No one or better yet, no ‘thing’ immediately emerged from the stall. Seconds felt like minutes. Slowly Max again placed the end of his bat on the floor and used it to lower himself for a peek under the stall.

There were still two sets of legs but now both pairs of feet were pointing away from the toilet.

Fight or flight? Max had remembered hearing that statement but could not remember where. Had it been used to describe animal instincts on the Discovery Channel? He couldn’t recall. All he knew was that he had a decision to make and he had better make it quick.

Fight or flight?

The decision was made, flight sounded pretty damn good right about now especially since the close confines of the bathroom didn’t allow Max to swing his bat as freely as he would like. With three giant strides Max ran towards the handicap stall and with his right hand he slammed the door back towards the occupants inside. If Max could make it out into the hallway he was sure he could out run any pursuers.

Max didn’t know if it was his imagination but he sensed hands clawing at his back. This feeling caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end and gave him a queasy feeling in his stomach. He lowered his shoulder and blasted into the men’s room door swinging it wide open. The door clanged against the adjacent wall and slowly the pneumatic closer fastened at the top of the door started to move the door to the closed position. Too slowly.

The collision with the door spun Max around and he lost his balance and tumbled to the floor. He could hear the hollow sound of wood clanking on the hard floor tile as his bat bounced away from him. Max loved that sound, it reminded him of hot summer days spent watching overpaid baseball players and drinking cold beers.