Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 82: Home Safe

Slamming my car door shut with a satisfying thunk, I take a moment to breathe a long, long sigh of relief. I’m home. I’m safe. No car accidents. No near-death experiences. One creepy encounter with a vampire. That’s it.

Of course, there’s the whole Penelope-might-become-a-vampire revelation, but my mind is shying hard from that thought process. I am not emotionally equipped to handle it right now.

Anyway. It’s absurd to feel so relieved over the completion of a simple grocery run. What’s next; a medal for successfully riding an elevator upstairs?

My thoughts make me laugh, so at least my humor button still works.

I pop the trunk and survey the bags inside. The thought of making two trips is about as appealing as getting a root canal, so I start grabbing handles left and right. Soon, I’m laden with what feels like half the store’s inventory.

I’ve faced down supernatural threats. I’m pretty sure I can handle a few measly groceries.

Plastic digs into my palms as I waddle towards the building entrance. The bags swing wildly, threatening to spill their contents across the parking lot. I’m pretty sure I look like a deranged octopus, but dignity be damned. I’m getting this done in one go if it kills me.

Which, given my luck lately, isn’t entirely out of the question.

I manage to fumble my key fob out without dropping anything. The lobby door beeps open, and I make my way inside, maneuvering my horde of bags so I don’t scrape them against the doorway.

The lobby is quiet, which isn’t abnormal around here, and I lean down awkwardly to jab at the elevator button with my most convenient finger—and the weakest. My pinky.

But I manage it after two tries.

All the plastic handles are digging into my hands and arms, threatening to slice them off, and I jiggle my feet impatiently as I wait. There’s only one elevator, and of course it was at the very top floor.

When the elevator doors open, I dash in, pushing my floor’s button with my elbow. It takes a little maneuvering, but I manage that, too, without dropping a single bag.

A few floors up, the elevator lurches to a halt, and my stomach does a nauseating flip.

I stagger against the weight I’m carrying and my new lack of balance, until I finally manage to find equilibrium. Of course, the lights flicker out, leaving me effectively blind.

Once I regain my footing, I stare into the darkness and sigh.

"Of fucking course," I mutter, my voice echoing in the confined space.

Something crunches as I set the grocery bags down as carefully as I can manage. Great. There go the chips. Or maybe the eggs. Who knows. At this point, I’m really beyond caring.

I fumble for my phone, nearly dropping it in my haste. The screen’s glow is almost blinding, and I squint as I swipe to the flashlight app.

A beam of light cuts through the darkness, revealing the elevator’s bland interior. Nothing’s changed, except now it feels infinitely smaller and more claustrophobic.

I locate the emergency call button and press it. Nothing happens. No ring, no voice, no reassuring "help is on the way." Just silence.

Is that normal? Or is it broken?

"Fantastic."

I consider my options. Screaming for help seems futile.

My phone shows full bars, so at least that’s working. I debate who to call, only for my eyes to zero in on the signal bars.

No signal.

Yay.

The cold metal seeps through my clothes as I lean against the wall and slide to the floor, deciding sitting in darkness is better than standing in it.

My mind wanders to all the horror stories I’ve heard about people trapped in elevators for hours. There was a cute humanitarian story about some guy who sang a popular kids’ movie song to a little girl trapped in an elevator, during their rescue. Too bad that guy isn’t here. Karaoke would at least keep me entertained.

But it’s a silly thought, because I’m in my apartment building. Someone’s going to realize the elevator’s broken. Then they’ll call maintenance, and I’ll be saved. I just have to wait.

Time ticks by in an agonizing drip. I check my phone every few minutes, watching the battery percentage drop.

Eventually, I tear into a small bag of cookies. They’re mint chocolate and absolutely divine as I crunch away. Stuck-in-an-elevator calories are free calories.

Of course, the milk is getting warm. I’ll need new milk.

Oh, and the lunch meat.

Ah. I have frozen stuff, too. That won’t be frozen much longer.

Damn. Did I just waste an entire grocery trip? Is there some sort of insurance I can bill for the loss of my food? It’s rough out there in the grocery store. Like the wild west of expensive necessities.

The last crumb of mint chocolate cookie disappears down my throat, leaving behind a bittersweet aftertaste. I lick my fingers, savoring the lingering sweetness. My stomach rumbles, reminding me that cookies aren’t exactly a balanced meal.

With a sigh, I turn my attention to the grocery bags scattered around me. Might as well take inventory of what I’ve got. Who knows how long I’ll be stuck in this metal box?

I rummage through the bags, pushing aside a bag of bell peppers and a bag of salad mix, my attempt at healthy choices, even though they’re going to be drowned in dressing.

My hand brushes against something promising. I pull it out.

"Jackpot," I mutter, grinning at the bag of pretzels in my hand.

Another search yields an unexpected treasure—a small bottle of soda I don’t even remember buying. Must have been an impulse grab at the checkout. For once, my lack of self-control has paid off.

I twist open the soda, the hiss of carbonation echoing in the confined space. The first sip is heaven. I force myself to take small, measured sips. The last thing I need is a full bladder while trapped in here.

The pretzels provide a satisfying crunch, their saltiness a welcome change from the sweetness of the cookies. I eat slowly, savoring each bite. Chewing at least gives me something to do in here.

Time stretches on, marked only by the steady decrease of my phone’s battery life. It’s probably going faster than necessary, with how often I turn on the display. Oh, and the lack of signal. I hear that eats up battery pretty fast, too.

Maybe I should do that less. It’s only been twenty minutes, even though it feels like an hour, and I’m already down seven percent battery somehow. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓