“Who are you again?” Mrs. Valachovic asked, squinting to see me in the dim light.
“Georgie Fitz,” I replied. “I’m dating—I’m engaged to Jacob Mason.”
“I’ve seen you before,” she said. “At Pippa’s field hockey games.”
“Yeah, I’ve been to one or two,” I confirmed. “Please, they’ve been stuck in the elevator since yesterday, and Pippa’s pregnant—”
Mrs. Valachovic snapped her fingers, and the gaggle of teachers perked up. “We have a situation,” she announced. “Does anyone here have the skills to free a trio of students from the elevator?”
A hand rose near the back of the group, and a man stepped forward. He wore pressed black pants and a white collared shirt with the Saint Mark’s logo embroidered on the pocket. Unlike the other teachers, he sported work boots rather than heels or sensible loafers.
“I can go,” he offered. “I’m the one who services the elevators anyway.”
“Excellent,” Mrs. Valachovic said, urging the man forward. “Miss Fitz, this is Jorge, one of our custodians. He would be happy to help you. Please let us know if Pippa needs medical attention. We have the school nurse here as well.”
“She’s hungry,” I replied. “And you have more than enough food here for the lot of you. I know the Masons would appreciate it if you could put together a box of nonperishable things for Pippa. Sandwiches and snacks. Things like that.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Valachovic said. Now that she knew who she was catering to, she was more than compliant. “We’ll have it ready for you by the time you finish with Jorge. Here, take some water with you.”
Someone passed up a few miniature bottles from the store room. I juggled them in one hand and waved. “Thanks. Come on, Jorge. We shouldn’t leave them for long.”
We made our way back toward the main hall. This time, I didn’t bother to stifle my footsteps against the marble. The teachers had held down Saint Mark’s better than a small army. It was safe inside the school, at least for now.
“I need to stop by my office,” Jorge said, veering left down a hallway. “My things are there.”
“No problem,” I replied. “So how long have you been working at Saint Mark’s?”
“Since I was eighteen,” he answered, coming to a door set well away from the other classrooms. He fit a key into the lock and went inside. The office was too small. The desk alone took up most of the floor space, but by the looks of the mountain of paperwork sitting atop it, Jorge didn’t bother to sit down often.
“Do ever get tired of it?” I asked him as Jorge disappeared behind the desk.
“I don’t mind it.” He came up holding a crowbar. “It pays the bills. Gets the kids to school.”
“Oh, do they go here?”
Jorge chuckled as he shouldered the crowbar and led me out of the office. “No, sweetie. We can’t afford it. They go to public school. Let’s see what we can do for your fiance’s sister, okay?”
Jorge led me back to the main hall with such certainty that I was sure he could traverse Saint Mark’s in his sleep. The thoug
ht comforted me. Hopefully, he had been servicing the elevators for as long as he had been working here.
“Finally!” Jacob said when we arrived. “What took you so long? Jaime’s hyperventilating, and Pippa’s threatened to kill me eight times already.”
“Nine,” Ivy said.
“Thanks a lot, kid.”
I called up to the elevator. “Pippa, is Jaime okay?”
“She’s losing it, Georgie.” Pippa’s voice was strained, as if she was in pain and trying to hide it. “We need to get her out of here.”
“What about you?” I asked. “How are you holding up?”
“I don’t know,” she said, short of breath. “The baby’s moving a lot. The stress maybe—”
“Okay, try taking deep breaths,” I told her. “I have Jorge with me. He’s the one who keeps the elevators running. He’s going to try to get you out, okay?”
“I love Jorge!”
I drew Jacob and Ivy away from the elevator so that Jorge could do his job. He fit one end of the crowbar into the seam between the doors and pried them apart with a grunt. The doors inched open until the gap was wide enough for Jorge to fit his hands through. As he tugged the doors open the rest of the way, I noticed a problem. The lift itself was stuck between the first and second floors. The girls had managed to get the inside set of doors open themselves, but only eighteen inches or so of the actual lift had made it anywhere near the first floor. The girls were stuck at the top of the opening.
Pippa stuck her face into the gap. “Oh my God, fresh air.”
Jorge moved away, carefully avoiding the drop to the basement floor below, and looked up at the lift. “I can’t pull it down,” he said. “I don’t have the tools to do it. They’ll have to squeeze through the opening.”
Pippa drew back. “Jaime, you go first.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue with me. I’m fine. Get out of here.”
Jacob moved closer to the elevator. “Jaime, I’ll be right here to catch you.”
A pair of saddle shoes appeared in the gap as Jaime wiggled herself through the opening. Jacob leaned forward, dangerously close to the open shaft. As the high schooler slipped out, he caught her around the waist and set her down gently on the firm floor. Jaime wobbled as Jacob returned his attention to the elevator, but before I could help her, Ivy swooped in to let Jaime use her as an armrest.
Blackout: Book 0 Page 10