by Sharon Joss
CHAPTER 32
I followed Blix up a steep narrow stairway to another closed door. The knob turned easily, and I eased myself into a darkened room. Several green power lights pinpointed the room with an eerie glow. Somewhere in the distance the comforting sound of a compressor hummed. Probably a dehumidifier. Blix dashed through the door first, and waited for me as I crept inside, closing the door quietly behind me. I paused for a few minutes straining to listen if anyone was coming, but I couldn’t hear a thing over the sound of my pounding heart and the whirr of the compressor.
We were standing inside a commercial kitchen; paved with black and white floor tiles, appointed with professional grade stainless steel equipment. To the right stood a combination sink and industrial dishwasher unit; on the left, a bank of refrigerators droned. A steel butcher’s table dominated the center of the room; the drain running from the cutting surface into the floor. Overhead, an assortment of sharp-looking kitchen utensils and cleavers hung from a rack suspended from the ceiling. Opposite me was the wooden door of a large walk-in freezer. Through the small window in the door, I could see frost-covered shelving just inside.
Blix slammed himself continuously against the wooden door to the walk-in. I moved closer, and he scrabbled his claws at the base of door. I pulled on the chrome handle, but it took two hands to get it open.
A dim red light flicked on and I gasped when I saw Rhys lying motionless on the floor. I sobbed; grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him through the doorway back into the kitchen. I couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead. With shaking fingers, I felt for his pulse. His skin was so cold. I couldn’t feel a thing.
“Come on, Rhys, work with me.”
I put my lips to his neck and felt a faint throb of life. Yes! A hysterical giggle escaped my lips, and I smothered it as I heard the clatter of a pan fall to the floor in another room. I froze, feeling exposed by the red light of the walk-in. I looked up, searching for the switch.
I gazed into the frozen scream of Andrea Gregson. I stifled a yell, slapping both my hands over my mouth. The walk-in freezer was full of bodies. They were stacked on top of one another like TV dinners. Even their clothes were covered in hoarfrost. I reached into my pocket for my cell phone, but something massive big hit me from behind, throwing me off Rhys, pinning me to the floor beneath a heavy, kerosene-soaked rug. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to call for help, but couldn’t. As I struggled to get clear, the beating began in earnest.
