Freezer Burn
The frigid air stung Brian’s face as he stepped into the walk-in freezer. A janitor for two decades, he'd grown used to the humdrum of his nightly duties at the sprawling wellness resort. But this was his least favorite chore—checking the freezer’s inventory.
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He marked the checklist, nodding at the neatly stacked shelves of frozen goods. “Last one for the year,” he muttered, eager to head home to his small apartment. As he turned to leave, a sharp click resounded behind him. He froze, heart pounding. The door.
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Rushing to the handle, he twisted it furiously, but it wouldn’t budge. He knew the old freezer lacked a safety latch. Panic seeped in. He hammered on the heavy door with his fists, shouting for help, but the resort had closed for the holidays. Brian was utterly alone.
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The temperature gauge blinked: -10°F. Brian scanned the freezer for a solution. His first instinct was his phone, but dread filled him as he fumbled in his pocket—empty. He’d left it charging in the staff room. The thought of spending days here sent shivers deeper than the icy air could manage.
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Spotting a pile of thick butcher’s aprons, he wrapped himself tightly. His breaths fogged the air as he assessed his surroundings. The walls were steel, unyielding, and the shelving bolted tight. He found a crate of frozen turkeys and dragged it toward the door, pounding on it in a rhythm.
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Knock. Knock. Knock. His desperation echoed in the freezer, a plea swallowed by the relentless cold. Then, he noticed something odd—the light in the freezer flickered, dimming momentarily before stabilizing. A faint hissing sound began behind him.
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Brian spun, heart racing. A pipe on the far wall had ruptured, releasing a wispy plume of coolant gas. His stomach tightened. The freezer’s already deadly temperature would plummet further. He grabbed a shelf pole, using it to leverage the door handle, but the mechanism wouldn’t budge.
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The frost lining the seams mocked his efforts. The gas hissed louder, forming a thin frost line along the pipe. Brian’s eyes darted to the emergency alarm button. He lunged for it, smacking it hard, only to discover the wires had frozen stiff—no signal.
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As his body shivered violently, Brian's mind went into overdrive. Desperation turned into clarity. He eyed the ruptured pipe again. Could the very thing freezing him become his salvation?
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Brian pulled the crate closer, clambering onto it to examine the rupture. The pipe’s valve was loose, and an idea struck. He scurried to the shelves, pulling down bags of flour and sugar, anything powdery, creating a mound beneath the leak.
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He aimed to clog the pipe, forcing the freezer's internal pressure to disrupt the system. Flour puffed into the air as he worked quickly, stuffing the materials tightly. The gas slowed, and the air inside grew eerily still. Then came the groan.
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The freezer walls vibrated as pressure built. Brian ducked behind the crate, shielding his head just as a deafening BOOM shattered the silence. The gasket on the main coolant system burst, spewing gas outward. The freezer door creaked, the frozen hinges giving way.
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Brian crawled toward the door, coughing through the haze, only to discover… Freedom. The explosion had wrenched the door ajar. Brian stumbled out into the quiet hallway, gulping the relatively warmer air. His legs wobbled beneath him, but he managed to reach the nearest phone and call for help.
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When the rescue team arrived, they stared in disbelief at the frostbitten janitor who’d just MacGyvered his way out of certain death. Brian looked back at the freezer one last time. “Guess I’ve earned my holiday,” he murmured, cracking the first smile of his long, harrowing night.
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Fin