by Louisa Lo
“Too smart.” Judith was on a roll.
“Smart or stupid—which is it?” Chelsea asked, trying to stall while she thought of a way to get out of the present situation. There was Emma to think about, and Judith had the key to their only means of getting away.
Mercifully, Emma was silent through the exchange between the grown ups, not drawing any further attention to herself. A quick glance at the little girl showed Chelsea that Emma was staring at Judith with a petrified look on her face, the shoe in her hands being wrung and twisted beyond any hope of bouncing back into shape. Whatever it was that Emma had witnessed while she was inside the Mall, it had given her the good instinct to stay perfectly still.
Thank heaven for that.
“Well, am I too dumb, or too intelligent?” Chelsea asked Judith, “Come on, the insults can’t go both ways.”
Judith shook her head like a rabid dog, a low growl vibrating from her throat as if she was annoyed by Chelsea’s reasoning. Maybe the longer sentences confused her? Her vocabulary and comprehension skills weren’t as limited as the monsters Chelsea had encountered before, but did that mean she wasn’t one of them, or just that she wasn’t fully converted yet?
“Too pretty,” Judith mumbled her earlier words, her eyes looking hungry again as if she was reverting to form, whatever that form was. “Pretty, pretty.”
As Judith’s eyes raked over everything from Chelsea’s Tiffany necklace and Cartier rings to the single shoe still being clutched in Emma’s hands, Chelsea quickly weighed her options.
The old Judith was a delicate flower, but if this new version of her was really one of the Obsessed, then Chelsea would have to assume that her former friend now had the same level of strength as the others she had encountered.
The kind who could tear out a tire rim with her bare hands.
Talking had run its course, while a physical fight seemed impossible to win. What could she do?
Judith smiled again, this time smugly and slowly, leaving no doubt that what Chelsea saw on her teeth was indeed blood. Then Judith hiccupped and spit out something long and toothpick-like, except much thicker. The object hit the ground with a metallic clang.
It was an Alexander McQueen Silver Sword Skull tie bar. Dented from chewing, Chelsea nevertheless recognized it because she’d gotten the exact same one for her ex as a birthday present.
Judith crouched down suddenly, looking ready to lurch, focusing on Emma as her target. Chelsea knew that look. She went on a safari in the Congo with her dad once when she was a child. That was the look of a hungry predator right before it pounced.
Chelsea didn’t remember pushing Emma away from the line of fire with one hand. She didn’t remember leaning down in one smooth motion and picking up a piece of concrete on the ground with her other hand. And she certainly didn’t remember aiming the concrete at Judith. It wasn’t until the concrete left her hand—taking a good layer of skin off her palm in the process—that Chelsea realized what she’d done.
As if having a guidance system of its own, the piece of concrete hit Judith right at the center between her eyes, forcing her head back. A terrible sound of bone-snapping followed, and Judith went down like strings being cut from a puppet.
Chelsea crumpled to the ground in utter shock, bringing Emma with her. Oh dear God, did my one-in-a-million lucky shot actually snap my friend’s neck?
That thought ricocheted around the inside of Chelsea’s head for a full ten seconds while Emma tugged at her hand, to no avail. Then Judith started moving again. With her neck twisted in an impossible angle, she tried to get back up. Whatever injury she had sustained from the impact it didn’t seem to have killed her.
Well, if Chelsea had had any doubts about her friend having been turned into a monster, she had none now.
She should’ve been terrified, but all she could do was spring into action. Some basic instinct told her to get going and keep going, or else reality would sink in and she would be shocked into immobility. She rolled over and picked up the keys that had fallen out of Judith’s hand during her fall, neatly avoiding her as she reached for them. Then Chelsea got up, pulled Emma to her feet, and shoved the little girl inside the Bentley. Once in the driver’s seat, Chelsea turned on the ignition and stepped on the gas.
She didn’t even care which direction she was going, her only thought was to get the hell away from Judith and anyone similar to her.
“Mama!” Emma screamed just when they had cleared Macy’s outdoor parking lot and started going along the road leading toward Nordstrom, passing the huge multi-level parking complex along the way.
Damn. In her frantic state, Chelsea had completely forgotten about her promise to help the little girl find her mom.
Emma pressed the button that rolled down the window and called out again, waving at a stylishly-dressed woman in her early thirties who stood on the pedestrian crossing just ten meters ahead, under the bridge connecting the parking complex and the second-floor mall building. She was holding onto a shopping bag, and looked like an adult version of Emma with the exact same curly chestnut hair. She jumped up and down, waving back at Emma frantically.
Chelsea stopped the car near the woman, but hesitated about unlocking the door. She looked normal enough, but she had her shopping bag in a death grip. Was she simply traumatized, or was she one of the monsters that was doing the traumatizing?
“Emma? Baby?” The woman stuck her head into the window opening at the little girl’s side. “Oh my god, you got us a ride!”
Chelsea made a decision to unlock the door. The woman had responded to Emma having access to a means of transportation, not the fact that it happened to be a pretty pretty car. Looked like she really was Emma’s mother.
The woman got into the back, but before she could close the door three more people jumped out of the dark corner under the bridge, and, like a herd, they all piled into the car. Instantly the back seats were so crowded Chelsea couldn’t even see anything in the rear view mirror except dirty hair and bloodied faces. At least nobody had started attacking her car, or her, so Chelsea assumed they must all be regular humans. There was one tall teenaged girl, one overweight middle-aged man, and one janitor, still in his uniform.
“Hey, this is my car, and I didn’t give you permission to—” Chelsea started complaining.
“Go! Go! Go! Go!” Four voices yelled at her in a desperate chorus.
Then she saw the reasoning behind their urgency.
Half a dozen figures approached the car with wide grins on their faces, literally drooling. The leader, a girl with a nose ring, was holding a gigantic perfume bottle, the ones displayed at the cosmetic counters of department store that obviously didn’t hold any real perfume. Using the bottle as a club, she started smashing the Bentley’s taillights.
Chelsea didn’t bother to check what the other Obsessed were up to. She stepped on the gas.
Chapter Four
Away from Civilization
“Where are you taking us?” Overweight Middle-Aged Man demanded as Chelsea chose the route to the suburbs rather than toward the heart of the city. For an uninvited hitchhiker he certainly seemed comfortable being bossy.
“Away from civilization,” Chelsea replied.
“Why?” he asked. “Shouldn’t we go to the authorities?”
“What authorities? Did you see any at the Mall?” The Janitor, who looked to be in his early sixties, snorted.
“There are fewer brand-name stores in the suburbs,” Chelsea explained. “Hopefully that means less monsters as well. Those back at the Mall are what they called the Obsessed. You know what the stories say.”
Nobody in the car tried to dismiss those stories as simple bogeyman tales. They’d seen too much tonight to not be believers.
Chelsea continued, “Going by the conventional wisdom that they’re attracted to materialistic stuff, it makes sense for us to stay away from urban centers.”
“I still don’t see why we can’t put this to a vote,” Overweight M
iddle-Aged Man huffed. “I have rights, you know.”
“Well, when it’s your car, you can put it to a vote.” Chelsea said sweetly. She was a little irritated by the guy’s challenging tone. She didn’t ask for the extra passengers. And now that the panic was subsiding, her inner germaphobe was cringing at the thought of them—including The Janitor—sitting on her poor, soft, pristine car seats. At least the cleaning man seemed to be on her side.
Overweight Middle-Aged Man grunted and mumbled, “Yeah, if this really is your car.”
She guessed her appearance was rugged and unkempt enough for him to doubt her ability to own a Bentley, let alone recognize her from a tabloid cover. Again, it would be refreshing if it wasn’t so surreal.
“Mama, are you alright?” Emma twisted her small body from the front passenger seat to look at her mother.
“I’m okay, sweetie,” Emma’s Mom replied, then her voice took on an annoyed edge. “But I can’t believe I lost all those shoes I got in the sales. After I paid for them and everything.”
“You already paid?” Emma said in confusion. “But I thought you wanted me to look for these.”
There was a rustle, and from her peripheral vision, Chelsea could see that Emma was leaning all the way toward the back, most likely showing her mom the single Jimmy Choo shoe she had been holding onto. Chelsea dared not take her eyes off the road. While the lights in this area were mostly functional, the visibility was hindered by the mist that had thickened as the night had worn on. She had to concentrate on the road if she wanted to avoid driving into a ditch.
A pause, then Emma’s Mom cleared her throat. “That’s, err, lovely, dear. But I saw something even better and changed my mind.”
There was the sound of a shopping bag being patted.
“Oh,” Emma sounded hurt, and Chelsea’s heart rate sped up. She couldn’t help but feel angry on the little girl’s behalf. If the mother had decided to go for something else, why not look for her daughter first before heading to the check out? Why put the kid to work in such a manner in the first place?
For heaven’s sake, Emma almost died thanks to holding onto that blasted shoe.
Though to be fair, nobody could’ve predicted what had happened. Chelsea forced herself to calm down, realizing that she was projecting her own feelings onto the situation; Emma’s Mom’s stunt was just the kind of thing her own mother would’ve pulled—forgetting all about her own child when she got distracted by something new and shiny, whether it be a handbag or a boy toy.
“You only managed to get one, anyway. It’s not like that’s going to be any use,” Emma’s Mom said casually.
Sure, tell the child what she did wasn’t good enough. How dare she make it sound like losing the other half of the pair was somehow Emma’s fault? There were monsters in the Mall, for heaven’s sake.
“Hey, don’t talk to her like that,” Chelsea said bitingly, her knuckles white around the steering wheel. She longed to have the freedom to turn her face all the way to the back in order to give the mom an evil glare.
Emma’s Mom turned snarky real quick. Perhaps she was defensive because Chelsea was onto something. “When you actually have children one day then you can teach me how to raise my own kid. Just who do you think you are anyway? The Queen of England?”
“Mama!” Emma protested. “That’s not very nice.”
Who am I? Oh, I dunno, just someone who’s in line to become the Queen of England, that’s all. Oh, and also Head of the Commonwealth for North America, South America, Australia, New Zealand, and pretty much the rest of the civilized world.
The woman seemed like the type who would recognize Chelsea—the kind of wannabe who followed every celebrity gossip column and spent way above their means to look like the rich and famous. Yet, just like Overweight Middle-Aged Man, she didn’t know who Chelsea was. For the first time, Chelsea cursed at the inconvenient timing of her newfound anonymity.
However, something was holding her back from lording her position over the commoner for the sake of a cheap shot. Since her instincts had served her well so far tonight, she decided to keep her mouth shut.
Emma’s Mom, however, took Chelsea’s silence as a point of victory. “Thank you!” she said with no small amount of vindication.
It was going to be a long night.
***
Of course, as luck would have it, no sooner did they reach the edge of town than the engine sputtered, and the car slowed to a stop.
“What happened?” The Teenaged Girl, who had been busy playing with her phone and hadn’t spoken a word until now, looked up and frowned.
“We’re out of gas.” Chelsea blew out a breath, banging her forehead on the steering wheel. She had intended to gas up on her way to the Mall, but with everything that had happened, it had totally slipped her mind.
“Great, I should’ve driven off with the fire truck. Bet it had more fuel.” Overweight Middle-Aged Man complained.
That was it. “Sir, maybe my car would’ve gone farther if not for taking on all the extra weight.”
There, take that.
She turned and addressed Teenaged Girl. “Have you come across anything useful in the news feed about what happened back there?”
“Oh, I wasn’t online. There’s no connection.” Teenaged Girl shrugged. “I’ve just been playing games on my phone.”
Great, a real-life disaster, and the girl was using her precious cell charge playing virtual games. But maybe that was her way of dealing with the trauma. Heaven knew Chelsea had done her share of stupid stuff to rebel against the constant media scrutiny.
Chelsea checked her own phone. Yep, she had no bars, either. And before the car broke down, they’d reached an area where there were no more street lights, which Chelsea believed was less about having reached the limit of the city and more about some sort of power cut-off. So the only light source was their cell phones.
By the faint light, she bent down and helped Emma unbuckle her seatbelt. “Guess we’re going to have to walk.”
“Walk?” Emma’s Mom’s voice was sharp. “Can’t we stay inside the car until help arrives? It’s nice and cozy in here.”
Noticing the way Emma’s Mom stroked the soft leather seat, Chelsea resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Sounded like the short road trip had already gotten the woman used to another level of luxury. “No, ma’am. This car is a monster magnet.”
“What did I tell ya, I should’ve gone for the fire truck! It’s not pretty pretty, and I bet it had a full tank of gas!” Overweight Middle-Aged Man cursed as he struggled to get himself out of the vehicle.
Chelsea ignored him and turned her body to address everyone else in the car. She had never been in a position to give anybody instructions before, other than to tell a waiter to bring her more caviar, but she was going to do it now. She was obligated to tell the group what she thought could help them survive. She tried to inject as much authority in her voice as she could. “We’ll continue to move away from the city. Strip everything that’s valuable and leave it in the car. If you care about your life at all, do it. Otherwise we’re going to be attracting the Obsessed like we’re homing beacons.”
She set an example by taking off her Tiffany necklace and Cartier rings. Then she opened her glove compartment and fished out a pair of ballet slippers she wore whenever her feet were killing her. She flung off her Manolo Blahnik pumps and put on the comfy slippers. Teenaged Girl unclasped a chain with a gold heart locket around her neck. With a grimace, The Janitor pulled off the only piece of jewelry he had on—his wedding ring.
By then, Overweight Middle-Aged Man had already taken off, and he may or may not have headed away from the city. It was hard to tell with the darkness surrounding them. In fact, Chelsea would have no idea which direction they should be heading, other than following the direction her car was pointing in.
They hid their valuables in compartments and small spaces all around the car’s interior, although Chelsea knew full well that if the Obsessed managed
to find the car, they would be able to find the rest of the stuff with no problem. Chelsea fumbled her hands around the glove compartment and found the only thing of real value in this situation.
A flashlight.
She pocketed it and got out of the car, then helped Emma out. Teenaged Girl and The Janitor left the car as well. After a brief hesitation, Emma’s Mom followed suit, leaving her shopping bag behind. With one last lingering look at her car, Chelsea started leading her little group onward.
They trekked for what felt like hours, but was probably no more than thirty minutes. Thirsty, hungry, and exhausted, the hilled road wasn’t an easy path. But if Chelsea thought that they would be alone, she was wrong. All along the shoulder of the highway, car after car had run out of gas, some already emptied, some with people climbing out and joining them. It looked as if many people, like her, had the idea of moving away from populated areas.
The growing group trod forward, comprised of shell-shocked people with various scratches and bruises on their bodies. They whispered to each other, old and young, working class and professional. After Chelsea listened for a while, a picture started to emerge.
What had happened at the Mall of Britannia, and to Chelsea on the deserted highway before she got there, weren’t isolated incidents. People from all over the city were talking about being attacked at weddings, opera houses, or even just by strolling on the street. They were targeted by the Obsessed for the various trinkets, brand-named items, and other symbols of wealth they had on their persons. One woman narrowly escaped from a museum exhibit, where rugged gold jewelry from some ancient civilizations was on display.
Some had witnessed people being mutilated and killed right before their eyes, the mutilation and killing being only a by-product of the trinket-grabbing being no comfort to anyone.
No wonder there was such a lack of presence of first-responders at the Mall. They must’ve been stretched to the limit with all the fires to kill—both figuratively and literally.