The clown slammed against the automatic door, rattling it in its tracks. Jadine staggered backward. For a moment, she feared the panes would shatter against the attack but, though they shook, they remained intact.
Meanwhile, Trevin was flying towards the second automatic door, intent on hitting the sensor so he could lock that door into place. One foot caught the edge of the counter as he flew by, sending him careening into newspaper display on the far side of the doorway. The wire rack slammed to the floor tangling itself around Trevin’s feet; the newspapers scattering across the tiles. In exasperation, he kicked at it until he was free. Scrambling to his feet, he threw himself at the door, realizing too late that in his haste, he’d forgotten to flip the sensor switch. The door whooshed open with a blast of cold air and swirling snow.
Determination spurred him on. There was no freaking way he was dying here tonight, killed by some creep in a clown suit! He hit the off switch and began pushing the first panel to the middle of the door frame.
“He’s coming!” Stacy shrieked. “Trevin, he’s coming!”
No shit, Trevin thought, you’re a bit late on the alarm, Stace.
Then he saw what she actually meant. The clown had careened off the closed doors where Jadine stood and was booking it towards Trevin, the knife held high. Trevin pushed with all his might at the second panel, trying to outrun the clown, not certain that he could.
“Keys!” He yelled at Jadine, who was already racing to him.
Jadine knew she’d never make it time. Wrenching the key ring from the retractable clip, she threw them at Trevin. “Catch!” She shouted. The keys flew over his head, bounced off the glass and dropped to the ground several feet from Trevin. Jadine’s heart sank. She watched in horror as the clown slammed against the door. Forcing the knife blade between the two door panels, he took a swipe at Trevin who dropped low and to the right to avoid the blade. Desperately, he held onto the doors with all his might, struggling to prevent the clown from gaining entry.
Stacy, long legs eating up the distance, bound to the door. Throwing her weight against the panel, she gained Trevin enough time to make a grab for the keys. He dropped to the floor and stretched as far as he could without releasing pressure on the panel he still held. The keys were out of reach.
The clown took advantage of the pressure shift and pushed. His hand popped through to the wrist. Beneath the red paint, his lips curved back into a menacing smile that showcased his pointed teeth. Then, he pushed again.
Jadine caught the second panel, trapping the man’s arm at the elbow. The clown freak was strong. It took all of her strength to prevent him from gaining more ground.
Undeterred, he snaked the fingers of his free hand into the gap. They wriggled against the frame like long white worms, the tips pointed and crusted with dirt as if he’d clawed his way out of a hole. There was something else around those fingertips. Rust colored stains that tracked lines from the tips to the palm as if he’d been painting red roses.
Though her stomach turned at the sight of it, Jadine couldn’t look away. The idea of what it was dug into her mind. A tremor shook her body. With a conscious effort, she drove the thought out and forced her eyes from the offensive fingers.
The clown pried and pushed and wiggled until he’d opened the gap enough to shove his knee through. Teeth clenched, Jadine pushed with all her might. The panel on Stacy’s end gave a little throwing the clown off balance and sending Jadine stumbling forward barely keeping her feet under her.
“Push, Stacy!” She shouted. “We need him trapped in the middle.”
Stacy groaned, renewing her pressure on the panel to force the clown back to the middle of the doorway. “Hurry, Trevin,” she gasped. “I don’t know if I can hold on much longer.”
“Brace your foot against the door jam,” Jadine suggested.
Stacy followed her instructions, bracing her foot against the jam behind her, and her body against the panel. It took some of the strain off her arms, at least. The panel held, but she was uncomfortably close to the clown now. The musty smell of him filled her nostrils causing her to gag. Wedging her shoulder in tighter, she moved one hand to cover her mouth and nose in an attempt to filter the smell.
The clown had managed to shove his foot through the opening and aimed a kick at Trevin’s head. Trevin rolled to the side narrowly avoiding the large boot, then threw a kick of his own, catching the clown in the kneecap. The knee snapped to the side raising a howl of pain from the clown.
Trevin scrambled to his feet, a triumphant grin on his face, the keys dangling from his fingers. To his dismay, though the two women were obviously pushing with all their might, the clown was moving further into the room. First the shoulder, then one hip, and then his head popped through the opening.
Teeth bared, a deep growl rising animal-like from his throat, he sliced at Trevin. The knife’s edge gleamed in the light. Trevin stumbled backward, the blade missing him by mere centimeters. Undaunted, the clown turned to Stacy and sunk the blade into her arm just above the wrist. With a yelp, she jerked away, releasing the door. The clown stepped through. Gleefully, he yanked the knife free of Stacy’s flesh. Blood splattered the glass and pattered onto the floor tiles. Stacy screamed in pain.