Gemotions

The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow on the two figures trapped within the metal box. Sarah’s breath hitched in her chest. She pounded on the door, the sound swallowed by the thick steel. “Hello? Is anyone there? Can someone hear us?” Her voice was thin, reedy, almost lost in the sudden, echoing silence that followed. She twisted the emergency button, again and again, each press punctuated by a frantic, internal counting of seconds that seemed to stretch into an eternity. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

Her colleague, Mark, a man usually known for his unflappable demeanor, just stood there, staring at the floor. He hadn't uttered a single word. She felt a prickle of unease rise up her spine. The air, heavy with the scent of stale carpet and something metallic, seemed to press in on her.

"Mark?" she called, her voice trembling slightly. “Are you okay?” He finally looked up, his face a pasty white. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, he just shook his head slowly, and ran his hands through his already messy hair.