The huge main doors of Edwards Mall were still shuttered so we walked further down the street and turned left at the next junction, walking along the side of the mall until we came to the loading-bay entranceways. They opened up into nothing but darkness, and the way they sloped tunnel-like beneath the ground made my skin crawl.
‘Déjà vu, anyone?’ Zee said with a nervous laugh.
‘Come on, it’s just a mall,’ I replied, leading the way. My silver eyes penetrated the shadows as though I was holding a flashlight, peeling away layers of gloom to reveal an empty service road that curled down and to the left. If we carried straight on we’d get to the car park, but we swung round the bend to find ourselves in an enormous underground loading dock. I let my eyes drift up to see three sets of double doors in the far wall. It was then that I noticed the blinking red lights studded into the ceiling.
‘We’re being watched,’ I said, pointing. ‘Security cameras.’
‘Forget them,’ Simon said, making his way cautiously towards the doors. He reached the low wall of one of the bays and began to haul himself up. ‘They’re just recording; won’t nobody see that footage till we’re long gone.’
As if to prove his point he flicked his middle finger at the ceiling, waving it around for a second before crouching down and offering Zee his hand. Zee took it, letting himself be pulled up. I followed with a graceless leap, my muscles crying out as they propelled me onto the platform. Simon made his way to the nearest door, pressing gently on its handle.
‘It won’t be—’ was as far as I got before the door clicked open, flooding the bay with light. Simon turned and flashed me a lopsided smile.
‘My brother used to work in a mall, over by Carlton,’ he said. ‘We’d sneak in sometimes after dark. Same thing everywhere – shops are all locked, front and back, but the access areas are always open.’ He pushed through. ‘Great for playing manhunt.’
Beyond was a wide corridor of breeze block and concrete, lined with metal doors and lit by just about the brightest bulbs in existence. I had to squint as we jogged along it.
‘Computer games?’ Simon said, reading the names of the shops stencilled on the back of the doors. ‘Nope. How about some books? Yeah, right. Alex, you remember if there was a department store in here?’
There had been. Another vivid memory flashed up – a vast shop occupying one corner of the mall, filled with just about every item imaginable. My parents had let me spend ten minutes in the toy department each time they visited, but they had rarely bought me anything. I let myself get lost in the past, realising with sadness that I could picture every inch of that toyshop – the stuffed bears around the till, the magic sets stacked on the shelf opposite the elevator, the vast tree they always put up on the top floor every Christmas – but I couldn’t remember what my parents looked like. In my head they were faceless mannequins that stood in the corner of my vision, moving every time I moved so I could never see them clearly.
‘Yo, Alex!’ said Simon, giving me a gentle tap on the shoulder. The memory flew, but left behind a dull throb of heartache. ‘You still with us? Department store? Remember?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Yeah there is one. No idea where, though, sorry. Coming in this way, everything’s all back to front.’
Simon muttered something and carried on, the doors flashing past us on either side – furniture, phones, music and DVDs, underwear, pharmaceuticals, sweets. It was five minutes later, so deep into the warren of passageways that I didn’t think I’d ever be able to navigate my way back, that we reached a double door marked ‘Harvey’s’.
‘That’s it!’ I blurted. ‘Harvey’s, like the rabbit.’
Simon stopped and began to run his fingers along the edge of the right-hand door, eventually pulling free a thick cable. He peeled it away from the wall, splinters of paint fluttering earthwards.
‘This won’t take a second,’ he said, frowning in concentration. He used a long fingernail to split the insulation lengthways, then he clamped one of the wires in his broken teeth and bit down.
‘Whoa!’ said Zee. ‘You crazy?’
Simon shook his head, chowing down on the wire like a rabid dog until it finally surrendered. He carefully folded the split ends away from each other then let it fall back against the wall.
‘Stand back,’ he said. We did as we were told, and Simon threw himself at the doors. They were strong, and with a wheeze he rebounded onto his backside. Zee’s laughter tinkled down the corridor, the sound like wind chimes. Simon clambered to his feet and looked at me. ‘You wanna do the honours?’
I tensed my upper body and ran at the doors, hitting them square in the middle. With a squeal that sounded almost human, the lock sprang and both sides flapped open. I stumbled forward into shadow, skidding across the smooth floor and almost losing my balance. By the time I turned round Zee and Simon had followed me in and closed the doors behind them. Simon slapped the wall a few times before hitting a bank of switches, flipping them all. Gradually the lights blinked to life, revealing another narrow corridor, this one lined with clothes rails, stacked pallets and various loose ends. Limbless store dummies eyeballed us.
‘How’d you know how to get in?’ asked Zee, collapsing onto a shrink-wrapped sofa. He lifted his foot and I noticed it was bare aside from a covering of blood. Paper shoes weren’t much use on the outside. I flexed my toes inside the boots the warden had given me, happy that I hadn’t thrown them on the fire the same way I’d thrown my black suit.
‘Piece of piss,’ Simon replied. ‘Done it countless times. I weren’t no angel on the outside, remember?’ He looked at me knowingly. ‘Hell, none of us was, right?’
‘Right,’ I replied. ‘Come on.’
I made my way to the end of the corridor, past a stockroom which was too similar to the ones in Furnace for my liking. I peered inside, half expecting a rat to bound from the darkness and lock its teeth into my throat, and I turned away before I could think the creature into existence.
‘Oh God, I’m not getting in that,’ came Zee’s voice. I followed his line of sight to the elevator at the end of the hallway, the doors open as if inviting us in. It was about the same size as the one in Furnace, not the main lift but the smaller one that linked the bottom of general population to the blood-drenched tunnels below. I was with Zee on this one. I had no desire ever to ride in an elevator again. I just wouldn’t trust it not to carry us to the bowels of hell.
Fortunately there was another door beside it, the round glass panel revealing a staircase beyond. We bounded through and started upwards. Every step felt like my last. I could have happily curled up right there and then on the cold concrete and slept for a thousand years. I could barely even remember the last time I had rested, an age ago in a bed deep beneath the surface. I had just completed the warden’s test, he had welcomed me into his family and called me his son. And I had slept better than I had ever done in my life.
The thought sent a chill scurrying up my spine and I forced it from my mind. I’d have all the time in the world to sleep when we were out of the city. Right now I had to stay sharp. But still tiredness gripped me like a funeral shroud, numbing my body and my mind, making the world seem dreamlike. And behind the exhaustion something else, a feeling that I was hollow, empty. It was almost like hunger, but deeper, as though it came from the very core of my being, as though my soul was starving.
I realised my thoughts were bordering on delusional, tried to switch them off in order to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. We climbed three flights before coming to a door, and Zee pushed it open.
‘Women’s clothing,’ he said. ‘Anybody fancy it?’
Simon nudged his way past Zee and through the door, holding it open for us. I staggered in to see that the store was alive, the lights on, the elevators running and the gentle buzz of mall music giving the scene a surreal atmosphere. I shrank back, half expecting to see shoppers milling about between the racks of clothing, then realised that Simon must have
switched everything on when we first arrived. There was no sign of a clock anywhere and I had no idea what the time was, but given that the sun had barely risen, we probably still had a few hours before the mall opened for business.
Not that it would be opening today, I thought, given the fact that the entire neighbourhood was crawling with escaped convicts and armed police.
‘Come on,’ said Simon, setting off across the shop floor. Harvey’s was huge, each level a seemingly endless expanse broken up by various displays and till points. Simon made his way towards the nearest escalator, where a directory listed the various departments. He pressed an oversized finger against ‘Menswear’.
‘Let’s get some kit first,’ he said, hopping onto the moving steps.
‘I don’t know, but I think this might be the best thing for you, Alex.’ I turned to see Zee holding up a pair of huge blue maternity dungarees covered with friendly-faced sunflowers. He pressed them up against me and murmured approvingly. ‘They’re probably the only thing in here that will fit you. And besides, the denim really brings out the colour of your bruises.’
I brushed them away with a half-hearted scowl.
‘You’ll be wearing them on your head if you’re not careful,’ I grumbled, stepping onto the escalator. It carried us up to the second level. To the left was an ocean of blacks and greys that stretched to the distant far wall. To the right was a small collection of sporting goods and behind that a bank of televisions. Framing it all was a huge glass wall that looked out over the rest of the mall.
Simon dashed into menswear with a cheerful whoop but Zee angled off towards the window. I followed Zee, walking into a small café and peering through the thick glass. Two levels of shops were laid out before us, lit by the dim glow of the mall’s night security lights. On the ground floor I could make out a collection of cars and half expected to see police clambering out of them. But they were as still and as silent as the rest of the displays and I realised they were there on show.
‘Looks like we’re not alone,’ Zee said. I cupped my hand against the glare, peering through my own reflection to see a group of inmates strolling out of the shattered glass of a hardware store window on the level beneath us. They were too far away to recognise, but they were all holding what looked like shotguns. I didn’t remember there being a gun shop in the mall, but then things had changed a hell of a lot since I was a kid.
‘Maybe we should have thought of that,’ Zee said.
‘Yeah, right,’ I replied, my breath clouding the view. ‘I haven’t forgotten the last time you tried to use a gun. You almost killed us!’
‘Shut up!’ he replied with a grin. He turned, sniffing the air like a dog until he was facing a cabinet full of cakes. With a cry of delight he leapt behind the café’s counter, picked up a chocolate flapjack and stuffed the entire thing in his mouth. He started to move, then doubled back and picked up another piece before setting off in the direction of the electronics department.
‘This is great,’ he chirruped through a mouthful of cake. ‘I feel like we’re in Dawn of the Dead or something. You ever see that? Y’know when there are zombies all over the world and these people lock themselves up inside a mall.’
I kind of remembered watching the remake but Zee was spouting off again before I could reply.
‘Yeah, it was like the perfect place to hide out. You got food, supplies, water, everything you need. Loads of films and stuff, TVs like these ones. You’d never get bored.’ He had reached the televisions and began turning them on one by one. Most showed nothing but static, others blank blue screens that made Zee’s face look even greyer than usual. ‘Man, it would be so cool if that’s what was happening.’
‘I hate to break it to you, Zee,’ I said. ‘But what’s after us is a lot worse than zombies. And we really don’t have time to watch a film.’
Zee had finished with the televisions and was busy switching on the various DVD players and satellite boxes beneath them. Three of the huge screens burst into life, the sudden flare of volume making my heart miss a beat. Zee stood back to admire his handiwork, tucking into his second slice of flapjack. He didn’t offer me any and I know why – the last time I’d tried to eat anything I’d spewed up everywhere. Another gift of the warden’s poison. I’d never eat a chocolate slice again.
‘Does that look like a film?’ he said, pointing at the nearest screen. I looked to see a newsreader sitting at a desk, her face a mask of seriousness. Behind her on the studio screen was live aerial footage of Furnace Penitentiary. In the short time since we had escaped, the Black Fort – the building that formed the only entrance to the prison – had been gripped by fire. One entire side was now bathed in liquid flame, the smoke masking the cruel sculptures mounted beneath its cathedral-like spire. I wasn’t sure if the destruction inside had spread, or whether one of the inmates had started the inferno on his way out, but I found myself grinning. Nothing could make me happier than watching that hellhole burn.
Especially knowing that the warden, the blacksuits and the wheezers, and the rats too, were still down there, trapped. I offered a silent prayer that they’d all die screaming.
Except I knew that sooner or later the creeps would get out. The warden and his army, his sick force of freaks, would hit the streets. And Alfred Furnace, too. I could still hear his laughter buried deep in the black poison that circled my veins. He was on his way, and he was bringing his berserkers with him. They were all heading to the city, they were heading here right now, and I knew deep down that they weren’t coming just to round up a bunch of escapees.
‘Man, we totally trashed that place,’ Zee said softly, another peal of laughter spilling from his grin.
I stared at the screen, too mesmerised by the pixelated flames to reply. It was the prison that was on fire now, but when Furnace reached the city the chaos would spread. It would spread far and wide.
I couldn’t help thinking that when he arrived, the whole world would burn.
Television
The breach occurred shortly after five o’clock this morning.
The newsreader’s clipped accent was the perfect contrast to the scenes of carnage behind her. Zee and I had collapsed against a pillar, our eyes flicking between the various reports. There didn’t seem to be anything on any channel but breaking news of our escape.
Authorities have cordoned off the prison and the surrounding area and have reportedly petitioned the government for help from the army to contain the breakout. There is as yet no word from Furnace Penitentiary itself as to exactly how the prison’s security was breached and how many inmates have escaped.
On the bottom of the screen was a digital clock which read 05.43, as well as the date. It was March the twenty-third. I couldn’t believe how much time had passed, how much of my life had been stolen. Beneath that was a rolling text bar. I followed it as I listened.
PEOPLE IN THE CITY ARE BEING URGED TO STAY AT HOME, LOCK THEIR DOORS AND IF POSSIBLE KEEP LIGHTS OFF AND CURTAINS CLOSED. DO NOT APPROACH OR CONFRONT INMATES OR STRANGERS UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. IF YOU SEE A PRISONER, OR SOMEBODY YOU SUSPECT TO BE A PRISONER, PLEASE CALL THE DEDICATED PHONE LINE BELOW. WE WILL UPDATE YOU AS SOON AS WE HAVE FURTHER INFORMATION.
Zee looked as if he was about to fall asleep – his eyelids almost shut and his chocolate-streaked mouth drooping. I didn’t blame him. We weren’t exactly safe in here, but for the first time in a long time we weren’t running for our lives or fighting tooth and nail to stay alive. This mall was the closest thing we had to a home, and the stillness that hung over the place – the quiet almost church-like despite the chatter of the TVs and the constant drone of music – was disarming. It was tempting to believe that we could close our eyes here and wake up free men. And it was easy to forget that the events on screen were happening half a dozen streets away.
I turned my attention back to the television. A middle-aged reporter was standing in the centre of a street, trying and failing not to look nervous, the burning prison visible
behind him. There were cops everywhere, and I thought I caught a glimpse of a bunch of inmates being bundled into a van. The thick smoke, flecked with sparkling reds and blues, meant that I couldn’t be sure.
… supposed to have been the most secure prison in the world, but the big question today is just how a group of teenage inmates managed to crack security at Furnace Penitentiary. With memories of what has been dubbed the Summer of Slaughter still fresh in the minds of the nation, it’s no surprise that people here are reacting with anger and distress to the news.
‘This reminds me of being at home,’ Zee said, his voice slurred.
‘You lived in a mall?’ I joked. Zee raised a hand and batted me gently on the leg.
‘No, you doofus. The news. I used to sit with my folks after dinner and watch it. They’d always stick a documentary or something on afterwards.’ He paused, and for a moment I thought he might have dropped off. On screen the reporter was being jostled to one side by an armed policeman, a gloved hand raised to block the shot. I tried to watch but my vision was swimming in and out of focus. For a fraction of a second the reporter and the policeman seemed to appear out of the screen, standing right in front of me wearing flowery maternity dresses, and I realised I’d fallen asleep. I snapped my head up, my entire body jolting.
‘Do you think we’ll be able to go home?’ Zee asked. The question took me by surprise, waking me up a little.
‘Seriously?’ I asked. He nodded, and the sheer desperation in his expression was almost enough to force a lie from my lips. But there was no denying the truth. ‘Come on, Zee. As soon as they’ve finished searching the area the police will be checking out our addresses. If you head home they’ll catch you before the day is up, I guarantee it.’
‘Not if my parents hide me,’ he said. ‘Or if we all go away together. They’d do that, I know they would. They’d just get in the car and we could all drive somewhere nice, somewhere out of the way. Yours would do the same. We’re their kids.’
Fugitives Page 2
