By Claire Hines, Year 11
Anthony crossed the lobby at a quick pace, a smile on his face. He thought himself the
happiest man alive. Only yesterday evening, Naomi had agreed to marry him in the shade of
the evergreens of Central Park as the sun set about them.
They had known each other for nearly two years, but it seemed like only a few days to him.
They had met each other on one such a morning, on the way to their offices. They both
worked at executive posts on the 93rd and 95th floors of the building.
He sighed happily as he approached the elevators, remembering her soft blue eyes and
golden hair that had shone like fire as the sun set last night as if ceding its place to one
more worthy. He joined the group of people waiting for the lifts and recalled the way she
had helped him when his sister had her accident last autumn, and how Naomi had helped
him buy a plane ticket to go and see her before she passed away.
An elevator arrived and the doors slid open. A few people in front of him entered and he
followed them in. Just as the doors were closing, he heard a familiar voice calling his name.
He turned around and grinned. Reaching out an arm, he held the doors open, oblivious to
the protests of his companions. He watched Naomi running towards him, her long flowing
ponytail swaying back and forth behind her as she clasped her briefcase to her chest. She
arrived flushed and out of breath, but triumphant. She squeezed in beside him and the
doors clanged shut. He smiled down at her affectionately, and she returned it with a wink
before smoothing out the wrinkles on her grey dress and readjusting her white cardigan.
A Phil Collins song was playing in the lift: “We had a life, we had a love
But you don’t know what you’ve got ’til you lose it”
The doors opened and two people got out, then they closed again as they continued on up.
This happened again, and by the time they reached the 64th floor, they were the only people
left. Just as the doors were starting to close, a middle-aged man, in a smart suit and tie
rushed forward and held back the doors so he could get in. He pressed the button for the
96th floor, and pushed past them to the back of the elevator as he produced his cell phone.
“How can something so good go so bad? How can something so right go so wrong.”
Anthony ignored him, turned to Naomi and asked: “Are you doing anything tonight?”
She looked up at him and her eyes sparkled: “Sorry, I can’t talk to strangers.” She replied
with a grin. They both laughed, not because the joke was particularly funny, but because
they really were the happiest people alive.
“I only wanted someone to love. But something happened on the way to heaven”
The man in the back looked up and inquired: “Which floor are we on?”
Naomi looked at the control panel and answered: “The 91 st .” She then turned back to
Anthony and started to say something, but her words were lost in time.
Just then an earth-shattering crash shook the lift and Naomi fell on top of Anthony with a
scream of terror as the lights went out. The emergency lighting lit the elevator up with an
eerie red glow. Anthony scrambled to his feet and pressed the “open” button on the control
panel. Nothing happened. He pressed it again frantically as the smell of smoke started to
seep through the vents. He turned to the doors and attempted to pry them open with all his
strength, but they wouldn’t move. He looked down and saw Naomi lying on the ground. He
knelt down beside her and shook her anxiously. “Naomi, Naomi! Can you hear me?”
She opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him, dazed. “Anthony, what…?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be alright.”
He heard a groan behind him and turned around to see the man in the back sitting up
shakily, a hand to his forehead. The man pulled his hand away and his eyes widened in
surprise as he noted that it was smeared with blood. He turned towards them and Anthony
saw a dark liquid seeping slowly down the side of his face.
“What’s going on?” He asked thickly.
“I don’t know.” Answered Anthony in all honesty. “Maybe there’s a fire up top.”
The man picked up his phone which had fallen from his grasp, before throwing it away in
disgust. “Useless thing, it’s broken. What about yours?”
Anthony put his hand in his front jean pocket and looked at the screen. He shook his head
helplessly. “No use. It’s out of battery.” He felt a hand on his arm and looked down to see
Naomi holding out hers to him. “Here, I charged mine this morning.”
“Give it to me.” Said the man. And he reached out a hand in their direction. Anthony
ignored him and dialled 911. He put the device to his ear, but all he heard was interference.
Then a distorted voice came through: “New York City Police Department here. How can I
help you?”
“Hello? My name is Anthony Barnes. I’m trapped in an elevator on the…91st floor of the
North tower of the World Trade Centre. There are two other people in here with me.”
“Okay, Barnes. Now you just sit tight and we’ll have you out in a moment. Reassure the
others, it’s…uh…just a malfunction.”
“Anthony!” Shouted Naomi.
He looked up and saw dark acrid smoke fill the roof of the elevator.
“There’s smoke coming through the vents!” The voice on the phone said something but he
couldn’t hear what. The interference made all communication impossible. He swore angrily.
“There’s no more signal.”
He passed the phone back to Naomi. “At least they know where we are.” She said bravely,
but her voice shook.
“Did he say how long it would take them?” Asked the man in a broken tone. Anthony shook
his head helplessly, sat down beside Naomi and put his arm about her. The man stumbled to
his feet. “That’s it? You’re just giving up?” Anthony looked up at him angrily. “What do you
want me to do? Tear the doors off with my bare hands?”
“There must be a way out! There has to be!” The man looked about him frantically and
made a wild attempt to reach the vents. “Sit down, there’s less smoke down here and
you’re using up the air!” Cried, Anthony.
The man glared at him and Anthony noted his wild eyes and the terror reflected in his
countenance. “We have to do something! I can’t stand small spaces!” He shouted
hysterically.
Just then a violent jar shook the whole building and sent the man crashing against the wall,
off balance. Anthony rushed over to him as the floor steadied and felt his pulse. He dropped
the man’s hand in despair as he took in the unnatural angle of the latter’s head as it sagged
forward on his bloody neck.
He coughed and stumbled back to his love. She looked up at him inquiringly and he shook
his head. He sat back down and felt her shudder as she eyed the corpse in disbelief. She
coughed violently into his shoulder; the smoke was getting lower. He passed her a
handkerchief. “Here, cover your mouth with it to filter the air.” He rasped.
She did so, and the two of them sat thus for what seemed like an eternity. They watched the
smoke sinking lower, and as it did, the air grew more and more scarce.
Anthony turned his head weakly to look at Naomi, hunched against him, her face pale and
drained. She coughed and gasped for breath.
“When…how long?”
“They’ll be here soon, don’t worry.” He muttered faintly.
“It’s no use.” She murmured.” I can hardly breathe.” She broke off into a violent coughing fit
and groaned. Her eyelids closed slowly. “It would have been good, wouldn’t it? I mean, I
wanted…I would have liked.” She exhaled deeply and sagged in his grasp.
He held her warm body close to his chest and whispered in a labouring final breath.
“I know my love. But something happened on the way to heaven.”
