Had she dreamed the bodies she saw in there? No. Her mother had screamed. There had been bodies. Stacks of them. The mall manager. Lots of people. All dead. All frozen.
Where were they now? Who had taken them? Was the government somehow sneaking the dead out? Did her mother know?
Lexi slammed the freezer shut and scrambled out of the Pancake Palace. In the halls, she blew by people carrying giant bags of popcorn, pushing dollies stacked with towels and bins piled with clothing, a line of children marching and singing “Ten Little Pumpkins.” None of that mattered. Where were the bodies?
At the mall offices, she had to lie to the guard about finding a computer glitch to get inside, but what was one lie compared with the disappearing dead? She had to get to her mother. She had to know.
Hank Goldman was sitting talking to the Senator when Lexi burst breathless into the room.
“Lex, what happened?” her mother said, standing. She even came out from behind the desk and took Lexi into her arms.
“The bodies,” Lexi said, trying to regain her breathing. “The freezer. Empty.”
“We can talk later,” Hank said, getting up to leave.
“No,” the Senator said. She pushed away from Lexi, held her by the shoulders, and glowered into her eyes. “Baby, I need you to forget about the bodies. I have that situation under control.”
“But Mom,” Lexi retorted. “The ones in the Pancake Palace. They’re gone.”
“I know,” her mother said. “I had them moved for sanitation purposes.”
Her mother moved the bodies. The government was not meddling. Her mother was moving bodies without anyone’s knowledge. “What’s more sanitary than leaving them frozen and sealed in a freezer?”
The Senator released Lexi and shuffled back behind the desk. “Please, trust me. I have this situation under control.” She sat in her large leather chair. “Just relax and go be with your friends. I gave you three an assignment you should like—clothing sorting.”
Three? This was how out of touch her mother was—she still thought Ginger was her friend. “When was the last time you saw me clothes shopping?” Lexi asked, not even trying to hide her snark.
“Your friend Maddie requested the job this morning,” her mother said. “I thought you’d be grateful I gave you an assignment together.” The Senator turned her attention back to Hank. “So you were saying about an alternative for the rats?” The interview was over.
Lexi wandered out through the offices. Her mother was stonewalling her on the bodies, a secret they had shared not twenty-four hours ago. And apparently there was a rat problem.
Out in the hallway, Lexi heard the crowds gathering for lunch. It took her ten minutes to find Maddie in the chaos of the first-floor courtyard. There were a few tables set up, but most people were still camping out on the floor with their plates of freeze-dried goop and bottles of water.
“Hey, stranger,” Lexi said, sidling up to her on the food line.
“Girlfriend!” Maddie gave her a one-armed hug. “You missed it. I complained about my original assignment to, get this, mop the freaking floors, and got upgraded to clothing sorter. I just said that I was friends with you and voilà! We’re clothing sorters.”
“Yeah,” Lexi murmured. “It’s good to know the boss’s kid.” She wasn’t sure why, but it felt a little gross to have Maddie using her name to get better stuff. It was one thing for Lexi to use her influence, and another to have it used by proxy.
“Turn that frown upside-down,” Maddie said. “We have the best gig in this hellhole.”
They reached the guy guarding the Borderlands Cantina, which was where whoever was assigned to cooking duty was reconstituting the freeze-dried rations. They gave their names, which the guard checked against the database. He grunted an okay and waved them in.
Trays of goop in hand, Lexi followed Maddie through the crowds toward the central fountain.
“Okay, don’t freak out,” Maddie said, “but we have a bit of a leech problem.”
Lexi glanced at the fountain and saw Ginger already seated on the stone wall. “That’s some leech.”
Maddie sighed. “She got placed on clothing sorter duty too, and has been hanging on me, begging forgiveness, blah, blah. She asked if she could eat lunch with us and I told her it was a free country.”
Maddie did not sound quite as pissed off as Lexi felt. “She bailed and left you to die.”
Maddie shrugged. “We’re all going to die.”
Ginger shuffled over to make room for them. “I had to tell two old ladies to take a hike to save the spaces.” She smiled this big grin, like saving seats on a wall made up for anything.
Maddie plopped down beside her. “I’m not sure I can choke this crap down.”
“They said it was veggie chili.” Ginger smoothed a lumpy section with the back of her spoon.
“It’s food,” Lexi said. Was she supposed to just laugh, let bygones be bygones, forget how Ginger had slunk away from her when she’d asked for help trying to save people, people here including her alleged best friend? Which person, strangely enough, seemed to have completely forgotten said abandonment. Lexi shoveled a mouthful in and instantly regretted it. “Nuhpken,” she managed through closed lips.
Ginger passed her one.
Lexi took it grudgingly and spit out the food. “This meal must be ingested in small bites.”
“And with lots of water.” Maddie passed her a bottle.
As the minutes ticked by, Lexi had a harder time maintaining her level of maximum annoyance. Ginger was apologetic to the point of ass-kissing: “I’m so sorry I left you, I was just completely freaked out.” “I’m a total hypochondriac, I know it’s no excuse, I’m pathetic.” “You were such a superhero, Lex, I wish I were as strong as you.” It was easier to just talk to her than keep up the force field of anger.
But there was something else. As Maddie recounted their morning of sifting through clothes, how it was so unfair that someone was going to be given this amazing pair of 7 for All Mankind jeans and would they even appreciate them the way Maddie would, Lexi felt the power of the bond between Maddie and Ginger. Ginger, for example, knew what 7 for All Mankind was. She agreed with Maddie about how there should be a clothing hierarchy, where people who knew about designers got the designer clothes. The two were “besties,” always would be, no matter what. They had what Lexi had with Darren. So what if Lexi had saved Maddie’s life after Ginger left her for dead? Whatever had happened, Lexi sensed that she would always be their third wheel.
And so when Maddie turned to her and asked where she’d been all morning, Lexi told her about the PaperClips, about the people who’d gotten Tasered for sneaking out at night, but said nothing about the missing bodies. She would find someone else, someone more like her, someone, maybe, like Marco, to help her with that project.
“Alexandra Ross,” her mother’s voice boomed from the loudspeakers, “please come to the mall offices.”
Lexi pounded the last of her water. “Break time’s over.”
“We’ll catch you later?” Ginger asked, smiling.
Lexi did not miss her use of we. “Yeah,” she said, and went to see what Mommy Dearest wanted.
• • •
Ryan had taken the rest of the morning to hunt through the parking garage for other stowaways. He found two bodies, one in the front seat of a sedan, seat-belted in as if ready to drive off, the other stretched across the back of a station wagon. Most people had decided that whatever was going on aboveground was better than going it alone in the dark. He saw the appeal of that decision.
But better than other people, Ryan found people’s stuff. It seemed that a number of shoppers had stowed goods in their cars. And as Ryan was already Stonecliff’s Most Wanted, he did not see any reason not to bust open some windows and collect the gear. He f
ound a laptop and a bunch of DVDs. There were some children’s clothes in the back of an SUV. One wagon had a huge box of crackers stashed in the tailgate. Arms full, he went back to Ruthie and Jack’s SUV.
The two were curled up in the dark with the door cracked open. Ruthie was whispering something to her brother. “And then, Peter threw dust from Tinker Bell on Wendy and her brothers, and they could fly!”
Ryan felt like Santa Claus. “Delivery for Ruthie and Jack,” he said, stepping into the doorway.
“Are those crackers?” Ruthie dove for the box, nearly pushing Ryan over.
“You guys have any light?” he said, releasing the crackers and nearly dropping everything else.
Ruthie shuffled into a sitting position. “We stopped using the car’s light two days ago. That way, when Mom and Dad come back, we can drive home.”
These kids had been trapped down here with no lights for two days, they thought Mom and Dad were coming back—they really needed his help. “Here’s some clothes and a laptop and some DVDs for when you get tired of telling stories,” he said. “I didn’t find anyone else hiding out down here, but that doesn’t mean someone won’t show up, so keep this door mostly closed. How much more food do you have?”
Jack held up a bag of chips. “I’m saving this for lunch.”
“We could use some more food,” Ruthie said, mouth spewing cracker crumbs. “And drinks. Juice boxes?” She sounded excited, like maybe they could go shopping. Ryan sensed she was desperate to no longer be in charge of things.
“Let me see what I can scrounge for you,” he said.
Ruthie threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”
He pushed her off, uncomfortable with being thanked before he actually did anything. “Just keep the door mostly shut until I get back.”
She nodded and pulled it halfway closed, blocking the two from Ryan’s sight.
It felt good to have a mission, to be doing something he was sure was right for a change. He would get them flashlights and juice boxes—there had to be some left in the wholesale place—he would give them everything they needed. He would take care of them.
The only way back into the mall—aside from Marco’s magic key—was the central pavilion. Ryan rolled the dice on whether anyone would recognize him or even care if they did. He pushed open the glass door and took the steps two at a time up into the blinding light of the central courtyard.
• • •
Two security guards had brought trays up to the food court, so that Shay and the others in the school could eat lunch separate from the masses. The children ate what they were given, though some made fun of the way the food squished. The fact that everyone had the same thing seemed to make eating it all the more acceptable.
Shay had to admit that it was nice being around the kids. She even missed Preeti, whom she normally found annoying. It would be nice to be annoyed by Preeti instead of worrying about whether she really would be released from the med center this afternoon. She imagined Preeti being once again like these kids, happy to run around in the empty food court, playing freeze tag or jumping rope. They appeared to have forgotten that they were trapped in the mall. Even if she couldn’t feel that happiness or forget the walls locking her in, it was calming to watch those who could. People like Kris, who it turned out was just an overgrown five-year-old.
He had found a large blue plastic bottle of bubble solution and was waving its giant orange wand in slow circles. The bubbles were not floating far enough for his taste, so he began dancing in loops. The kids—all different ages, whoever had finished their lunch—orbited him, unable to escape the palpable gravity of the bubbles.
Kris began to wave the wand in larger circles, to run, trailing a stream of bubbles. The children pranced, laughing and squealing, under the shimmering orbs as they glided up toward the glass ceiling. Kris was unable to keep from giggling right along with the kids. He ran back through his bubbles, slapping at them with the wand, causing the kids to shriek with delight. The bubbles formed a gleaming cloud around them. Bubbles on clothing, bubbles in hair, bubbles, bubbles everywhere.
Shay watched the rainbows swirl on the surface, followed the soap-sacs as they drifted up, up, and finally burst against the glass. For all the joy around her, all she saw was that death, the final gasp and pop of the bubble against the wall that divided picture of sky from sky.
• • •
Marco scarfed his lunch so he would have a few extra minutes to sneak down and make his pitch to the douches in the basement before being hauled back into his indentured servitude. He’d been assigned to construction. A kid who’d never hammered more than a birdfeeder together was being asked to build wood frames for showers. More importantly, the showers were going to be built in the goddamned parking garage. Apparently, it was the only place with proper drainage.
This presented Marco with an ideal argument for why Mike should move with Marco to a more central location. After last night’s terror in the hallways, he knew he would not survive without having Mike nearby at all times.
The problem was that there was little chance that the showers would be built anywhere near the closet where he’d stashed Mike and the others. Marco could only hope that the construction would be noisy enough to scare them into moving. Perhaps Marco should suggest that security might start taking an interest in the parking garage in general, given its usefulness in the shower department. That might convince Mike.
Of course, this left the problem of what the hell to do with them aboveground. But Marco would think of that later. First things first: Convince douches to leave basement.
Marco emerged from the service stairwell into the black of the garage near the closet. From the complete blackness of the wall, he guessed that the lights were not on in the closet. Could the douches still be asleep? He felt around until he found the handle, then knocked. No answer. He knocked again. Nothing. “Guys, it’s Marco,” he said, then again, louder. Still nothing.
He quickly prayed that Mike would not shoot him in the head and opened the door. He heard a fart, then a snort. Marco flipped on the light.
Both Mike and Drew were passed out. An empty handle of vodka rested next to its half-empty twin between their prone bodies.
“Mike?” he said. “Hello, Mike?” He kicked Mike’s sneaker.
“Wha?” Mike winked an eye. “Turn the freaking lights off, dickhead.”
“It’s noon,” Marco said.
“Who gives a rat’s ass?” Drew rolled over, pulled his shirt over his head.
“You need to move out of here.” Marco was going with the direct approach.
“Like hell,” Mike said. He shuffled up on his elbows and squinted at Marco from under the visor of his hand. “You said this was the safest place to hole up.”
“That was before they decided to build showers down here.”
Mike dropped his head back and uttered a string of barely comprehensible profanity. Then, as if seeing the room for the first time, asked, “Where’s Ryan?”
“Bathroom?” Marco suggested.
“Go check,” Mike said.
“I’m not your errand boy,” Marco said.
“Actually, that’s exactly what you are,” Mike said, pushing himself to standing. “That’s our deal—you help us hide and survive, we help you not get killed.” He walked to the door, only wavering slightly, and scanned the darkness outside. “Shrimp!” he barked. No reply echoed back across the garage. Mike punched the door frame. “I’ve got to find him,” he said. He knelt by the food box, dug around, then emerged with a bottle of Sportade and started sucking the red liquid down.
This was not good. Mike was sure to get himself into some altercation with the guards. This would not only get Marco into trouble with the senator, it would jeopardize his only means of protection in the mall.
“I’ll look for
him,” Marco said.
Mike finished the bottle and wiped his mouth with his forearm. “I thought you weren’t my errand boy.”
“I can’t afford to let you get caught.”
Mike nodded. “What about this shower situation?”
“They’re going to start putting stuff together this afternoon. Just lay low and I’ll find you somewhere new to hide out.”
“With more booze,” droned Drew from the floor, “and girls.”
Mike glanced at Drew and shook his head. “Just find somewhere out of the way,” he said.
• • •
Kris trotted to where Shay was sitting under a potted tree, bubble wand hanging by his side. “I cannot keep up with these kids,” he said, flopping beside her. “You have to take a turn.” He held out the wand.
“You’ve only been at it for an entire hour,” Shay said. “I think you’re selling yourself short.”
“Well, I do love me some bubbles.” He stood up. “But you have to stop moping or I’m telling them that you sing Raffi songs if tickled.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Shay said, slapping at his calf.
“Oh, try me,” he said, holding his hands up. “I give you five seconds and then you will be a target.”
Shay felt a smile pinch her cheeks. Weird, how you could smile but still feel wretched. And then she saw him: Ryan was behind the counter of the Magic Wok. And then he wasn’t. Where had he gone? He couldn’t disappear again. She jumped to her feet and bolted toward him.
“You didn’t have to run!” Kris yelled after her.
“Ryan?” Shay said, slamming into the counter.
He stood slowly, emerging from behind the wall of glass. He looked ragged and tired and his chin bore the scraggly beginnings of a beard, but god, he was beautiful. The most beautiful thing she’d seen in days.
“You’re okay,” he said.
Shay hitched herself up onto the counter and slid over into his waiting arms. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.
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