“We’ve got to get out of here,” I say.
My dad must hear the panic in my voice, as he hurries over and looks in the box.
“You’re right,” he says. “That bomb’s not one of mine. That’s Leon’s. And I don’t know how to disarm it.”
I stand and wipe my hands off on my jumpsuit. Looking in every direction, I see dozens of big, wrapped packages. Maybe hundreds. I bet if I put my head up to each of them, they’d all be ticking.
“What if Matty’s in a different one?” I ask.
My dad shakes his head sadly. “We’ve checked all of them that we could. We’ll try one more thing, but we’ve got ten minutes before we have to be outside, in the car, driving away.” I nod eagerly. “And you get that there are still Cranes in this mall who will shoot you if they can?”
I shrug.
It doesn’t matter. Without Leon to rally them, they’re nothing.
“You remember that whistle I used to call her before?” my dad says, and I nod. “I’m going to do that now. Y’all spread out and get to where you can see and hear as many boxes as possible. If one starts to wiggle, open it. When we find her, we run. But we’re only going to do this once. Thirty minutes is a lot less time than you think it is.”
I’m already running. I haven’t been upstairs yet, so I get to where I can look down on the atrium and see the whole line of boxes, up and down the hall and clustered at every corner. If I were a kid and my mom brought me here to see Santa, it would seem so magical—all these big, bright boxes full of surprises. But now? Jesus. They could all be full of bombs or dead dogs or both. Leon Crane is a monster.
Was a monster.
My dad puts two fingers to his lips and blows one long, high screech of a whistle. In the echoing silence, just after, I strain my ears, praying to hear a tail thumping against cardboard or a happy bark. I clutch my rosary through my jumpsuit. Wasn’t Mother Mary supposed to bring me a miracle? Living through this ordeal isn’t enough. I need my dog, too.
But nothing happens. Not a single one of the boxes so much as ticks. My dad looks at me and shakes his head sadly.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he says.
That’s the last thing he says before the crumpled form of Leon Crane shoots him from the ground.