Toxin by Robin Cook

who’d only been working at the Onion Ring for a week, had found that a significant portion of his job was to carry various supplies from storage to the preparation area.
    He opened the heavy freezer door and stepped within. The door was mounted with a heavy spring and closedbehind him. The interior was about ten feet by twenty feet and illuminated by a single light bulb in a wire cage. The walls were surfaced in a metallic material that looked like aluminum foil. The floor was a wooden grate.
    The space was almost full of cardboard containers except for a central aisle. To the left were the large cartons full of frozen hamburger patties. To the right were the boxes of frozen french fries, fish fillets, and chicken chunks.
    Skip flapped his arms against the subzero chill. His breath came in frosted clouds. Wishing to get back to the warmth of the kitchen, he scraped away the frost from the label of the first carton to his left to make sure it was ground meat. It read: MERCER MEATS . REG . 0.1 LB HAMBURGER PATTIES , EXTRA LEAN . LOT 6 BATCH 9-14. PRODUCTION : JAN 12; USE BY APR . 12.
    Reassured, Skip tore open the carton and lifted out one of the inner boxes that contained fifteen dozen patties. He carried them back to the refrigerator behind Paul and put them in.
    â€œYou’re back in business,” Skip said.
    Paul didn’t respond. He was too busy setting up the cooked burgers, while his mind kept a running account of the new orders Roger had given him. As soon as he could, he turned to the refrigerator, opened the patty box and extracted the number of burgers he needed. But as he was about to close the door, his eye caught the label.
    â€œSkip!” Paul yelled. “Get your ass back here!”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Skip questioned. He’d not left the area, but had bent down to change the trash bag under the central island’s rubbish disposal opening.
    â€œYou brought the wrong goddamn patties,” Paul said. “These just came in today.”
    â€œWhat difference does it make?” Skip asked.
    â€œPlenty,” Paul said. “I’ll show you in a second.” He then called: “Roger, how many burgers you looking for after order twenty-six?”
    Roger checked his tickets. “I need one burger for twenty-seven, four for twenty-eight, and three for twenty-nine. That’s eight total.”
    â€œThat’s what I thought,” Paul said. He tossed the eight patties he had in his hand onto the grill and turned around to get the box of patties out of the refrigerator. As preoccupied as he was, he didn’t notice that the first patty he threw ended up partially covering another patty that was already on the grill.
    Paul motioned for Skip to follow him and spoke while he walked. “We get shipments of frozen hamburger once every couple of weeks,” he explained. “But we have to use the older ones first.”
    Paul opened the door to the walk-in freezer and was immediately confronted by the carton Skip had opened. Paul wedged the box he was carrying back into the carton and closed the lid.
    â€œSee this date?” Paul asked while pointing to the label.
    â€œYeah, I see it,” Skip said.
    â€œThose other cartons back there have an older date,” Paul said. “They have to be used first.”
    â€œSomebody should have told me,” Skip complained.
    â€œI’m telling you now,” Paul said. “Come on, help me move these new ones to the back and the ones in the back to the front.”
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    K im had returned from the restroom and had managed to squeeze his six-foot-plus frame into the seat next to Becky. There were six other individuals at the same table, including a two-year-old whose face was smeared withketchup. He was busy beating his half-eaten hamburger with a plastic soupspoon.
    â€œBecky, please be reasonable,” Kim said while trying to ignore the two-year-old. “I told Ginger that we’d pick