Aria Davenport returns for round two with the ever elusive, more sexually experienced Phoenix Prescott. And she's walking on a tight rope. The perfect job, perfect life and perfect relationship lie just beyond the finish line. All she has to do is a...
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The door dings as it opens to the lower level. I lift myself up using the chrome rail that lines the inside of the elevator and cautiously step off to have a look around. I've never been down here before, but it's pretty clear, this isn't the way out, at least not to the public. Looking down both hallways, there's nothing much but closed glass conference room doors as far as I can see. The elevator door closes behind me just as I turn to get back on.
Shit!
Suddenly the fire alarm goes off and water comes pouring from the sprinklers. Cold and wet are not the way anyone wants to feel after seeing what I just saw, the love of my life cozied up with some intern skank. I press the button frantically to summon the elevator as my sweater dress soaks up water with a vengeance. The doors open, I get on and head to the first floor.
The doors open and people are running everywhere in the lobby. Blood courses through my veins like a skier going downhill at top speed.
What's happening?
People are jumping off elevators, running out of corridors in a stampede for the front doors.
Is there a real fire?
Not wanting to be left behind, I follow suit. Everybody knows black people run first and ask questions last.
Better stop asking questions, girl!
But what about Phoenix?
The cold night air is a rude awakening and almost shocking reminder that my dress is still soaked with water. Goosebumps prickle all over my body. Sirens pierce the air, setting off a heightened sense of urgency. Flashing red and blue lights arrive, making this feel like a surreal dream. Two paramedics jump out of a just parked ambulance and unload a stretcher from the back then rush past, leaving a bitter gust of cold air in their wake.
My eyes follow until they disappear behind the automated glass doors of the skyscraper. I grab both my arms and rub them fiercely as if I'm trying to kindle a fire. Sirens get louder as a police car pulls up to the curb at lightning speed and comes to a halt. Two officers exit the vehicle, right in front of me and survey the scene.
Why is my heart beating in my ears like that? So loud.
I clutch my chest, gasping. That sting. That old familiar sting, returns without warning. Standing here in the cold, I fight with everything I have, not to succumb to it. Not here. Not now. Not in front of these people. They don't know me like that. These are just co-workers, just people I work with. They won't understand why or what I'm going through. In spite of myself, everything loses its shape and distorts into a blur.
Fucking cry baby. Get it together!
Anger makes me wipe the tears away quicker than they can fall. An officer speaks into the radio attached his shoulder, then approaches me in almost slow motion. And with him, comes a sense of foreboding so strong that it seizes me and all I want to do is run. But my feet are planted.
"Miss," the officer looks down at his ipad with stylus pen in hand. "Miss, can you hear me?" He motions with his hand in front of my eyes. "You there?"
Shaking my head as if shaking him out my hair, I try and focus. "Yea. Um. Sure." I close my eyes and take a deep breathe. Blinking rapidly, I try to clear the heavy falling tears. "Yes. Uh, Officer. Can I help you?"
He leans in towards me and gives me a napkin. "Were you the caller?" His easy brown eyes look into mine searching for answers. He raises his eyebrows. "Did you call the police?"
"No." His warmth gives me room to reflect and be OK with how off balanced I feel right now. Instead of holding back, I let my sorrow rise to the surface and wipe my tears with the napkin. "No, Sir, it wasn't me. Is there a fire or something? The alarm is going off like crazy."
He takes one look at my belly and looks into my eyes. He seems to read my need for answers. He pauses as if he's overriding his training and clears his throat. "OK, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but considering. . ." He nods his head and looks at my belly again. "I'll be frank, we weren't called for a fire. Someone needs urgent medical attention and there's a possible situation. That's all I'm at liberty to say. Now, Miss, I have to ask, where were you in the building?"
"When the alarm went off, I was leaving the party. Actually, accidentally found myself on the lower level and had to ride the elevator back up to the first floor. I saw everyone running so I ran."
"OK." He nods.
The glass doors open revealing the two paramedics that rushed into the building earlier. They're in the lobby with the stretcher, now occupied. A white blanket with someone underneath it.
I walk past the officer and peek inside. They're speaking to each other at a neck-breaking pace. It's almost as if it's another language.
"Did you get his pulse?" The senior medic asks.
"Yes, ma'am. Blood pressures dropping. Current BP 87 over 64. Decreased level of consciousness."
She moves a wisp of dark hair from her eyes. "Start an IV stat, I'm worried that we're gonna lose him."
"Gonna try an 18-gauge right AC," the younger medic responds.
He immediately drops the bag on his shoulder, pulls out a saline bag and frantically set up an IV. He's moving at warp speed.
Who's in that stretcher?
Stepping on my tippy toes does nothing to answer the question.
"OK, I'm in!" the young medic exclaims.
"Let's go!" the woman yells.
The medics literally run the stretcher down the path towards the ambulance. As they return to the ambulance and load the stretcher into the back. I stand on my tippy toes once again to get a better view. The younger medic gets in the back and leans over the stretcher blocking my view. Moving with life-saving speed, he secures the stretcher. I stand on my tippy toes as the other medic closes both doors. She slaps the side of the ambulance as some sort of signal as she makes his way to the driver's side.
"Who is that?" I ask anyone within earshot.
"We're still assessing the situation, Miss." The officer looks over my shoulder as the ambulance takes off, sirens louder than ever. He calls his partner over the radio on his shoulder. "Adam Five, over."
******************************
The games are over. This is real. What should Aria do next?
