LITMIR.BIZ

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exactly will your clinics be?” I asked, peering around the shadowy space that was punctuated by pillars that would contain not only the heating and air conditioning ducts, but with the addition of the extensive wiring and gas pipes that hospitals need. Duct work also radiated out overhead, looking like the intestines of the building, exposed for their own surgery.

      Tom pointed over to the left and I could dimly see rooms framed in lumber that would eventually be the small examining rooms.

      “But this is what I really wanted you to see,” Tom said, holding on to my hand and leading me toward the east end of the building.

      I gasped in delight. There was framing for a huge, two-story picture window. The height of the building raised the window level above the surrounding buildings. Several blocks away, Lake Michigan stretched out like a silvery-gray invitation to infinity. If you stood back about twenty feet from the window, the line of the lake seemed to meet the bottom of the window and draw you toward the gray horizon. The sense of expanse was immense.

      My respect for the reedy-little architect guy rose if he was indeed the one who’d designed this. There was a serenity to this design that might be of comfort to those who would spend anxious time in this lounge in the future, whether a patient awaiting treatment or a concerned family member or friend. I tried to empty my mind and let it move toward that horizon.

      Tom came up and stood next to me and silently we just looked at the silver water blending into a silver sky.

      The silence was broken suddenly, horribly, by a scream and then a sickeningly flat thud coming from somewhere behind us. Tom and I started. I know my mind had been so far away that it took me a minute to react. We turned and as another scream reached us, we started to pick our way as fast as we dared toward the direction from which the sounds had come. It was from somewhere in the middle of this floor. Even now we could still hear muffled groans and cries that were becoming more faint.

      “Watch it!” Tom yelled at me as I darted ahead of him. “The elevator shaft is somewhere right near here.”

      Since we were further into the center now, we’d lost a lot of the light. The sounds were growing even fainter, but I could still hear them. Clearly we were getting closer. I continued to speed up and I stepped on a small piece of pipe and almost fell. Tom grabbed my arm to steady me and took out his cell phone with the other. He turned on a spotlight app on the cell and a beam of light showed us more scattered pipe and lumber on the floor. And then I saw a huge black column with an even darker square in it about twenty feet ahead.

      “I think that’s where the noise is coming from. Let’s take a look.” My voice was loud in the cavernous space. We held hands and advanced as rapidly as we could, stepping over or around the debris.

      We got to the dark square open on one side of the concrete shaft that went up to the ceiling. The opening, where the elevator doors would be, was blocked by a single two-by-four railing nailed to sawhorses on either side. I kneeled down at the edge, oblivious to the sequins that scattered as the long dress was rubbed by the rough concrete floor. Tom shone his cell phone beam into the hole. It was the elevator shaft, and about three floors below us a pale object writhed on an opaque surface. I looked at Tom and saw my horror mirrored on his face. The object was an arm, part of a shoulder and a cheek. The hand attached to the arm was moving. The problem was, it was moving on the surface of what was obviously still-setting concrete. Someone had fallen into this elevator shaft and had landed on the just-poured concrete base. The person was drowning in concrete.

      I gazed dumbly into the shaft for a moment and began to think. How to reach this person? There were shadowed areas in what must be the entry for each floor’s elevator entrance, but they were boarded shut. It would take too much time to run back down to the first floor and try to find something to pry those boards loose.

      What then?

      I looked around frantically and my eyes lit on a big coil of rope bunched over and around some of the lumber. I grabbed Tom’s hand and yanked him toward the rope. Seconds counted. If the person wasn’t pulled out soon, he or she was surely dead.

      Tom let go of my hand as I started to tug on the rope. He yelled, “Are you crazy? We need to get help.” He quickly dialed the campus emergency number and efficiently gave our location and a description of this tragedy in the making.

      I paid him little attention. By now I had freed the rope where it had been looped around the lumber and I was pulling it over toward the shaft.

      “Help won’t come in time,” I puffed as I continued to tug on the heavy rope. It had bits of concrete encrusted on it and it was unbelievably rough and stiff in my hands. I thrust a coil of it into Tom’s unwilling arms.

      “Pull!” I grabbed the rope further down and yanked. As it uncoiled it was clear it was very long. But was it long enough? I estimated 3 floors at perhaps more than 20 feet per floor. Maybe. Maybe it would reach.

      I pulled the end over to the closest pillar and started looping it around. I swore as my long dress nearly tripped me up. I’d already lost the cape somewhere. I made a double loop and a slipknot. I pulled on the tied rope and it held. I went over to try to see down into the shaft. Without Tom’s cell phone light, it was a black hole. Tom couldn’t hold his cell phone light on me and also hold the rope. I frantically looked around again. About 25 feet away I saw a tripod with two work lights. I ran over. It appeared to be cordless. Battery maybe. I turned it on. Bright light blazed out. Great. I picked it up and hurried back. I positioned it so the lights pointed down into the shaft. I took a quick look. The shoulder had disappeared. The fingers on the hand were still moving.

      I handed part of the rope to Tom.

      “Lower me down as fast as you can manage. If I can reach the arm, I’ll tie the rope around it. There’s an opening about two or three feet from the bottom. You can’t drag us both up. I’ll climb in the opening and wait.”

      “No, Kristin,” Tom said firmly. “I’ll do it.”

      I faced him and looked directly into his face.

      “Have you ever rappelled?”

      “No.” Tom looked back unflinchingly at me. “But look at how you’re dressed. I need to do it.”

      I realized he was right. Well, about how I was dressed. I had already kicked off my shoes. I pulled down the zipper of my dress, shrugged it off my shoulders and it fell to the floor with a clatter of scattering beads. I kicked it aside and looked back up at Tom. I was wearing only panty hose and a teddy. Well, this was not the way I had imagined undressing for Tom. Too bad.

      “I have rappelled. Lots. Besides you’re stronger in your upper body than I am. You need to work the rope. Wrap it around your waist twice and brace yourself on the pillar.”

      I have to say this for surgery. It trains people to think quickly in life and death situations and Tom didn’t argue any more. His face drew in on itself and he focused on the task. He moved to the pillar and wrapped the heavy rope around his dinner jacket.

      I made a loop in the rope around my waist and padded to the edge of the shaft in my stocking feet, dragging the rest of the rope behind me. My eyes fell on the construction helmet I’d dropped in my haste to get the rope. What the heck. I reached over, picked it up and slapped it on my head, fastening the strap below my chin. I turned back toward the shaft and called out to Tom.

      “Let out about 3 feet at a time. We don’t have time for a slower descent. I’m ready now.”

      I fit my body under the two-by-four, turned my back to the shaft and leaned back. As I went over the edge with the slackened rope I saw Tom’s pale and intense face watching me.

      A second later the rope slackened again and I bent my knees and pushed out from the wall. The surface was pitted and pockmarked with recently poured concrete and the soles of my feet burned. My hose had already shredded. Again the rope slackened and again I pushed out. Too much rope this time. I skidded and missed the wall with my feet as I came back in. I hit the wall and the helmet took the brunt of the blow that would have otherwise probably broken my nose. What

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