Elevator Down

     I've been watching this particular YouTuber for a while. He likes to play horror games. I found myself wondering how he would respond if those things actually happened to him. I also wondered how I would react. Then I wondered how we would react together. It may be silly, it may be self-indulgent, and it may be more than a little wish-fulfillment but I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you have fun reading it.

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It was my second morning in Santa Monica and it was shaping up to be a beautiful bright day. I was heading out around 10 am to begin my generic touristing for the day. I was planning on being away from my room for most of the day, so I packed my backpack with what I might need and jumped onto the empty elevator. At the very next floor the bell dinged and the doors opened to admit a dark haired man in a black t-shirt who was tapping away at his phone. He glanced up at me as he stepped inside and nodded politely before moving to press the button for the lobby. Seeing it was already lit he snapped his fingers, said “Hey!” and glanced back at me. I smiled.

“Going my way, eh Marky-Moo?” I asked. His smile widened a bit.

“Well, you know.” He said and shrugged. He extended a hand while depositing his phone in his pocket with the other. “What’s your name?”

“Beth.” I said as I took his hand for a moment. “Big fan.” I added shyly.

“Cool, great to meet you, Beth. What brings you to LA?” Markiplier asked me pleasantly. I was about to answer when the elevator shook violently and an ear-splitting shriek of twisted metal resounded from above us. The elevator slid to a grinding halt. I fell back against the wall behind me, which was now pitched at a 45 degree angle.

“The Fuck?!” Mark shouted. “Uh, yeah!” I replied dumbly. Mark braced himself against the floor and held onto the handrail behind his back to stop from falling onto me.

“You ok?” He asked nodding toward me.

“Yeah, you?” I answered. Mark nodded and began to sidestep toward the call button. As he did the elevator began to slide and we both clung to the walls until it finally settled. At least now the floor was level. The lights flickered.

“Oh. Kay, this is fun… I’m going for the call button. You ok?” I nodded again and watched Mark push the call button on the elevator’s panel. Nothing happened. He pushed it again forcefully and we waited. One last time he pressed the button hard with his thumb and static began to emit from the speaker.

“Great.” Mark pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. I pulled out my own and did the same. No service.

“Anything?” I asked. He shook his head. “Nah, you know the wi-fi password?” I shook my head “Didn’t wanna fork over the money.” Mark nodded knowingly. “Yeah, I was only here for a meeting so…” We locked eyes for a moment as the reality of the situation set in. I felt my body tense and my breath become quick and shallow. “They’ll notice one of their elevators is stuck, sooner or later, right?” I reasoned, trying to keep the panicked squeak out of my voice.

“Probably. I mean yeah, of course they will. No time at all.” Mark didn’t sound convinced.

The grinding began again and the elevator shuddered. The doors began to roll apart, opening onto pitch blackness. At first I thought the doors were opening on the wall of the elevator shaft but the stale air that rushed in as the doors opened told me that beyond the door was a completely unlit space.

Mark and I shared a worried glance as the doors shrieked to a trembling standstill about three-quarters of the way open. As they did the light in the elevator flickered once, then twice, then went out entirely. As my sight adjusted a few details came into focus outside the doors. I saw a wall facing us which looked like any other wall in the hotel would look part way through construction. I thought I could make out a few abandoned hard hats and two-by-fours leaning against the wall. Mark exhaled.

“Well then.” I heard him disengage from the wall and deliberately shake himself. In a moment his face was illuminated by the blue glow of his phone’s screen. A few swipes later and a small beam of bright LED shone from the back into the abyss before us.

The wall opposite the elevators was bare except for a spray painted  pentagram and the words “die die die” Something caught in my throat. “Oh...” I half sobbed. I started when I felt Mark’s hand pat my shoulder. “Sorry, but it’ll be alright.” he said a little lamely. We stared at the wall for a moment longer before either of us spoke again.

“What now?” I said. We both knew what we had to do. He turned without a word and moved to the doors, just enough to stick his head out slowly. I saw him glance left, then right. He nodded at me and stepped out of the elevator. I followed, the elevator groaning as if in relief as our weight left it. We stood as still as we could outside of the elevator, listening. Mark held his phone against his other hand to shield it so we stood in the complete dark once again. The whole floor appeared to be empty. Mark lifted his arm to illuminate the graffiti. He frowned.

“If anyone is here...” He whispered to me. I nodded though I doubted he could see. “They would have heard us by now. No reason at all to play it quiet. No reason to play it anyway but our way.” I glared at him “Did you just quote Sin City?” I asked incredulously.

Mark’s shadow shrugged “Levity?” he suggested “You have to admit, this is a little exciting. It’s just like an indie horror game, but real!” I could barely see his silhouette, but I could hear the smile in his voice. He was actually enjoying this. “Look, it’s a broken elevator and an unfinished floor. We just need to find the stairs and we’ll be out of here.” He said.

I stared at the graffiti in front of us and frowned.

“Kids. Vandals. Maybe a squatter. Or possibly a junkie, a crazy junkie who thinks he can talk to Satan. That’s probably the most dangerous thing that could be here.” Mark thought for a moment.

“I don’t wanna meet a crazy junkie. Let’s get going. Which way, do you think?”

It was as if the whole floor of the building had been abandoned. It was eerily silent, no central air sighed from the unfinished ducts, no humming machinery or buzzing fluorescents. No light at all, actually. Though it was already mid-morning no sunlight pierced the gloom of that corridor, nothing leaked from under doorways and no red exit signs shone at the far end of the corridor.

I heard Mark sniff the air. “Hmm.” I did the same. Stale air upon stale air. Something stank far off to the left, like rotted vegetable matter and body odor. “Which way were the stairs?” I asked. He thought for a moment. “Hell if I know” He admitted finally. I couldn’t recall either. “Let’s try right.” I said trying to sound confident.

“If you say so, it’s all the same to me.” He shrugged. We began to walk down the corridor to the right of the elevator. Mark scanned the floor before us and checked the doors we passed. I stayed as close as I dared beside him, feeling the emptiness of the dark corridor all around us. Mark’s light glinted off something straight ahead of us. It was a folding table piled with junk. I saw a tool box, another hard hat, and a lot of large sheets of paper I took to be blueprints or schematics. Everything was covered with a thin layer of dust. Behind the table was a partially completed wall with stripped wires and puffy insulation hanging out. We couldn’t go any further that way. Mark paused before turning back.

“Something is telling me to search through this stuff for items. Or a note from some construction worker about strange goings on in the construction site.” I forced a laugh and turned away to go back. When Mark thought I wasn’t watching he grabbed a wrench from the table and stuck it in his back pocket.

We began retracing our steps. Soon we passed the elevator and were in uncharted territory once again. We passed four doors all with chipping paint and no room numbers before we came to one that was open a crack. Mark extended his arm to stop me from passing it.

“Why isn’t there any light?” He whispered. When he spoke the words I realized I had been wondering the same thing. Weren’t there windows on this floor? Mark said nothing but I had an idea of what he was thinking.

“It’s not a game, Mark, we don’t need to find all the secrets.” I whispered. Mark nodded but still didn’t move. “Maybe it’s a janitor’s closet, they stuck a room number on it so it wouldn’t stick out.” I suggested. He switched the phone to his right hand and extended his left to push the door. It creaked and swung open slowly. I cursed him in my head, but we both leaned to peek through the doorway into the room.

There was light inside. A little bit shining in streaks on the wall. Someone had blacked out the windows with paint, or something similar. I felt Mark relax beside me and that in turn made me relax a bit. That is until we heard the breathing.

It was slow and rasping. As if someone with a respiratory infection was sleeping fitfully. I gasped and grabbed Mark’s arm with both hands in panic and he aimed his phone at the floor and fumbled to turn it off.

“Shit!” He hissed and tugged me away back down the hall from which we came. We fled as quickly and soundlessly as we could back down the corridor in the dark until we were back at the elevator. I let go of his arm and leaned against the wall, trying to listen over the din of our pounding hearts and gasping. Nothing else appeared to be stirring. In the darkness I heard Mark lean against the wall next to me and whisper.

“I think I remember where the stairs are. The other side of the building, in the corner. I think we filmed a skit here once. I think…I’m not sure, there are a lot of old hotels in LA. Worth a shot though.” The blue glow from his phone showed up once again, illuminating his face from below and making his face sinister.

“Yeah, ok. Lead on.” I squeaked. This time Mark linked his arm in mine possibly to reassure me. Perhaps to reassure himself. He kept the light focused on the floor in front of us and hissed “Yes!” when he found a corridor we had overlooked the first time. We passed many doors, some of which were open, but neither of us tried to see inside again.

After about 15 minutes down this hallway we rounded a corner saw something shining. A reflective sign on the wall depicting a staircase and an arrow. We both quickened our step and reached the sign, which was next to a heavy metal door, which was locked with a chain and padlock.

“What the fuck?” Mark demanded, his voice still soft but his pitch rising in anger. “Why would they do this?” He grabbed at the handle of the door and tried to open it but the chain held solidly. He braced a foot against the wall and hauled as hard as he could while whispering curses to himself, but the chain wouldn’t yield. He leaned his forehead against the door in exasperation.

I took out my own phone and examined the lock. It was the kind of thing someone would use to lock up a bike. As I was turning it over in my hand I heard Mark ask “I don’t suppose you have any bobby pins?” and chuckle as he stepped away from the door to lean against the opposite wall. I self-consciously ran a hand through my short unstyled hair and tried to think when I heard a crash followed by a tinkling right behind me.

I turned around and shone my light at the source only to find Mark standing a few feet away from me, his right hand wrist deep in a mass of shattered glass. He seemed slightly surprised when blood began to run down his arm and drip onto the bare wooden floor. He pulled his fist gingerly out of the mess. Jagged pieces of glass were embedded in his wrist and knuckles.

“What the hell happened?!” I yelled, not even trying to be quiet. The floors above and below us probably heard that crash. Mark laughed in a pained sort of way.

“Break glass in case of emergency!” He offered as explanation. Then with his good hand he reached back into the mess of glass and pulled out a fireman’s axe. That’s when we heard a door slam and a rhythmic thudding coming from somewhere on the other side of the floor.

“Man, you really are an idiot!” I said angrily as I grabbed Mark’s shoulder and shoved him down the corridor. Mark stuttered an apology as we shuffled blindly down the hallway until we found the open door. Figuring we’d already screwed ourselves over I barged into the room and checked the corners while Mark closed the door behind us. The room was empty except for a few bits of trash and possibly some sort of long abandoned animal nest. The window was also blacked out. We crouched down against the wall around the corner from the door and waited.

At first we didn’t hear anything but before long the thumping returned and I realized it was running feet. The feet stopped down the hall from us and there was some banging and muttering followed by laughter and a taunting call of “I know you’re heee-er!” The laughter and muttering got closer until it was just outside the door. The voice outside continued to taunt us and mutter to itself as it passed by. I heard the feet finally fade away to nothing.

Mark sat beside me through all of this, breathing deeply and intentionally. He held his bleeding hand against his shoulder with the other. Once I was sure whoever belonged to that voice was gone I turned my phone back on and placed it on the floor. It shone up at the ceiling and spread a cone of light into the room like a small LED campfire.

“Let’s see that hand” I said. Mark extended his right arm to me and I saw that his t-shirt was soaked in blood. “Damn” I whispered as I pulled my backpack off. I always keep some bandaids and antibiotic ointment in my bag when I travel but I didn’t think that was going to cut it this time.

“Let’s see if there’s a sink in the bathroom.” Mark stood, wobbling slightly and followed me still holding his arm close to his body against his right shoulder.

“I think the bleeding has slowed, holding it up helps. Above the heart. Guess those biomedical classes were good for something.” He forced a chuckle and knelt down next to the sink to lay his arm gingerly along the edge. Blood ran down the white porcelain into the drain in small rivulets. I pulled my full water bottle out of my backpack and poured some water over his knuckles. As the blood rinsed off I could see that there were many small cuts on his hand and wrist, and one huge chunk of glass sticking out of his knuckles.

“The big one is bad, the rest looks like a lot of superficial cuts.” I said trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about. I handed him my phone. Mark’s free hand shook noticeably. “Hold the light still. I think I have tweezers…” I dug in my bag again and by some miracle I did have tweezers.

“Ok, so I’m going to take out the small pieces first so I can wrap the whole thing up to keep the big wound closed.” I held Mark’s hand over the sink and began pulling the smaller shards of glass out of his knuckles and dropping them in the sink one by one.

“Can you just pinch the shard there, hold it shut, with your other hand?” Mark asked weakly. I did so and the bleeding slowed again. My mind tried to calculate how much blood he had lost over the last ten minutes or so. My own hands began to shake.

“Man, you have everything in that bag.” He said in a hushed tone. I nodded. “That’s cause I’m Mary Poppins, y’all.” I said. Mark chuckled. “Mary Poppins is a Time Lord you know.” “Time Lady.” I corrected him.

I worked in silence, glancing up at Mark every so often. He watched my hands move in sort of a daze. Once all the glass I could see, except for the big piece, was out I dumped the rest of my water over Mark’s hand. I grabbed the ointment and dabbed it on the small wounds.

“I need to bind this in something…” I muttered and searched my bag. “Will this work?” Mark pulled a red paisley bandana from his back pocket and offered it to me. “Yeah, perfect” I said and tied it tightly around Mark’s wounded hand.

A sudden tap on the bathroom door startled us both and Mark nearly fell from his crouch. It was followed immediately by a long slow scratch from the middle of the door down nearly to the floor. Whoever was out there had found us, and he was playing with us. I saw that Mark was frightened too, but his jaw was set and he furrowed his brow at the door.

“Who’s out there?” He called through the door. No one answered. “Alright, I’m coming out there, we’re not afraid of you, you douche-baby!” With that Mark pulled the door open to reveal… nothing. No one was outside the door. He stepped out shining my phone’s light all around but the room was empty. Suddenly he clutched his head and fell against the wall. I tried to grab his good arm to help him up but tripped and fell instead onto my hands and knees. Glancing back I saw a broom lying in front of the door.

“Are you alright?” I asked Mark.

“Uh huh, just a head rush, I lost a lot of blood.” He groaned. The phone had fallen facedown on the ground and shone up onto Mark’s face, allowing me to see for the first time how pale he was. His eyes were sunken and screwed up in pain. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. Not knowing what to do, I tried to keep him talking.

“Hmm. I think we were scared shitless by a broom.” Mark chuckled shakily, his eyes still shut and his left hand still holding his head. “So uh… Douche-baby?” I asked teasingly, as I crawled closer and lifted Mark’s right hand back to it’s position above his heart. The bandana was soaked through with blood and it was still flowing. Mark shrugged.

“They can’t all be winners” I laughed feebly and was about to reply that we should get going, when we heard a thud from the hallway. The door began to rattle and shake. I flew to the door. Mark scooted with difficulty and sat against it to hold it shut. There was a wordless gurgling yell of frustration from the other side, but by Mark and I’s combined efforts the door held.

“I know you’re in there! Come out so I can gut you!” An angry voice from the other side of the door taunted.

“Maybe we can get out the window?” I wondered frantically out loud.

“Hotel windows. Designed not to open from the inside.” Mark grunted as he pushed back against the strangers brutal blows.

“Worth a shot!” I cried and dashed to the window. The light was still on the floor by the door. I fumbled around blindly but found no switch, handle, or anything to open the window. That’s when I remembered the axe.

I grabbed the phone and searched the room. The axe was still leaning against the wall where I had left it. There was a crack of splintering wood. I ran back to the door and saw that there was a hand sized hole in the door. Through it I saw a red-rimmed pupil the size of a pinprick. It disappeared and a skinny tattooed arm came snaking in through the hole. I didn’t take the time to think, I swung.

Fireman’s axes are remarkable sharp, it turns out. Having never swung one before, I had a terrible aim. The howl of agony that issued from the other side of that thin wooden door was enough to chill my blood. The stranger pulled his ruined arm back out of the hole and roared in his incoherent manner, throwing words like “bitch” and “cunt” into the cacophony. He thudded down the halls and grew silent.

Panting and feeling like I was about to throw up, I turned to check on Mark. He still sat in the same place braced against the door. Only now his head lolled forward onto his chest and his right arm lay at his side in an ever growing pool of blood.

“Mark?! Can you hear me?!” I nearly screamed. Mark started at the noise. He blinked up at me, unfocused, and managed a slight nod.

“He gone?” He groaned. I sighed in relief, but it was short lived as Mark’s head fell back to his chest and he didn’t answer again when I called his name. I fell to my knees beside him and grabbed his right arm to hold it up. I slapped him across the face. His eyes flew open and he stared at me for a moment.

“You hit me” He said simply.

“Come on, we have to go.” I stood up and tried to urge him to his feet but he was nothing but dead weight.

“No, go on without me, I can’t.” He mumbled and waved his arm at me dismissively. I once again felt the bile rise in my throat at the idea. I swallowed hard and did a thing I haven’t done for years: I stamped my foot and yelled “NO!”

I turned around and crouched, “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” I swung Mark’s good arm over my shoulder “For those to be your last words?” I stood, pulling him up with me. “To die a hero?”  Using strength I didn’t think I had, I half-carried half-dragged him through the door into the hallway.

I managed to bring Mark most of the way to the locked door, one arm holding his left arm while the other carried the bloody axe. Rounding the last corner I saw a glare coming toward me. It was a bright white light about at hip height and it shone directly in my face. I dropped Mark as gently as I could and, taking the axe in both hands, I rushed toward the unknown enemy. Then I heard a girlish shriek that stopped me in my tracks. I looked again.

It was an industrial flashlight, and it was being held by a frightened man in a hotel uniform. He wore a nametag that read “Steve” and he was staring at me, dirty, bruised, and covered in blood, with abject horror on his face. In his other hand was a set of keys on a comically big key ring. At his waist was a tool belt and a walkie-talkie.

“Where the HELL have YOU been?” I yelled at him. “Call the paramedics RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!” Steve dropped his keys on the floor in his haste to get his walkie-talkie to his ear. He clicked the button with shaking fingers and stuttered into the receiver.

“I-I need paramedics! An ambulance! Now! Floor thirteen! Hurry up!” He squawked. “I’ll get help!” He turned and ran all the way to the door, threw it open and nearly fell down the stairs. I heard the door to the next floor down bang open and shut as he retreated.

I fell down next to Mark on the floor. His eyes were closed but he was breathing steadily.

“Mark? The paramedics have been called, help is on the way. Hang on, ok?” I said loud and clear. “Mm-hmm” he grunted.

It was an old hotel in Santa Monica, I had gotten a great deal for booking the week before. I guess it was historically haunted. I never counted nor did I notice in the elevator how many floors were listed. If I had I would have noted that the elevator was off by one.

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