“Sorry,” said the boy. “Mine are dead too. People thought they started the war.”
Her heart sank. “People suck.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” muttered Cliff. As if forgetting he still had a gun out, he glanced at it, then stuffed it in a hip holster.
“We’re not safe here. The gang’s getting bigger, and scarier. It’s just me and my kid sister.”
Cliff waved his hand around by his throat. “You talkin’ about those jackasses with the blue scarves?”
She nodded.
“Yeah… I can see why you’d wanna get the hell away from them.” Cliff winced. “Those boys would, umm, yeah.”
The former mall guard hadn’t meant anything inappropriate, but he’d called attention to her looks all the same. Dad always joked that he bought the shotgun because he had a pretty, blue-eyed, redhead daughter. She didn’t need the reminder of why letting the gang find her would be a bad idea. Of course, Dad liked guns. He would’ve bought the Mossberg anyway. Madison didn’t mind guns. Neither did Harper really. She’d grown up with them, learned to shoot young, won some trophies even, but she hated the very idea of hunting. Madison had gone vegetarian three years ago. Even she thought going to the range for target shooting had been fun, though she never wanted to shoot an animal—or a person.
“You want a hand getting to Evergreen?” asked Cliff. “S’pose me and Jon could help make sure you two make it there in one piece.”
Harper narrowed her eyes. “What are you gonna ask for in return?”
“Nothin’, kid.” Cliff shook his head. “You’re a kid and I’m a trained professional. That’s just how stuff is supposed to work.”
Something clattered to the floor in the Hot Topic, but Madison didn’t yell in alarm, so Harper resisted the urge to dash over there.
“Trained professional?” She raised one eyebrow. “You’re a mall cop.”
Cliff laughed. “Wasn’t always. I thought this job would come with fewer bullets flying my way. Mostly, that was true. Though, past couple days, seems I was wrong. ’Course, they’re flying everywhere these days.”
“Since when do mall cops have guns?”
He grinned. “Not supposed to carry on duty, but I keep one in my truck.”
She looked down at her feet, well under water. It would be nice not having to do all the protecting. “Okay. That would be really cool of you to help us get to Evergreen.”
“Not a bad cannon you’ve got there. What’s that a 930?”
“Umm. Yeah, I think so.”
Cliff leaned closer, eyeing the shotgun. “Yeah. Semi-auto, right? That’s gotta be a 930.”
She shrugged. “Guess so. Umm… Be right back.”
Harper sloshed across the hall into the Hot Topic. Thousands of little plastic baubles floated like a layer of pond scum, clinging to a glass counter, various toys, collectables, and other kitsch in various states of drowned. A few electronic items had scorch marks from the EMP, as did the cash register and the walls behind flat panel TVs.
Madison knelt atop the counter, clutching an armload of cheap jewelry, everything from skulls to pixies she’d rummaged from a bin beside the register. “Can we get these?” She held up a pair of plastic unicorn earrings. “I left my allowance at home.”
“Yeah, it’s fine. There’s no more money. Just take them.”
For the first time in two weeks, Madison’s face finally showed a hint of emotion: worry. “But, Harp!” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s a mall cop. I can’t like steal right in front of him. I’ll get in so much trouble.”
“It’s fine.” Harper grabbed a purple-and-black backpack from a shelf and transferred her sister’s haul of cheap jewelry into it before handing it over. “Take whatever you want, but you have to carry it.”
After a long, worried stare, Madison accepted the backpack. She hopped down and added a couple more things, including a few adult-sized T-shirts. After collecting the plastic bag of toilet paper, toothpaste, and soap, she followed Harper out of the store, wading over to where Cliff and Jon waited.
Cliff led them back upstairs to a TGI Fridays at the corner of a large four-way atrium. He stooped to unlock a rolling security gate. Two large front windows stood on either side of it, packed with tables in makeshift barricades. A few cracks and pieces of missing glass frightened and reassured her in equal measure. People had tried to break in, but couldn’t.
Harper twisted to scan their surroundings, unnerved by this place being so damn quiet. Two dark concourses led off along the length of the mall in opposing directions with a pair of smaller hallways heading for the sides. Dead escalators, half-assembled Halloween decorations, and a vast mess created by looters stretched as far as she could see into every passage. Any one of the shadows where the skylights couldn’t reach might hold dangerous people—not the holiday shopping rush that should be going on in November.
At the rattle of the security gate going up, Harper pulled her gaze off the ruined mall, sighed, and ducked into the restaurant. Once everyone made it inside, he closed it again. Jon hurried down an aisle of booth seats, grabbing the last one so he didn’t slip and fall while rounding the corner. She followed him to a section they’d made something of a home out of where hanging sheets served as walls, creating bedrooms of cots and sleeping bags. Madison, iPhone clutched to her chest, padded along behind her.
Cliff walked up to stand beside Harper, gesturing at everything. “Figure we’ll leave first thing in the morning so we have the most daylight, plus some time to pack provisions. Might as well get comfortable. I’ll whip up some food.”
The boy stepped behind a sheet ‘wall.’ A second later, his soaking wet shorts hit the floor.
Madison strolled over and sat in a padded booth seat, swinging her feet back and forth as though they’d simply gone out for lunch and nothing at all terrible had happened to the world.
Jonathan emerged from behind the sheet wall, having changed into a dry Nike T-shirt and cargo shorts, with a blanket draped from his shoulders. He still didn’t have any shoes, but seemed much less skittish than he’d been earlier. He flashed a weak smile while going by on the way to the booth where Madison sat, and climbed up into the opposite bench before offering her another blanket.
Harper stood there staring at her wet jean legs and bare feet for a little while before taking a seat on the end of the bench next to her sister, resting the shotgun across her lap. A moment later, she second-guessed herself and checked the safety. I can’t believe this is real. Two months ago, her biggest fear had been Renee and Christina dragging her to a Taylor Swift concert. Not that she had anything against the music, but crowds bugged her. Harper hated being out among so many people.
I am the anti-redhead. Introvert Prime.
“Hey,” said Jonathan. “It’s cool to have another kid around. What’s your name?”
For the most part, the girl ignored him as he kept trying to start a conversation, but after about five minutes, she finally said, “I’m Madison. My phone needs a charge. I’m worried about my friends.”
“I miss my friends, too,” said Jonathan. “Glad I found Mr. Barton.”
“I’ve gotta go to dance class at five.” Her kid sister spoke in that same, toneless, far-away voice that stabbed Harper like an ice dagger. “Mom’s gonna pick me up. I can’t call her ’cause my stupid phone won’t turn on. I don’t even know what time it is.”
“Oh, that’s cool.” Jonathan again tried to hand her the second blanket. “I took dance, too. It was kinda weird being the only boy there, but I liked it.”
Madison looked up from the dead screen. “You didn’t go to Taekwondo?”
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Why, ’cause I’m Chinese?”
“No. Because you’re a boy. My dance class didn’t have any boys. We had one for a couple days, but his father came in and got mad, made him go home.” She resumed staring at the blank iPhone. An awkward silence hung between them for a moment. “I think it’s pretty cool you
took dance.”
“Yeah, I got teased for it, but I don’t care. I liked it.”
Madison almost smiled. She set the iPhone down on the table long enough to grab the blanket and wrap herself in it.
Harper exhaled with relief. She watched the restaurant entrance while the kids talked about their dance classes, comparing how the teachers differed. Her mind filled in the ghosts of shoppers wandering back and forth. Cliff returned after a while carrying a tray and handed everyone a plate with a burger and fries. Madison stared at the plate with a horrified expression, but sniffed, then calmed. She picked up the burger and sniffed at it again. Satisfied, she nibbled at it.
“How’d you cook this?” asked Harper. “There’s no power anywhere in Lakewood. We’ve been eating out of cans.”
“That’s true.” He scooted in to sit beside Jonathan. “Mall generators had been working up until a day or three ago when the flood finally killed them. But there’s still wood.”
“Veggie burger,” said Madison, a note of approval in her voice.
“Meat’s gone bad by now.” Jonathan shook his head. “This stuff lasts forever.”
“It’s all chemicals,” said Harper.
“Tasty, delicious, still-edible chemicals.” Cliff winked, and took a big bite. “The fries might be a little stale, but it’s cold enough outside to be a fridge.”
Harper dug in. The veggie-patty gave off a definite twang of wood smoke and the fries had obviously been heated in a pan. However, compared to the cold canned food she’d been surviving on the past few days, it amounted to a feast.
“Well, cars are pretty much toast after the EMP blast.” Cliff finished chewing a bite and shook his head. “Figures. Just paid off my damn truck, too. We’re gonna have to hoof it to Evergreen.”
Harper nodded.
“Dad just got a new Expedition,” said Madison, her unfocused stare boring into her burger like a seer gazing at the depths of a crystal ball. “It’s nice. We can all fit in it and it still smells new. It’s got a sun roof. Do you think Mom will drive it to take me to dance, or will she use her old car?”
Cliff shot a glance over the table at Harper. His eyes seemed to say ‘that poor kid ain’t handling it well.’
Jonathan mouthed ‘wow’ without giving it voice.
Harper looked down. “I need to get Maddie some better clothes. Is there anything left in any of the stores here?”
“Probably. Most of the people who stuck around aren’t interested in kid-sized clothes.” Cliff scratched at his beard. “We can check on that before we head out. Yeah, she’s gonna need somethin’ better than flip flops. And you need shoes.”
“I have shoes. They’re in my bag. Didn’t want them to get wet.”
“Wet shoes suck,” said Jonathan.
“That they do.” Cliff grinned and took a big bite of fake burger.
After they finished eating, Harper helped Cliff sort canned goods in the restaurant pantry. They put food in the ‘take’ pile and stuff like cranberry sauce or gravy aside. She knelt in the kitchen pushing corn and baked beans into piles, wondering how they’d ever manage to carry so much stuff.
Madison approached, holding her iPhone and its charger. “None of the plugs are working. Can we go home?”
Overcome by grief, Harper sank to her knees and wrapped her little sister in a hug.
“I miss Mom and Dad,” whispered Madison. “What if they’re trying to call us? It’s too dark now. It’s after five. Mom didn’t come to take me to dance class. Are they gonna kick me out for missing too many?”
The dam broke. Harper burst into tears and clutched Madison tight, rocking her back and forth.
“I dunno, Termite. I dunno.”
8
After the Blast
Harper snapped awake, stretched out on a booth seat bench. Madison had curled up on top of her for the night, but she’d disappeared. An inch from panic, Harper grabbed the Mossberg and leapt out of the booth, ready to scream.
Flickering light to the left drew her attention. Her little sister sat on the floor a short distance away in a circle with Cliff and Jonathan around a single lit candle. The kids listened to him telling stories about the stupid things a clumsy friend of his did when he’d been deployed in Iraq. Madison almost even smiled, wide-eyed and intent.
The lump lodged itself once again in Harper’s throat. Watching the two of them reminded her of Dad, reminded her of how Dad died because she chickened out and couldn’t shoot a man trying to hurt her. If Dad hadn’t turned to save her, he would’ve been able to shoot the other guy coming in the patio door.
A toxic mood came over her, making her want to lash out at Madison for forgetting their father so fast. That man wasn’t their father. How dare she smile at him and let him pretend to be someone he would never be. Her lip curled in guilt disguised as jealousy, and she narrowed her eyes at the impostor.
The last time she’d seen Cliff, she’d been fourteen and spent two hours handcuffed by one arm to a metal chair in some back room here at the mall. It didn’t matter that she had shoplifted and probably deserved to be arrested. However, Cliff had called her parents instead of the cops… something about not wanting to ruin her future over a crappy pair of overpriced pants. The store manager agreed not to press charges since her mom paid for it. Being grounded for a month beat having a juvenile record.
Okay, so he’s not a dick. Harper sighed out her nose, letting her anger evaporate. I messed up once and got Dad killed. Maddie seems to like this guy. I shouldn’t mess up again. She wept in silence, mourning her parents. With a deep breath, she pushed her sadness back down into a little box. I can cry later. Right now, I gotta get her outta this place.
She didn’t feel much like trying to sleep, nor did she want to interfere with ‘story time.’ Her present mood would only ruin it for the kids. She trudged down the aisle to the restaurant entrance and stood by the table barricade, staring out into the mall atrium. A little moonlight made it past the haze outside, enough that she could perceive the railing overlooking the opening to the ground floor and a hint of a store or two across the way. Nothing moved or made any sound.
The shotgun hung in her grip, heavy as a ball and chain.
Her thoughts drifted to her former home, her bedroom full of clothes, posters, and stuff. She pictured the little figurines her mother had gotten her for Christmas a few years ago. They’d probably still be sitting on her dresser around a couple small trophies she got from soccer like eight years ago. Not that she’d been that good a player, but her team won. The concrete chunk that smashed a hole in her ceiling didn’t hit the dresser, but it took out her TV and Xbox.
She leaned against the tables, trying not to cry as her head filled with memories of sitting at home playing video games, talking with her friends on the phone, dreading homework… how she’d been so anxious about her driver’s test to get a full license she couldn’t sleep. It all seemed so stupid now. No government existed to care about licenses anymore, nor did any cars still work. A mere two months ago, everything had been so different. Starbucks running out of ‘skinny’ mocha syrup had been a tragedy.
All the stuff in her room, she’d run away from it without a second thought. Some of it had memories attached to it, little gifts from her friends, photos, stuff Madison had made for her like that paper flower. Those things—and clothes—she missed, but not for the items themselves as much as the sense of normality they brought.
Harper closed her eyes, apologizing to the universe for ever complaining about having to go to school, or study, or work, or do any of the annoying things she used to hate so much. Please let me wake up from this nightmare. I swear I’ll never bitch about anything ever again.
The murmur of Cliff’s voice in the background didn’t go away.
She opened her eyes to the same ruined mall, the same shotgun in her hands. It had really happened. Idiots had blown the world back to the Stone Age. Worry about getting into a good college gave way to worry about living to
see tomorrow. Not wanting to wear something because her friends would make fun of it had become not wanting to freeze.
I’m not dreaming.
She really had hidden in the basement with her parents and sister, terrified at all the horrible noises going on outside. The low, building roar of the distant explosion would forever be burned into her memory, the same way the silhouettes of some people had been burned into buildings. A brilliant flash invaded the basement windows as her family huddled low to the ground. A moment later, the glass shattered amid fierce winds and a distant growling rumble. The rain of pelting debris came next, persisting for what felt like hours.
We should’ve stayed in the basement.
About a week after the blast, Dad decided everyone could go back upstairs and live in the house like normal people instead of ‘basement trolls.’ If they hadn’t done that, her parents would still be alive. The gang might not have even targeted their house. She still didn’t know if they searched every house looking for canned goods or if they wanted to grab people. If they’d been hunting for resources, they would have invaded the house anyway, but at least being in the basement would’ve made it easier for defense: one point of entry. Harper wouldn’t have been put in a situation to choose between killing someone or just standing there and being shot.
It struck her that she tried to blame Dad for his own death by moving them out of the basement. Guilt brought more tears, though she kept them quiet, pretending to be standing ‘guard duty’ at the door instead of sulking off alone. Her father died because she couldn’t kill a bad guy.
Footsteps scuffed up behind her. She tensed her grip on the shotgun and glanced back. Upon seeing Cliff, she exhaled and resumed staring out at the dark mall.
“Hey,” said Cliff, barely over a whisper. “I’d ask ‘you okay’ but that seems like a pretty stupid question.”
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