Elena didn’t weigh much, but even if I’d been totally myself, I couldn’t have carried her far. I was afraid dragging her might jar her too much in her injured state and finish her off, but what other choice did I have? If I left her on the mattress, though … It might be more awkward, but the mattress would make a good barrier if we had to go through fire.
It had handles on the sides but not along the narrow end. I took my keys from my pants pocket and made some gashes in the cover. If they didn’t rip off completely, they’d be good enough. I stumbled over to Elena’s duffel bag and ripped the strap free. Even that much effort made me pant and brought another wave of pain crashing across my brain to the front of my head. I had to lean against the wall until it receded enough that I could walk.
I ran the strap through the gashes I’d made in the mattress cover. Before starting to haul it, I knelt again to feel Elena’s heart. It maintained its erratic beat.
I slipped the duffel strap over my head and shoulders and pulled the ends around my waist. Stooping slightly against the weight behind me, I began dragging it toward the door. When I got that far I put the strap down and gently maneuvered the mattress by hand out to the hall—I didn’t want to bang Elena’s head into the splintered door.
Once in the corridor I began a nightmare journey. Around us in the dark the rats were twittering, unnerved by the fire and trying to delve deep into the bowels of the building. They kept running over my feet. I knew they had to be crawling around the mattress, crawling on my aunt’s body. That thought made me shudder and start to black out.
I leaned a hand against the wall and forced my mind to clear, forced the thought of what was happening behind me out of my head, forced the swells of pain to the back of my brain. Smoke was starting to drift toward me down the hall, further fogging me. I wanted to sit but was too scared of the rodents clamoring for air on the floor to be able to.
I was almost at the basement stairs. If the smoke was getting thicker, it meant the fire was at the top of the stairs and I wouldn’t be able to make it through the maze to an exit.
My eyes were streaming. My throat was raw and I could feel a searing tightness in my chest when I tried to inhale. I might have been able to run up on my own with my sweatshirt around my head, but if I tried it with Elena, we’d both die.
So move, Vic. Don’t stand there, go back, put your harness back on, that’s a good cow, turn around and pull. A door stood open at the bottom of the stairs. I had just enough sense to heave it shut before taking up my burden again and heading back down the hall.
My arms were beginning to tremble from overexertion. I couldn’t remember any real poems so I started chanting jumping-rope rhymes to give some rhythm to my movements and take my mind from my fatigued body.
“Dance, girl, dance, girl, hop on one foot.” But hop to where? I didn’t remember any other doors in the section of basement we were trapped in. Then, at the intersection of the two corridors, I thought of the dumbwaiter I’d inadvertently found.
I stuck a hand in and explored it. It was a large space, originally used for hauling furnishings from the basement. When the hotel had been built it stood in Chicago’s most exclusive neighborhood. They’d needed lots of linens and things, and before a widespread use of electricity this made an ideal passageway.
If the fire was inside the building, the shaft would also be an ideal conduit for flames. But if it had been started on the outside and was working inward, we might have a grace period. It was possible, of course, that rats had long since chewed through the cables. Anything is possible, Warshawski, my old Latin teacher used to say. I want to know what is.
I slipped Elena from the mat and hoisted her, straining, over one aching shoulder. “Up we go, Auntie. Just relax and breathe normally.”
I slid her into the box. It was high enough that she could have sat up, but I laid her on her side. I looked at where the mattress lay. Travel light or keep my only tool? I hoisted it up and folded it into an awkward bundle next to my aunt, checking to make sure she had breathing room. Finally I stuck a foot into the box and hiked up to the top.
It was covered with greasy dust and little things that were probably rat droppings. “But there are no rats here, Auntie, because they’ve all been clever enough to burrow underneath the building. We will rise above it all.”
I fumbled in the dark for the cables, found one, and tugged. It creaked ominously but the box didn’t move. There was tension on the line, though—it was still connected somewhere. I pulled again and felt the box sway a little. Maybe I had the wrong cord. I held on to it with my left hand and waved my right around in the dark air. Finally I found another rope on the other side of the shaft.