A nasty smile twisted across Marco’s face. He grabbed Lexi’s face like he was going to kiss her. Her heart pumped violently. But then he let go.
“You’re amazing,” he said, standing like he was going to leave.
“Should we tell my mom?”
“No,” he snapped. “I mean, I’ll tell her. It’s part of our deal.”
“Will I see you tonight?” she asked, her body screaming to have him touch her again.
“What?” He was already gone, she could tell. “Oh, yeah. Tonight. Your office. Be there or be a rhombus.” He waved and jogged out of the room like he had an urgent appointment.
Lexi took stock of her lunch. Crap. It was one thirty; she was late for afternoon work assignment. And she’d stolen from her mother, but only to help someone who was (maybe, hopefully) working on her behalf. She’d almost been kissed and she sort of had a date for tonight. This was all good. Sort of. Assuming not all of it was complete bull. She put the receivers back in the bag she’d stolen, shut down the laptop, and prayed that his lies were truths.
T
W
O
P.M.
Marco had wanted to tell Lexi everything, but when he tried to put it into words, it sounded stupid. That he’d traded protection for use of his escape services with a bunch of assholes, that her mother had blackmailed him into helping her run after-hours parties, that he was the target of every douche with a jones for a beer, that he didn’t even know what decision was the safest bet for himself, that every choice seemed to plunge him deeper into a pile of crap that he had no idea how to dig himself out of. To tell her all that was to admit that he was lost, and he didn’t want her to see him that way. He wanted to be the semi-cool person she—was she deluded? Insane?—thought he was.
He was almost depressed that his lies had fooled her. But not enough to tell her the truth, which was that he feared the gangs in the mall more than her mother. That he was going to negotiate with this old guy alcohol thief for enough booze to keep his skin on his back—at most recent calculation, that would be whatever was required for three parties: Mike & Co., the pendejos, and the no-necks. He would then tell the senator she could find her booze with the pendejos and the no-necks, blame them for stealing the alcohol. And tomorrow, with any luck, he’d be back to managing one set of douches, his douches. He could handle them.
He was about to let himself into the back of the Pancake Palace, but thought better of revealing his possession of the all-access card. Though he was prepared to confront an old guy or two, drunk off their asses, he couldn’t be sure of being able to fight them off if they tried to steal his card. So he knocked. The door didn’t open. He heard voices inside. Never one to be deterred by a locked door, he let himself into the stockroom of the PaperClips, and then walked through the plastic-covered hole in the wall into the Pancake Palace.
Instead of two lonely drunks and a pile of booze, he faced what looked like a functioning bar for off-hours cops. Silver-haired men smoked cigars at the counter and swilled plastic glasses of liquor.
“Who the hell are you?” the one behind the bar asked.
“What the hell is this?” Marco retorted.
The guy stepped out from behind the bar and approached where Marco stood frozen by the wall. “This is none of your business, kid. I suggest you turn your butt around and forget you ever saw us.” He was tall, taller than Marco. And outweighed him by a good fifty pounds.
“I don’t want to make any trouble,” Marco said, attempting some semblance of control. He was good at talking to adults. He could work this. “I just have a couple of college guys riding me for alcohol. I got word that you had some.” He waved his hand at the bar. “Which is obviously the case and I want to negotiate your giving me a keg or three.”
The silver-haired guy huffed a laugh. “Well, aren’t you a pisser? Negotiate? What the hell do you have to negotiate with?”
“What do you need?” This guy had no idea how resourceful Marco could be.
“Snacks,” a guy bellowed from the bar. He was in a security uniform. Marco wondered whether he was here officially or on the down low.
“I can do food,” Marco said. “How about I trade you some food for the three kegs?”
The old guy rubbed his stubble. The man had the look of a used car salesman. If Marco were not facing three separate death threats at the moment, he would have bolted.
The guy held out a hand. “You produce some decent grub, and I’ll give you your kegs.”
It was good enough for Marco. He took the hand, shook it, and got the hell out of there before the guy changed his mind.
• • •
Ryan arrived early at the Magic Wok, so he paced in the kitchen until it was closer to his and Shay’s meeting time. Shay arrived early, skidding over the counter and whispering his name as if knowing he was there.
“Shay,” he said, stepping out to meet her.
She didn’t say a word, merely fell into his arms and pressed her lips to his. He almost gave in to her, to the mesmerizing power of her body, but managed to struggle out of her arms.
“I need your help,” he said.
She looked at him like he was speaking Greek. Then she seemed to come back to herself. “Is something wrong? Is it Marco?”
“No,” Ryan said, grabbing her hand and pulling her into the kitchen in the back, in case that drill sergeant teacher who’d busted him earlier was on the prowl. “It’s a little girl I was helping. Her name is Ruthie and she was taken by security last night. Could you see if she’s here?”
Shay again had that puzzled look on her face. “You came here to ask me to look for a kid?”
“Is that okay? I just need help to get her back to her brother.” Ryan was not sure why this was a problem.
Shay backed away from him until she hit the wall. One hand fidgeted with the sleeve on the other. “Yeah, sure,” she mumbled. “Definitely. I’ll go check.”
“Great,” he said, approaching her. He squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”
She winced a small smile, then ducked back into the front and over the counter. Why was she acting so weird?
• • •
Shay nearly fell to the floor as she slid off the edge of the counter. She’d been pushing herself to survive until this moment, until she could kiss Ryan again, propose their running away together. And he thwarted her. No kissing. Not even a conversation. Just a favor. Like she was a friend, anyone, no one at all. What the hell was going on with him?
She needed to find this Ruthie. Maybe once he knew she was here and was okay, they could pick up from where they’d left off yesterday. Sneak off to his secret lair and just hole up until the end of this nightmare. Yes, all she needed was to solve this Ruthie problem.
“Kris?” She tapped him on the shoulder. She put on her best I’m-normal-and-happy face.
“You’re back early.” He continued his futile attempt to wipe the glitter glue from his hands.
“Do you know if a new girl named Ruthie was registered this morning?”
“I think Ethel Wisse has a Ruthie.”
Shay found Ethel and confirmed that in fact she did have a new student named Ruthie. “She’s a little odd,” Ethel said, pointing to a skinny girl who looked desperately in need of a bath. “We asked her to help with our section of the LEGO city, but she refuses to leave that corner.”
Shay knelt in front of the little girl. “Hi, I’m Shay.” The little girl looked away. Shay smiled wide enough that her face hurt—she knew the wrinkles of her smile showed above the mask when her face hurt. “I’m Ryan’s friend.”
The girl whipped her face around to meet Shay’s eyes. “He’s not my friend anymore.”
She seemed really angry, but little kids were always throwing fits, as Shay had learned after three days of working with them. “He’s he
re and he’s really worried about you. He wants to bring you back to your brother.”
“Where is he?”
Shay was not sure what all the hostility was about, but she led Ruthie to the front of the Magic Wok and pointed. “He’s in there.”
“You abandoned us!” Ruthie was a loud one. “You left us and I got caught and now Jack’s sick!”
People stared. Kris looked at her like she should do something. Shay panicked. What was she supposed to do with a screaming kid?
“Stop yelling,” Shay begged, grabbing Ruthie by the shoulders.
The girl’s face was set in a pout. “He left us,” was all she would say.
A security guard came over. “Who’s the kid screaming at?” he asked, peering into the Magic Wok.
Shay’s pulse shot through the roof. The guard couldn’t find Ryan, she couldn’t lose him now, they were going to escape together!
“No one,” Shay answered, then, reconsidering, “Me.”
The guard, dubious, asked Ruthie, who said, “A bad boy.” She wriggled free of Shay’s hands. “My brother is down in the parking garage in a tan SUV. You have to go find him and rescue him.”
The security guy looked around like he wasn’t sure what to do with the information. “Okay,” he said. “Can you show me which one exactly?”
“Yes,” Ruthie said. “A boy was trying to keep us down there, but I escaped. It was scary down there. And smelled. And we didn’t have any food.” She followed the guard toward the elevator.
Shay couldn’t believe that the girl was talking about Ryan. He kept them down there?
Once the kid was gone with the guard, Shay snuck back into the Magic Wok’s kitchen. Ryan was sitting on the stainless-steel counter, gripping the edge like he might fall off. “Why would she say that?” he muttered.
“She seemed really angry,” Shay offered. “Maybe something happened?”
Ryan glanced at her. “I wasn’t keeping them down there,” he said. “They begged me to help them stay down there. They were scared to leave their car.” He sounded angry, very unlike the Ryan she knew and needed.
“I believe you.” Shay took a step toward him, tried to take his hand. She would bring him back to himself.
He pulled it away from her. “I’ve gotta go,” he said, sliding off the counter.
“Please stay,” she said, trying to control the desperation in her voice.
He didn’t stop or respond, just left through the back door.
She’d failed him. Had to have. If she’d done things right, he would have stayed. This was her fault.
No. That was crazy. It was the little girl’s fault. It was Ryan’s fault. It was this mall’s fault.
Shay slid to the floor. She was suddenly deathly tired. She crawled under the counter, tucked her knees to her chest, and wrapped her arms around herself so her body wouldn’t crack apart.
• • •
Lexi dropped the bag of receivers and laptop in the chair opposite her mother’s desk. “Just a return,” she said.
Her mother looked up from the iPad on her desk. “Why’d you take the receivers?”
“I was helping a mutual friend,” Lexi said. “You never told me you were using teens in the mall as spies.”
The Senator seemed to be trying to grasp exactly what Lexi was saying.
“Marco?” Lexi offered. “He’s helping you?”
Dotty turned off the iPad. “Promise me you won’t go to one of his parties,” she said.
Parties? His parties? “Wait, you know about the parties?” She had figured that anything Maddie Flynn wanted to be a part of was not legal.
Dotty seemed flustered. “Wait, is that not what you’re talking about?”
“How do you know about the parties? And if you know about them, why are they happening at all?”
Mom straightened her lapels. She’d somehow managed to get herself a clean suit every day. “It was a compromise I struck with our mutual friend, Marco. He throws parties for me in designated locations to keep the teens from running wild all over the mall, and security busts them at a designated time. We weed out the sick, and return the rest to their dorms. It’s been working out great.”
Now it was Lexi’s turn to be flustered. “You mean you’re breaking your own rules? People have to wear masks and wash their hands fifty times a day, but after Lights Out you can do whatever you want?”
Her mother shrugged. “Everything in life involves compromise.”
“But only for the teens?” Lexi asked. “Everyone else has to obey the rules?”
“The teens seem to be the only ones who want to break the rules,” Dotty said. “Look, Lex, the plan is working.” She held up the iPad. “Dr. Chen said new admissions are down for a second day in a row, and he’s seeing more people survive the flu. I think we’re finally beating this disease. If we can just keep things going for a few more days, we might be looking at the end of the quarantine.”
Why didn’t this make her feel any better? This plan seemed to just write off her friends. If they wanted to kill themselves, then whatever, let them—that seemed to be her mother’s view.
The Senator took Lexi’s hand. “Just promise me you won’t go to one of those parties,” she said. “From what Hank told me, they’re pretty rough.”
Lexi nodded, not agreeing, but just wanting to get away, to process this information, try to figure out how her mother’s story fit with Marco’s. Why hadn’t he mentioned anything about the parties?
The Senator’s walkie-talkie squealed. “Ross, we have a situation in Shep’s.” Shep’s had been set up as a gym for people to use before breakfast and in the evenings after dinner.
“What kind of situation?” the Senator said, all business. Lexi remained amazed at her mother’s ability to switch modes like a computer.
“You’d better get down here” was the only reply.
Dotty buttoned her jacket. “Excuse me, love, but duty calls.”
“I’m coming with you,” Lexi said. She would not be kept in the dark about what the heck was really going on in this mall for another nanosecond.
“Might as well combine business with pleasure,” Dotty said, wrapping an arm around Lexi’s shoulders.
It was a short walk down to Shep’s, too short. In less than a minute, they arrived at the wide entrance to the store, which offered a clear line of sight through to the back, which sported a rock climbing wall, where five people dangled like punching bags from the ropes. Blue tongues bulged from mouths. One body twitched, her bare feet dancing. Dotty covered Lexi’s eyes, but the one glance had already been too much.
The Senator seemed to swallow her shock in an instant. “Lexi, get back to the JCPenney. Hank, I want a screen set up around this place.”
“Already on it. FEMA warned us about the likelihood of crap like this in quarantine situations.”
“Get the bodies down, then reopen the gym. As far as the rest of the mall is concerned, nothing happened.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Lexi couldn’t pull her eyes away.
Her mother grabbed her shoulders. “Please,” she said, shaking Lexi to get her attention. “Go back to the JCPenney.”
Lexi nodded, mute. She stumbled away, not stopping until she found Maddie and Ginger in the garage. She pulled on their plastic-cased limbs. “They’re dead,” she said. “They killed themselves.”
Maddie shook the water from her gloves. “Slow down,” she said. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Lexi told them about the dangling bodies, the dancing feet.
“Well,” Maddie said, sliding off her cap. “I guess we should expect stuff like this.”
“Expect suicide?” Lexi asked.
“We’re basically waiting to die in here anyway,” Ma
ddie said, replacing her hat. “You’ve got to expect some people to take matters into their own hands.”
Ginger sat and leaned against her laundry tub. “It’s a sin, Mad,” she said. “Suicide’s pretty major.”
“Being quarantined in a mall with a deadly flu is pretty major too,” Maddie said, stirring her load.
Lexi slumped next to Ginger, who slung an arm around her.
“It sucks that you had to see that,” Ginger said, her mask brushing Lexi’s forehead. “Were they really just hanging?”
Lexi did not want to remember, but every time she closed her eyes, there they were. “Just hanging,” she said.
“God,” Ginger said, and squeezed her tighter.
F
I
V
E
P.M.
Mike and Drew were on the pinsetter’s catwalk, not in the storage room where Ryan had first looked. Only after having a minor freak-out over them not being anywhere in the bowling alley did Ryan recall the existence of the catwalk and look there. Mike and Drew were huddled near the far wall, knees bent, walkie-talkie on the ground between them. The entire space just inside the door was crowded with what looked like all the remaining food from the fridge.
“We had to consolidate,” Mike said, waving for him to come toward them. “Heard over the walkie-talkie that crews were coming for our fridge, so we cleaned it out and took cover.”
Ryan sat opposite the two of them.
“Where you been all day?” Drew asked.
They were both staring at him, suspicious. “I had this stupid side thing going,” Ryan began, and told them about Jack and Ruthie. About finding them that first day in the car, how they were terrified and how he’d helped them, how in the end nothing he’d done had been enough. “Jack’s sick, flu I think, and Ruthie hates me.”
Drew shook his head. “Kids are such assholes.”
Mike tossed Ryan a can of tomato juice. “You should have told us.”
“I figured you didn’t need another person to take care of,” he said, cracking it open and chugging.
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