Six

All I could think about now was getting out of that basement as soon as I could, or else I’d die of thirst. I banged my fists on the elevator doors, to no avail. I couldn’t make much noise with my bare hands on a sheet of metal.

I looked around for something heavy and found an old screwdriver.

I used it to hammer on the doors as hard as I could. It made a huge ding, but no one responded.

Next I tried tapping more gently, hoping the sound might travel up the elevator shaft and someone would eventually hear it.

I realized I could also send an SOS message—three short taps, three long and then three more short ones.

I did that for an hour or more. Still nothing.

I stopped tapping and instead pressed my ear to the elevator doors for a long time. I couldn’t even hear the school bell, and it was usually really loud.

I kept telling myself not to panic and to save my energy. But I was starting to think I’d never get out of there if I did nothing.

Especially because the temperature was falling quickly.

By eight in the evening, there was still no sign of the librarian, and it felt as cold as a mortuary in the basement.