Frank Schätzing - Limit

Vacuum pressure! What if the fire and smoke had already annihilated too much of the oxygen in the elevator shaft?

To her incredible relief, the panel glided to the side and revealed an evenly lit, two-metre-square shaft. There was a ladder on the left-hand side. She contorted herself to turn around, crept back and stretched both hands out towards Karla.

‘In here,’ she called, her voice reverberating. ‘The ventilation shaft is behind here.’

Karla slithered into the passage next to her.

‘Climb down the ladder,’ said Eva. ‘At some point there should be a way of getting out.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’m helping the others.’

‘Okay.’

Sushma turned her face towards her. In it, hope and deathly fear were grappling for supremacy.

‘Everything’s okay, Sushma.’ Eva smiled. ‘Everything’s fine now.’

There was a loud creak above her, then a metallic crash, and sparks rained down in dense showers.

Eva looked up. A fiery glow was gleaming through a crack in the cabin. Had that been there before? It looked as though the floor of the burning cabin was beginning to break away from the rest of it.

No, she thought. Not yet. Please!

Hsu looked towards the ceiling in alarm as she battled to overcome the second corner. Her knees were shaking violently.

Sushma started to cry. Hastily, Eva pulled the Indian woman into the shaft, helped by Mukesh, who pushed from below and then hesitated, unsure as to whether he should follow his wife or help Hsu, who was edging her way along centimetre by centimetre.

‘Get in!’ ordered Eva. ‘I’ll take care of Rebecca. Come on!’

Mukesh obeyed, squeezed past her and disappeared into the ventilation shaft. Another creak came from above. The glowing rain became denser. Hsu screamed as sparks landed on her naked shoulders. She pressed herself against the wall, unable to carry on, frozen with fear.

‘Rebecca!’ Eva stretched her upper body out.

‘I can’t,’ groaned Hsu.

‘You’re almost there.’ She stretched her long arms out to the Chinese woman, trying to get a hold on her.

‘My legs aren’t doing what I tell them.’

‘Just a little further! Hold on to me.’

Volley-like blows droned through the shaft. The cabin floor of E2 bulged out, then exploded into pieces.

No, pleaded Eva. Not now. Not yet. Please not yet!

She reached out as far as she could. Fiery reflections darted over the walls of the shaft. The Chinese woman overcame both her rigidity and the corner, managed to take an utterly fearless step, came closer, made her way to right beneath her, grasped her outstretched right hand, lifted her gaze to Eva—

And then up to the ceiling.

Time stood still.

With a crash, the floor plate broke free. Hsu’s features contorted, reflecting the realisation that she had lost, and froze. For the duration of a heartbeat, her gaze rested on Eva.

‘No!’ screamed Eva. ‘No!’

The Chinese woman pulled her hands away. As if wanting to welcome her end with open arms, she spread them out, let herself fall and tipped backwards into the shaft. Eva reacted instinctively. In a flash, she pulled back, protected her head and buried her face in her elbows. Centimetres away from her, the cabin floor thundered past, spitting out fountains of embers. It singed her lower arms, hands and hair, but she didn’t feel a thing. The elevator shaft filled with the sounds of crashing and banging. In distraught disbelief, she pulled herself over the edge and watched as the fiery cloud became smaller and paler, until it seemed to implode into the depths as the cabin floor fell deeper and deeper.

Rebecca’s coffin lid.

‘No,’ she whispered.

Tongues of fire lashed down from above. Eva pulled herself back into the ventilation shaft. Her feet found the ladder of their own accord. There was an identical control panel to the one in the passageway. On autopilot now, she touched it and the trapdoor glided shut without a sound. Below her, she heard voices, the echo of feet on metallic ladder rungs. She had lost all concept of an imaginable future. Listlessly, she hung there in the heat of the shaft. The heat was unbearable here too, but she was shaking all over, freezing, as if her heart were pumping icy water, and couldn’t get a grip of her thoughts, not even when the tears began to stream down her bony cheeks.

‘Eva?’ It was Karla, from deep below her. ‘Eva, are you there?’

Silently, she made her way down. To wherever that might be.

‘Hey!’ Heidrun pointed at the wall monitor showing the plan of the elevators. Through a channel to the left of E2, glowing dots were moving, disappearing for a short while, then appearing again, constantly changing their position. ‘What’s that?’

‘The ventilation shaft!’ Lynn pushed her sweat-soaked hair off her forehead. ‘They’re in the ventilation shaft.’

By now, the staff elevator had disappeared from the screen. The computer reported it as having fallen, but had no information about E2 at all.

‘Can they get out of there by themselves?’ asked Ögi.

‘It depends. If the fire has spread to the elevator shaft, then the loss of pressure could mean the exits are blocked.’

‘If there were a fire in the ventilation shaft they would be dead by now.’

‘The E2 shaft is on fire too, but they still made it through and across to the other side.’ Lynn massaged her temples. ‘Someone has to go to the lobby, quickly!’

‘I’ll go,’ said Heidrun.

‘Good. To the left of E2 there’s a wall casing made of bamboo—’

‘I know it.’

‘The trough is on rails; just push it to the side. Behind it, you’ll see a bulkhead with a control panel.’

Heidrun nodded and set off.

‘It leads into a short passageway,’ Lynn called after her. ‘Very short, not even two metres long, then there’s another bulkhead. From there—’

‘—it leads into the ventilation shaft. I’ve got it.’

In long, bouncing strides, she hurried through the lobby, under the circulating model of the solar system and through to the elevators, of which only one was still usable at most. She turned her attention to the bamboo trough, rolled it aside, then hesitated. Mid-motion, she suddenly felt paralysed. Millimetres above the sensor, the tips of her fingers froze, while a chill crept down her spine at the thought of what might lie behind the bulkhead. Would flames lash out at her? Was this her last conscious moment, would it be her last memory of a life of physical freedom, free from injury?

The fear subsided. Resolute now, she tapped the field. The bulkhead swung open and cool air came out. She walked into the passageway, opened the second bulkhead, put her head through and looked up. It was a surreal sight. Walls, ladders and emergency lights stretched out towards a murky vanishing point. High above her, she caught sight of people on the rungs.

‘Down here!’ she cried. ‘Here!’

Miranda Winter had lost her composure.

‘Rebecca?’ she sobbed.

Feeling distanced from the situation for a moment, O’Keefe reflected that she was one of the few people who still looked attractive while they were in tears. Many with well-formed physiognomy took on frog-like features in a state of tormented suffering, while others looked as if they actually wanted to laugh and weren’t really sure how. Eyebrows slid up to the hairline, usually pretty noses swelled up to become oozing boils. He had seen every conceivable deformation in his time, but Miranda’s despair harboured erotic charm, accentuated by her streaky, running black make-up.

Why was something like that going through his mind? He was tired of his thoughts. They were all just diversionary tactics to prevent him from feeling. And for what? Because grief created intimacy with others who were grieving, and because he took care to keep his distance from all kinds of intimacy? Was it really so much better to stumble out of Madigan’s Pub on Talbot Street, utterly alone and completely pissed, all just to keep his distance?