“This is disgusting,” Kim commented.
“It gets worse,” Marsha said. “I found a company deficiency report on the same animal that had nothing to do with its being sick or not having been seen by the vet. Are you ready for this. . . it’s revolting.”
“Tell me!” Kim urged.
“Uh-oh!” Marsha said. “Somebody is at the door. I got to get these papers back in the file!”
Kim heard a loud thump. In the background he could hear the rustling of papers and then the distinctive sound of a file cabinet drawer being slammed shut.
“Marsha!” Kim yelled.
Marsha didn’t come back on the line. Instead Kim heard the sound of shattering glass. It was loud enough to make him jump. For a split second he reflexively pulled the phone away from his ear.
“Marsha!” Kim shouted again. But she didn’t answer. Instead he heard the unmistakable sound of furniture being upended and crashing to the floor. Then there was a heavy silence.
Kim pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at Tracy. His eyes reflected the terror he felt.
“What’s going on?” Tracy questioned with alarm. “Was that Marsha Baldwin?”
“I think she’s in danger!” Kim blurted. “My God!”
“Danger from what?” Tracy demanded, sensing Kim’s frenzy.
“I have to go!” Kim cried. “It’s my fault!”
“What is your fault?” Tracy cried. “Please, what’s going on?”
Kim didn’t answer but rather spun on his heels and dashed from the house. In his haste, he left the front door ajar. Tracy ran after him, demanding to know where he was going.
“Stay here,” Kim yelled, just before jumping into his car. “I’ll be right back.” The driver door slammed. A moment later the engine roared to life. Kim gunned the car backward out into the street. Then he raced off into the night.
Tracy ran a hand through her matted hair. She had no idea what was going on nor what she should do. At first she entertained the idea of getting into her car and driving home. But Kim’s frenzy worried her, and she wanted to know what it was all about. Besides, the thought of being home was not appealing; she’d already fled from there.
The cold rain finally made up Tracy’s mind for her. She turned around and went back into the house. As Kim had suggested, she’d wait there.
The chase had started with the shattering of the door’s glass panel. A gloved hand had reached in through the jagged edges and unlocked the door. The door had then burst open, slamming against the wall.
Marsha had let out a short shriek. She’d found herself facing a gaunt, dark-complected man wielding a long knife. The man had taken a step toward her, when she’d turned and fled, tipping over chairs behind her in hopes of hindering the man’s pursuit. She instinctively knew he was there to kill her.
Frantically she unlocked the rear door. Behind her she could hear cursing in Spanish and the crashing of chairs. She didn’t dare look back. Out in the hall, she ran headlong in search of anyone, even the intimidating guard. She tried to yell for help, but, in the effort of flight, her voice was hoarse.
She dashed past empty offices. At the end of the hall, she hurried into a lunchroom. One of the many long tables held a small collection of lunchboxes and thermos bottles, but their owners were nowhere in sight. Behind her, she could hear running footfalls gaining on her.
At the far end of the lunchroom, a door stood open. Beyond it was a half flight of stairs that terminated at a stout fire door. With little choice, Marsha ran across the room, strewing her path with as many of the lunchroom chairs as she could. She mounted the stairs two at a time. By the time she got to the fire door, she was seriously sucking air. Behind her, she could hear her pursuer struggling with the upturned chairs.
Yanking open the fire door, Marsha darted into the vast, cold room beyond. This was the kill floor, and in the semidarkness created by widely spaced night-lights, it had a ghastly, alien look, especially since it had been recently steam-cleaned. A cold, gray mist shrouded the ghostly, metal catwalks, the sinister hooks hanging from the ceiling rails, and the stainless-steel abattoir equipment.