There’s a sense of relief at having captured the two people I spotted. It was unsettling to know that there were people milling around the mall apart from our group. Now if we could only find Chris.
The man in the business suit raises his voice again but I can’t make out what he’s saying. He looks to be arguing with some of the people seated against the wall. Erwin and Rory stride over to the see what the commotion is about.
“How hard is it to get something to eat around here?” the man complains.
“How hard is it to stick around like you were supposed to?” Brandon shoots back. “Besides, you already ate.”
“Well, I’m hungry again.”
“We’re not in the business of starving people,” George says. He stomps over to the cooler and flings it open so hard the lid bounces against the wall. He takes out a taco shell and throws random fixings into the shell like he’s on a speed-cooking show. He slams the lid shut and shoves the taco into the man’s chest.
“You want to eat? There you are,” George huffs.
The man smirks. “Are there more where these came from?” He bites into the taco.
George steps up so that the two of them are face-to-face. “What is your name, anyhow?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the man says. He clearly has no intention of sharing his name with anyone.
“Be happy with what you get. I don’t think there’s any pleasing you.”
“Isn’t it your job to keep us all happy?” the man counters. “I’d hate for the media to hear that the mall security staff was starving us when there was food readily available.”
George clenches his teeth. He scratches at his head vigorously.
“Not that you were doing your job, anyway. You couldn’t keep the group together. That’s not going to look so great, either.”
Rory and Erwin stand in line with George. Although he’s visibly seething, he’s breathing deeply and maintaining control. We all take in the scene.
“Man, that guy’s a jerk,” I mutter to Coop. Ever since we’ve been stuck with him, this man has done nothing but complain or cause trouble. Any good gamer knows that in multi-player games you have to keep everybody relatively happy in order to succeed. War takes too many resources so you should always negotiate if you can. Except I don’t think there’s any negotiating with this guy.
Whatever George was going to say or do, he abandons it. He walks back to the cooler and slowly opens the lid. He sets his flashlight down on the lid and slowly takes out the required toppings to make two more tacos. This time his moves are calculated and deliberate. He doesn’t rush, he doesn’t shove the ingredients into the shells. Instead he makes them as though they’re a labour of love. When he finishes, he sets the lid of the cooler back down, takes the two tacos, and waltzes past the man in the suit, who thinks they’re for him. George continues walking until he gets to Joaquin and A.J., the men who are handcuffed.
“If I take off those cuffs, can I trust that you boys will stay put?”
Our eyes grow wide. George is going to take the handcuffs off of these criminals? Off of thieves who were just caught stealing?! Has he gone mad?
“You see, I’d really like to give the two of you these tacos.” George turns back to the man in the suit. The man shakes his head in disgust.
“I already told you. We aren’t criminals,” A.J. says. “We’ve got nothing to run from.”
“Then you’ll do the right thing.” George motions at Rory and Erwin to undo the handcuffs. They look as perplexed as the rest of us.
When the first cuff clicks open, the group lets out a collective gasp, as though the safety of the entire group has now been compromised.
“Are you serious?!” the suit-man bellows.
A.J. and Joaquin rub their wrists, take the tacos gingerly from George’s hands, and nod at him. They don’t say a word. Instead, they chew their tacos slowly.
George leaves the flashlight on the men. No one says a word. We all watch the two men eat as though lives depend on it. Who knows what they might do if we take our eyes off of them.
When the men finish, they ask George if he needs to cuff them again. A.J. even holds out his wrists for him. We wait to see what George will do.
The man in the suit shuffles up to the men and pokes Joaquin in the chest. “Of course, they need to be locked up,” he spits.
“Step back,” Joaquin says evenly.
“What? What are you going to do? Hit me?”
“Step back.”
“C’mon then, hit me. We’ll add that to your list of charges.” The man pokes Joaquin again.
The air feels thick and muggy and tense. Adrenaline courses through me again as I take in the scene. Part of me wants to stand up and intervene — but I’m also scared of what might unfold.
Out of the shadows, Brandon appears behind the man in the suit. I scramble to my feet.
“No, Zach, don’t.” Cooper pushes me back down. What is Brandon doing?
When the man in the suit senses someone near him, he turns. “What do you want?” He’s clearly amused — that is, until Brandon makes a fist, winds up, and clocks him directly in the face.
The man crumples and falls to the ground, clutching his face.
Brandon shakes out his hand; clearly, he’s hurt it in the process. Some people cheer and clap. Coop and I are far too shocked to do anything but let our jaws hang open.
Is this the same guy with the panic attacks? He’s up and punched someone?
The man rubs his jaw. “Oh, just you wait, you little punk!” He starts to get up.
Brandon doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t walk away, he doesn’t look scared — in fact, he looks very pleased with himself.
George steps between the two of them and holds his arms out to his sides as if to protect Brandon.
“What are you doing?” says the man. “He’s the one who hit me.”
“The way I see it, you had that one coming,” George says. “And this, too.”
George flings out his handcuffs — likely still warm from the other man’s hands — and throws them to Rory, who’s behind the man in the business suit. In a swift move, he pins the man’s hands behind his back before he can figure out what’s happening and secures the cuffs.
“What’s going on here?” the man yells. Even Joaquin and A.J. look stunned. George lifts the side of the man’s suit coat and jangles the pocket. Dangling from the opening is a long diamond necklace. It must have shaken loose when Brandon punched him. George shoves his hand in the pocket and pulls out a handful of diamond jewellery.
“Let me guess … you were framed.” George shakes his head. The man is quiet.
“Nothing to say now?” George continues. “I thought you had more than enough money to buy your own jewellery.”
The man clamps his mouth shut and does not respond.
A.J. and Joaquin let out a sigh of relief.
George walks up to the two of them and shakes their hands. “I’m sorry I doubted you,” he says. “That was not my finest moment. I was wrong, and I apologize.”
The men in the track suits nod and pat him on the back. “All’s well that ends well,” A.J. says.
“I’d never steal,” Joaquin reiterates. “We saw him in there and thought we could take him down ourselves.”
“We really were just trying to help,” A.J. says.
“Well, now I’d appreciate it if you guys stuck with us, okay?”
The two of them nod.
Rory and Erwin hold the man in the suit in case he tries to run. He seems pretty docile, which makes me think he’s going to run as soon as he gets the chance.
“This day just keeps getting more and more interesting,” Cooper whispers to me.
I look for Samara. She’s talking with Valerie and playing with Ira, who is giggling and cooing at her. I watch her face light up with joy at the baby’s reaction to her. It makes me smile.
“Well, everyone … I think we should carry on,” George says. “That�
�s enough drama for a while.” The group stands and gathers their things. I offer to take Ira’s stroller again. Valerie looks relieved at having the help. I think that maybe I’ll be able to walk with Samara this way, but when I get the stroller turned around and the brakes off, she’s walked off. My heart sinks. After a few minutes, George starts leading the way for the group. I stay close to Valerie and Ira with the stroller. Brandon falls into step with us.
“Brandon, that was awesome! I can’t believe you did that!” I tell him.
He smiles wryly. “I can’t believe I did it either.”
“I think you spoke for all of us with that punch.”
“I know it wasn’t a nice thing to do, but I just couldn’t take that guy anymore and I knew he wouldn’t have expected something like that from me.”
I smile. “Well, without it, the jewellery might not have spilled out of his pocket. I’d say you solved a crime at the same time with that one.”
“That’s the first time I’ve ever thrown a real punch,” Brandon admits. “It hurt. Bad.”
We both chuckle. “You’re stronger than you think you are,” I say.
He shakes out his hand and examines his knuckles. “You know what, Zach?” he says under his breath. “It was worth it.”
Brandon has the smile of someone who has just won their first duel. Negotiations are a good start — but there are some battles worth fighting.
TIP #8
Things aren’t always what they seem
“Do you hear that?” George stops in his tracks.
“Hear what?” says Rory. The group comes to a stop.
“Shhh!” George motions for the group to be quiet. I turn and look at the group of us. If it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation I would have to laugh. Everyone looks bleary-eyed and dishevelled. Half are wrapped in brightly coloured party dresses, and we’re all dragging our feet. We must look like some kind of zombie circus. Like a shopping episode of The Walking Dead.
“Who’s talking?” George asks.
No one makes a sound. George turns and flashes his flashlight across the group. I look for Samara. She catches my eye quickly and gives me a smile. I can feel my cheeks getting hot. I blush and give her a little wave but then I see that Cooper is mouthing something to her at the same time; she probably wasn’t looking at me at all. I quickly turn around. How can I be such an idiot? Peter points to George, who’s pressing himself up against the elevator. “What is he doing?”
George stares at the elevator doors. Another emergency light illuminates us a little better.
“Is somebody there?” he yells down at the floor, through the seam between the doors. “Can you hear me?”
We all grow silent. Sure enough, there’s a soft banging noise, distant but distinct.
“Hello?!” George yells again.
“Help!” The sound is barely discernible from where we’re sitting.
Cooper and I leap onto our feet and join George at the elevator.
“Someone’s stuck inside. Must’ve been in there when the power went out,” George says. “We’ll get you out!” he calls back. He turns back to us. “It’s funny we didn’t hear the alarm.”
The banging grows louder.
“Listen, try to stay calm!” George yells. “We know you’re in there. We’re going to get you out!”
A new adrenaline surge courses through me. “Are you hurt?” I call.
George steps away and gets back on his radio.
“We need to find something to pry open these doors,” Erwin says. Rory puffs his chest out again and squares himself with the elevator door. He shakes out his arms as though preparing for a weightlifting competition and then puts his fingers through the centre slat between the two doors.
“Ladies and gentlemen, about to lift for us today is Rory — he’s competing in the ninety-pound weight class,” Cooper says in a deep announcer voice. I elbow him. I don’t want to start laughing. Rory clenches his teeth and grunts as he pulls on the elevator doors … but nothing happens.
Cooper and I join him, getting on the ground and pulling closer to the bottom. It still doesn’t move.
“We’re going to have to get something.” Rory steps away.
“Normally the doors can be pried open easily from the inside,” George says. “If they can pull open the doors in there, they should be able to get out.”
“Can you hear us?” Rory shouts.
“Yes,” a distant voice replies.
“WE WANT YOU TO TRY AND PRY OPEN THE DOORS!”
“How?”
“JUST TRY WITH YOUR FINGERS!”
“We’ve done that!”
“WE’LL TRY FROM THIS END, TOO!”
“Zach, who do you think is in there?” Samara asks.
“I have no idea. They’ve probably been trapped in there for about ten hours by now though!” I glance down at my watch. It’s 4:03 a.m.
“No chance of it being Chris?”
“How? The power was already out when we lost track of him. Unless the elevator runs on back-up power, I guess?”
George interjects. “The elevator is designed to go straight to the main floor if there’s a break in power. It should be at ground level already.”
“I can go down there,” Samara offers quickly.
“Are you crazy? You need to stay up here with the group,” I say, more forcefully than I mean to.
“Why should you tell me what to do?” Samara says. “You think I can’t handle myself?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I stammer. “I just want you to be safe.”
“He’s right. It’s up to us to handle it,” George says, pointing to Rory and Erwin.
Samara crosses her arms and walks over to the railing that overlooks the ground floor. Cooper joins her. I watch as their heads lower together like they’re deep in conversation. Something bubbles up inside of me — an ugly festering — a jealousy that makes my blood pressure rise to peak levels. I feel like Tobey Maguire in Spider-Man 2. Cooper is James Franco playing Harry Osborn. He’s no longer my best friend but a double-crossing enemy dating the girl I like. Samara is my Mary Jane. And somehow, he’ll justify it by saying I didn’t make a move.
My neck and shoulders tighten. My veins throb with an intensity that I’m unfamiliar with. I think of Ready Player One. Why can’t I be like Wade Watts or his avatar Parzival, fighting to save everything and then getting the girl at the end? After he wins the quest, he and Samantha move in with one another and build a future together. And she’s perfect for him — into so many of the same things he is. She sees how hard he works and what a great guy he is. I think I’m invisible to Samara. All she seems to notice is Cooper.
Voices call up from down below. “WE’RE OUT! WE’RE OUT!”
Our group lets out a few cheers and some half-hearted clapping.
“Yes!” George smiles. “It worked! I better go down and check to make sure they’re okay… I’ll bring them up to join the rest of us.”
“THIS IS CODE 70 TO GATEWAY MALL,” George’s radio booms. “THIS IS AN EMERGENCY ALERT. A TORNADO HAS TOUCHED DOWN. TAKE COVER IMMEDIATELY.”
George presses his radio. “TEN-FOUR.”
Cries of fear fill the empty space and make the hair on my arms stand up again.
“Okay,” says George, “I want everyone to make their way down this stairwell here. We’ll take cover downstairs. Let’s get down there safely and swiftly.”
“I’ve got the stroller,” I tell Valerie. She nods gratefully. I hold open the big steel door so that everyone can make their way down the steps. I glance up at the glass ceiling as everyone makes their way past me. The hail has stopped. It has accumulated in the corners of the steel framing that holds in the glass. A soft rain makes a gentle percussion sound against the glass. The sky has gotten a bit lighter. The greenish-yellow-grey tinge of the sky confuses me. I wonder if it’s the break of dawn mixing with the storm.
The two middle-schoolers, Liam and Henry, are carrying the cooler f
illed with our food items. I smile at them and pat the one closest to me on the back. “Thanks for helping, boys.”
They don’t smile back. The one I pat gives me an eye roll.
“You guys coming?” I yell to Cooper and Samara. They rush over. They’re the last of the group besides Rory and Erwin. George has gone down to find the people who were stuck in the elevator.
“Thanks!” Samara and Cooper say in unison as they pass by me in the doorway. How cute. They’re even talking at the same time like an old married couple.
“Whatever,” I mutter under my breath.
“You first,” Rory tells me, reaching for the door with his arm so that he’ll be the last to go down. I push on the door harder than I should and it flings so fast it bounces back and hits Rory in the chest.
“Sorry — didn’t mean that.” My eyes are dark.
“You okay?” Rory asks. I don’t say anything. I lift the stroller and stomp down the stairs to join the group.
Just as I’m getting to the stairwell door on the ground floor, Samara comes sprinting back in. Water sloshes up at me. She runs into the stroller and knocks me backward onto the steps.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!!!” She looks panicked. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I grunt. Truth is my back slammed so hard into the ceramic-tiled stairs that I’m winded and probably deeply bruised. “Are you? What are you running from?”
“Nothing,” Samara says. She sits on the second-last step and stretches out her legs. “I just want to stay in here. For good.”
“Are you scared?” I ask. Tornadoes sound super scary. I get it.
“Yeah. I’m scared,” she says. She’s turning pale.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say gently. I set the stroller down into the murky, ankle-deep water and try to sit up. My back feels like it’s been chopped in two. I try to slide in closer to her and I can’t help but wince. This is my chance to comfort her and reassure her. And where is Coop? Why isn’t he clueing into the fact that Samara is not okay?
“We’ll be safe.” In a daring move, I take her hand. It’s soft and small in mine. Even though it’s dark, I move to crouch in front of her so that she knows I’m looking into her face and that I mean it. Water hits the bottoms of my pant legs and the fabric absorbs the liquid quickly like a paper towel. “I promise. We’ll be safe.” The darkness makes me brave and bold. I take my other hand and place it carefully on her cheek. She closes her eyes; a few tears cascade down her cheeks and slide across my fingers. Her skin feels like flower petals — so soft and silky. I brush one of her tears away with my thumb. To my surprise, Samara doesn’t pull away. I wonder what she’s thinking in this moment. I want so badly to lean in and kiss her.
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