Each side of the split clown wriggled and flopped. The movement created wavy “s”es in the bloodied snow as the two sides began to expand. Pieces pushed out from the raw edge until each half of a body had grown into a full one. The two freshly grown clowns lay panting on the ground.
“What the fuck? Seriously! What. The. Fuck?” Trevin cried out, clutching at his hair.
“Calm the shit down, Trevin,” Stacy piped in, swiping at the tears coursing down her face, taking her make-up with it. “We can’t all lose it.”
Jadine remained silent.
Outside, the two clowns rose to their feet. Grinning, each brandished a large knife and began tearing at the other with the blade. Then two became four. Four quickly became eight. A river of blood flowed into the parking lot, leaving a wide swath of red in the white snow.
Stacy, fingers pressed to her lips, turned from the scene gagging. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she moaned.
“Aim for the newspapers,” Jadine mumbled, giving her a halfhearted pat on the back. Vaguely she hoped that Stacy would either make it to the bathroom or not vomit at all. Her attention, however, remained focused on the bloody scene outside, her mind desperately churning, seeking a way out of this unbelievable situation.
“Trevin, call 9-1-1. Now,” she ordered.
Before them, the clowns had stopped slashing each other. Holding their knives high, the eight grinning jesters gathered around the glass, gleaming eyes focused on the three people on the other side.
With Stacy in tow, Jadine backed further into the store, trying to gain as much space as possible without losing sight of the horde. If some of the clowns decided to circle around to the backside of the building, she wanted to know about it. She would need to have all the facts to form a proper plan.
“What are we going to do?” Stacy moaned.
“We should be safe as long as they don’t break the glass,” Jadine whispered, still backing away slowly. Behind her she could hear Trevin speaking with an operator.
“Look, man, I’m serious,” he yelled. “No, I can’t calm down. There are eight clowns outside with huge fucking knives trying to get in… I don’t know why! Look, one of them already stabbed my co-worker… just… listen! We need help. Send some cops, man!”
At that moment, one clown raised a trash can over his head. Garbage spilled from the receptacle, over his back and onto the sidewalk. With precision, he threw it at the door. It struck one pane, sending shards of glass flying into the store. Too big to fit through the opening, the bin bounced harmlessly to the sidewalk lifting a spray of bloody slush to splatter on the shattered glass before rolling into the snow at the edge of the sidewalk.
Stacy ducked, throwing her injured arm over her head to prevent the glass from reaching her face. The jolt of pain she felt at moving it, had her regretting her decision. Beside her, Jadine spun on her heel, grabbed Stacy by her shirt sleeve, and dragged her along behind her as she ran. Running didn’t help her injury either but she kept it to herself. Gritting her teeth to keep from crying out, she did her best to keep pace.
As they race by, Jadine snagged hold of Trevin’s arm. The phone dropped from his hand, shattering the screen when it hit the floor. Jadine could hear the voice of the 9-1-1 operator still talking as they pounded on.
“Hello?” He said. “Hello? Are you still there?”
Jadine rounded the register counter with Stacy and Trevin keeping time in her wake. She paused briefly at the Eatery Corner to tip over a table and chairs, scattering them across the floor in hopes of slowing down their pursuers. Stacy and Trevin ran on to the hallway ahead of her, but Jadine caught them quickly.
“The office,” Stacy said, using her hip to angle Jadine toward the office door. “We can lock them out. Hide inside until they leave.”
Jadine could hear the slap-slap of several pairs of wet boots skirting the furniture she’d overturned; catching up. There was no time to think about it. She had to make a choice. One glance at the window over the office door and her decision was made.
“No,” Jadine said firmly, feeling a burst of confidence. Shoving Stacy passed the office, she guided her down the hallway; passed the door to the backroom and the doors to the bathrooms.
“We aren’t going outside?” Stacy gasped, eyeing the glass entryway at the end of the hall with a growing horror.
“Of course not.” Jadine reached around Stacy. She pushed open the last door on the left, the entrance to the maintenance room at the end of the corridor. The room was eight feet by sixteen feet and, with no windows and a solid core door, it was their best chance at survival. Besides, all the equipment needed to run the store, sans the office computer, was either located in or connected to this room. They should be able to get help. Somehow.
“In here,” Jadine ordered, pushing Stacy and Trevin into the room before stepping in herself. Behind her, she could hear the clowns gaining on them. The door scraped across the threshold, meeting the frame with a heavy thunk. Throwing the lock then the bolt, she rested her back against the cool metal, breathing hard. From the other side of the door came pounding – heavy fists on metal. The sound carried into the room, but the door held. Jadine heaved a sigh of relief. She had cut it close, but they’d made it. For the first time since she’d left home earlier that evening, she felt safe.
Waving her hand at a double stack of chairs in the corner she said, “Trevin, bring me a couple of those chairs.”
Trevin complied without question. Together they wedged a line of them across the floor between the door and the wall, making it impossible for the door to be opened even if the lock and bolt were breached. Jadine couldn’t help but notice his hands shaking as he helped her. If she could have come up with some words of comfort, she would have offered them, but the best she had was: “Someone will come, Trevin. We’ll be okay.”
“Right,” Trevin snorted. “I hope they have a better plan than we do.”
“We have a plan?” Stacy asked, collapsing onto the concrete floor with her back against the wall.
“Yes.” Jadine crossed the room to lean against the wall. “To stay alive until we’re rescued.”
“Yeah, I don’t have a lot of faith in that answer,” Trevin said, joining her. “I think we need to find our own way out of this.”
“Well, if you have a better idea, let’s hear it,” Jadine said, impatiently.
Trevin frowned at her, “Well, you brought us in here for a reason, didn’t you?”