Having worked in her sexy outfit for half a day, Lexi longed for the comfort of her old tee and hoodie. Her old baggy jeans. Every time she bent over, she felt like some part of her pants was going to split. The pink sweater itched—maybe she was developing a rash. And it seemed to suck in the heat, so she was sweating buckets. Lexi had never felt less sexy.
“Cot number seven million and two, done.” Maddie flopped onto the flat bed, then winced. “I think I’d rather sleep on the floor.”
Lexi found it bizarre how everyone was eager to help; even the whiny girls like Maddie who bitched and moaned still did their assigned job. It was like everyone felt bad about the whole riot thing, and couldn’t we put that behind us and all pretend nothing happened?
After clearing all the clothing from the sales floors into the stockrooms, people asked what they could do next. The guards found new jobs for everyone, assumedly handed down from the Senator, who’d yet to appear in the flesh. Some were given the sucktastic job of cleaning the bathrooms, others the much less smelly job of collating travel-sized toiletries into Ziploc bags, and a few trusted old ladies were given the job of pulling suitable clothes for sleeping from the piles in the stockrooms. Lexi and Maddie were assigned to the largest team, charged with setting up the cots.
Lexi sat beside Maddie. “At least we’re not cleaning the johns,” Lexi said, swabbing her forehead with her sleeve. “I heard that half of them are clogged, with like—”
Maddie put a finger to Lexi’s lips. “Stop. TMI.”
Lexi shrugged. “You said you wanted all the gossip.”
“Not the gross stuff,” Maddie said. “Keep the gross stuff to yourself.” She looked at Lexi like Lexi was the only gross thing in the place.
“Okay,” Lexi mumbled. “No gross info. Check.”
Maddie looked around the room at the other women and girls setting up the cots. There were people of every age, but most looked like they were in high school or college. Lexi held still, waited for Maddie to break the silence.
Instead, her mother’s voice boomed through the space: “For those registered at the Home Stores, dinner will be served in the first-floor courtyard outside the Borderland’s Cantina. If you have not been registered, you will not be served. Please take this opportunity to register at a Home Store. Dinner service will end at seven p.m. sharp.”
Maddie hopped off the cot. “I’m so hungry, I don’t even care what they’re serving.”
Lexi hauled her butt up to follow Maddie, but stopped when she saw her dad, Arthur Ross, hobbling toward her.
“Hey girls,” he said, cheery as ever. “Lex, I finished the database, but now I need help inputting the information collected at the Home Stores. Can I borrow you?”
Lexi’s stomach growled. “Can I start after dinner?”
Her father checked to see if anyone was looking (no—everyone was shoving their way downstairs to grab some grub), then pulled a box of frozen burritos from his satchel. “A special treat for working through a meal.”
Maddie perked right up. “Can I help?” she asked, eyelashes batting. She grabbed Lexi’s arm and gave her a pleading look. “Don’t leave me alone to eat the camping food.”
Maddie could seemingly turn her friendship off and on whenever she liked. A minute ago she’d looked at Lexi like she was no better than the crap being sucked out of the toilets; now she clung to her like they were best buds. But Lexi told herself that she was just being sensitive. Maddie was her friend. They’d been having a great time right up until like five minutes ago.
“Of course I won’t leave you,” Lexi said.
Maddie snatched the box of burritos. “Knew I had you whipped,” she said, kissing Lexi’s cheek. “Now, where’s a micro when you need one?”
After nuking the food, Lexi and Maddie wolfed their burritos as they followed Arthur to the first floor. Dad had a laptop set up on the folding table serving as the entrance to the JCPenney. Beside it sat one of the guards responsible for checking people in.
There was a healthy line snaking away from the counter. It had taken several hours, but people were finally convinced that it was safe to come out into the open. Or maybe they were just that hungry. It didn’t matter. Each gave the guard her name, and in return was handed a special white mask that fit like a dome over the nose and mouth, and small bottle of hand sanitizer.
“Of course they show up after we’ve cleared the whole place and set up their beds,” Maddie snarked, scarfing the last of her burrito.
At least they’ve decided to join the forces of good, Lexi thought. If her mother’s orders had failed to rally people, what then? She refused to think of it. Maddie was wrong. The Senator was in control—look how people followed her commands! There would be no more riots. She would not end up buried under the rubble again. She had Maddie to watch her back. Right?
Maddie picked up the first sheet in the pile beside the laptop and Lexi positioned herself in front of the screen. Maddie read the names and Lexi clicked the box in the database to indicate the person had checked into a Home Store, and then the box indicating which of the three stores they were in.
After a half hour of droning on, Maddie interrupted her recitation. “She’s here.”
“Is that a name?” Lexi said, scrolling through the list.
“Ginger,” Maddie snarled. “She’s here.”
Lexi’s jaw tightened at the name. Ginger had abandoned her, leaving Lexi to try to save the kids in the Abercrombie alone. Ginger had made her use the CB radio to call Ginger’s dad, who caused a riot outside the mall and got Lexi in trouble with her parents, and Darren, her parents—everyone—in trouble with the Feds. Ginger had ruined everything. And now she was back.
Lexi cracked her knuckles. “We shouldn’t be surprised. Where else would she go?”
“Stay in whatever hole she’d crawled into when she left me to die in the Abercrombie? All it took was one mall apocalypse to wreck a lifelong friendship.” Maddie snuggled against Lexi’s shoulder. “At least some people are real friends.”
Lexi felt a warmth spread over her cheeks. Real friends. She didn’t want to show Maddie how much those words meant. She straightened her back, jostling Maddie, who sat straight.
“Back to the grind,” she said, sighing, and read the next name.
Someone coughed in the line. The sound echoed like a bomb blast around the emptiness of the hallway. The guard at the table next to them looked up.
“Who coughed?” he shouted. It was the guy who’d seemed so lost this morning. Now he looked like a wolf with a scent.
No one responded. Then a youngish woman waved an arm. “She did!” she yelled, pointing to a mom-aged woman in a flowery dress.
The older woman froze, glanced around her. “I feel fine,” she squeaked. “I just need a sip of water.”
The rest of the people in line backed away from her. Two guards, faces in masks and hands covered in plastic gloves, closed in from the hall.
“Really, I’m fine,” she said, then, as if her body wanted to betray her, she coughed again.
The guards grabbed her arms and led her out of line. The guard next to Lexi pulled antibacterial wipes from a container. He waved them in the air. “Miss,” he yelled.
The girl who’d sold out the woman pointed to herself.
“Yeah, you,” the guard said. “Take these and wipe down your hands and face, and give one to everyone around you, then wipe the barrier where the woman was standing.”
The girl’s eyes were wide, her mouth a thin, trembling frown. She obeyed, skipping forward on her tiptoes, and then scuttled back to where she’d been. The others in line took their wipes and began cleansing the space.
The guard turned to Lexi, sliding two masks across the counter. “Put these on.”
Lexi slipped the thing over her face and passed the other to Maddie, who followed suit without making a peep.
• • •
Shay was shaken awake by Jazmine. “Dinnertime,” the nurse said, holding out a plate. A pile of what looked like reconstituted barf slid across the surface.
“I’m going to be sick.”
Jazmine smiled and dropped the plate onto the metal table between Shay and her sister. “You had a visitor this afternoon. Some boy.”
Shay’s heart rate increased. “Oh?” But then she reminded herself that it was Marco, had to have been; Ryan, even if he was still in the mall, had no idea that she was in the med center. Only Marco knew that. Her heart rate sank back to normal. “He’s just a friend.”
“Seemed pretty friendly,” Jazmine continued, the smug smile on her face visible beyond the borders of her mask. “He kissed you.”
Gooseflesh prickled across Shay’s skin. Marco kissed her? No, that was against the rules. If she had kissed him on the cheek, that was only to be friendly. He was taking things out of context. He was reading into her actions. Not that she could really blame him. She had been, in essence, leading him on. But what choice did she have? She had a sister to protect. She needed an ally. And to keep him, she would do whatever she had to.
But she would say something to him the next time she saw him. There would be no kissing, especially while she was passed out. Or if he really needed a kiss, then only on the cheek. God, this Marco nonsense was the last thing she wanted to deal with. Why were boys so freaking needy?
Jazmine laughed. “You look like you’re deep in thought, so I’ll let you think.” She stood.
“No,” Shay said, not wanting to be left alone now that she was awake. “I was just thinking about the boy. Do you have a boyfriend?”
Jazmine settled back on the gurney. “I’ll tell if you eat something.” She nodded at the plate.
Shay lifted the sagging paper dish. “What is it?”
“Chicken something,” Jazmine said, eyeing the plate. “I had some. It’s edible.”
“Are the white lumps chicken?”
“A safe bet,” Jazmine said. “I say just close your eyes and shovel it in. You need to eat.”
Shay held up her wrist. “I have my trusty IV.”
Jazmine frowned. “You planning to spend the rest of your life with that in your arm?”
“Who knows how long that even is?” Shay wasn’t sure why she said that. She didn’t want to be negative. But it felt true, once said. She could die tomorrow. And wouldn’t that be better than facing another nightmare day in this place?
Jazmine’s face softened, but still looked disappointed. “You have to stay strong,” she said. “You have a sister to watch out for.” She squeezed Shay’s hand. “Things are going to get better from now on. This senator lady has got people working together.”
For how long? Shay had never been a bitter person, but now it felt like all that was inside her was bitterness. She pushed it down, conjured some happiness.
“That’s great.”
Jazmine smiled. “That’s my girl.”
Shay shoveled a spoonful of chicken slop into her mouth and forced herself to swallow it down. “It’s actually good,” she managed, stifling a retch.
“Now I know you’re lying,” Jazmine said, chuckling. “Here.” She pulled a small leather notebook from the pocket of her cardigan. “I found this in the PaperClips and thought you might like it. You look like a journal girl.”
Shay laid the spoon aside and took the notebook. It was a business thing, the kind of little book her dad used to take to conferences before he got an iPad. Opening it, Shay saw that the pen was one of those special ones that had a built-in light in the pen tip and a highlighter on the other end. She ran her fingers over the paper, which was smooth and blank.
“Maybe you can write something about your grandma and show it to me?”
Shay glanced up from the beautiful blankness of the paper, tears turning the world to water. “Yes,” she said, her voice catching on the word.
Jazmine smiled and patted her leg through the thin blanket. “Then you finish your food. I’ll be back in a half hour to check you out.” She took Shay’s wrist and gently removed the IV.
Panic gripped Shay. “Don’t I need that?” Why was Jazmine taking away her medicine?
“It’s just saline,” Jazmine said. “And you’re conscious now, so you can feed and hydrate yourself. We have to conserve what resources we have, now that we’re on our own.”
“But what if I pass out again?”
“Honey, that was the effect of a sedative I gave you. One of the security guards said you looked panicked, so I gave you something to help you relax. But you’re all better.”
Gave me a sedative? Like Shay wasn’t already feeling totally out of it, this woman thought it was a good idea to drug her? And “all better” seemed a long way off if sedatives were on the table as treatment. Unless this was all some ploy . . .
“Are you kicking me out?”
“We need the bed for people who are in recovery.”
“But what about Preeti?”
“She’ll stay for another twenty-four hours for observation, but then she can join you at the JCPenney.”
Shay’s mind raced. She would not be turned out into that madhouse. She would not be left alone to be crushed by the masses. Where was Marco? She began to cry. It was all she had left.
“Don’t make me leave.”
Jazmine squeezed her shoulder. “You’re a strong girl,” she said. “Things are safe out there now. I wouldn’t send you into harm’s way.”
Shay did not trust this woman. Who was she, really, but a stranger who’d pretended to care, just like everyone else? Shay was just another body to be moved around. She had to find Marco. He would help her get Preeti out of here. He would help them find somewhere to hide.
Jazmine continued spouting her plans for Shay’s release. “A guard will take you to the JCPenney if you want.”
“No,” Shay blurted. “I can do it.” She would not get trapped by one of those lunatics with a Taser. She’d seen them blast people if any of their orders were contradicted.
Jazmine brushed off her pants. “If that’s what you want.” She walked to Preeti’s bed and checked her over—pulse, temperature, blood pressure, lung sounds. “Your sister is doing just fine. You can come back and see her in the morning.”
Shay was barely paying attention. She needed a plan. She was still wearing the T-shirt and jeans she’d stolen from H&M. Maybe her bag was under the bed?
Jazmine, as if reading her mind, handed her her bag. “What did I say this morning?”
Shay snatched the strap.
Jazmine grasped her shoulder. “I told you that you have to trust someone.”
Shay nodded because that was what Jazmine wanted, but the woman was wrong. Shay would not trust anyone but herself. Who else could she really count on?
“Can I finish my food?” She needed some more time to come up with a strategy.
Jazmine sighed. “Take your time,” she said. “I’ll be back in an hour to check you out.”
Good. An hour to plan her actions. She scooped the rest of the chicken mush into her mouth. She wasn’t sure what food existed outside the med center; who knew when her next meal would be? She dumped out her bag and sorted the items: wallet, iPod, headphones, dead cell phone, contact solution and case, children’s Tylenol . . .
The bottle stopped her brain cold. She’d last held it to Nani’s lips in an attempt to drive back her fever. How deeply she’d failed Nani. What an idiot she’d been to think she could save her. What good were her plans, really? She’d screwed up everything, killed her grandmother, nearly killed her sister. Better to just lie back and let the mall take her.
Preeti stirred. “Shaila?”
Shay froze, caught between the sadness inside, sucking her against the bed, weighing her body down, and the need to show her sister everything was okay.
“Shay?” Preeti’s voice trembled. “Are you here?”
Jazmine was right about one thing: Shay had to be strong for Preeti. She sealed up the sadness like a sandwich bag. Poof! The emptiness felt like joy.
Shay sat up. “I’m here.”
Preeti, who hadn’t even really been awake, rolled over. “Tell Mom I’m not going to school.”
“Okay,” Shay chirped. She stuffed all the crap back into her bag. Her hand stroked the smooth surface of the notebook, nestled amid the sheets. Did she even need it? She felt so clean inside. Take it, whispered the sadness. Shay slipped it into her bag.
• • •
Ryan tapped the pill bottle against his legs as he padded through the service halls back toward the Grill’n’Shake. At least he thought he was heading back to the Grill’n’Shake. Ryan tried to stick to the path Marco had taken, but all the halls looked alike and, without Marco’s card, most doors were closed to him. He was beginning to consider the possibility that he was lost.
There were store names printed in block letters on some of the doors, but that information was of little use to Ryan. It’s not like knowing he was outside the Candy Hut gave him a clue about where he was relative to the Grease’n’Suck. He wasn’t a big mall person, not like other people. Funny, to go to the mall maybe five times in a year and end up getting quarantined on one of those visits. Typical Murphy Luck.
Ryan’s older brother, Thad, had a theory about Murphy Luck. Murphy Luck was always to blame for an interception. Murphy Luck explained why Thad could drink a twelve-pack of light beer and not even get buzzed. Murphy Luck was why Dad was such a dick. The man couldn’t even keep a one-day construction job without pissing someone off. Crap like getting lost in the service halls of a mall qualified as undeniable Murphy Luck.
Voices echoed from around the corner. Not wanting to find out if they belonged to security, Ryan pushed open the nearest exit door. It opened into the second-floor hallway next to the Sports Authority. Feeling like perhaps Murphy Luck had taken a time-out, and that he should not be in the hall, Ryan decided to upgrade from his crusty climbing clothes.
The store was empty—no salespeople, no shoppers, and most importantly, no insane looters with guns. Things seemed normal, like there had never been a riot. Were people really following the mall leader’s orders?
Not that it mattered to Ryan. Mike had made the call that they were staying under the radar. Ryan was not going to rock the very small boat of protection he’d found in this hellhole, even if it meant also staying under the thumb of Marco. Mike had watched his back from minute one of this nightmare. Ryan owed it to him to stick with his plans. They were teammates, and a team was a powerful thing. He would find some way around the Marco-Shay situation.
He grabbed a pair of basketball shorts and a T-shirt, then decided, why stop there? They were obviously taking up residence in the place and might want a change of clothes. He grabbed a duffel and packed it with some T-shirts in his size, then a bunch larger for Mike and Drew, shorts, socks, and boxers. He went into the back to look for some sneakers.
As he rounded the corner of one floor-to-ceiling shelf, he discovered a person who’d not been as lucky with the flu. It was a man. Old. His dad’s age. His face was bluish and blood had dried in thin trails from his nostrils. Puddles Ryan did not want to know the origins of pooled around his legs. He smelled terrible.
Ryan scrambled back to the other side of the shelf. His second dead body in as many days. Why was this happening to him? To any of them?
Forget about it. There was nothing he could do to help that guy or Mike or himself, any of them. Best to just forget about it. Move on. Find the sneakers and get the hell out of there.
He found a pair of sneakers in his size. The things cost two hundred dollars. In the real world, he couldn’t have ever hoped to buy them. Screw the Shops at Stonecliff. The place owed him some freaking nice sneakers for all the crap he’d been through.
The coast was clear outside the store. Ryan heard voices down below, but just regular talking. He checked over the railing and saw people sitting on the floor with paper plates. There were dead bodies lying around and these people were at a goddamn block party. It was like bizarre-o-world.
The ground seemed to pull away, and Ryan felt a wave of nausea course through him. He found a bench and parked his ass on it.
He was not fully recovered from the flu. He pretended he was fine, but there was a constant ache in his muscles and his brain went fuzzy if he moved too fast. He should get back to the Grease’n’Suck. He waited for the nausea to subside, then shouldered the bag and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible.
There was no one on the third floor, so Ryan walked faster, nearly running into the Grill’n’Shake. The dining area was empty now. Ryan headed straight into the kitchens.
Mike and Drew were sitting beside a small pile of boxes overflowing with bags of defrosting chicken strips, crackers, and what appeared to be a handle of vodka.
“Looks like you’ve got all the food groups,” he said, dropping the duffel.
Mike looked up. “What the hell took you so long?” He stood and grabbed the back of Ryan’s head, pulling him into a hug. “You okay?”
Ryan shrugged him off. “Fine.” Mike’s caring was a little intense. “I’m not at death’s door.”
“You were at death’s door, idiot.” Mike shoved Ryan’s head.
“I’m fine, really,” he said, trying to ignore the throbbing Mike’s jostling had ignited in his skull. “I got us some clothes.”
Drew rifled through the duffel. “Packers!” He pulled out a jersey.
“What kind of crap are they selling in this mall?” Mike said, grabbing the bag.
It was the one point of dissention between Mike and Drew. Mike was a Giants guy and Drew had been raised a cheesehead like his dad. The only fight Ryan had seen between the two started when Mike in a drunken haze pissed on Drew’s cheese-wedge hat. Drew had tackled him, busting a hole in his basement wall. The fight ended when Mike promised to not only buy a new hat, but to wear a Packers jersey for a week.
“Don’t get your jocks in a twist,” Ryan said, rubbing his temples. “There’s something for everyone.”
Mike dug out a Giants jersey and pulled it over his head. “Now we’re in business.”
“Jumbo Shrimp comes through in the clutch.” Drew tugged on some new socks.
Ryan ducked into the bathroom to change and splash water on his face. He slurped some from his cupped hand, then examined himself in the mirror. He didn’t look good. Pale. Bags under the eyes. He’d bench himself. But this was no game. There was no bench to rest on.
When he came back, Marco had rejoined their crew and was skulking in the corner. He was smiling, but still looked pissed off. The guy was weird.
“Now that the whole gang’s back together, let’s mosey to our new quarters.” Marco clapped his hands like this was some class trip.
Ryan was not ready to follow Marco blindly. “What did the senator want to see you about?”
• • •
Marco gritted his teeth. He had not wanted to share that particular tidbit with Mike, but it figured the douche wouldn’t allow even that small lapse in information. Perhaps he’d twisted the knife too hard on the whole Shay issue.
“She asked me if I had a stolen card key. She’d seen me in a back hall during the riots. I was trying to save my friend’s life.” Marco looked purposefully at Ryan, who looked a bit peaked. “The senator was suspicious, so I gave her my old one from the Grill’n’Shake.” It was a decent lie. The douche did not question him further and slogged over to a duffel bag.
Mike nodded. “Nice thinking.”
“I thought so.” Marco was impressed with himself. Everything was coming up Carvajal today. If you discounted the whole trapped-in-a-mall-with-a-deadly-virus thing.
The mall speakers squealed and announced the end of dinner in fifteen. “Please return to your Home Store for distribution of new clothes and toiletries.”
Marco checked his watch. It was six forty-five, a little early for curfew, if you asked him, but nobody was asking, so he’d better get this show on the road. “I have to get back before anyone cares that I’m gone.”
“Calm down, Taco,” Drew muttered, pushing himself to standing.
“Marco.” Marco would not let that nickname back into their vocabulary.
“Mar-co.”
The nickname had sounded kinder.
The Three Douches hefted their boxes of nutritionally dubious food and followed Marco into the service halls. Marco decided to risk the elevator—he was now a sanctioned mall employee of sorts; who was going to stop him? He led them down to the parking garage, then wove through the rows of cars to the far wall where he knew of a storage closet for cones and other parking-related crap.
The door to the room wasn’t even locked, so Marco swung it open and was greeted with a cloud of stale air. He flipped on the light. The space was the size of a minivan and was empty save for a stack of cones and some sandwich board signs used for indicating that the lot was full.
“There’s no window,” Ryan said, poking his head through the doorway. “How are we supposed to breathe?”
Mike pushed past him into the space. “It’s perfect. No one will bother us here.”
“Glad I packed the vodka,” Drew said, pulling the bottle from the box.
“I’ll come back in the morning to check in,” Marco said, dusting off his hands. He didn’t want any residue from that hole following him up into the mall.
“What are we supposed to do for a bathroom?” Ryan’s voice sounded squeaky, like he was about to cry. Marco would have liked to see that. He would have liked to record it for Shay. Here’s your big strong boyfriend . . .
“The parking garage is your oyster,” Marco said, waving a hand.
Mike grabbed Ryan by the shoulders. “We’ll manage.”
Mike held a hand out for Marco to shake.
Marco took it. “See you in the morning,” he said, then shut the door on them for the night.