The grating of the molded concrete tabletop sliding across the worn linoleum stops as the patio table hits the plain, off-white door. Izzie claps her hands over her mouth muffling the scream that is ripping its way up her throat. Stacy…that thing…what if that thing gets through the door? The sound in her throat is choked off by a sob. The room swirls around her and she steps back, forcing air into her lungs. A little voice pushes through her brain telling her to stop screaming. Too much noise. Be quiet. She keeps her hands clasped over her mouth and takes a step back.
The screams outside the door cut off, and she feels her throat clench as another scream works its way up. Closing her eyes, Izzie swallows it back down, along with the panic that has her heart threatening to beat its way out of her chest. She takes another step back. Her calf brushes against a discarded chair, knocked on its side during their haste to move the table a minute before. It squeals as it shifts an inch with her movement. Izzie freezes, her ears straining to hear anything moving closer to the door.
A thunk followed by a crash makes her jump, a terrified yip escaping before her throat squeezes shut. She whirls around and spots the offender. Logan is on his side on the ground and his shovel has attacked the worn surface of the floor. He doesn’t move, and the shovel stays where it has fallen. The sound echoes and Izzie doesn’t know if the metal is vibrating or if she is imagining the noise. Something touches her elbow and she jerks away, kicking the overturned chair and sending it skidding into a bank of cabinets below a solid white countertop.
“You need to sit down.”
Izzie looks toward Joseph, wondering when he got so close. He pulls his arm away to right one of the other chairs they knocked over before. She shakes her head, but inches toward it and lowers herself down. Her eyes lock onto the door and the unattended table barricade. “No. I need to help block it.”
“How? I’m twice your size and my body isn’t going to make any difference standing there. You look like you are going to fall over, so stay down for a minute. We need to think.”
The plastic seat of the chair creaks softly as she rocks forward and back in it. From the corner of her eye, she can see Joseph back away far enough that she could have space but close enough that he could reach her if she needed help. It seems like a sweet gesture, but it annoys her that he thinks she is weak. “I must look like I’m going into shock,” she thinks below the surface of her panic. She goes through the list her mother would recite while studying for her paramedic exam three years before. Her breathing steadies and the lightness in her head fades a little. She wishes her mom was there-
With the moment of lucidity, Izzie stands upright so quickly that the chair beneath her threatens to fall backward. She is vaguely aware of Joseph catching it as she yanks her phone from her back pocket. Mashing her thumb onto the lock icon, she swears as the error message tells her “Fingerprint doesn’t match.” She readjusts and tries again.
The screen changes to a picture of Stacy and Logan crammed into the frame beside her as they all smile up at her camera. Izzie stares at it, tears burning her eyes. She blinks them away before they can fall, pulls up her recent call list, and jams her finger down on the picture of her mom. The screen changes and the dialing symbol appears. Less than a second later the symbol disappears and Call Ended replaces it. “No,” she mutters to herself as she tries again. The same thing happens and she frantically switches to try her dad.
“It’s probably not going to work, Izzie.” Joseph shuffles in place and she frowns at him. “This whole building is a stupid dead zone. The walls are concrete or something. I don’t know anybody who has ever gotten a signal without stepping outside.”
Izzie tries to get through one more time before snarling and pushing the uncooperative phone into her back pocket again. She takes in Logan, still lifeless on the floor, staring ahead at nothing. Just behind him are two vending machines and a nondescript door that is open slightly, darkness beyond. “What’s that door?”
Joseph spins around, following her gaze, then shrugs. “It’s a bathroom for employees. No stalls or anything to hide in. Just the toilet and a sink.”
Stepping around Logan, she walks to the door and pushes it open. It appears to be just as he said, one basic white porcelain seat and a pedestal sink with a small rectangular soap dispenser on the wall next to the faucet. Izzie steps into the shadows where the emergency lights can’t reach and looks closer, but beyond a plunger tucked behind the tank of the toilet, there is nothing else. She grimaces and grabs the plunger. A quick wash is all she lets herself take the time for. Then the rubber cup part is unscrewed and discarded. Izzie grips the handle, the only weapon she has, and looks around.
“What’s that?”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
On the outside wall, tucked next to the refrigerator, is an unmarked door with a shiny metal push bar across it. She runs to the far corner, sliding into the narrow space between the appliance and the door. The bar doesn’t move when she pushes her weight against it. She huffs and pushes the plunger handle across through the front pocket of her hoodie before throwing herself against it. “Why are you just standing there? Help me open this!”
“Izzie,” Joseph drops into the chair she vacated with a groan. “We can’t open it. The store is in lockdown.”
Izzie whirls around, bouncing off of the refrigerator. She swears as it sends her back into the door where she bangs her elbow. “Stop being so fucking calm right now!”
“What do you want me to do instead? If I can make myself calm, then I can think better.”
His reasoning makes sense but it just pisses her off more. She rips her eyes away from him and bites her tongue to keep from saying any of the horrible things that swirl around in her head. It’s not his fault. None of it is his fault. The emergency light rests above the door she is facing, but it is angled out into the room so all she has is shadows. Her fingers run along every bolt and seam. After a few minutes, the only thing she can find is a red latch attached to the bar, but it won’t move. Her burst of anger is fading, and the freezing cold is seeping back into her bones.
“What do you mean, Joseph? About the lockdown.”
He rights another chair and nudges it toward her, but she ignores it. Her ears strain to pick up any sounds from outside the room. When she hears nothing she crosses her arms and leans against the cool surface of the fridge.
“I thought it was all rumor before tonight. Stupid jokes people pass around when the bosses aren’t listening. But the main power cut out and the grates went down over the exits, so maybe it’s not made up. I was told that Rusty was a paranoid man when he first opened the store, that he thought roving bands of thieves were going to be regularly passing through Happy Springs stealing anything not bolted down.”
“That’s stupid.” Joseph raises an eyebrow at her and Izzie grimaces. “Sorry. Go on.”
“So anyway, he put in this system where if the manager hits a button in his office the whole store would go into lockdown. Gates fall down from the ceiling to block the main doors, and the side doors get locked down so they can’t open. The power cuts out and the backup kicks in, which just gives the lights on the walls. That would keep anyone from shorting the system and getting out, or stealing from the registers in the following panic.”
“Yeah, that’s still stupid. And stop raising your eyebrow at me.”
“I’m just repeating what I’ve heard. The manager is the only one that can hit the alarm and the only one that can reset it. Someone once told me there is a big supervillain red button in his office, but I thought he was lying. But that door isn’t going to open unless the doors are unlocked.”
“That’s-” Izzie swallows the word ‘stupid’ before she can say it again. “It’s against the law to lock emergency exits. There has to be a way to get out. What if there was a fire?”
Joseph leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest to match her. “I don’t know, Izzie. I’ve only met Rusty once and I don’t think he really cares much about crispy fried customers. Like I said, I thought it was just a story. I’ve never heard of it happening in, well, ever. I’m just guessing. But big bars went down over the front door and I think I heard them from the showroom too. And the main lights cut out. The air isn’t moving anymore either, so the main power is running the ventilation stuff. We are trapped in here.”
She frowns and looks up toward the round vent in the ceiling. A yellowed string, once white perhaps, hangs from the center knob of the cover. Whatever sign once dangled from it is long gone. No current pushes the string around, and it is ominous in its stillness. She steps out toward the center of the room and looks back toward the counter and the large appliance. No light glows from the microwave display, and the fridge is conspicuously silent. Izzie steps hesitantly forward and opens the top door to the freezer compartment. Cold air wafts out, but there is no sound of a cooling unit, and the small light panel stays dark.
“That’s-”
“Yeah, I know, stupid.” He stretches his legs out and crosses them at the ankle. “But apparently it’s true. So, you have more information. What do we do now?”
“Why are you asking me? You’re the calm one, you come up with something!”
“Aw, my calm is just to keep myself from crawling under the sink and hiding.” He quirks a humorless smile at the image he has presented. He might fit under there, with his linebacker build, but it would be tight to the point contortionism would be needed. “You’re the smart one, if anyone can figure this out it is probably you.”
Izzie tenses and closes the freezer before opening the door beneath. The air is considerably warmer, and the light is off there as well. She glances at all the items, just to see what is there in case they need it later. “I’m not smart.”
She shuts the door, moves to the far right side of the counter, and begins opening all the cabinets above it, pulling out anything that looks like it might be helpful and placing them on the surface below. She can feel his eyes on her and finally turns around to snap, “Why are you staring at me? Help look for weapons or something!”
Joseph stands up and walks to the opposite end of the counter. “Why are you hiding it still? Nobody cares if you are smart. You don’t have to be a stereotype of some dumb cheerleader.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
They work in silence, and soon the counter holds a handful of disparate items from above and they move to the cabinets below. Joseph holds up an unlabeled spray bottle from beneath the sink, examining it before putting it up on the counter. “So? What do we do?”
“I don’t know,” she answers quietly. “If it was an alarm that was set off, then the police should be here soon. So I guess we wait.”
As one, they turn to look at the wall over the vending machines. The battery-powered clock ticks along merrily, counting out the minutes as they pass. It feels like hours, but it has only been fifteen minutes. They look at each other and continue sorting out things from the lower cabinets.
“Maybe they asked the Res for help, and they are waiting until everyone gets here to enter,” Joseph offers, but Izzie can tell he is reaching for some reason why there have been no sounds of sirens yet.
“Yeah, maybe.” She nods and moves a small translucent yellow lighter to sit next to a package of plastic forks. “Someone will get here. But just in case, keep looking for more useful stuff.”