MONOLITH Read Free Page A

working, there’s nothing wrong with the track on either side and the cables are fine.’
    ‘Something up top maybe?’
    There was a moment’s silence then Bishop called back.
    ‘It must be,’ he conceded.
    Wilkinson nodded to himself and straightened up.
    ‘Bob,’ Bishop called again. ‘Check the panel inside will you? Something might need replacing.’
    To the right of the sliding doors inside the car there was a control panel and it was towards this that Wilkinson now turned his attention. He removed the faceplate and regarded the wires and switches behind it
    ‘It looks fine,’ he called back, running one index finger over some of the wires as if to reassure himself of his diagnosis. He closed the panel and began screwing it back into place. ‘I’ll check the cables up above when I’ve done this.’
    ‘Right,’ Bishop called back. ‘I’m coming out now.’
    The lift suddenly dropped like a stone.
     

FIVE
     
    Even if there had been some kind of warning of what was going to happen neither man would have been able to prevent it.
    In the shaft, Bishop was aware of a rush of cold air but that was all.
    He was half way between the shaft and the corridor when the full weight and force of the falling lift hit him.
    There was no pain as it cut through him, pulverising his body and sending sprays of blood and viscera in all directions as if it had been fired from some macabre garden sprinkler. With such force and weight on the body even bone was shattered with consummate ease, the sound of the cracking quickly eclipsed by the high pitched scream of the lift as it rushed down the shaft and plummeted towards the ground.
    Failsafe devices mounted in the rails on either side of it did nothing to stop the descent and the speed was so incredible that sparks flew from the metal as the lift fell.
    Inside the car Robert Wilkinson felt the initial drop and in that split second he knew that his companion was dead unless he’d managed to pull himself clear of the shaft in time.
    That thought occurred to him briefly and then his mind focussed on what was to be his own fate.
    He had no idea how fast the lift was falling but twenty-four storeys would be negotiated he guessed in a little under ten seconds.
    Wilkinson shot out a hand and hit the emergency button but he knew it was a futile gesture and he had performed it purely through instinct. The miniscule shred of hope that he could stop the lift before it slammed into the concrete below drove him to make that movement.
    He wanted to scream for help but knew that too would be useless. Nothing that he could do would stop the passage of the falling lift. He looked up and then down not really knowing why. Perhaps some twisted blackly humorous part of his mind thought that he could jump seconds before the fatal impact. That was what happened in films or comedy shows wasn’t it? Just before the lift hit the bottom of the shaft you were supposed to jump and the collision would have no effect.
    It was one more shred of hope to cling to he supposed as he pressed himself back into one corner of the lift, his arms outstretched on either side of him.
    He spoke the name of his partner just once. He said her name under his breath through lips that were already paper dry with terror. He wished he was with her now not here in this metal coffin that was about to slam into the ground doing Christ knew how many miles an hour. He wanted to hold her again and tell her that he loved her. He wanted to hold his twin girls and hear their laughter and to hear them tell him that they loved him. He tried to picture all of his family together in his mind, held there like some kind of mental snapshot. All of these thoughts crowded into his consciousness as the lift hurtled ever nearer to the ground.
    He wondered why his past life didn’t flash before his eyes.
    He was shaking madly now, entering the early stages of shock at the realisation of what was to happen to him.
    You’re going to die.
    He