Lugging the boxes of root beer down the school halls without getting caught was laborious. By the time Han reached the kitchen door, he was sweating and panting so hard he was sure he left some puddles on the school floor.
"At least the fridge will be cold," he murmured to himself as he slowly opened the door and peeked in. Nobody was there. Good.
He sighed, then dragged the boxes into the kitchen. There. The walk-in fridge's stainless steel door gleamed, unlike the rest of the kitchen, which was grimy and stunk from today's bantha meat stew. Or was it Tauntaun? Han never could tell, and he was happy he couldn't. The less he knows about cafeteria food, the better.
You're getting off-task, Han thought to himself, get the job done already.
His muscles strained as he used his remaining energy to carry the root beer and open the steel door to the fridge.
The inside was freezing, all right. It froze Han's sweat and left him shivering. He made sure the fridge door was propped open before entering.
"The coldest part," he said to himself, "right. That's all the way at the end." He kicked the boxes and they slid to the end of the fridge.
"Well, that's done." Han wiped his hands onto his pants. "Now I'm leaving."
Suddenly he heard a creak.
"Huh?" he said, turning around . . . just in time to see the door slam shut. The inside of the fridge was enveloped in darkness.
"No! No!" Han Solo yelled, banging his fists onto the steel door. On the other side, silence.
Han sunk to his knees, head in hands. Where was his blaster when he needed it?
