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Randall Davis Barfield

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Number 6
by Randall Davis Barfield
Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Rated "PG" by the Author.

       
Recent stories by Randall Davis Barfield
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           >> View all 118


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“He’s a living doll, just perfect,” Kathryn said.
 
“How do you people manage to get all the luck?” Jill asked.
 
“Be patient,” Kathryn said. “You’re bound to get a new guy soon on that floor.”
 
Both women were riding down in elevator car number 6. It was nearly 7 p.m. and the number of occupants in the building at that hour had greatly decreased. Kathryn worked for Gunn Financial Services on the forty-eighth floor and Jill worked for the city’s large firm of Grisham, Cato, McMahon, and Myers on the forty-ninth. They’d met several years back and had been good friends since that time. Occasionally they had lunch together. The striking building they worked in, Mercer on the Park, was the envy of half the office workers in the city.
 
Kathryn was headed for her car in B3, the third underground basement floor while Jill would exit at the main entrance of the building, or the street floor.
 
“Just love those shoes,” Kathryn told Jill. Jill wore red leather pumps, charcoal nylons, a black skirt and belt, black blouse and a necklace of marble-size red balls.
 
“I was so lucky,” Jill said. “You know, nobody else in the world wears a 5.”
 
“Forty,” Kathryn guessed.
 
“Forty! I never would’ve bought ‘em,” Jill laughed. “I don’t earn that much.”
 
“Twenty-five then.”
 
“Keep going,” Jill said.
 
“OK, I give up.”
 
“Thirteen. Only thirteen dollars,” said Jill.
 
“C’mon, you’re lying,” Kathryn said.
 
Jill shook her head. “Believe what you want,” she said.
 
Just that moment the elevator stopped. Street floor.
 
“Take care. See ya tomorrow,” Jill said, exiting the car.
 
“Lunch next week, right?” Kathryn said.
 
“Tuesday,” Jill said, waving, without turning around.
 
The elevator car continued descending. It reached the basements but did not stop at B3. Kathryn immediately wondered why it hadn’t and pressed the button again. There were six basement levels in all. The car headed for B6. There the car stopped, but the doors did not open. Kathryn didn’t press the open button. Figured she’d go back up to B3 then press it. Crazy machine, she thought. When did one ever work perfectly?
 
The now ascending elevator failed again to stop at B3. Instead, it continued upward. Then it left the basement area and began the climb through the higher floors again. Kathryn realized she’d pressed the buttons for ten or twelve floors. Many lights were on. Maybe that had “confused” the machine. She didn’t care. And she didn’t care which floor it stopped on. She just wanted out quick. There was always the stairs. She’d take those. Up or down, whichever. She remembered the emergency stop. Red. She pressed that button but nothing happened. Suddenly, the car went completely dark but it didn’t stop moving. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Later, in her desperation, Kathryn panicked upon the realization that the car had been up and down the entire building more times than she could count. She remembered swearing never again to work another day in that building before she blacked out.

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Reviewed by Lane Diamond 8/29/2008
Nice. I like it. Flash fiction is a very tough genre, difficult to satisfy with so few words, but you pulled it off here. I'd love to know what you think of my story, "Tunnel Vision." There are some similarities, if you'd care to read it some time and post a comment. -- Dave Lane
Reviewed by Karen Vanderlaan 8/28/2008
creepy!
Reviewed by Bonnie May 8/28/2008
You always find a way to put me at the edge of my seat, this is no exception. Loved it, Love, Bonnie
Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 8/28/2008
Chilling write, Randall; but very, very good! BRAVO!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D
Reviewed by Sandie May Joyce 8/28/2008
This was scary!!!!! I would have passed out too if I were in that elevator. Your short stories are very good.

Sandie Angel :o)

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