4:00 P.M.
Miranda’s not the only one desperately making for Culpeppers. Ahead of her, the rich girl and the injured busboy are also heading for the store and the slowly lowering metal security shutter. The top of one of his pant legs is already dark and shiny with blood. His arm is looped over the girl’s shoulders. As thin as she is, she is somehow half carrying him.
How close are the men with guns? Miranda looks back over her shoulder. Parker’s in the same spot underneath the escalator, spinning in frantic circles with his hands outstretched. He’s stopped yelling “Moxie!” but it’s clear he’s still looking for his little sister. If Miranda didn’t already know it was Parker, if she hadn’t seen him just fifteen minutes ago, she would not recognize him now. His mouth is wide and turned down at the corners, his face streaked with tears.
When her eyes focus past Parker, Miranda freezes. On the far side of the food court, one of the killers is coming down the escalator. Instead of running down the steps, he stays on his stair as it descends, as calm as a casual shopper. A casual shopper with an automatic rifle in his hands. He’s dressed all in black, including a black ski mask with holes for his eyes and mouth. He’s like a bug or a monster. Or a terrorist.
Is that what they are? Terrorists?
Over his clothes, he wears something like a short black apron with narrow, deep pockets holding red rubbery bricks with wires coming out of them. After a beat, Miranda’s brain supplies the term. It’s a suicide vest.
The escalator is otherwise empty, but at the bottom there’s a pile of three or four bodies. One of them, a woman with curly black hair, is still moving. Her legs churn weakly against the red-streaked linoleum.
Without any hurry, the man raises his rifle and fires. Her limbs jerk and then stop.
The shot breaks the spell that has held Miranda. She has to get out of here! The killer’s gaze is still focused in front of him. He isn’t looking her way. Not yet. But in a minute he’ll turn. He will turn his head and he will see her and he will kill her.
She’s just ten feet from Culpeppers. Ten feet from the metal shutter that might save her. The shutter that is already down to chest level as the busboy and the rich girl duck underneath it.
Still, Miranda turns back, ignoring the voice in her head screaming she’s a fool. She sprints toward Parker and yanks his wrist, spinning him toward her. “Come on!” she says, her voice an urgent whisper that barely competes with the shrill ringing of the fire alarm. “Before he sees us.”
He resists, but she tugs harder, her eyes on the gunman, who is stepping off the escalator.
Instead of following her, Parker gasps. Not in horror, but in something closer to joy. He’s spotted something in the hall with the locked doors that Miranda just abandoned. He tears his wrist from her grasp and races away.
Miranda turns back toward Culpeppers. The metal roll-down shutter is almost to the floor now. All she can see are knees and feet. And one head and a beckoning arm. It’s the guy who whistled, his face contorted. He’s not making any sound, but Miranda can read his lips.
He’s mouthing “Hurry!”
A foot from the rattling shutter, Miranda throws herself on her belly and rolls underneath.
Just before it closes.
4:01 p.m.
DISPATCH: All units, be advised, reports of active shooters inside Fairgate Mall. Possibly at the food court. 68 and 53, respond.
UNIT 68: 68 copy.
UNIT 53: 53 copy.
DISPATCH: One reporting party is a security officer on-site with access to cams. I’ve got ambulances en route.
UNIT 68: Confirm shooters still on scene?
DISPATCH: Affirm. First RP reports they’re still inside, multiple shots fired. Second report, from the security guard, is at least eight, probably male, unknown race, black clothing, possible AR-15s.
UNIT 53: What about the other security guards?
DISPATCH: RP says they’re down.
UNIT 68: Notify SWAT for call out.
DISPATCH: Affirm. SWAT’s been notified.
UNIT 68: 68 on scene.
DISPATCH: Copy.
UNIT 53: 53 about two blocks away.
UNIT 68: I’m at the south side, 53. Dispatch, we’re gonna need more units. There’s at least five exits on this side, and there’s people pouring out of them. But I’m not hearing any gunshots.
DISPATCH: Copy. All available units, respond to the Fairgate Mall.
UNIT 43: 43 on my way.
UNIT 41: 41 about ten minutes out.
UNIT 68: [shouting in the background] I’ve got at least three who’ve been shot, but there’re hundreds of people just running around. We need more cars. We need to set up a perimeter.
DISPATCH: Copy. I have 43 and 41 and who else?
UNIT 45: 45 just entering the property.
UNIT 14: Unit 14 en route from the substation.
UNIT 77: 77 on the way, but traffic’s congested on 26.
UNIT 115: 115 is on I-5, but it’s backed up as well.
DISPATCH: Any plainclothes responding, make sure you have your raid gear on.
UNIT 53: [moans in the background] This is 53. I’ve got at least five more injured in the parking lot. One male with chest wound appears critical.
DISPATCH: Copy. Fire is responding.
UNIT 68: Call Tigard, Beaverton, Oregon City, Salem, Vancouver, and anyone else for additional support. We’re going to need everyone we can get.
DISPATCH: Copy.
UNIT 45: I got another person outside shot, a female in the leg. We need rescue hot.
DISPATCH: 45, your location?
UNIT 45: East side of the mall on foot.
DISPATCH: Copy, 45. We’ll alert rescue.
UNIT 14: [sirens in the background] 14 on-site, west side. No gunshots heard.
DISPATCH: Confirm, no gunshots heard?
UNIT 14: Affirm. Not since my arrival.
UNIT 68: 68. The shooting appears to have stopped. I’ll assume command. Have fire stage in that old Sports Authority lot. It’s freestanding, on north side of mall. I want at least eight units establishing a perimeter and controlling traffic. For now, command is in front of Nordstrom on south side. Nordstrom opens directly into the food court.
DISPATCH: Copy.