Shimmer: A Novel (38 page)

“Few more balloons and that table will float,” Fallon said.

When the elevator door opened, they stayed in the car and rode back up to the second level, jostling for window space with the newcomers, a young couple with a double stroller, four pre-teen boys wearing black death-metal band T-shirts, baggie pants and unlaced sneakers, and a pair of gray-haired ladies in flower print dresses who appeared scandalized by the whole prospect of a concert in the mall.

Bored security guards attempted to maintain the integrity of a velvet rope aisle which permitted foot traffic to move at the sluggish pace of blood through severely clogged arteries. If the fire marshal were present, he’d be on the verge of an aneurism, but the mall coffers would be overflowing.

After a second round trip, a security guard informed Logan and Fallon of the no loitering policy and ordered them off the elevator. Reluctantly, they exited on the lower level, and Fallon smiled when Logan whispered, “What’s the big deal? The whole mall is loitering.”

Around the courtyard, the crowd was four or five deep, so they edged along the narrow traffic aisle. To the left of the stage was an ornate carousel, currently dormant in deference to the radio station’s musical offerings; to the right was a soft pretzel kiosk doing a brisk business.

Somebody grabbed Fallon and spun her around. “Hey, girl!”

Logan tensed for a moment, but realized the three young women were Fallon’s friends from school. He remembered seeing the garrulous redhead with the pixie haircut and blue eyes in the hallway at school. However, he was unfamiliar with the other two: a tall blonde with spiky hair, heavy brown eye shadow, and a nose ring, in a sleeveless purple midriff-bearing top with low-slung black jeans, and a brunette with a long ponytail, button-down green top, jeans skirt and weighty sandals with plastic straps.

“Sadie?” Fallon said to the redhead. “What are you doing here?”

“Duh? Shopping! My father slipped me a hundred dollar gift card and it was burning a major hole in my purse. He’s clearly ahead of mom on points in the divorce sweepstakes.”

Fallon made introductions, “Logan Walker, this is Sadie Bennett, Kelly Flexer and Julie Young.”

“Ah, the fresh blood,” Sadie said, favoring Logan with a wink.

“I came for the concert,” brunette Julie said.

“Oh, please,” Kelly said, rolling her eyes. “More bubblegum pop.”

“Bridget Bane’s cool,” Julie said. “She plays piano and writes her own songs. Not like some of those inflated airheads.”

“So she has
half
a brain.”

“You’re just too negative,” Julie said to the angular blonde. “It’s a free concert.” She looked at Logan for support. “Who complains about free stuff?”

Sadie caught Fallon’s upper arm and whispered, “Trotting out the boy toy?”

“It’s not like that, Sadie,” Fallon said, frowning. “We’re friends.”

“She’ll break your heart, kid,” Sadie said to Logan, “but you’ll enjoy the ride.”

“Sadie!” Fallon’s face was burning. “Logan, I am
so
not like that.” She glared at Sadie who sported a devilish grin. “Sadie is mistaking her reputation for mine.”

“You’d love to have my reputation.”

“So why aren’t you on the prowl, Ms. Maneater?”

“Priorities,” Sadie said. “Shopping before guys. Besides, the mall closes early and I only date guys who can go all night.”

Kelly laughed, giving Sadie a playful shove. “You wish, Bennett.”

Julie confided in Logan. “She only pretends she’s a slut.”

“I know a few guys who are the same—”

A roar drowned out Logan’s voice. They all turned toward the stage as security guards in black nylon windbreakers escorted Bridget Bane and her four band members onto the stage. The young singer wore an outfit similar to the one in the poster, but with far fewer rips and holes. Obviously styled to blend into the background, her four-piece band—guitarist, bass player, keyboardist, and drummer—all wore black linen jackets over white T-shirts and black trousers. They were uniformly pale, with a jittery intensity even though they appeared malnourished and fatigued, perhaps to echo the “World Crashes Down” concept of Bridget’s album.

“Hello, Hadenford!” Bridget said into the microphone attached to an old-fashioned microphone stand. No wireless headset for her. Another cheer filled the cramped confines of the mall. “Thank you all for buying my album. Those songs mean so much to me.” She paused again for cheers. “And if you don’t have a copy yet, what are you waiting for?” Laughter. “They have plenty of copies here at the Renaissance Mall.” More cheers.

Logan fell to one knee, clutching his stomach.

“Logan! What’s wrong?” Fallon shouted, crouching beside him.

“Dude, wait until the music starts,” Kelly said sarcastically, “then you’ll really need to hurl.”

“Need to call them,” Logan said, wincing in pain. “Tell them to hurry. It’s coming… soon!”

Fallon helped him stand but he felt more like curling up in the fetal position on the cold tile floor. The music started with an energetic flourish of drums and a mournful guitar intro.

Logan scrabbled in his pants pockets with trembling hands and retrieved his cell phone. As he flipped it open, it slipped from his grasp. Julie bent down and picked it up for him. “Thank you…” Logan’s breath caught in his throat. He was staring at the three girls, two of whom were fixated on the stage, but all three of them were fading away as he watched, ghostlike mirages. “Get out,” Logan said to Julie. “Hurry while there’s still time!”

“Ha, ha, funny guy,” Julie said. “Said I like her music. Remember?”

“No,” Logan said. “All of you need to leave. Get out of the mall.”

“We’ll survive the nightmare, Logan,” Kelly said, patting his arm. “Scarred for life, but we’ll survive.”

“If you stay, you’re going to die!”

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad.”

Logan opened his mouth to shout an explanation. Then closed it. Kelly was bobbing her head in time to the music. She wanted to stay. She liked Bridget Bane but didn’t want to admit it. Probably Sadie as well, using her gift card spending spree as an excuse to hang around the mall until show time. Logan scanned the crowd. Hundreds—probably a few thousand—had come to the mall specifically to hear Bridget Bane sing a few songs from her new album. They were standing around waiting, almost entranced, unaware that Bridget Bane was simply the opening act.

Somebody answered Logan’s call, but the mall was so noisy he couldn’t tell whose voice he heard. “Hurry!” he shouted, “It’s happening!” Disconnecting the call, he switched the phone to vibrate mode, and slipped it into his pocket. The ring tone couldn’t compete with the concert and crowd noise.

“Where are they?” Fallon yelled in his ear.

“Couldn’t hear,” he said. “C’mon! Let’s look for it!”

She didn’t ask what “it” was. She knew he meant the rift.

Moving through the crowd proved substantially more difficult than before. Now that the show had started, people within the velvet rope traffic aisle had paused to watch the stage. Fallon caught Logan’s arm. “Mall security office!”

Logan nodded. “Good idea.”

“This way,” she said, pulling him in the opposite direction.

Before they reached the security office, Logan spotted a portly security guard in one of the dark windbreakers at the edge of the courtyard, standing with one foot up on the stationary base of the carousel. Rather than monitoring the crowd, his complete attention was on the provocatively clad singer onstage. The man glared at Logan when he grabbed his arm. “There a problem here?” he asked Logan in a tone of voice that clearly demanded a negative response combined with a hasty departure.

“Yes! A big problem!” Logan shouted. “Everyone’s in danger!”

“You some kind of wiseass, son?”

“No! I’m serious,” Logan said. “Deadly serious.”

“What the hell!” the man exclaimed, suddenly alarmed. “Is that a knife? You brought a knife in here, asshole?”

Logan’s shirt had pulled up, exposing the scabbard buckle and the sheathed dagger sticking out of his pant’s pocket.

The man caught Logan’s wrist. “Gimme that! Right now!”

Fallon screamed.

With the guard momentarily distracted, Logan twisted his arm free and darted across the carousel, slipping between the motionless horses and sleighs which formed two rows around its circumference. A glance back revealed the guard in pursuit of him, talking into a handheld radio and no doubt calling for backup.

Fallon circled around the carousel and met him on the other side. They dodged and weaved their way through the milling crowd, but it soon became apparent that the mall security guards, beefed up in number for the big event, were zeroing in on them.

Abruptly, Logan reversed direction, leading Fallon back toward the stage. “Whatever’s coming will see the stage as a focal point. A kind of nexus. That’s where the rift will appear.” It made sense. The rift had appeared in the middle of a moving bus. A stationary stage, a center of activity in a much larger mass of people would present an irresistible target. The portly guard spotted them and hustled through the crowded aisle. Logan ducked under the rope, with Fallon in tow, and sidled across the crowd to the opposite aisle. The maneuver would buy them a few minutes—

Logan stopped, pointed at the radio station table. “There!”

Chief Grainger and a few of his officers stood near the table, a visible police presence to discourage troublemakers. Hoping Ambrose had given the chief a heads-up, he steered Fallon toward the black-draped table, clutching her hand so as not to lose her in the jostling crowd. “Chief! Chief Grainger!” Logan shouted, waving his free hand above his head. His voice was no match for the wall of sound from the concert stage, but the motion might attract Grainger’s attention.

A hand seized Logan’s collar and a triumphant—and hoarse—voice shouted in his ear, “That’s enough for you, punk!”

Chapter 50

 “Logan, what are you doing here?”

“You know this punk, Chief?” the portly security guard asked incredulously with his fist twisted in Logan’s shirt collar.

“I’m acquainted with the family. And Fallon as well.”

“Kid’s carrying a knife, Chief!”

“Logan…?” When Logan nodded slowly, meaningfully, Grainger cleared his throat and said to the guard, “Thanks for bringing this to my attention, Al. I’ll handle it from here.”

“Just doing my job, sir,” Al said, directing one last distrustful glance at Logan before walking away with a bit of a strut.

Bridget Bane had noticed the commotion by the radio table, but presumed everything was under control and launched into her second song, the opening chords of which triggered a rousing cheer of familiarity from the crowd.

Grainger pulled Logan away from the radio station’s table and shouted into his ear, “Logan, you can’t bring a dagger into a shopping mall.”

Fallon stayed close to Logan’s side for emotional support.

“But it’s a—”

“I know what it is, but you could start a panic if—”

“Good,” Logan said quickly. “We need to get everyone out of here. Now! Didn’t Ambrose call you?”

The three police officers who had been standing with Grainger—a no-nonsense female sergeant with short black hair and two younger patrolmen—formed a rough perimeter around Grainger, Logan, and Fallon, attempting to keep the crowd back while the chief assessed the situation.

Grainger spread his arms. “I’ve been a little busy here, Logan.”

“You need to clear the mall! Get everybody out before it’s too late.”

“Why?”

“It’s about to happen again.”

“Specifics, Logan. I can’t clear the mall on a hunch.”

“Horrible carnage,” Logan shouted, his hands balling into fists in frustration. “You wanted to know. I’m telling you. This is your chance to make a difference!”

“Look, Logan, I know you have good intentions, but nothing happened last night. Okay? How can we be sure—?”

“Something did happen last night,” Logan interrupted. “Gideon refused to listen to me. You’re about to make the same mistake. Only much worse. Because this time people
will
die. Trust me.” Something in his tone must have frightened Chief Grainger. The man lost his bluster and seemed to consider what Logan was saying for the first time. His eyes swept the crowd, the sheer numbers finally hitting home. “Chief, everything has been leading to this moment. Carnifex wants this. We can’t give it to him.”

“So many people,” Grainger said, shaking his head. “How can I just—?”

“A bomb threat,” Logan suggested. Confronted with the otherworldly aspects of the peril, Grainger couldn’t relate the situation to a real world solution. “Tell them. They’ll take it seriously, even if they think it’s a false alarm.”

“Good idea,” Grainger said. He caught the shoulder of his shift sergeant and bobbed his head. “Logan and Fallon, this is Sergeant Raquel Albano. Stay with her while I make the announcement.”

“Announcement, Chief?”

Grainger frowned. “Something about a bomb threat.”

“That a credible threat, Chief?” Obviously Sergeant Albano hadn’t caught the entirety of the conversation.

“The threat’s credible,” Grainger said, then leaned toward her and said close to her ear, “The bomb part is not.”

“Then what threat should we be looking for?”

“You’ll know it when you see it,” Logan told her. “Believe me.”

“Lintz! Gossett!” Grainger called to the two patrolmen. They hurried over, giving their full attention to their boss, but not without first scanning left and right one last time for any sign of an imminent threat. “Gentlemen, we have a situation here. We need to clear the mall in a hurry. Round up mall security personnel.” He gripped Lintz’s shoulder, “Brian, you coordinate this side.” He pointed to Patrolman Gossett, then indicated the far side of the mall. “Mark, you’re over there. Let’s keep this calm and orderly. Fire drill 101, okay? Last thing we need is a stampede for the exits.”

Sergeant Albano led Logan and Fallon back against the wide, poster-filled display window of the Tunes Style music store. Not surprisingly, most of the posters were of Bridget Bane. “Care to clue me in?” she asked Logan, but his attention was directed elsewhere, seeking some kind of psychic spoor that would indicate a rift.