Brian Keene: Jack's Magic Beans

“Please, help me.”

Sammi paused, but before she could act, an adult grabbed the child’s feet and dragged him away.

“Come on, kid. Let’s get you on the butcher’s block.”

The boy wailed. His eyes remained on Sammi. Weeping, Sammi kept going, heading towards the rear of the store. There was nothing she could do.

Not for the first time today, she felt like throwing up. The only difference was that this time, she hadn’t eaten.

And then there was Jack Bartlett, who spent his fifteen-minute break bundled up in a heavy coat, taking a nap inside the meat department’s big walk-in freezer.

Jack missed the whole thing.

When Jack woke up, people were screaming.

Several of them, judging by the sound.

He opened his eyes and sat up straight, banging his head against the cold steel wall. Wincing, he blinked, trying to figure out what was happening. There were two women in the freezer with him. That accounted for the screaming. One of the women was about his age, startlingly skinny and wearing a Save-A-Lot uniform just like his. Her long, blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail with a neon-pink scrunchy. The other woman was older, maybe in her late twenties, dressed in jeans and a white, spaghetti-strap blouse. Her short, brunette hair was plastered to her scalp with sweat and blood. Jack didn’t know her, but he definitely knew the skinny girl—Sammi Barberra, one of the cashiers. She was a freshman at the community college, just like him. His buddy, Phil, had gone out with her a few times back in high school. Rumor was that Sammi had bulimia. Looking at her, it was easy to believe. She was pretty, in a super-model-goes-to-Auschwitz sort of way. Definitely not his type.

Both women continued yelling and crying, and Jack realized that they were trying to hold the door shut. Somebody was pounding on the other side, hollering to be let in. The blows echoed through the freezer, loud enough to be heard over their cries. Neither Sammi nor the other woman seemed to have noticed Jack. Their backs were to him. Both of them gripped the door handle tightly and kept pulling it shut, bracing their feet apart. There was blood on their clothes. Their panic was palpable.

Jack sat up the rest of the way and said, “Hey.”

Ignoring him, they kept their attention focused on the door.

“Pull,” the woman shouted. “Pull!”

“I’m trying,” Sammi sobbed. “Oh my God…”

Outside, whoever was pounding on the door hollered, “Let me in, god damn it! They’re gonna kill me.”

“Stay out there,” the woman yelled. “Don’t you come in here.”

“Please, listen to me! I’m okay. I’m not like the others. You’ve got to let me in!”

“Just go away.” Sammi grunted, pulling harder. “Leave us alone!”

Jack stood up. His heavy freezer coat rustled.

“Hey,” he tried again. “What’s going on?”

The women screamed in unison. Sammi let go of the door handle and turned around. The other woman held tight but looked over her shoulder. Smiling in confusion, Jack took a step towards them, hands held out in front of him, palms up, to show that he meant no harm.

Sammi’s eyes grew wide. “Stay back. Just stay away from us. Don’t come any closer!”

He stopped. “Sammi, it’s me—Jack. Phil’s friend? What the hell are you doing? What are you afraid of?”

Before she could answer, the door was wrenched out of the other woman’s hands. A black man ran into the freezer. His clothes were also spattered with blood.

“Shut it,” he yelled. “Shut the door, quick!”

“Are you one of them,” the woman demanded. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Do I look like I’m trying to claw your eyeballs out? I told you before, I’m, not like the others. Now shut the god damn door.”

Jack heard more screams from outside the freezer. Lots of them. Wide-awake now, he took another cautious step forward while the woman slammed the freezer door shut again.

“What’s going on?” Jack asked. “Is somebody hurt?”

“Who the hell are you?” The man whirled around, fists raised.

“Who the hell am I? I work here. My name’s Jack. And unless I’m mistaken, customers aren’t allowed in the freezer. So who the fuck are you ?”

“Marcel. And you just stay right there, man. Don’t make me hurt you. I’ll mess you up.”

Shaking his head, Jack turned to Sammi. “What’s going on?”

“They… the people… Mr. Brubaker… Jerry tried to…”

She broke off, sobbing.

“Somebody help me with this door,” the other woman said. “Is there a way to lock it?”

“It’s a safety door,” Jack told her. “Can’t lock it from the inside, just so nobody accidentally gets trapped. You can lock it from the outside, but even then, somebody inside the freezer can still open it. But why do you need to lock it?”

“Duh. So they don’t get in. Haven’t you been listening?”

Jack took a deep breath. “Who? Who is they ? Where did all this blood come from? Who’s hurt?”

Sammi wiped her nose on her apron. “A lot of people. Hurt or dead.”

“Look…” Jack ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t understand this. What the hell is happening?”

“First the door,” Marcel said. “Otherwise, we’re not going to be around long enough to tell you.”

A quick search of the freezer turned up several lengths of plastic strapping bands that had been used to fasten boxes to skids. There was also a large roll of shrink-wrap. While the women held the door closed, Jack and Marcel tied it shut with the plastic bands and makeshift shrink-wrap rope—running them from the doorknob to a nearby shelf, thus making it hard for anyone outside to pull open the door. As they finished, someone else pounded on the door. Unintelligible moans and shrieks accompanied the blows. Fingernails screeched across steel. The four survivors stared at the door, not daring to speak, barely breathing. After a few minutes, the sounds faded.

“Sounds like a zombie movie out there,” Jack said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Marcel replied.

“Jesus,” the older woman panted. “I can’t believe this.”

“Quiet,” Sammi whispered. “They might still be out there.”

“You’re right. Sorry.”

Sammi shrugged. “It’s okay. What’s your name?”

“Angie. Angie Waller.” She winced, gently rubbing her side.

“Are you okay?” Sammi asked.

Angie nodded. “I’ll be fine. Some old lady kicked me in the ribs, but I don’t think they’re broken.”

“I’m Sammi. This is Jack.” She turned to the black man. “And what did you say your name was?”

“Marcel.” He moved past them and checked the door, fingering the bands and shrink-wrap ropes, making sure they were tight and secure. “Marcel Dupree.”

“It’ll hold,” Jack said to Marcel. “I was in the Scouts. I know how to tie a knot.”

Marcel didn’t answer. His attention remained focused on the door.

“So,” Jack sighed. “Are you guys going to tell me what’s going on or not?”

“How can you not know?” Angie asked.

“I was taking a nap. What did I sleep through?”

They told him.

They remained inside the freezer for the next hour, huddled together for warmth and whispering, careful not to attract attention. Occasionally, someone on the outside would try the door, but the makeshift bonds held. Eventually, the screams and cries subsided. Angie, Marcel, and Sammi all had cell phones with them, but when they tried to dial for help, none of them could get a signal since they were surrounded by steel walls.