back.
The Black Shirt leader bent over and said something to Shovel but their friend just shook his head again. The man rose and walked to the far end of the lines. He pointed and two more Black Shirts stepped out from watching the other students and teachers and joined the others.
“That’s eighteen of them,” Toby said. He wiped his sleeve under his nose. “How many times have they made Shovel go through that?”
“Why?” Tar asked. He realized he was having trouble seeing what was going on because of the tears in his eyes. “That’s just a crappy old piece of tech. You can buy them almost anywhere.”
They fell silent as the bald man repeated the same scene, speaking down the line to Shovel. Their friend only shook his head.
Two Black Shirts yanked him to his feet. The rest raised their weapons again.
Tar flinched, knowing what was about to happen, and in his concern for his friend he leaned on the curtain hiding them from the outside. More than a decade’s worth of neglect and dry rot gave way and the thick material ripped from it holders. As Tar looked up in horror, a six-foot section of the curtain plummeted to the floor of the old store and revealed them to the world.
They were framed in the giant window and Tar looked down to see every person in the schoolyard staring up at them, including Shovel. His friend’s eyes bored through the glass into Tar’s body, drilling into him with a bolt of pain and sadness. But then a fire lit up within that stare and Shovel turned his battered face in the bald man’s direction.
Shovel made it past half of the Black Shirts before they realized what was happening. The next three or four landed glancing blows on him but the last few made him shudder as their metal and wood weapons struck flesh. His momentum carried him until he only had a few more strides to his target.
But the leader had not stood by in shock. As Shovel reached out with his blood-covered fingers the bald man raised his hand and fired a gun once, twice, three times, each bullet tearing into Shovel’s chest. The boy sank to his knees, balanced for an eternal second, before slumping forward, head bouncing on the asphalt next to the bald man’s boots.
“We’ve got to go, Tar! We’ve got to go now!”
Toby pulled Tar away from the window even as the Black Shirts in the schoolyard ran across the street toward the mall. After a few hesitant strides Tar was running on his own and passing Toby. He didn’t need to be told to run away anymore. He had recognized the bald man when he stared up at them with hatred blazing in his eyes. He was older and he no longer had a beard but Tar knew him.
It was the man, the scary one. The one standing behind Father Eli in the newscast from before The Crash. That bald man had stared right at him, then just as now, crossing nearly a decade and a half and directing his hatred at Tar through the window.
Chapter 10
Tar turned on his flashlight just in time to miss running into a mannequin. Toby was not so lucky and plowed into the plastic figure, stumbling over it, and nearly losing his feet.
They ran deeper into the darkness, Tar gripping his flashlight so tight his fingers ached. It lit up the opening in the damaged security gate and he ducked through, with Toby rattling the metal behind him as he followed.
The beams of light bounced wildly on the floors and walls as they sprinted through the mall. The glass around the second floor overlook reflected the light and their echoing footsteps confirmed they had arrived at the strange stairway. They pounded their way down, each thump bouncing back until it sounded like a crowd of shoppers were running with them.
Tar almost missed the hallway to the Food Court. His shoes squeaked on the shiny floor and he pushed off with his left hand when he bumped into the wall. Toby’s light was not bouncing along with his but Tar heard his friend running nearby so he kept going.
The dark played tricks on Tar. The short
The Black Shirt leader bent over and said something to Shovel but their friend just shook his head again. The man rose and walked to the far end of the lines. He pointed and two more Black Shirts stepped out from watching the other students and teachers and joined the others.
“That’s eighteen of them,” Toby said. He wiped his sleeve under his nose. “How many times have they made Shovel go through that?”
“Why?” Tar asked. He realized he was having trouble seeing what was going on because of the tears in his eyes. “That’s just a crappy old piece of tech. You can buy them almost anywhere.”
They fell silent as the bald man repeated the same scene, speaking down the line to Shovel. Their friend only shook his head.
Two Black Shirts yanked him to his feet. The rest raised their weapons again.
Tar flinched, knowing what was about to happen, and in his concern for his friend he leaned on the curtain hiding them from the outside. More than a decade’s worth of neglect and dry rot gave way and the thick material ripped from it holders. As Tar looked up in horror, a six-foot section of the curtain plummeted to the floor of the old store and revealed them to the world.
They were framed in the giant window and Tar looked down to see every person in the schoolyard staring up at them, including Shovel. His friend’s eyes bored through the glass into Tar’s body, drilling into him with a bolt of pain and sadness. But then a fire lit up within that stare and Shovel turned his battered face in the bald man’s direction.
Shovel made it past half of the Black Shirts before they realized what was happening. The next three or four landed glancing blows on him but the last few made him shudder as their metal and wood weapons struck flesh. His momentum carried him until he only had a few more strides to his target.
But the leader had not stood by in shock. As Shovel reached out with his blood-covered fingers the bald man raised his hand and fired a gun once, twice, three times, each bullet tearing into Shovel’s chest. The boy sank to his knees, balanced for an eternal second, before slumping forward, head bouncing on the asphalt next to the bald man’s boots.
“We’ve got to go, Tar! We’ve got to go now!”
Toby pulled Tar away from the window even as the Black Shirts in the schoolyard ran across the street toward the mall. After a few hesitant strides Tar was running on his own and passing Toby. He didn’t need to be told to run away anymore. He had recognized the bald man when he stared up at them with hatred blazing in his eyes. He was older and he no longer had a beard but Tar knew him.
It was the man, the scary one. The one standing behind Father Eli in the newscast from before The Crash. That bald man had stared right at him, then just as now, crossing nearly a decade and a half and directing his hatred at Tar through the window.
Chapter 10
Tar turned on his flashlight just in time to miss running into a mannequin. Toby was not so lucky and plowed into the plastic figure, stumbling over it, and nearly losing his feet.
They ran deeper into the darkness, Tar gripping his flashlight so tight his fingers ached. It lit up the opening in the damaged security gate and he ducked through, with Toby rattling the metal behind him as he followed.
The beams of light bounced wildly on the floors and walls as they sprinted through the mall. The glass around the second floor overlook reflected the light and their echoing footsteps confirmed they had arrived at the strange stairway. They pounded their way down, each thump bouncing back until it sounded like a crowd of shoppers were running with them.
Tar almost missed the hallway to the Food Court. His shoes squeaked on the shiny floor and he pushed off with his left hand when he bumped into the wall. Toby’s light was not bouncing along with his but Tar heard his friend running nearby so he kept going.
The dark played tricks on Tar. The short
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