Even through the mist of sick and crazy the girl was giving off, Lexi could tell she was gorgeous. Much prettier than Lexi. But wasn’t everyone?
“I can’t really check people in,” Lexi said. “There’s a guard.”
“I’m not waiting,” the guard said, and left.
The girl kept sweeping the room with her eyes.
“I guess I can just tell him when he gets back,” Lexi offered.
The girl glanced at her. “It looks safe,” she said. “Is it safe?”
Lexi shrugged. “Compared to what? We’re in a mall with a lethal virus.”
The girl was not amused. “What do I do? Just find somewhere to sleep?”
Lexi checked the list. The guard had left his clipboard on the counter when he went to the bathroom. Maddie had said she had to go too, and would he show her where they were? That had been like a half hour ago. It did not take much imagination to picture what had caused the intervening delay. The guard had been on the “youngish and cutish side”—Maddie’s words.
“You’re cot number fifteen-twenty. That means first floor. Look for a cot with a five-twenty on it.” Lexi reached under the counter, where perfumes had once been stored, by the smell of it. “Here’s a nightgown.”
The girl took what looked like a nightie Laura Ingalls Wilder would have donned on the prairie.
“And here’s some soap, hand sanitizer, a mask, and I think a toothbrush?” Lexi passed a plastic bag across the glass.
“Thanks,” the girl mumbled, taking the items and stuffing them into her shoulder bag. She all but tiptoed into the store, head turning this way and that, as if watching for ghosts haunting the empty cosmetics counters. For all Lexi knew, they were—who knew how many had died in this very spot?
The question having been posed, Lexi realized she now possessed the power to answer it. In front of her, on her laptop, was a database of the entire population of the mall. Her father had set up an intranet linking Lexi’s laptop with a server in the mall offices. He had entered all the names from the med center himself instead of letting Lexi do it—some lame attempt at preserving people’s privacy or something. All she had to do was run a search for all the entries that had not been checked in to one of the Home Stores or the medical center and she would get—one thousand five hundred and thirty-five.
ONE THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FIVE?
Her father must not have finished entering his names. No way there were over one thousand dead. First of all, where would the Senator have put them?
Maddie trotted back to the counter. “What’d I miss?” Her shirt was disheveled. Her cheeks were flushed. Her face mask hung like a necklace around her neck.
“You know, my mom made an announcement about minimizing contact to prevent the spread of disease.” Lexi canceled her search, erasing the impossible number.
Maddie poked her in the arm. “But I already had the disease, so that rule totally does not apply to moi.” She winked at the guard as he passed to begin shutting the security gates.
Lexi rolled her eyes and closed the laptop. “I’m going to check on our new home.”
Maddie brushed her hands over her shirt. “Excellent. I want to use the bathroom.” She replaced her mask.
“You just came from the bathroom.”
“Oh,” she said. “Right.” She laughed. No, cackled. Lexi was not sure how to respond, so she kept silent.
Their cots were on the second floor in what had been an evening gown display. Lexi had pulled rank and gotten them these digs. The area was a small bubble off the main floor, offering them an iota of privacy, something the rest of the floor lacked. There were two other cots in the space, both occupied by older women who were already prone and staring at the ceiling.
Lexi had left her assigned Ziploc bag and pajamas on the cot closest to the wall. Maddie had moved both one cot over, giving herself the cot next to the wall.
“You moved my stuff,” Lexi said.
“Is that okay?” Maddie asked. She grabbed her stuff and sashayed out of the bubble.
It was okay, Lexi guessed. But Maddie should have asked. Maybe she’d thought it was someone else’s stuff? No, Maddie had seen Lexi’s assigned paisley boxer pj’s after dinner check-in. Whatever. It didn’t matter. One cot was as good as the next. And it was better than sleeping with her parents in the mall offices. That was the message the Senator had relayed after dinner via the guard’s walkie-talkie. “Please ask my daughter if she would please sleep up here with her parents.” Just the words every girl longs to hear. She told the guard to reply in the negative.
Lexi grabbed her stuff and headed for the dressing rooms. There were lines for the bathroom and she wanted out of this hairy nightmare sweater ASAP.
• • •
Shay sat on the cot marked 520. There were far too many people in this room. The nearest cot was a mere foot away and the woman on it was already snoring.
The guard had closed the security gate over the exit to the rest of the mall. Was this supposed to make her feel safe? She felt trapped, caged. There was no running back into the mall through the front entrance. To escape, she was going to have to go out the back.
As if to emphasize the prison aspect, a security guard stalked by her cot, stun baton swinging beside his leg and Taser in its holster. There were only a few guards. After Lights Out, it wouldn’t be hard to sneak by them. Shay tried to memorize the path from her cot to the stockroom door. Once she was in the stockroom, she could use her key-light to find the service door. After that, she was home free. She would fetch Preeti from the med center under cover of darkness and then hide out in a nearby stationery store until morning, at which point she would find Marco and they would hole up in some back-room fortress until the government decided to open the doors.
Now the only difficulty was the waiting. She did not know how long she had until Lights Out. How to kill the time? She went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth. Some other women were washing with wet paper towels, splashing water over their faces and hair. Shay decided to follow suit. She bent over her sink and tried to get her hair under the faucet.
“It’s easier if you use your Ziploc bag like a bucket,” the woman next to her said. “If you want, you can use mine.” She held out her plastic bag.
The woman had a nice face. She looked old, but not Nani old.
“Thanks,” Shay managed, and took the bag.
The woman returned to running her fingers through her mane of brown hair. Shay wondered if the bag was okay—was the woman infected? It was too late now. Shay filled the bag, added some soap, and doused herself, then passed it back to the woman. Only afterward did she realize that she’d failed to remove her T-shirt, the top quarter of which was now soaked. She would have to change into the wretched nightgown she’d been given: red plaid with small blue flowers and a lace-trim collar. It fit her about as well as a garbage bag and was only slightly more comfortable. The fabric was a weird polyester that crinkled with her every motion. She left her jeans and boots on.
Another fifteen minutes were consumed in the finger-combing and braiding of her hair. Shay contemplated hacking the mess off, but the mere idea of losing her hair brought tears to her eyes. She found a stray elastic in her bag and wrapped it around the end of the braid.
The lights still glared down at her. There was more time left to kill.
The notebook found its way into her hands. She flipped it open. She clicked the pen light on and off, on and off. No words came. Normally, she couldn’t write fast enough, the words poured so rapidly from her brain. Nothing. She put the pen tip on the page, wondering if mere proximity would inspire, but no. Still nothing. Her words had died.
She closed the journal and dropped onto the cot, which was a mistake, as the thing was barely softer than the cement floor. Her head throbbed. She closed her eyes and c
oncentrated on the pain. At least in it there was something to hold on to.
• • •
“Pass the crackers,” Ryan said into the black. Mike had ordered the lights be left off to keep their hiding place inconspicuous.
A bag hit him in the side of the head.
“Nice aim,” he grumbled, rubbing his cheek. His head could not withstand much more abuse.
“I am like a freaking laser guided missile, J.S.,” Drew said from somewhere off to Ryan’s right. He sounded drunk. Ryan wondered how many handles of vodka the two had stowed away and whether there was anything of a non-alcoholic variety available. He was not going to risk a flu relapse by getting hammered.
Munching stale saltines, Ryan contemplated his options for reconnecting with Shay. He could sneak out tomorrow during a bathroom break and try to locate her in the med center again. Maybe just seeing him would be enough to bust up whatever she had going with Marco. Taco had said she’d come to him for help. I can help her now.
The thought made him laugh. How could he help anyone from a dark closet in the parking garage? And what, was he going to propose that she live with the three of them in this tomb? He wasn’t even sure he’d make it through the night. The floor was cold and kind of wet, and the air smelled of exhaust fumes and was thick with dust.
Plus, would Marco retaliate if Ryan made a move for her? Not like things could get much crappier. He could move them to an even dirtier hole in the parking garage, but Ryan doubted such a place existed. He could rat them out to security, but if he hadn’t done that already, it seemed unlikely. Mike had mentioned something about them watching out for Marco. Maybe the weasel needed them more than he needed to keep Ryan away from Shay.
Ryan’s brain throbbed. He was not known for his strategizing skills off the field. Ryan’s plan was just to be nice enough to people, to pass his classes, and generally not make any waves outside of the football arena. Mike was the guy who was always running some scheme. Maybe he could help with Shay?
It would have to wait. Ryan’s head was killing him. He pulled the pill bottle from his pocket and decided to take two. Whatever they were, they had to help. His head couldn’t feel any worse.
“I need a drink,” Ryan said, palming the pills.
“I’ve got a bottle of joy juice with your name on it.” Mike’s voice sounded like it was coming from the floor. Was he already flat-on-his-back drunk?
“Anything of the less flammable variety?”
“You can’t light vodka,” Drew mumbled, like Ryan was such an idiot for not knowing this.
“Water,” he said, growing more tired of this stupid plan by the second. “Do we have any water?”
“You need Bacardi 151, something serious,” Drew continued.
“Shut up,” Mike drawled. “Any drink you make, I can light it. You just have to hold the freaking lighter over the glass for more than two seconds.”
“Like you know anything.”
“Like you know anything.”
Ryan slapped the pills into his mouth and choked them down with spit alone. He curled up on the gross floor, head on his duffel, and prayed that whatever he’d just taken didn’t kill him. This could not be how he lived for the rest of his potentially shortened life. There had to be a Plan B. Plan A sucked.
• • •
The line for the bathroom was no shorter when Lexi emerged from the dressing rooms in her boxers and T-shirt. It snaked around the perimeter of the sales floor. The women in line chatted with those seated on cots. Everyone seemed happy, some even laughed, like it was okay to joke around again. The mall, well, the JCPenney felt safe. Like no one would leave a girl trapped under a corpse beneath a pile of garbage ever again.
Even with all the women using it, the bathroom was relatively clean. One girl tossed her paper towel into the trash only to miss. Instead of walking away, she trotted over and put the crumpled sheet into the bin. It was like people cared again. Had Lexi’s mom actually pulled this thing off?
“Hi.”
Lexi had just splashed water on her face, so it took a second for her to wipe her skin dry and address the person belonging to the voice. She knew who it was, though. It was undoubtedly Ginger Franklin’s tremulous warble.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Ginger twisted a strand of her hair around a finger.
Ginger had a bruise on her cheek. Lexi did not really care how she got it.
“No thanks to you,” Lexi said.
Ginger looked like she was tearing up. Good.
“I’m really sorry,” Ginger said. “I was just so scared. I don’t want to die in here.”
“Really? Because everyone else is totally lining up for the chance to kick it in the Gap.”
“I suck, I know it. What can I do to make it up to you?”
“Go away.” Lexi turned back to the mirror and dug the mini toothbrush out of her bag.
Ginger wiped her eyes with her hand. “I never took you for a mean girl,” Ginger said.
“No, you only took me for a loser you could use and then abandon.”
“I never took you for a loser.” Ginger disappeared from Lexi’s mirror.
Lexi didn’t need Ginger. Ginger had bailed when Lexi needed her most. When her supposed best friend needed her most. Friends like that were no friends at all. Still, Lexi felt like a jerk. She wasn’t used to being pissed off at anyone except her mom. Her computer nerd friends, or friend, really—Darren and her, they never fought.
Lexi allowed herself to wish Darren were here. Yes, it was kind of a death sentence, but it would have been great to have had one of her people stuck in here with her. Darren would have been the perfect partner for spying on the Senator. Darren would never have ruined everything by calling his dad and starting a riot outside the mall.
Lexi finished brushing her teeth. The fantasy swirled down the drain with her spit. She was trapped in here with one friend who was kind of a bitch and another who was no friend at all. Welcome to your life.
Back at the cots, Maddie was flipping through a magazine.
“They came by with books and stuff,” she said. “I got us a Cosmo and Us Weekly.” She waved two magazines. “Can I take Us Weekly?” It was the one she had in her hands. Lexi nodded.
Maddie went back to reading. “It’s a week old,” she groaned. “I already knew about this breakup.”
Lexi had never even flipped through a Cosmo before. There were lots of skinny white girls in clothes that looked less comfortable than the sweater from hell Lexi had spent the day trapped inside. These were not her people.
“I’m going to walk around.”
“Let me know if you find a copy of Lucky.”
What in the name of jeebus was Lucky? “Roger that,” Lexi mumbled, and made for the stockroom.
L
I
G
H
T
S
OUT
At ten, the lights went black. All of them. The men around Marco grunted—“Hey!” “What the hell?”—and the shrieks of women could be heard from the JCPenney down the hall. The mall speakers bleeped and the not-quite-reassuring voice of the senator apologized and ordered that some lights be left on for safety’s sake. Within five minutes, a fluorescent light buzzed to life somewhere behind Marco’s head.
Marco had preferred the black. He had covert ops to run. Light just made everything that much more difficult.
After storing The Douche Corps in the parking garage, Marco had signed in to the Lord & Taylor, which was where all the unaccompanied men were supposed to live together peacefully. Whoever devised this plan had clearly never been to an all-boys camp. Some total dick had pissed all over the seat of the john Marco had gotten stuck with, and in the time he’d taken to do the round-trip tour through the facilities, some asshole had stolen his pillow
. At least no one had crapped in his cot.
Marco had gone to camp. Once. His parents had signed him up for a community day camp one week, at the end of which all the campers went on an overnight to Bear Mountain State Park. Marco was supposed to share a tent with one of the other kids, but some false claims were made about Marco’s sexual orientation, which prompted the boy to abandon Marco after lights-out to bunk with his friends in another tent. Marco’s solo enclosure was excreted upon at random intervals throughout the night. He listened to the sound of piss spattering on his tent and prayed that the walls truly were waterproof. After each golden shower, there was an explosion of laughter from the other tent signaling the piddler’s return to his partners in pee.
He’d cried. Not like anyone was there to call him a pussy over it. In the morning he packed the tent in its bag, then washed his hands over and over, never really feeling clean. When the bus dropped him off, he informed his parents that he hated camp and didn’t ever want to go again. Money always being an issue anyway, the funds were never again wasted on summer programs.
At least this time, it didn’t matter. He would not be at the mercy of these assholes. He had the key to the entire mall. And he was out of here the second that security guard cleared the area.
• • •
Shay was beginning to regret her plan. Here she was, in some back hallway behind the JCPenney, and there were no lights except the tiny LED on her key and the glowing red of a distant exit sign. Voices echoed down the hall, from where, Shay was not sure, but they scared her. She did not like being alone in this hallway, and definitely did not like the idea of not being alone in the hallway.
Stumbling forward, Shay kept one hand on the wall, the other waving the small light back and forth across the ground in front of her. Knobs on pipes winked at her. Her hand dropped into a doorway and she staggered, falling against the metal door. She fumbled her key ring, which clattered into the black below.
Shay knelt on trembling legs and patted the cement. The echoes were closer now. Or were they simply coming from the other direction?