Spin Cycle

Gracie sat back feeling an afterglow of excitement. I would like that, she thought. Then she felt deflated, turning around to look at her apartment. Days before the place had been a mess. She had not realized it then, but there had been a thrill, a buzz. As hard as it was to believe, she had been instrumental in the birth of a completely new creature. Qubert had no Social Security, no military record or medical history, no identity of any kind; he simply did not exist. In fact, if she were to relate her role in this affair, there simply was no proof. Legally, there could be no repercussion because there was no evidence of her involvement. The cardboard packaging meant nothing, and no one was aware of what she had done. The realization was energizing. So clandestine had this all been, there was no way any attention could be drawn to her or to him. To become known, Qubert would have to make himself known; outwardly a member of society, but actually invisible. An explosion, he had said. She waited patiently for half an hour until the evening news came on. Indeed, there had been a bombing at a dough nut shop. Footage showed there was not much left of the shop or the shops next to it. Amazing anyone survived. Besides police tape and a talking head in uniform there was little information. Quickly, this item was over shadowed by news of an approaching winter rain storm. Flash flood warnings were in effect until midnight due to ground saturation from snow melt. Not that it was news there would be rain, the broadcaster emphasized, but instead there would be so much of it in winter. Open mouthed and bleary, Gracie aimed her remote and pressed off. So much for the explosion, she thought. On cue, the rain started. Disconsolately, Gracie listened to the tapping of fat drops on her windows. Going out was better than this, and she could make good time to the garage in her car. The going was slow. Intersections were crowded because the traffic lights were out. Her travel time was doubled in part due to a sewer that decided to do an Old Faithful. She was treated to the sight of a heavy lid whirling upward atop a gusher of brown water. The lid flipped downward into the side walk. Even through the drum of the down pour on her car, the impact of the lid had the clang of a church bell. Heads or tails, she thought. There was no order to the traffic, so that taking a side street was pointless, including trying to go back. Besides, the garage was just a few blocks away. Patience, she thought. No more sewer tops. Her mood as glum as the weather, she inched forward. Ya’ know, Qubert, for such a fancy-shmancy computer, you sure blew this one. I could be in a car wash. From her radio came an advisory for drivers to stay off the streets for the benefit of emergency vehicles. With the sound of the rain and the thump of her wipers barely keeping up, Gracie doubted she could hear an emergency vehicle until it was on top of her. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel seemed to make traffic move faster. Her rear window was awash, a gray cascade in her mirror. Before getting to the garage she had to force her way over to the entrance. Taking the down ramp into the garage offered instant relief from the rain. The first parking level below ground and all the above ground levels were blocked, meaning it was full with the cars of office workers waiting for their moment to jam the streets. The second level down was not as full and had space to the rear. Were it not for the remaining spaces, there would have been no place to park. Gracie eased in and switched off. In the silence she heaved a sigh and leaned back, suddenly drained. Still, there was dripping all around from leaks in the floor above. She presumed Qubert would meet her on the floor near the top where she had been stuck in the elevator. Getting out of her car meant dampness and cold, colder actually with evening approaching, but she had the fore thought to dress heavily. Only her feet in sneakers would feel the chill. She checked her mirrors before getting out. The place was dimly lit, but there was no one around. A woman alone in the sub-basement of a parking garage, she thought. What a great combination. In her purse was a small can of hair spray. Always stay beyond arm’s length from a stranger. She had to get above ground for her cell phone to work. Getting out of the car was a struggle. Over dressing was a blessing and a curse, and the effort made her feel old. She checked her surroundings, knowing she had to walk to the front for the elevator. She stayed in the center of the aisle, wondering if she was being overly cautious. Ahead was the elevator while all around was the splattering of drops from above. The sound they made was oddly comforting, reminding her of summer rains on her grandmother’s front porch. She could even hear the creak of the bench swing. The elevator was a small affair, suitable for 3 or 4 people. Once the doors open, she thought, that’s when the assailant charges and shoves me in. Actually, not one assailant, but two or more. She pressed the button and the doors opened. No one was in the elevator. She backed in and quickly pressed the button for her floor. She relaxed, then tensed. Maybe an assailant will come in from another floor. Her phone rang. “Gracie, it’s Qubert. I’ve been trying to get you. You must be above ground. You’re in the elevator aren’t you?” “Qubert. Didn’t you know this mess would happen?” “Gracie, listen. I did a stress analysis on the garage floor above the basement. That floor will fail in the next few minutes. Gracie. Are you listening?” She paused for realization. “The floor? You mean my car?” “There isn’t much time. There’s going to be a power failure. The elevator is going to drop. Stand flat against the wall. I’m going to override the safety switch and open the doors now.” “Qubert?” “There’s water starting to pour down the sides of the elevator shaft, lots of it, and the elevator’s cable locks are going to slide. The breaker switches are soaked. There’s no primary or emergency power. You’re going to drop, Gracie. Gracie?” “Qubert, you mean I’m going to fall?” “The basement is already flooding. There’s a water fall coming down the ramp. Stand flat against the wall, the back wall. The catch springs at the bottom of the shaft are going to punch through the floor. Use your coat. Stand on it to modify the impact. You’re going down 3 stories.” It seemed she could not move fast enough. Her phone and coat hit the floor at the same time. In slow motion the doors opened as Gracie’s feet left the floor. The impact was not so great. Already the bottom of the shaft contained close to 3 feet of water. There was a rattling slam, a bounce, and a final drop. Gracie was on her knees. She could hear herself breathing in grunts. The ceiling panels had fallen and the fluorescent fixture dangled half way down. The only light came through the open doors. She had just enough time to stagger up as water poured in. For a moment the catch springs were visible. Only one had punched through, showing thick, rusty coils. The others had indented the floor making a diamond pattern. Immediately, the floor was awash and filling fast.