Amanda bumped into her brother’s back at the corridor’s spacious intersection. They could see the entrance to the Bay store down to their left. There were dead people in there, she thought, lying in a pool of blood. Helen Fulger was one of them. Michael looked back at his sister and motioned her to follow. She had the collar of her stained tee-shirt pulled up over her mouth and nose to block out the stench. They pressed their backs up to the glass window of an electronics store and slid their way along. The coffee store was beside it, they were almost there.
The static warble of violins playing through the speakers stopped. He knew they were there. Roy had found them. Michael tried moving back the way they’d come, but Amanda pushed him forward. “Fast! Fast! Fast! Grab stuff and run!” She was still whispering, but it sounded like the loudest of screams in the sudden silence.
Everything after that was a slow-motion blur in Michael’s eyes. He was snatching boxes of truffles from displays, and shoving individually wrapped mints into his pockets. Candles and flashlights. Find candles and flashlights! He found the candles sitting on the two small tables where customers once sat to enjoy specialty coffee. Michael ended up behind the cash register a few seconds later, pulling out the drawers set into the employee cabinets below. Tape. Wrapping paper. Loose change. Pens and pencil nubs. More tape. No flashlights.
The candles would have to do. He looked up over the counter and saw the front of Amanda’s tee-shirt now filled with an impossible amount of chocolates. The red cloth had stretched out so far, Michael could see the gold and silver glitter of wrap through the threads. It looked like Santa’s toy sack strapped to her belly.
She met his stunned gaze for a moment, and then bolted. Michael stopped at the drink cooler on his way out; he shoved two bottles of water under the arm not already crammed with truffles, and exited the coffee store after his sister.
They made it back from the toy store without being shot. Michael lit one of the candles and set it on the desk in front of the dead computer. “That was stupid. That was the stupidest, dumbest thing we’ve ever done.”
Amanda was chewing one of her stolen chocolates. “We made it, that’s all that matters. And now we got stuff to eat, too.” She offered him one of the truffles he’d taken.
Michael ate the chocolate-coated ball, wishing he’d grabbed something without burnt almonds mixed in. “I hate almonds.”
His sister pointed to the pile of loot she’d carried in her shirt, now spread out over the floor. “There’s caramel center ones in there, a whole bunch of them.”
He found them and devoured six straight away. Amanda kept up with him—treat for treat—tossing the wrappers down into what remained. She drank from one of the waters and burped into her arm. It left a lip-smeared impression made of chocolate on the skin. “Slow down,” he said, “try and save some for later.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“Seriously, we might get sick. You want him to hear us puking our guts out?”
Amanda slowed down. “I think the music stopped playing because he left. I think maybe he went to another mall to kill more people.”
Michael didn’t like the idea of that, but he hoped it might be true. He sipped his water and prayed the monster had moved on.
“Did you hear that?” The candle light danced in her terror-filled eyes.
Michael wiped chocolate from his mouth with his shirt. He shook his head.
Amanda crawled on her hands and knees towards the office door. She pressed one ear up against the cool metal and whispered. “Thought I heard someone coughing.”
Michael was beside her seconds later, straining to hear beyond the suffocating silence of their hiding place. “I can’t hea—”
A woman’s voice called out. The children jumped back from the door as if it had suddenly become electrified.
“What… what did she say?” Amanda asked.
Michael shook his head. “I didn’t hear it all… something about God and pulling the freaking trigger.” Amanda’s brown lips started to quiver. Michael rubbed her arm, tried calming her. “We can’t just sit here. We gotta take her by surprise—if she has a gun, we have to stop her before she even sees us.”
He didn’t wait for a debate. Michael unlocked the door and started back through the storage room. Amanda blew out the candle sitting on the desk, and followed after him. He started pushing the swinging door into the store outward, and she yanked at the back of his shirt. “Don’t! She’s with him… she’s with Roy.”
“We don’t know that.” He kept going, wishing once again he’d taken something from the office to use as a weapon. The butter knife was essentially useless against a gun, but it would’ve been better than nothing. Even the empty raspberry jam jar might have made a difference. There was a box of rubber balls on a shelf in front of him. He plucked a red one out, and peeked around the aisle. A black shadow was moving towards them.
“I’ll lead her further back into the dark,” he whispered. “We’ll get that gun out of her hand before she can get a good look at us.”
“Don’t be stupid,” she pleaded. “It’ll never work.”
Michael ignored her and tossed the ball into the advancing shadow. He watched it roll away.
“I’m not fooling around here,” the woman’s voice called out. “I killed a man this morning with a knitting needle, and I’ll kill you, too.”
Amanda squeaked and pulled her brother back. They pushed through the storage room door as quietly as possible and waited. Michael saw her mouth the words, she’s going to kill us. He whispered back to her. “No… I won’t let her.”
There was a small rectangular window set in the door five feet from the bottom. The twins were too short to see through it, so Michael watched, and waited for any change in the dull stream of light. He would make his move then; he would kick at the door as hard as he could, and he would grab his sister and run. We’ll go left—through the sportswear store… we’ll get out of this place and run all the way home.
He didn’t get the chance. Amanda lunged at the door and reached through. There was a clatter—something made of metal hitting the floor. Michael reached with his sister and grabbed at the arm she was scratching. They pulled the woman through together.
“Don’t hurt us,” Amanda screamed. “We have chocolates and water! We can share!”
The three bodies tangled in a twist of fighting limbs. The woman grunted. “Let go of me.” They crashed over the big pink dollhouse and fell to the floor in a thrashing tumble.
Michael found his sister in the gloom and pulled her away. “Back to the room! We gotta get back to the room and lock ourselves in!”
They made it halfway back and the woman yelled. “Wait! Don’t run away, I won’t hurt you!”
Amanda hesitated, and Michael kept pulling her. “Don’t listen to her, she had a gun.” They made it to the office door, and in his panic Michael forgot it pushed out instead of in. The momentary struggle was enough to let the woman catch up to them.
“You don’t have to hide from me. I meant what I said. I won’t hurt you.” Her short hair stood up in spots like grey, spiky nails. She was covered with soot and ash, and her dress was in tatters. She looked like a crazed homeless person, but her eyes were sane enough. She approached them carefully, and held her hands up. “See? I didn’t even know how to use that gun. I took it… I was carrying it for protection, that’s all.”
“You said you killed someone with a knitting needle,” Amanda countered. “Said you’d kill us, too.”
Her head tilted to one side, and she offered them a weak smile. “I didn’t mean it. I was just scared… like the two of you are scared.