The Life of Jezebel Firetongue

8

Jake moved quickly, spurred on by my obvious anxiety. “Keep moving!” I snapped at him when he stopped. For all the questions he liked to ask, this time he kept them to himself.

We were beginning to pass vent openings and crossroads. It took several turns and vents later before I found the right place. It was the office of the female employee. She took people who had passed the test to a sheath of white cloth that hung on the wall. They were asked to stand there, and the employee took their pictures. Then the employee went to the computer and typed things in as she asked questions of the people, then printed out a paper license. “Your hard license will be sent to you in a few days,” she finished with a smile.

Simple enough.

The employee looked up at the clock on the wall and stood up. “I’m taking my lunch break!” she called. The door to her office was locked and the light was turned off. Marveling at my incredible luck, I pulled a screw driver out of my pocket.

“You ready?” I asked. Jake nodded and I unscrewed the grill of the opening quickly, pushing it aside before dropping down to the floor, silently. Turning to watch Jake land, I moved and cupped my hands around my mouth. “Land toes first and roll down,” I instructed him softly. Wriggling out, he followed my advice and landed with a soft thump. We looked at the lit hallway and nobody noticed.

I picked up the camera and turned on the flash. With a glance to the hallway to make sure nobody was coming, I took a quick picture of Jake. We switched places, then took it to the computer before we got caught.

“Date of Birth?” I asked.

He screwed up his face and came up with a number. The rest I knew how to fill or was automatically filled in. All while Jake watched the door, tapping my arm each time somebody came by. I froze into place with each tap before finishing our licenses and printing them. Then I finished registering us and grabbed proof of registration stickers for the next two months. Closing the boxes and returning to the original screen, I motioned for Jake to approach the vent opening. I climbed onto his shoulders and then got back in the vent. Then I pulled him up and he began to climb in as well when he stopped.

I sighed outwards slowly, closing my eyes and tried to calm my racing heart. This was not helping my claustrophobia.

“Why’d you stop?” I hissed frantically.

It was met with a groan. “My belt loop is caught on the edge. I’m stuck.”

“Well get unstuck!” I murmured nervously. Then I heard the bubbly employee’s voice from down the hall. “Hurry!” I panicked.

He motioned for me to grab his shoulders and I held onto him while he unbuckled the belt. I tried to pull him in once more, to no avail.

“The button!” he groaned. We both grew red in the face at what would have to happen to get him through. However, the footsteps came closer and he had no choice. So he unbuttoned his jeans and yanked them down, grabbing onto me and pulling himself in. With our combined effort, we managed to pull him in just as she reached the door. I pulled the grill back over the opening and screwed it back on, before we crawled away as fast as we could.

Jake’s pants were now around his ankles, but I couldn’t stop for anything, not even that. We muscled on until we pulled ourselves out and into the open air, where Jake pulled his pants back up and I took a moment to breathe. He glanced sidelong at me and grinned.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad,” he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes and walked to the edge of the roof, trying to calm my trembling body. The vents were very compact, and it made me feel just as frightened as I had felt when I had buried myself alive. Jake noticed and followed me to the pipe I had found. Noticing my shaking hands were having trouble making a reliable knot, he took the rope and tied it for me. Then he turned his attention to me.