Elevator Man

I didn’t think much more about what had happened. After two more stops for lift inspections closer to Eureka, I ate at a carryout on the outskirts of the town that night and was cruised by a nervous middle-aged accountant type, who propositioned me tentatively, but who was willing to part with $60 to get fucked doggy style in the back of my van. He had wanted to pay less, but it was a matter of pride for me to get something better than Drake had offered—or that the Hispanic was willing to go for on the rebound.

And then I thought that was that and let it clear out of my mind. But that wasn’t that. Three weeks later, I got an emergency dispatch call while I was doing regular inspection of the elevators at a hospital north of Eureka. And I found myself parked on the apron off Scenic Drive and in the shadow of the alien space ship house again.

Drake had called in that he was trapped in the elevator inside the shaft, below the residence level, and he couldn’t get out. Nothing in the elevator was working, he’d reported. At least he had been listening when I told him to have a cell phone with him when he used it. Pretty strange, I thought. The elevator had been working a charm just three weeks ago, and this model was quite reliable other than that loose cable quirk. And I’d shown him what to do about that.