A Witch In Time by Madelyn Alt Page A

white light came to life at my fingertips. Its glow didn’t go far, and it cast strange shadows all around me, but it was at least reassuring to know that I could have a little light and not worry about not being able to contact the world outside of this elevator car because of a dead cell phone battery.
    With a sigh that was an uneasy mix of nervousness and boredom, I scooted the paper sack full of food over to one wall to keep it from being tripped over in the event that they should get the doors open before they figured out the power disturbance. The only thing for me to do at this point was to settle in for what I hoped was my very imminent rescue. I leaned against the handrail on the back wall—standing, of course.
    I don’t know how long I had been there when I first heard the voices.
    “Are you sure she doesn’t realize . . .”
    “Don’t worry, I’ve taken care of everything.”
    Two male voices, low in pitch and faint, as though they were traveling a great distance. I supposed that made sense, given that they were passing through layers of metal and paneling and who knew what else. Most definitely they were not of the paranormal variety, thank goodness.
    “Hello!” I shouted, hoping to make my voice carry through the door. “Hello?”
    The voices continued on as though I hadn’t made a peep. I didn’t understand. Why could I hear them but they not hear me?
    “What if she suspects —”
    I frowned as the words drifted down to me as through a tube, hollow and somewhat muffled, though still discernible. Something about them made me instantly bite my tongue. Gosh, maybe it was the faintly threatening tone to the conversation. What if she suspects? Suspects what? I leaned forward and pressed my ear to the crack in the metal door. Come on, I thought, don’t mind me. I’m not here. Keep going, keep talking . . .
    “No way. No way she’ll ever suspect. Not until it’s too late.” Too late? Too late for what? I didn’t like the sound of this at all. Where were these voices coming from? Were they right outside the closed elevator on whatever floor I was on? I backed away, suddenly nervous. What if the doors opened and they saw me there, eavesdropping on their little ... conversation?
    “It’s in the bag, Trust me. The trick is to get her out of the way for a while . . .”
    “And then...”
    “BOOM.”
    Um, forgive me for saying this, but ... That. Sounded. Awfully. Final.
    I stood up a little straighter, scarcely daring to breathe for fear I’d miss something.
    “I’ll have it all arranged. And then we strike. She won’t know what hit her. ”
    “When?”
    I found myself nodding feverishly—yes, but when? When?
    But before they could say anything else, the lights flashed and blinked their way on in the elevator, and with a sudden lurch and the whirr of motors, the world beneath my feet shifted. It should have been a moment for rejoicing, but instead I found myself cursing old Murphy and his ridiculously bad timing. I’d made it this far in the lonely darkness; another couple of minutes of trying to decide what was brewing between the two strangers would not have killed me, and I was worried about what it might mean.
    What could they have been talking about? They were up to no good, that was for sure.
    Before I could even think to start hitting all of the rest of the floor buttons, I had already arrived at Labor and Delivery, and the doors were opening.
    “There you are!” Marcus exclaimed, the relief on his face evident. “There were two elevators malfunctioning. It was a fifty-fifty shot, and wouldn’t you know it? The maintenance guy got the wrong one opened first, and then he got called away because they had an urgent need for blood from universal donors, lucky guy, and— Whoa!” he yelped as I yanked him inside the elevator with me and slammed my palm against the red button that closed the doors before their usual wait time was over. “You know, if you’d wanted some alone time that