They were inside the loading bay, where merchandise of all shapes and sizes were brought in and organized before put onto store shelves. Dozens of shelving systems lined the walls, and several rows of them were arranged to hold backstock. It was a cement room, lit very dimly by the exit signs and streetlamps that bled through their makeshift door. A high pitched alarm rang annoyingly in the background.
"Where do we go?" Twitch yelled.
Chad pointed towards a doorway. "Offices should be right down that hall!"
"They had better be." Amber groaned, trying to wipe the blood off that was beginning to cake her ski mask. The three slung the duffel bags over their shoulders and sprinted towards the door.
The first one there was Twitch, who jiggled the handle, then cursed. "It's locked."
"Already?" Chad reached into the sack and pulled out a crowbar.
Amber was utterly overwhelmed. It was hard to see anyway in the dim light, but with the broken nose? It was nearly impossible. She tried to buckle away the pain, instead following Chad's lead and drawing a crowbar from her bag.
Together, the two quickly pulled the door off its hinges and chucked it to the side. Chad looked over his shoulder to ensure that no one was coming, then turned to Twitch. "Run down there and jiggle all of the doorknobs. Make a note of each one that's locked."
Twitch nodded, and disappeared into the darkness.
The meth addict turned to look at Amber. He gently patted her on the shoulder. "Buck up, girl." Chad said. "You'll be fine."
"Pssh, yeah right." She said.
For a moment, their eyes met. Amber always kept a shell of indifference around her psyche - there was simply no other way to live how she did without it. But when she locked eyes with Chad, she could feel him look right through her. He was scared, too.
Chad and Amber both took a deep breath, nodded, and ran down the hallway after Twitch.