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I tuck it away. Carefully. Chemistry is mostly rules, reactions, and consequences. I don’t know all the rules for this yet, but I know enough to respect the consequences.
Once everything is loaded, we file toward the door in a tight line. Carlos cracks it open just enough to check the street, then signals us through.
As we make our way back, away from the alley, away from the graffiti, away from the mall signs smiling green lies from every wall, another faint call rises somewhere behind us.
Not the same voice.
Another hook.
Distant.
Fraying.
“Help . . . please . . .”
TWENTY-ONE
SO, THERE’S A CHANCE?
LEON
Back at camp, we don’t waste time pretending the city is empty by accident.
Between Carlos’s warnings and every dry tank we’ve found, the answer is sitting right there on Earl’s map.
The mall people.
Gas stations. Garages. Delivery trucks. Cars that still had doors hanging open. Anything useful, they took, dragged, drained, or carried back to the Fashion Outlets like ants feeding a queen.
Now we need to know how deep the nest goes.
Earl’s map is spread across the hood of his car again, soft at the folds and smudged with grease pencil. The circled mall sits near the center, ugly and unavoidable.
Around us, camp moves in low, tired pieces. Poppy and Luis sit near the fire, heads bent close over something she’s showing him. Edith hovers nearby with a pot, stirring in a can of creamed corn like she’s trying to offend God and dinner at the same time. Joanie leans against Lucy, picking at something under her fingernail with a knife. Mom moves between vehicles, checking straps, tightening knots, making sure nothing comes loose if we have to leave fast.
No one’s relaxed.
No one even pretends to be.
Jacob leans both hands on the hood. “Start with layout.”
Carlos looks from him to the map. “Of the mall?”
“Entrances. Exits. Where they sleep. Where they keep fuel. How many people they have. Weapons. Blind spots. Anything that keeps us alive.”
Carlos’s mouth tightens, but he steps closer. “How am I supposed to know all that?”
Luis follows.
Clair studies the circled shape on the map, her finger hovering near the main entrance. “Did you two know the mall before all this?”
Carlos glances at her. “What?”
“Before,” she says. “Did you go there a lot? Growing up?”
Luis’s face changes first. Softer. Younger. “All the time.”
Carlos looks away, jaw shifting. “Everybody went there.”
