No Easy Way Out (32 page)

T
here was nothing more frustrating than trying to deal with a stubborn six-year-old, it turned out. Ryan had had an easier time suffering through tackle drills during preseason two-a-days than waiting out Ruthie’s moods. She was currently hunched over her knee, making a friendship bracelet.

“You can take as long as you want, Ruthie,” he said, breaking the stuffy silence. “But you know I’m right that you have to go back into the mall.” He’d spent the entire morning trying to convince her of the craziness of staying in this SUV. He and Shay trying to scrape together some survival strategy? Insane, but possible. He and Shay and the six-year-old Tahoe Tyrant? Just totally insane.

He shifted on the seat so he was at least somewhat in her field of vision. “We haven’t eaten all day,” he said. “The only food is either held by gangs or doled out by the mall people. I can’t risk stealing food from the gangs when I might get hurt or caught and leave you starving in this truck waiting for me.”

Ruthie snapped a knot into place. “They let Jack die.” The bracelet was an inch thick and wrapped in a complicated pattern like a snake.

Ryan put his hand over the bracelet, drawing her eyes away from it and to his face. “Whatever else the mall people are doing,” he said, “they’re not trying to kill anyone.”

He wanted to believe that was true. Even after the chief of security beat him. It was just like after any time his dad hit Thad or his mom or him. Something told Ryan that there was caring behind the fist. Maybe it was just the fact that his dad never actually killed any of them. That little bit he held back—wasn’t that a type of care?

Ruthie continued her bracelet, tied each knot with a fierce tug. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Ryan wondered if this was a good sign. He dug around in the disaster on the floor for a tissue of some sort and, finding one, held it out to her.

“I will try to keep you safe here for as long as I can, but I can’t promise—”

“I’ll go.” Ruthie took the tissue and wiped her face dry. She tucked the bracelet into her pocket and climbed over to Ryan.

She sounded angry. Did she think Ryan was just trying to get rid of her?
Am I?
He placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “About everything.”

Ruthie smiled, then dug the bracelet out and held it in her open palm. “Take it,” she said. “So you remember me.”

Ryan closed her fingers around it. “Finish it,” he said. “Give it to me when we get out of here.”

Ruthie tried to hold on to her smile, even as she started to cry. “When we get out.” She nodded her head like that made it so.

She collected what few things she wanted from the SUV into a plastic bag, and then they walked toward the central pavilion. Ryan noticed that the showers were all off and no line waited to use them. He tried not to take that as a bad sign. But then they arrived in the empty first-floor courtyard. Shouts echoed around the vacant hallways, and Ryan heard the rattling of a gate, but saw no one.

“Where is everyone?” Ruthie pressed against his leg.

Ryan was clueless, as usual. “Let’s check the school.”

But the food court was empty. He led Ruthie by the hand up to the third floor, less to make sure she didn’t run away than because he needed the reassurance that he wasn’t alone. It was completely freaky not being surrounded by strangers after all this time.

Baxter’s was empty. Whole rows of books had been removed from the shelves. Taken by people. But where?

Ryan heard a noise in the back. He dragged Ruthie toward it. No gang of teenagers would be sneaking around Baxter’s. And he was right—it was Shay’s old buddy Kris the asswipe. He was packing books into a hiking backpack.

Ryan cleared his throat. “Is this all that’s left of the school?”

Kris was so startled, he dropped the books and fell back against an empty shelf. “You scared the crap out of me,” he said when he saw it was Ryan.

“Where is everyone?”

Kris scowled. “Where’re Shay and Preeti? Have you gotten them into trouble?”

This guy seemed desperate to get punched in the face. “Shay is looking for Preeti, seeing as you were so helpful in letting her see her sister.”

Kris pushed himself up. “I was trying to cover for the fact that Preeti’s been MIA for days. I just wanted Shay to come back. I want to keep her safe.”

“So do I.”

Kris shook his head. “Running around in the service halls playing bandit is not safe.”

Ryan took a deep breath and recalled that his mission here was to get Ruthie into the mall’s protection, not kick the crap out of losers with attitude. Ruthie was hiding behind the shelf. Ryan dragged her out. “Don’t worry,” he said. “This guy is a teacher.”

Kris’s attitude changed upon noticing Ruthie. “Why is she still out here?”

“Out where?”

“Everyone who’s not you or me, meaning between the ages of thirteen and thirty, has been evacuated to the HomeMart.”

“Evacuated?” Were some people being allowed to leave?

“There’s some new flu strain,” Kris said. “It only affects people our age, they think. So the senator ordered that everyone who isn’t a teenager or college-aged person be protected from this new disease by segregating them in the HomeMart. The rest of us are being rounded up to die.”

This smelled like a lie to Ryan. The senator just didn’t want to deal with the likes of Mike anymore. She was cutting them out of her little society. Well, fine. No problem. Like Ryan had gotten anything from them but a black eye. But Ruthie. She could be protected.

Ryan pushed Ruthie toward Kris. “Take her with you,” he said. “Please.”

“
With
me?” Kris asked, laughing cruelly. “Were you not paying attention? I am persona non grata in the HomeMart, so bully for us.” He swung his arm like this was a joke.

“Then take her to the HomeMart when you take these books there,” Ryan said. “You are packing them for the HomeMart?”

Kris looked at Ruthie, who was scanning the Baxter’s as if she expected the books to attack her. He nodded.

Ryan helped Kris pack the rest of his stash of books, CDs, and DVDs, then they hoisted the boxes and began the trek down to the HomeMart with Ruthie hanging from Ryan’s shirt like a tag. Everything was empty until they reached the first floor. As they exited the elevator near the HomeMart, Ryan noticed a pallet of food leaving the Sam’s Club, guarded by five security guards. It rolled toward them. Then he heard a scream. Screams.

Kids came pouring out of the service halls. Ryan didn’t have to see Mike or Marco to know that this was their gig. He dropped his books, hoisted Ruthie like a fumbled ball, and ran for the HomeMart.

As he reached the half-shuttered entrance to the gigantic hardware store, a wall of security formed to halt his advance. They leveled Tasers and stun batons at him, raised riot shields.

“Get back, punk!” one shouted.

Ryan held up Ruthie. “I’m just dropping her off!”

Ruthie screamed and writhed in his arms. “I don’t want to go!”

A woman poked her head between the riot shields, then shoved the guards apart. “Give her to me!”

Kris, who’d finally caught up, took Ruthie. “That’s Alison,” he said. “She will take care of you.”

Ruthie, maybe simply because she was scared out of her mind, stopped crying. Kris walked her to the line of security while Ryan remained where he was, hands up before the firing squad.

When Kris passed her to the woman, Ruthie began screaming again. “RYAN!”

He did not move except to wave to her and smile, like this was totally normal, him standing arms raised before a line of men in riot gear. Then the gunshots echoed around the space. It took Ryan a second to realize he had not been shot, or even shot at.

Kris grabbed his arm. “We have to get out of here!”

Ryan looked around for where the shots had been fired. “Is someone shooting?”

“A gang is trying to loot the food caravan.”

Turning, Ryan saw more pallets of food rolling out of the Sam’s Club. At the center of each pallet was a guard with a gun, and he was firing on the crowd of people running toward the line. A crowd of people that included Mike and Drew—even wearing ski masks, they were recognizable to Ryan.

Ryan jerked his arm free of Kris’s hold and drilled into the nearest guard, took his stun baton, and zapped the gunner. Ryan then rolled away from the convoy and behind the protection of an escalator’s handrail, then began scanning the mess of people for Mike or Drew. There were four other pallets, each with a gunner, but they weren’t firing blindly. They probably had a limited amount of ammo, and had been warned about blowing it all in the first minute.

The teens had taken cover behind the giant pots and benches, scaffold columns and garbage cans. Ryan peered over the handrail and caught sight of Drew. He was leaning on a column. He clutched his chest. Had he been hit? He coughed and blood dribbled from his mouth. Drew looked at the red sputum on his hand like he was confused.

Ryan bolted out from behind the handrail to where Drew stood. “Where are you hit?” he yelled.

Drew held out his hand. “Why am I coughing blood?”

Ryan searched his body for the entrance wound. There was nothing. Drew stumbled forward, grabbed the column for support, then dropped to his knees.

“Drew!” Ryan screamed. “Did they shoot you?” He grabbed Drew’s face. His skin was hot and dry.

“Shrimp?” Drew asked, as if seeing him through a fog. “Where’ve you been?”

Ryan tried to drag Drew to his feet. He had to get him out of there. “Get up, dude!” he yelled, leaning back against Drew’s weight. “You need help.”

Drew’s eyes rolled back into his head. He began to convulse, jerking himself free of Ryan’s grasp and dropping onto the tiles. Bloody, foamy spit bubbled over his lips.

“Drew!” Ryan screamed, stepping back. What the hell was happening?

Mike was suddenly beside him, then kneeling next to Drew. “Drewski!” he screamed, shaking Drew’s shoulders. He slapped his friend in the face. “Drew, you ass, get the hell up!” Drew’s head flopped on his neck.

A bullet blew out the neon sign on the scaffold above Ryan’s head. “Mike, we’ve got to get out of here!”

Mike shook Drew again. “Drew!” Blood was now running out of his nose and mouth.

A crowd of riot-gear-clad security guards came flooding out of the HomeMart. Ryan knelt, shoved an arm under Mike’s chest, and lifted him. “Get up, you idiot!” Ryan drove Mike away from the nightmare like a tackling bag down the practice field.

Mike clung to Drew’s shirt until it ripped. He stumbled backward, letting Ryan push him toward the wall, then into the service hall and into the dark. The screams from the main courtyard followed them until the door slammed shut and left them in silence.

• • •

Marco’s team exploded onto the scene from the empty store across from the Sam’s Club. He had unlocked the gate from the inside and at the precise moment of his command, one of his team had cut the chain, causing the thing to roll up like a snapped shade. He had waited until the caravan was mere feet from the gate, and his team was able to completely overwhelm the first pallet’s guards and clean the whole thing of its food.

How disappointing, amidst this triumph, to look over and see Mike backpedaling away from the battle ground with that defector Ryan. It was almost as if it didn’t matter that Marco had stuck by Mike through everything. That Marco had made Mike’s very survival in the mall possible.

Well, frak him right in the ass.

“Leon, take team two and hit the next pallet from the other side of the escalator!”

Leon nodded and raced from the store, nail gun sending out a spray of cover fire to clear a path for his team. Marco waved for his team to attack from this side, pinning the second pallet between two screaming hordes of starving, mildly hungover, and incredibly pissed-off people wielding bats and other assorted weaponry. It almost wasn’t fair.

The reinforcements Goldman had sent out were afraid to come too close, thanks to the guy and girl Marco had armed with bows on the second floor. A near constant, if not necessarily on target, rain of arrows held them back. Then there were the four girls Marco had given hairspray and lighters to: instant flamethrowers. It was truly an impressive display. If he weren’t defending his pile of Cheerios boxes with his trusty hockey stick, he would have patted himself on the back.

“Fall back to base!” he screamed, seeing that most of the second pallet had been cleared.

Even Mike’s teams signaled their agreement and everyone began to flee for their assigned service exits. Marco had plotted varying routes through the service halls for each team to take back to the bowling alley such that if one got caught, it would not be immediately apparent where they were headed. Yet another stroke of genius. Stroke after stroke after stroke. If Mike wanted to turn tail with Shay’s douche-y boyfriend, then who the hell needed him? Marco could run this operation solo.

• • •

After searching the stockroom on the first floor of the JCPenney, Shay moved on to the second-floor stockroom. She had to find Preeti. Because if she wasn’t in the JCPenney, then she was lost somewhere in the maze of the mall and all hope was lost.

Near the back corner, beyond a clutter of nearly impenetrable toppled racks, Shay noticed a large stack of cardboard boxes. They were conspicuous in that they were the only such pile in the room. She had to remove the racks one at a time, dragging them back across the floor—it amazed her that no guard had come to arrest her, given the ruckus she was making crashing around. Finally, she pulled the first box from the pile and struck gold.

Preeti stared at her with bloodshot eyes from within the cave of boxes. On the ground next to her lay two young girls. Shay had seen them before at the school.

Preeti screamed, but then realized that it was Shay and not a guard. She dissolved into tears and flung her arms around Shay’s neck. “I’m so sorry!” she cried.

It was the exact thing Shay had wanted to tell her sister. What did Preeti have to be sorry for?

Preeti wailed about how her friends had gotten sick two nights ago. They were all scared, and Preeti didn’t want them to go to the med center and leave her all alone, so she convinced them to hide with her in the stockroom. Only they had gotten worse and worse and were now asleep, she thought, and burning hot. “I just didn’t want them to die like Nani,” she whimpered. “I couldn’t lose anyone else.”