Oh well, at least it’s eight flightsdown.
I have to press my entire body weight into the door to open it. The stairwell beyond is exactly like the ones in every zombie apocalypse movie ever: buzzing overhead lights, bare breezeblocks, a massive sense of dread. . .
A metallic tapping that I know too well sounds somewhere behind the closing door.
I fly down the steps as though the devil himself is chasing me. At the bottom I burst out through the door, startling a snoozing Derek at the front desk.
“Derek! You’re here, thank God!”
I try to gasp out a few more words but I used every last breath running down those stairs. I lurch towards the desk, pointing over my shoulder while taking deep, sucking gulps of air. Thankfully Derek is already on his feet and moving towards me protectively.
“It’s OK,” he says, his eyes scanning me. “Take your time.” I try to regulate my breathing as Derek assesses the situation. “What happened?”
I reach for my phone, easier to show him. I slide my hand into my back pocket, but it’s empty.
“My phone,” I gasp.
He frowns. “What, did someone ring you? What did they say?”
I shake my head. “No. I . . . I was asleep and when I woke up and checked my phone there were all of these pictures. . .” My chest rattles as I take another deep breath. “Of me.”
“Of you?”
“Yeah, but not like selfies, y’know? Pictures of me. Asleep.”
Derek bristles. “What? From when?”
“From now! Well, from earlier tonight. I fell asleep and when I woke up my phone was off, so I charged it and. . .”
He doesn’t speak for a moment. Then he says, “Where is your phone now?”
“I must have left it upstairs.”
“OK. Wait there.” He disappears back behind the desk and doubt starts to scratch away at my fear. No one has followed me down the stairs. There was probably nobody in my room. But those photos. . .
“Right.” He emerges and tucks something into his back pocket. “Don’t gimme those eyes, Irish, it’s just a taser. In case, like.”
Oh. Just a taser.
Cool.
I trail behind him to the lift and eye it doubtfully. “Was the electricity being funny down here?”
“No, why?”
The doors yawn open in front of us and I’m reminded of a recurring nightmare I used to have, where the pulleys all snap and I’m left swinging in an open lift by one lone wire.
“The lights were flickering upstairs.”
He looks at me with something like concern. “Probably just a dodgy bulb. They’re always going in a building this size.”
“Right.” I follow him into the lift. It drags itself up slowly, juddering to a stop at my floor. His hand stays reassuringly close to the taser.
“OK,” he says as we step out. “Your room. Come on.”
My heart starts to thump again as we near the door. It’s shut. Derek edges closer and does that classic copper thing of putting his back against the wall. He nods at me.
“Ready?”
