Untaken (24 page)

“It’s fine,” I said out loud. “It’s all just peachy.”

That I’d started in talking to myself
proved
I was thinking crazy. I needed to get a grip. If any shit was going to go down, it would have happened by now.

I looked over the cabinet, spoiled for choice. There was a Winchester M70 like the one Dad had, and I took it, liking the weight of it in my hands. They’d made me leave Dad’s gun behind when they took us to the Center. Having this one wouldn’t be the same as having Dad’s gun back, but it would still put a hurt on anyone who tried to mess with us. I filled the magazine and took as many extra rounds as I could comfortably carry. No need to go overboard, it’s not like we’d need to use the gun much. Probably just for game when we got hungry out there in the woods.

I thought about snagging a pistol for Gracie to carry, but she’d already told me she didn’t know how to handle a gun, which could prove to do more bad than good. She’d probably end up shooting Jake, or herself.

The gun was heavy and my arms shook.
Just adrenaline. Not fear.
No need to be afraid of an empty store. I’d just take it slow and steady.

Gracie and Jake were already back at the buffalo, Gracie looking around anxiously, and Jake sitting on the hummock of fake grass between the buffalo’s forelegs, the lucky quarter flashing and winking as he turned it over and over in his hands. Gracie gave the gun a mistrustful glance, then grabbed my arm and pulled me away from Jake a few steps.

“I think there’s someone here,” she whispered.

“You’re imagining it.”

“Brandon, I saw something move. We were looking at the books, and I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. It was gone too fast to see what it was.”

“It was probably just a shadow. A bird flew over the skylight or something.”

“Maybe,” said Gracie, but she looked unhappy.

“Why were you looking at books anyway? We’re on a serious mission here.” I told her.

“I thought they might come in handy, Brandon. You know, some people learn things from books. People who can read anyway.”

“I can read!” My voice came out louder than I’d intended. “Let’s just get the clothes and get the hell out of here since you’re being such a baby. Come on Jake, quit fooling around with that thing.”

The cart was heavy now. I had to admit that Gracie hadn’t done such a bad job picking stuff out. There was a shell tent, water purification kits, a chunky first aid box, fire lighting gear in a neat red case, a camping stove, a big spray bottle of bug repellent and a slithery pile of maps of New England. The books weren’t totally lame either. Sure, there were a couple of dorky looking geek books with spaceships on the cover—hadn’t the chick had enough of spaceships yet?—but there were also survival guides, hunting manuals, and even one on small-hold farming. Not that we’d need that.

The army guys would fix things way before we needed to resort to anything as crazy as trying to grow our own food.

The clothing section lay outside of the circle of sunlight cast by the dome, so Gracie held the flashlight while I picked out thick down parkas, fur-lined hats and gloves, and stout snow boots for me and Jake, then I took over holding the light while Gracie made her selection.

“Quit wasting time—it doesn’t matter what color you pick. It’s not a fashion show,” I told her.

“I’m not looking at the colors,” said Gracie with disdain. “For your information, I’m reading the temperature ratings.”

Of course she was. Just my luck to get stuck with a nerd and a crazy kid.

Gracie was fooling with the map of the mall again, as I stuffed the bulky new clothes into the cart.

“Looks like there’s a service entrance in the corridor by the restrooms just here.” She pointed to a spot on the map. “I bet we could open it from the inside. That way, we wouldn’t have to walk all the way back through the Mall again.”

I grabbed the map from her, and squinted at the little squiggle she pointed at.

“How do you know that’s a service entrance? Last thing we need is to get turned around in here because you think you’ve found a magic door.”

“It’s marked on the key. It’s totally obvious. You just don’t like it when I think of stuff first,” she added, primly.

“Don’t be a dingus,” I said, my face flushing. “I just want to get the hell out of here. Jake, climb up in the cart, buddy. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Jake was squatting on the floor, making worried hooting noises under his breath.

“What’s wrong with you now?” I sighed. “I said get in, already.”

Jake continued to scrabble around on the carpet, like I was nothing more than a bothersome fly, so I grabbed him under his arms, lifted him up, and dumped him into the cart.

Jake didn’t cry or scream, but his whole body went stiff with distress. I felt guilty for a second, but the kid needed to mind me.

“Take it easy, Brandon!” said Gracie.

“Yeah, great idea, let’s take it easy. Let’s just stay here all night. Hang out with our pal, Bill the Buffalo, and your imaginary boogie men. Jeez.”

“There’s something wrong with him,” said Gracie, glowering at me, like it was me who was screwing everything up. “What is it, Jakie?”

Jake waved his arms in the direction of the floor.

“He’s just seen some shiny crap he wants to pick up,” I told her. “There’s a whole world of useless junk out in the parking lot, little buddy. But,” I added, turning to Gracie, “if you want to hang out here until he learns to talk and tells us what specifically is chewing his ass then be my guest.”

“Okay,” muttered Gracie. “Let’s go. You don’t have to be mean.”

“I’m not being mean. I’m taking care of you. Not my fault you’re both too dumb to take care of yourselves.”

Then I saw it.

Or
thought
I saw it.

Just a shadow. Surely just a shadow. Or my eyes playing tricks—it sure was dark. It was the little kids; the way they were acting up was making me buggy. Well, I was no little kid. I was in charge and I had to keep my head.

I wasn’t scared, but I was still relieved when Gracie’s service corridor ended in a pair of doors marked “Emergency Exit Only,” which opened to flood the corridor with dazzling sunlight and the good smell of fresh, Fall air.

There weren’t many cars in the employee parking lot, but one of the cars that
was
there was a big red Chevrolet SUV, plenty large enough to carry the three of us and our equipment. No key, of course, but that wasn’t a problem for me. I may not have learned much in school like Miss wise-acre Gracie, but I’d learned a few tricks called “life skills.”

I hunted around the lot, and near the dumpsters found the piece of wire I needed to jimmy open the window. Everything was going smoother than butter, and I started to whistle to myself as I coaxed the end of the wire in through the gap between the window and the rubber seal of the frame. A few minutes later, the engine coughed into life after only one false start. Good half tank of gas in there, too, although I knew we’d have to siphon more somewhere down the road.

“Where did you learn to do that?” asked Gracie. She was smiling and trying to frown at the same time.

“Hotwire a car? Buddy of my dad’s, named Joe.”

“Was he a criminal?”

“Nah,” I laughed. “He was a cop.”

Gracie shook her head, but she laughed too.

As we loaded our haul into the trunk, I felt almost giddy. Adrenaline, after spending an hour in that creepshow of a mall? Or pride in a job well done? Why the hell not both? I’d earned the right to be proud, after all.

“Next stop, Maine!” I shouted, slamming the trunk shut and dusting my hands off on my jeans. “Gracie, you can ride in the back, Jake can ride up front with me. Be my little co-pilot.”

But Jake was gone.

Jake

he Big Kids were doing something with a car. They weren’t watching him.

Jake climbed gingerly over the edge of the cart, considered, then picked up the big red flashlight. He’d watched them use it. He thought he knew how to make it spit out light. If he took the flashlight, if he didn’t stick close, then they’d be mad, but perhaps if he was quick they’d never know. If the service door had swung all the way shut when they’d left the mall, then Jake didn’t think he could have opened it, but the hinges were old and stiff and the door had stopped just shy of latching.

He glanced back one more time at the Big Kids, and then slipped through the door into darkness. He’d had the quarter when Brandon helped him to shove his arms into the sleeves of the winter coat. He thought he’d had it afterwards when Gracie helped him to pull his grubby old sweater back on. When he sat down on the floor to change from the bright new snow boots back into the scuffed sneakers, that’s when it must have happened.

The good Shiny, the best Shiny—the one Brandon gave to him—was gone. Not in his pocket. Not on the floor.

But sometimes, shiny things, especially
round
shiny things, rolled.

He pictured in his mind how it happened.

There he was, plopping down onto the floor, wriggling to kick off the snow boots, which were snug and comforting around his legs. When he squirmed, the pocket of his pants gaped open like a mean little mouth, spitting out the quarter, which
rolled
. Under that rack of jackets? Farther away, behind the counter with the funny pretend ducks?

The Big Kids wanted to leave, but how could Jake leave without that Shiny?

He’d done what they wanted all day. Didn’t pick up any of the stuff on the floor, just like they’d told him, even though Shinys were “remembering” things. If he laid out the silver patterns just right it kept them straight in his mind. He didn’t know why that was important, just that it was.

And now he’d lost the quarter, which was not just a remembering Shiny, but a new thing. A “together” thing. If they knew that he’d lost it, would Brandon and Gracie leave him? He couldn’t be alone anymore. Even the memory of the days and nights before Brandon and Gracie had found him was terrifying. And the terror shattered the neat silver spirals in his head into a thousand glittering shards. No, Jake wouldn’t last long on his own. It was better with Brandon and Gracie. Not all the way better, but better than before.