The Lost Years

83

This place is empty, but he can’t have vanished into thin air,” one of the New York detectives snapped. “This is the ground floor. There’s got to be a way to get upstairs. I heard something, but I don’t see anything.” He flipped on the radio attached to his belt and called for backup cars to respond.

The second detective began thumping on the walls, hoping to hear a hollow sound from within.

Ignoring the orders of the police, Alvirah and Willy crawled past the wreckage of their car and into the garage. They had heard the detective bark his call for backup into the radio. It may be too late, Alvirah thought frantically. Greg has to know that he’s trapped. Even if Mariah is still alive, we may not be able to get to her in time.

A minute passed… two minutes… three minutes. It was an eternity.

In desperation, Richard ran to the light switch and jiggled it. For a moment the room plunged into total darkness, then the lights came back on. “There’s got to be a switch somewhere that will open something,” he said bitterly. Alvirah hurried over to thump the area around the light switch herself. Then she looked down. “Richard, Richard!” She was pointing to the cover of an electrical socket just above the floor. “See… it’s not embedded in the wall.”

Richard dropped to the floor and tugged at the outlet. It snapped open. He pressed the button behind it. They heard a loud rumbling sound and as they watched, a huge portion of the ceiling at the far end of the room began to descend.

“That’s the lift to get upstairs!” one of the detectives yelled as he raced over to it.