Deep Dark Night

by Steph Broadribb

  ‘How can you do—?’

  Cabressa groans.

  JT grabs my hand. ‘We need to move.’

  He helps me up. I feel unsteady, on jello legs. There’s an ache deep in my chest. I wheeze as I breathe.

  In the gloom I see Cabressa push himself up to sitting. He hunches over, clutching his busted nose.

  ‘Come on.’ JT yanks me along faster. ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’

  My lungs feel on fire. My head is spinning.

  Cabressa bellows at me to stop.

  We round the door to the hallway. I know from the blueprints there’s a door that leads to the security door for the roof at the end of the hallway, after the elevator.

  Just inside the hallway we almost fall over Mikey. There are bloody handprints on the walls and floor. Otis is trying to help him, but Mikey looks real bad. From the way he’s floundering he can’t seem to support his own weight. That’s when I realise the shot I diverted from JT must have hit Mikey in the leg.

  I try to slow down to help, but JT pulls me past them, towards the first of the double doors to the roof. He yanks the door open. Crammed inside the small space between the first door and the metal security door are Carmella, Johnny and Carl.

  Spooked, I skid to a halt. ‘We’ll be trapped in there. Like fish in a smaller barrel than the whole suite. Why do you—’

  ‘I’ve got my lock picks, and some of my tools,’ JT whispers urgently. ‘I remember the blueprints – the type of lock the security doors have. I can get through this.’

  ‘In a few minutes?’ I say. ‘Because that’s all we’ve got left.’

  ‘Yes. Come on. We’ve got to go now.’ JT’s words are fast, urgent. Then his focus shifts to something behind me. He cusses.

  I hear it before I feel the impact. Jump from the crack of the shot. Flinch as the bullet embeds itself in the oak board a half-yard from my feet.

  ‘Stop where you are,’ Cabressa yells.

  Slowing, I turn. My stomach lurches.

  Cabressa has the Glock to Otis’s head.

  Otis is crying, spluttering out prayers. ‘Oh Lord, please be merciful on—’

  ‘It isn’t God who can save you now,’ says Cabressa, with an evil smile on his face. ‘Only person who can do that is Miss Anderson.’ He pushes the gun barrel harder against Otis’s head. Otis whimpers. ‘Go through that door, Miss Anderson, and Otis here dies.’

  ‘Come on,’ JT says. ‘We have to go. If we don’t get out of here now, everyone dies.’

  I stare at Cabressa. I have no doubt he means to do as he says, that he’ll kill Otis if I don’t stay with him.

  I gaze into JT’s eyes. Know what my decision has to be. I can’t have another person’s death on my conscious. I cannot be responsible.

  ‘I love you. I’ll find another way out.’

  ‘No, Lori, don’t you do this,’ says JT. He clutches my hand tighter. Tries to pull me through the door.

  Shaking my head, I slip my fingers from his and take a step back from the doorway. ‘I have to. I’ll see you on the other side.’

  36

  ‘Lori don’t,’ JT shouts. He pushes against the door, grabs for her hand again, but it’s pointless. ‘Don’t do—’

  There are tears in her eyes as she slams the door shut. Locking him inside the double door airlock space and her still in the foyer of the penthouse. He slams his fists against the door. ‘Goddammit, Lori.’

  There’s no answer from the other side. He doubts he’d be able to hear her even if she tried to speak. He pounds on the door again. Beating his frustration onto it, every blow echoing in the confided space. The lack of oxygen makes him weaken fast. The airlock is part of the same lockdown and decontamination system; unless he can get them through the exterior door they’ll run out of oxygen. The helpless feeling makes him even angrier.

  He hates this. Hates that he’s separated from her. Especially now. There are just minutes left before the oxygen runs out. He hates what she’s done but he understands her reason. The deaths at the Bonchese compound at the end of her last job hit her hard – she wouldn’t be able to bear the weight of Cabressa killing Otis because of her actions. He gets it, but now he’s feeling the fear. Lori could die on the other side of that door, and there’s not a goddamn thing he can do to stop it happening.

  ‘What now?’ Carmella’s voice is laboured, breathless.

  JT resents her because she’s here and Lori isn’t. He knows that isn’t fair. But this whole situation isn’t fair. This isn’t how the job was supposed to go. He whacks his right fist against the door again, then his left. His hands are aching now. He knows he has to stop.

  He presses his palm against the door. Imagines Lori on the other side. He has to believe in her. Have faith she’ll get out of the penthouse before the air’s gone. She’s stubborn once she’s made up her mind on something, and she’s real resourceful too. JT knows she’ll do whatever it takes to get free and clear. Neither of them is ready to say goodbye anytime soon.

  ‘Cowboy, you going to do something here?’ Johnny calls, breathlessly. ‘We’re running out of air, you know?’

  JT turns. Carl, Johnny and Carmella are looking at him. Waiting for him to get them free. Red-faced and wild-eyed, Carl looks ready for a meltdown. Johnny’s watching JT real closely. Carmella’s eyelids are half closed, there’s a layer of sweat over her skin; she’s wilting and fit to drop. It’s hellishly hot in here, squeezed into this tiny space. And it’s getting hotter.

  JT nods. Can’t keep fretting. Needs to act.

  Stepping around Johnny, Carl and Carmella, he strides towards the second door and studies the lock. He pulls the thin tool belt from under his shirt, glad that the security guards missed it when they patted him down and that he hadn’t been body-scanned the same way Lori had. Unzipping it, he removes his lock picks and gets to work.

  Everyone’s relying on him to get them out of here alive.

  37

  The elevator is our only chance. We’ve got nine minutes left before the oxygen level hits critical. Then it’ll be all over. I can’t let that happen. I have to get back to JT. And we have to go home to our baby, Dakota.

  ‘Can you get it open then?’ Cabressa says. He’s still waving the gun around.

  ‘Having that gun in my face isn’t helping none,’ I snap as I run my fingers around the outside of the elevator doors. ‘This isn’t my usual thing.’

  ‘You’re a thief, aren’t you?’ he says. ‘You should be able to get out of this.’

  As I reach up, feeling along the top edge of the doors, sweat runs rivers down my back. The heat in here is stifling. I feel like it’s suffocating me. ‘If you’d let us try this before—’

  ‘Enough.’ He pokes me in the back with the Glock. ‘No more excuses. Get it done.’

  Using the flashlight on my cell I squint at the joins. The metal is smooth; it has no obvious stress points and no external screws. There’s no lock to unpick. The only way to get the elevator open is to force it. I turn. ‘Otis, I need you to go get those knives Anton had.’

  ‘Okay,’ says Otis. Standing, he moves away from Mikey and towards the living space.

  Cabressa turns the gun towards him.

  For a moment I think about trying to disarm him, then I decide my energy is better spent trying to get us out of here. I can deal with Cabressa later. First I need to stop us all from getting dead. ‘Hurry,’ I urge Otis.

  Cabressa is frowning. ‘You think I’m an idiot? Stay where you are.’

  Otis dithers, looking wide-eyed at the gun.

  I take a step towards Cabressa. We don’t have time for this. If he’s going to act like a dick I’m going to have to try and disarm him, but right now I’d rather work on our escape. I make my voice no-shit tough. ‘You want me to open this, then I need tools. Those knives are strong steel, I can use them to lever the doors. If I can’t do that, it’s game over. Your choice.’

  He looks pissed, but seems to realise the logic. ‘Fine. Ge
t the knives. But try anything else and you’re both dead.’

  With his cellphone lighting his path, Otis sprints into the living space. I put a hand against the elevator doors. Try to take a deep breath, but I can’t, the air is too thin. My body is starting to ache. The places Cabressa punched me in our fight are throbbing. I grit my teeth. There’s no time for pain or feeling sorry for myself. I have to get us out of here.

  Otis rushes back into the hallway and hands me two knives. ‘This is the best we’ve got.’

  I look at them. Frown. Only one is the size that Anton had, the other is much smaller. ‘How so?’

  ‘I couldn’t find the other knife.’

  ‘Where’d you get this one?’ I say, nodding towards the big one.

  ‘Under the couch.’ He gestures to the smaller knife. ‘That was all that was left in the knife block. Only had three.’

  This is bad. Real bad. ‘What about the one Anton stabbed into the table?’

  Otis shakes his head. ‘Gone.’

  Shit. Someone has taken that knife. The little knife isn’t big enough for what I need to do. I stare at Otis. Wonder if I can trust him. ‘You keeping the other blade for yourself?’

  He puts his hands up. ‘No way, I just want to be out of here, man.’

  I look across at Mikey. He looks awful: his skin is bathed in sweat, his eyes are half closed, there’s blood dripping through the scarf tied around his hand, and he’s gripping his leg tight with the other. ‘Did you get the knife, Mikey?’

  ‘No.’ His voice is weaker now. His breath’s coming in gasps.

  I believe him. But if neither of them have the knife, that means someone in JT’s group must. I shudder. Can’t afford to think on that right now. With no cell service I can’t warn him. I have to focus on getting these doors open.

  Crouching down, I lever the biggest knife into the crevice between the door and the frame. It’s real tight, and it takes several attempts before the knife slides into the gap almost to the hilt. Hoping that it’s far enough in, I stand. My chest is heaving from the effort. I can’t catch my breath.

  ‘Get on with it,’ says Cabressa. There’s fear in his voice now.

  I can’t answer him, can’t act. I double over. Chest heaving. Breathing rapid. I press my hands into my knees. Close my eyes. Try to slow my breaths.

  I hear Cabressa moving about behind me. ‘We’re running out of time. What are you—?’

  I open my eyes. Check my watch: seven minutes left.

  Damn.

  I force myself upright. My vision spins. Blinking, I try to focus. Use the smaller knife to wedge into the gap between the two doors. They resist.

  Behind me Otis is telling Mikey to hang in there, to stay with him. He breaks off from speaking and coughs – big, wracking coughs that leave him gasping for air.

  ‘You okay?’ I say, not looking around.

  ‘That voice said this place is sealed, airtight,’ says Otis, his words slow, almost slurred. ‘If that’s true we’re never going to get into this thing.’

  ‘There’s no alternative.’ I hope the voice was wrong and try to force the blade into the gap again. It moves a fraction. I push harder. Put all my weight behind it. Gradually, inch by inch, it slots inside.

  ‘Come on,’ says Cabressa.

  ‘Not. Helping,’ I reply through gritted teeth.

  Changing my grip, I put my right, stronger hand on the top of the knife handle, and my left underneath it, and lace my fingers together. I breathe in as best I can. Then, on the exhale, I twist the knife to force the doors apart.

  The doors resist. I keep twisting. This has to work. I have to get us free.

  There’s movement. The doors part, just a fraction.

  Then the blade shears away from the handle. The doors snap back into place.

  ‘Goddamn it,’ I say. Dropping the broken handle, I smack my fists against the elevator doors. The impact vibrates through me, and I feel like I’m going to vomit. I can’t catch my breath.

  ‘We’re screwed,’ Otis says. He starts praying again.

  ‘Find another way,’ says Cabressa, poking me in the side with the Glock’s muzzle.

  I turn towards him. ‘There is no other way. This was it.’

  Otis lets out a cry.

  I look past Cabressa to him. He’s stabbing at the screen of his cell, but the screen is dark.

  Otis sees me watching. ‘It’s dead. The battery’s gone.’

  I look at my cell. Only twelve percent battery power left. I figure all our cells will be similar. And once our smartphone flashlights are gone, we’ll be blind in here. Given how much air we have left, we’ll be dead before that happens.

  I glance at Cabressa. His expression is grim. Over by Otis, Mikey looks as if he’s passed out.

  I check my watch. We’ve barely five minutes of air left.

  My muscles feel on fire. My head’s pounding. I taste bile, sour on my tongue. Death is in sight, creeping second by second towards us in the darkness.

  I turn back to the elevator. I have to think of something.

  38

  JT doesn’t know if it’s the heat or lack of oxygen, or the fear of Lori being out in the lobby, but he’s failing. He repositions the picks. Tries again to release the mechanism, but the lock holds fast.

  Cussing, he wipes the sweat from his brow to stop it dripping into his eyes.

  ‘You done yet?’ Carl growls. ‘We’re burning up in here.’

  ‘Not yet.’ JT bites back the things he wants to say. Knows losing his temper won’t help a damn. ‘Hold on a bit longer.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can…’ Carmella’s voice trails off.

  JT glances over his shoulder. In the dim light from the phones he can just make out Carmella. Her eyes are still open, as is her mouth. Her chest is rising and falling fast. She’s in a bad way.

  He turns back to the lock. Tries again.

  ‘This is nonsense,’ Carl says. ‘We can’t carry on like this.’

  ‘Woah, steady,’ says Johnny. There’s fear in his voice.

  ‘Oh God,’ Carmella cries.

  The picks slip against the mechanism again.

  There’s a noise, a scuffle behind him.

  JT looks round. Adrenaline fires through him.

  Carl’s got a knife. Looks like the one from the table, one of the two that Anton had been brandishing earlier. Shit. There isn’t time for this.

  ‘Steady, steady,’ says Johnny, his hands out towards Carl. ‘There’s no need to start waving that around.’

  ‘There’s every reason. We don’t have enough air in here for us all,’ Carl shouts. ‘We have to prioritise. We can’t—’

  ‘Put it down,’ says JT, still trying to wrestle with the lock.

  ‘No.’ Wild-eyed, Carl points the knife towards Carmella. ‘She won’t survive anyway. I’m doing what has to be done, what none of you have the balls for. We have to save our…’ He launches himself at Johnny. The knife’s raised. Carl stabs it towards him.

  They fight. It’s dark. Johnny drops his cell as he tries to defend himself. The light from Carl’s swings around as he lunges over and again. Crouching down, JT scoots over to Carmella and pulls her clear of Carl’s reach and over to the second door. He turns off her cell flashlight; making her a harder target. Then reaches for his picks again.

  As the men fight, JT battles the lock. He hears grunts and cries. Punches and cuss words. Glancing over his shoulder he can see in the light of Carl’s flashlight that Johnny’s been slashed across the arms and chest. He’s bleeding. But he’s fighting Carl for the knife. Carl is older, less fit, but Johnny’s been drinking – his coordination isn’t good. Both men are weakened from the lack of air.

  They cannon into JT. He feels the knife blade dance across his forearm leaving a sting of pain behind. He shoves the men away from him and Carmella and across the small space. Turns back to the lock and reaches for his picks, but they’re not there.

  JT bellows in rage. Uses his cellphone fl
ashlight to scour the floor, searching for the picks. Behind him he hears Johnny shouting. Carl’s snaring like a dog. The men thump into the wall. Cussing. Scrambling. JT sees the picks.

  As he grabs them, he turns. In the flashes of light from the moving phone, JT sees Johnny pull the knife from Carl, turning away as he does. Carl throws himself after Johnny. Johnny turns back towards Carl, the knife outstretched.

  JT hears the scream as Carl impales himself on the blade. Sees him fall to the floor, the knife still in his flesh. Watches the blood pour from his stomach, thick and dark. There’s no coming back from a wound like that. Not here. Not on the outside either. He’ll bleed out real fast. There’s nothing JT can do.

  So he turns away. Leaves Johnny panting, staring down at Carl’s crumpled, blood-splattered body, and gets back to work.

  There’s no time for pity. No time for regret.

  If JT can’t pick this lock in the next few minutes they’re all going to be dead.

  39

  My head’s pounding. Chest is aching. My whole body is drenched in sweat.

  I thump on the elevator doors again.

  I feel weak, and I hate it. Must fight. Can’t let this be the end. Cannot let that happen. I have to get back to my daughter.

  ‘I’ve seen plans … for a lot of places like this,’ says Mikey. ‘All plans submitted to City Hall. I’m on … new-development committee.’