Frantically Joanna widened her blind search over the surface of the wire mesh. Finally her hand knocked against the control box. In the blackness she pushed the first button her fingers encountered.
A high-pitched screeching sound erupted, like chickens being tortured, and with a lurch, the old freight elevator began to rise.
Deborah let go of the strap she'd been gripping, and falling to her knees and twisting, she managed to yank her arms free of the doctor's coat, which was still caught between the closed freight elevator doors. A second later, with an agonizing tearing and crushing sound, Deborah felt the coat disappear into the narrow gap between the front lip of the rising elevator and the stone elevator shaft wall.
"What the hell was that noise?" Joanna demanded through gasps for breath.
Deborah shuddered in the darkness. She knew the crushing sound could have been her body had she not gotten out of the coat. She, too, gasped for breath. "It was my flashlight and car keys being crushed in my doctor's coat."
"We've lost our car keys?" Joanna moaned with her chest heaving.
"That's the least of our worries at the moment," Deborah managed. "Thank God this elevator worked. Those men almost got us. I mean, that couldn't have been any closer."
Joanna's flashlight snapped on. She shined it at the control box. The button that was depressed was the third floor.
"What should we do?" Joanna asked tensely. "We're heading for the third floor. Should we see if we can change that?"
"This is hardly a high-speed elevator," Deborah complained. "The third floor is probably better than certainly the first and maybe even the second. I don't want to run into those men again."
"Obviously,' Joanna said. With her breathing coming under a semblance of control, it was her turn to shudder. "Now we have proof this place is capable of murder, and they probably know we know. And that Cindy bitch knew the men were coming the whole time we were in there. That's why she was being so nice to us. We should have suspected something was wrong the minute she offered a tour. What's wrong with us?"
"That's all easy to say now," Deborah said, still panting. "We were under the delusion they were violating ethics here, not commandments. Murder for eggs makes this a completely different ball game."
"We have to get out of here!"
"True," Deborah said. "But without car keys we're not driving anyplace, at least not in our own car. I think our best bet is to get to a telephone in the Wingate Clinic on the first or second floor."
"The problem is, that's probably what they are expecting," Joanna said. "At least that's what I would expect if I were them. What do you say about hiding for a time to give ourselves a chance to think what we should do and come up with a plan?"
"Maybe we should hide until morning," Deborah suggested. "My guess would be that a very small minority of the people who work here know what they are really doing, and if they did, they'd be as horrified as we are. We could approach someone for help."
"My guess is that they are going to search until they find us tonight. We've got to get out of here."
"But how? Those men had guns, for chrissake!" "That's why we have to find someplace to hole up. We have:; think. We can't be rash."
"The one thing in our favor is the size of this building and the fact that it's so cluttered with stuff,' Deborah said. "There's got to be safe places to hide for a time. Unless they call in a lot of help, it's going to take them most of the night to search with any thoroughness."
"Exactly," Joanna said. "My guess is that they'll do a rapid, superficial search, and if that proves futile, they'll go back for a complete one. By then we have to be out of here or we'll be caught."
Deborah shook her head and took an uncertain breath. "I'm sorry I brought us out here. It's all my fault."
"This is no time for recriminations," Joanna said. "And just for the record: You didn't make me come here. I came here on my own accord."
"Thanks," Deborah murmured.
Joanna switched off the flashlight. "I think we'd better let our eyes adjust to the darkness. We can't be running around with the light on."
"You're right," Deborah managed, trying to get a hold of herself.
A few minutes later, with a final jolting screech, the elevator stopped. Pure silence returned in a smothering rush. The women leaped to the door. As quickly as they could they got it open, only to be confronted by an impenetrable wall of darkness.
"There's no choice; I've got to turn on the light," Joanna said. The click sounded loud in the silence. She rapidly ran the beam around the small, windowless room. It was the freight elevator vestibule with a wide double door.
"They'll quickly figure out the elevator is here on the third floor," Deborah said. "So they'll be here soon. Let's find a stairwell and get up to the top floor. That's where we should find a place to hide until we figure out what we're going to do."
"Agreed!"
Deborah pulled open one of the doors to the corridor, and Joanna stepped through. Quickly Joanna beamed the light up and down the hall. Even though she was now forewarned about all the medical paraphernalia cluttering the old hospital, she was still taken aback by the scene. She hadn't expected to see framed prints still on the walls, nor a laundry cart with folded sheets still on its shelves. "It's like there was a fire drill and everybody ran out and then never came back," she said.
"There's an exit sign," Deborah said, pointing toward the south. "That must be a stairwell. Let's go!"
Joanna kept her hand over the flashlight lens. She wanted to limit the light to just what she and Deborah needed to avoid the gurneys, supply carts, and old wheel chairs. They moved quickly. Arriving at the stairwell, Deborah cracked open the door. For a second they listened. All was quiet.
"Come on!" Deborah urged pushing into the stairwell.
They started up the stairs at a run but slowed immediately because of the noise they were making. The stairs were metal and reverberated like kettle drums in the confined space.
They got only as far as the intermediate landing before both women froze in place. They'd heard a door somewhere below burst open and slam against the wall. Joanna recovered enough to switch off her flashlight.
In the next instant, booming footfalls resounded against the metal treads, accompanied by a flickering glow that filtered up the stairwell. One of the men was running up the stairs clutching a flashlight.
Joanna and Deborah edged to the rear of the landing and pressed themselves up against the bare brick as the sounds and 1 light rising from below rapidly reached a crescendo. Simultaneously one of the men in black appeared on the third-floor landing more than twenty feet away. He was so close to the women that 1 labored breathing was clearly audible. Luckily, he did not look up, but rather concentrated on getting into the third-floor corridor and down to the freight elevator as quickly as possible.
The instant the stairwell door closed behind the man, Joanna and Deborah restarted their climb to the fourth floor. Too scared:: switch on the light, they had to move slowly by feel while the struggled against succumbing to their renewed panic. The fourth floor landing was particularly difficult to navigate in the darkness due to stacks of empty cardboard cartons.
Once they were in the fourth-floor corridor, Joanna again switched on the light. Keeping her hand over the lens, they started out, heading north and moving as fast as the cluttered hall allowed. Both instinctively felt that the farther they were from the part of the building occupied by the Wingate Clinic, the safer they would be. They also tried to be as quiet as possible on the aged wooden flooring in deference to the man searching for them on the floor directly below.
They reached the fire door leading to the tower. Without discussion they traversed the tower and passed through the opposite fire door into the north wing. Except for an occasional creak of a floorboard, they were silent, each consumed by her own fears.