Jadine nodded. Kicking the last box from the lower shelf, she said, “Push, quickly. At the door we’ll wedge it in upside down. It’ll work.”
Scampering down the familiar path, the three tugged it to the door. Stacy steadied the unit while Trevin and Jadine leaned it against the top of the first unit, then together they slid it into place. More glass pattered to the ground outside.
“Okay, Team, let’s get out of here,” she said, ripping the gloves from the flashlight and unleashing the beam.
They raced through the store, hooked a left through the kitchen, and skidded to a stop at the employee’s entrance. The sound of fists pounding against glass and metal followed them. Trevin leaned on the door handle ready to burst out into the night. Stacy shot passed him to the backroom.
“I need my keys,” she said as passed him, “and my cell.”
“Me, too,” Jadine agreed, though her phone was shattered on the floor, buried under a mound of fresh snow.
The two women hustled to the lockers. Stacy ditched the heavy gloves to nimbly spin the dial of her lock. She’d wrestled into her knee-length coat and stuffed her phone in one pocket before Jadine could get her frozen fingers to work the combination of her lock.
“Hurry, Jadine,” Stacy urged, hooking her key ring around her ring finger.
“I’m trying,” Jadine said. “I can’t get the combination in right.
Stacy pushed her aside and grabbed the lock.
“Give me the numbers.”
Jadine recited them while Stacy spun the dial. Flicking it open, she dropped the lock into Jadine’s hand.
The ominous sound of metal screeching against metal echoed through the store. The tables crashed to the floor.
“Shit!” Jadine slammed the locker closed, preparing to run.
“Grab your stuff,” Trevin said, snatching the flashlight from her hand. “Stacy, help me.”
Across the room from the lockers, the B-I-B system for the fountain took up the corner chunk of the wall. Leads ran from syrup bags snuggled onto a metal shelving unit to the back of the soda fountain machine where it mixed with C2O to create the perfect concoction for the taste buds. Trevin grabbed hold of the unit and heaved. The unit held fifteen boxes of bagged syrup weighing up to twenty-five pounds; moving it wasn’t easy.
Stacy joined him and together they pulled, inching the shelf along the floor. The legs squealed along the tiles setting Stacy’s teeth on edge.
Jadine threw on her coat, linked her purse over her elbow and ran to help. Pushing hard while the other two pulled from the front, they gained another few inches.
“Almost there,” Trevin said, the door handle poking at his hip.
Some of the lines were stretched to their limit, holding the whole tower hostage and preventing them from moving it any further. Jadine began yanking lines boxes from the tower, tossing them to the floor as she went. Syrup dribbled from the mouths of the displaced bags, creating a sticky puddle on the floor. That would be a stick mess in the morning. Jadine stepped around it. Propping her back against the metal, she pushed hard, feeling the muscles in her legs quiver from the effort. She pushed while the other two pulled until the unit was wedged under the door handle preventing anyone – or any clown – from getting through the door.
“Run, run, run!” Trevin said as he took off like a shot, the flashlight beam bouncing along the floor tiles as he went.
“What about your coat?” Stacy said, hard on his heels.
“Fuck it!” Trevin hit the door at a sprint, sending a swirling gust of wind into the room. Snow swept in with it, melting away quickly, claimed by the rising heat.
Through the kitchen, Jadine caught sight of two clowns shambling passed the ovens. The glow from the heating element turned their costumes orange. The first clown plodded on ahead, panting heavily. Behind him, his clown twin stood swaying in the radiating heat, colors dripping from his fingers onto the floor. Eyes rolling wildly, he melted down like a cheap candle until he was nothing more than a puddle on the tiled floor.
Jadine pumped her fist. They’d done it. As long as they kept the clowns trapped inside and the heat held out, they would all melt away to nothing.
“Jadine, come on,” Trevin yelled, tugging her coat sleeve.
Jadine gave herself a mental shake and hustled out the door. The remaining clown was closing in on them. Slowly, but still coming.
Out in the snowy landscape, Jadine threw her weight against the door, listening for the audible click indicating it had latched properly. The clown would soon push it back open, if she didn’t think of a way to bar the door.