Page 119 of So Thirsty

“It’s…okay,” she says. “This is…as far…as we’ll go….”

I make the next left, which leads us past a Home Depot, a movie theater, to…

“No way,” I say as a mall comes into view. “No way.”

“The…dream mall.”

It’s clearly abandoned, entrances boarded up. There’s what was once a Lord & Taylor—ghost sign lettering reading white against the rest of the dirty exterior. Sections of the parking lot are enclosed in chain-link fence.

“We…have to…go…in,” she says, breathless.

She’s so pale. She needs help. We need help.

I need help.

“Sloane…please…”

I never could say no to her.

I park the car behind the Home Depot and help her out. She can barely stand on her own, and she’s cold. So cold it hurts for me to touch her.

It’s a hard walk to the mall.

“Are you thirsty?” I ask her. “I can get you…someone.”

It’s not lost on me that I sound like Ms. Alice.

Maybe the world makes you callous. The longer you live, the less you care. I wonder if that’s a good thing, or if it’s tragic. I wonder if it’s possible to ever know for sure.

“That’s…okay…” she says.

I carry her to an entrance. I pull back the boards and find it’s chained up with a big padlock. I pull on it. Yank hard. I don’t know what I expected to happen. It’s a lock. It won’t magically spring open at the touch of my hand.

“Use your…teeth,” she says.

At first, I think she’s joking. Then I realize I don’t care; I’ll do whatever it takes to get us inside. Into the dream mall.

I lean over, and I spread my jaws, and I start to gnaw. I bite down hard, and I snap right through the chain. I spit it from my mouth, wipe off my tongue. It tastes sour, like everything. Except blood. Except Henry.

“Look…at you…crashing…into cops…chewing through…locks…” Naomi says as I push open the door for her. “You’re so…fucking cool.”

I hold my breath, waiting for an alarm to sound, but it doesn’t.

A stroke of luck. If I can call anything about this situation lucky.

Naomi tumbles forward, into the dead mall.

It’s dim. There are some skylights, but other than that, darkness. Shadows cross the ugly white and pink and turquoise tile. Diamond patterns. Rats scurry around. I can hear them, smell them. Their scent is powerful and specific, cutting through the rot. Leaking pipes leaving puddles, spots of mold on the walls, fountains with an inch of stagnant water covering dirty coins—abandoned wishes.

We come to an escalator, half-collapsed in a two-story atrium.

There’s a carousel off to the side. A small one, with only a few horses. I can tell it was beautiful once, though the colors have faded, and the whole thing is covered in dust. I feel sad for the horses, trapped in here, frozen. Unable to dance around their forever loop. There are so many ways to be stuck, aren’t there?

“This is it,” Naomi says, falling to her hands and knees. “It really is the…dream mall.”

“It is,” I lie. It looks nothing like the mall in my dreams.

“We made it,” she says, smiling as she lowers herself down onto her side. I cringe because the floor is so filthy. Because I don’t know what to do. “I bet…you have…a sad mall story…one of your…disasters.”