Clutching tight to each other, the three edged closer to the door. The cell phone remained in Jadine’s hand, forgotten, her finger perched over the last digit.
“Is he dead?” Stacy whispered.
“I don’t know,” Jadine whispered back, her voice sounding alien to her own ears. Stacy’s hand gripped her arm, but it felt strange, as if her body no longer belonged to her. Everything seemed distant and languid as though she were watching it through a tunnel in her mind or from a dream. Was this all just a dream? Some nightmare version of a childhood fear?
“Jadine?” Trevin gave her a gentle shake. There was a glazed look in her eyes that had him worried. Doubling up his fist, he slugged her in the shoulder, hard enough to knock the cell phone from her hand. It dropped to the the tiled floor with a clatter.
“Jadine, snap out of it!” He said loudly.
“Ow,” she growled, detaching herself from Stacy’s grip long enough to rub at the sore spot. “That hurt, you jerk.”
“Yeah, well, you needed it,” he said, scooping up the phone that had landed at his feet.
It was true, she had needed it, but she wasn’t about to admit it.
Squaring her shoulders, Jadine crept closer to the door. Trevin and Stacy followed at her heels like three dancers on a conga line. Rising up on tiptoes, she attempted to get a view of the body. The blood streaks completely covered the bottom half of the door. All she could see clearly were the soles of the large boots resting against the glass. Jadine took another step. Stacy yanked her back.
“Please, don’t go any closer,” she whispered.
“I have to. I need to get a clear view of the situation,” Jadine answered, taking a tentative step closer. And then one more. Stacy, a worried look on her face, followed her lead.
The silence deepened as they crept forward. The tension grew taut like a rubber band stretched to its breaking point. Jadine strained her ears for any sound of life beyond the glass door, but all she could hear was the sound of her own blood thrumming against her eardrums until she thought the sound of it would drive her mad.
With a loud whump, the sound system kicked on again. Jadine jumped, Stacy screamed, and Trevin did both as the sweet strains of Nat King Cole singing “The Christmas Song” filled the air.
Closing her eyes, Jadine patted gently at her chest where her heart galloped away like a wild Mustang across the desert. Deep breath in, long breath out, she told herself in an attempt to calm the thundering beneath her ribcage.
“That scared the hell out of me,” Trevin admitted with a nervous chuckle.
“Me, too,” Jadine and Stacy said in unison. Stacy wiped at a tear tracking down her cheek.
“Okay, I’m done with this,” Trevin said, letting go of Jadine’s arm. “I need to know right now if he’s dead or not.”
“Slowly,” Jadine cautioned, grabbing his arm.
“We’re two steps away, for Pete’s sake,” he hissed.
Jadine pinched her lips into a grim line but nodded.
They stepped up to the door together. Jadine had just placed her palm to the cold glass when the prone body in the snow began to twitch, his feet beating time against the door. Jadine jerked back, half-convinced it was her touch that had set him off.
With arms flailing and heels bouncing off the concrete, the clown arched his back thrusting his chest to the sky. A loud tearing sound cut through the delicate music. Stacy, peering over Jadine’s shoulder, screamed as the clown began to split in half. Blood poured from the two halves onto the sidewalk, melting away the snow that had accumulated there. Only the head held the body together. Just when Jadine thought it was over, the clown’s hands rose to the cut at his throat, sunk the crusted nails into the slit and pulled. The chin broke open, tearing the lips with it, giving the clown a ghastly lopsided grin. The probing fingers moved further up the face, pulling and tearing at the flesh and bone until the head also lay in two pieces. Skull fragments covered in gelatinous matter that Jadine could only fathom was the creature’s brain, lay steaming in the falling snow.
“No fucking way!” Trevin shouted, backing away from the door.
Jadine couldn’t move, though her brain screamed at her to run, run! Now the brownish-red flakes around the nails made sense.
Overhead, Elvis was rocking “Here Comes Santa Claus”, while the damn clown began wriggling again. Jadine didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry, but her pent up emotions screamed for release. A short guffaw burst from her lips before she could clamp down on it.
“Damn it, Jadine, don’t you start losing it again!” Trevin demanded, his voice shaking.
“I’m not the one losing it, Trevin,” she shot back angrily. Though whether she was angry at the accusation or because he could be right and she might be losing it, was unclear to her mind.