No Safety in Numbers (5 page)

“Perhaps it is for the best,” said Nani in Gujarati. “Perhaps by the time we leave, that henna will have worn off and your father won’t kill us both.” She smiled and shifted on the metal chair.

Shay touched her cheek. She’d snuck into Nani’s room the night before and taken the henna, then worked for hours with a flashlight and a hand mirror to create the design. Shay had been in charge of the makeup for all the shows at her old school, meaning the tattoo was awesome, if forbidden. Nani had gasped at seeing her in the morning, then been more than happy when Shay suggested they go to the mall to keep Ba and Bapuji from seeing what Shay had done. Nani could always be counted on to act as a coconspirator.

“We should find you somewhere more comfortable to sit, Nani,” Shay said.

Nani patted Shay’s hand. “I’m fine.”

How would she explain the missing book to Nani?
Oh, I met a cute guy and wanted him to hang around and thought he got that, but then he ditched me and now it’s lost, your gift, gone.
Shay felt like a moron.

Preeti, who in all her ten years of life had never been
more annoying, kicked Shay’s chair. “I want to go home.”

Shay pulled some money from her pocket. “Here,” she said. “Go ride the Ferris wheel again.”

Preeti snatched up the money and raced for the Ferris wheel. Shay guessed that if they had to be trapped in the mall, they were in the best location. Not only was the food court a huge space with trees and plants, glass walls and ceiling (mostly open, as the third floor slimmed down to a narrow bridge of corridor above them), but opposite the food vendors was a Ferris wheel and merry-go-round. Not much entertainment for Shay, but perfect for keeping Preeti and every other child occupied. The Ferris wheel and merry-go-round were in constant operation.

Those guys must be raking it in,
Shay thought.
They should cause a security situation on a regular basis.

The phone rang: Her parents. Nani spoke with them, her voice rising to match the ascending tones on the other end of the line. Suddenly, Nani shoved the phone at Shay. “They want to talk to you.”

Shay took the phone. Her parents immediately started asking the same questions they’d been asking all afternoon. Shay gave them the same answers: “No, they haven’t said anything more. No, we can’t leave. I already tried. We can’t leave the food court. No, I haven’t seen any terrorists. Yes, Preeti is fine. I’m sure they’ll let us go soon.”

Her mother interrupted her father—they were on two different phones, talking over each other. “Nani’s medicine. Has she taken her medicine?”

“I don’t know,” Shay said. She put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Nani? Have you taken your medicine?”
That’s right.
Nani had diabetes and needed insulin shots.

Her grandmother looked into her bag. “Yes, tell my daughter. No need to worry.”

Shay didn’t like the way Nani sounded: She was no longer annoyed. But why make her mother worry? There was nothing her parents could do for Nani on the outside.

Shay took her hand from the phone. “Nani’s fine, Ba. We’ll call when we hear anything.”

She hung up and turned to Nani. “You haven’t taken your medication, have you?”

Nani smiled. “No, my dear. I only take it before breakfast and dinner. Who could have known we would be here so late?”

“Do you need insulin?” Shay could not trust Nani’s smile. Her grandmother would rather starve than trouble anyone to pass her food at the dinner table.

Upon closer examination, Nani’s skin seemed slack and her breathing shallow.

“I’m going to go to the PhreshPharm,” Shay said. “It’s just down the hall.”

“The man told us to wait here,” Nani said, but there was no force to her words.

“You need your insulin.” Shay squeezed her grandmother’s hand. “Watch for Preeti and don’t tell her where I went. She’ll only try to follow.”

Shay didn’t run; she walked calmly toward one of the food vendors, as if coming to make a purchase, then banked around the narrow wall of the FrankenHut and into the hallway.

There weren’t as many people down at this far end of the mall, or maybe they’d snuck across the hall to the department store—Harry’s had a home section full of pillows
and beds. Shay considered sneaking Nani down the hall to Harry’s but gave up the plan when two mall guards stepped off the escalator. No way Nani could move fast enough to avoid getting caught. Shay ducked behind a plant as the guards passed, then booked it for the pharmacy.

Shay shuffled past the few people splayed on the floor between the rows of toothpaste and deodorant to the back, where the pharmacist was asleep on the counter.

“Excuse me,” Shay said, tapping the woman’s arm.

The woman woke with a snort. “What, kid?” She stretched and scratched her hair.

“My grandmother needs insulin.” Shay laid a twenty onto the counter. “Will this cover it?”

The woman smirked. “You got a prescription?”

“Please,” Shay said. “Can you just give me a little? We’ve been stuck here forever and my grandmother didn’t bring any.”

The woman sighed. “Look, truth is you’re not the first to come here looking for drugs. But we don’t stock that much. We ran out of insulin earlier this evening.”

Shay was stunned. “Can’t you call someone?”

The woman’s face loosened into a kind expression. “Honey, if I could call someone, I would be on the phone.”

Shay dragged her feet out of the store. They ran out of insulin? What were people supposed to do? She needed to talk to the person in charge. And where would this person be?
The parking garage.

Someone had turned the escalators and elevators off at this point, so Shay skipped quickly down the stalled steps
to the first floor and then ran toward the central courtyard and fountain. It was eerie being the only person in the hallway, seeing the other people trapped behind the glass storefronts like fish in a tank. Some looked up at her as she passed; most did not.

Shay reached the escalators to the garage and steeled herself for a confrontation. She took the steps two at a time, psyching herself up to battle her way to the head honcho. But there was no one to confront. The garage was empty. Shay pushed her way out of the glass-enclosed escalator lobby. She heard voices off to her left.

Two police cruisers were parked in front of a cinderblock room near the Dumpsters, their lights beating red and blue pulses across the dark walls. A kid who looked about her age sat in the backseat of one of the cruisers, his head against the glass. A tired-looking woman sat on the back bumper of the car. A tubby guy in a beige suit stood in front of her waving a piece of paper.

“I’ve got tenant complaints piling up,” he snapped.

“Yours is the least of my problems,” the woman said.

Shay had expected a mob of police, tons of lights, cages filled with criminals. This looked like a vandalism case at best.

The woman held up a hand and the tubby man controlled his hysteria. The woman began speaking to no one—then Shay noticed the cell phone earpiece. “How was I supposed to know that regulations required evacuation, not quarantine? With the anthrax scare, the danger was not treating people in time, so I figured you’d want to keep everyone together.”

Did she just say
quarantine?

“Tell them I knew we should evacuate,” the tubby man said. “Make sure they know—”

The woman glared at the guy, who shut up, and continued. “They won’t let me evacuate everyone now? Well, it’s not like I wanted to increase exposure rates. My goddamned family is trapped here! Fine, tell the Feds that I’m sorry for screwing with their procedure.” She dug the ear piece from her ear and slammed it down on the trunk.

This was obviously more than a vandalism case.

“Excuse me?” said Shay, her voice echoing throughout the garage.

The woman looked up. “Oh, god,” she said.

The tubby guy stepped forward. “Miss, please return to your store.”

“Did you just say we’re being quarantined?” Shay stood straighter, preparing herself for that confrontation she’d been waiting for.

A policeman appeared behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Shay wrenched her head around. It was the same guy who’d been in the exit doorway.

“This one’s been a problem all day, Senator.” The cop pushed Shay toward the squad car. “Tried to bust out the exit.”

The woman—the senator—looked at her watch, then buttoned her blazer. “I’d better make the announcement.”

“What announcement?” Shay shouted, struggling in the policeman’s grasp. “Can we go home?”

The senator straightened her collar. “We’re not going home for a while.”

“But my grandmother needs her medicine!” Shay could
not believe how calm this woman was. “You have to take care of her!”

The senator looked at the policeman. “Put her in with the other kid until I get back.” The tubby man followed the senator into the shadows.

“I have to get back to my grandmother!” Shay shouted as the cop dragged her to the car.

The policeman shoved her into the cruiser without another word and slammed the door.

The boy looked at Shay. “What’d they get you for?” he asked, smiling like this was all some big joke.

“I have to get out of this car,” Shay said, jimmying the door handle.

“You’re not getting out that way,” he said.

“What did you do to lock down the mall? Call in a bomb threat?”

“No threat,” he said calmly. “I found a bomb. They’re not sure yet whether to believe me when I said I didn’t put it there. I’ve been stuck here since this morning.”

Shay stopped jiggling the door handle. “Are you serious?”

The speakers squealed to life. The senator’s voice boomed around the garage. “Excuse me, I have an announcement. The security situation is ongoing, and as such you are asked to remain in your stores for the time being. You have been extremely patient, and in appreciation for your patience, you will each be given a twenty-five-dollar gift certificate for use anywhere in the mall. We’ll be coming around to take your names and make sure you get your certificate. In addition, pizza will be served in all the stores.

“We are aware that some people are in need of services. We ask that each store identify a spokesperson, and that that person create a list of all the individuals in their store as well as any urgent needs such as medical or hygienic requirements that must be addressed. Supplies will be delivered to each store according to the lists of individuals created by the spokesperson.

“A security guard will be visiting each store to bring its residents to the bathroom facilities. If the store you are in has facilities available to it, please use those and not the general ones in the corridors.

“We continue to assess the security situation and hope to have further updates in the near future. I thank you, again, for your patience.”

The speaker squealed and went dead.

“Guess we’ll be here for a while,” the guy said. “Best we get acquainted. I’m Marco.” He held out a hand.

Shay glanced at him, ignored his hand. “Shay.” She returned her attention to the door.

“Don’t worry about the bomb,” he said, a sarcastic lilt to his voice. “The cops sent in a robot to test it for radioactivity. Early reports show it’s not a nuke.”

“How comforting,” Shay managed.

The woman returned. On her signal, the policeman let both Shay and Marco out of the cruiser. “Go back to your grandmother,” she said to Shay. “And Marco, you go back up to the Grill’n’Shake. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

“What about my grandmother’s medicine?” Shay asked. “She needs insulin.”

The woman walked past them to her phone on the car’s
trunk. “I’ll add it to the list.” She dialed the phone and disappeared into a conversation.

The policeman patted Shay on the shoulder. “I’ll walk you to your grandmother,” he said. He pushed her forward, toward the elevators. It wasn’t a request.

On the first floor, as they passed the main entrance, Shay noticed that the windowed doors were now blocked by concrete barriers and that sandbags were being laid against the glass.

The cop caught her staring. “Welcome to your new home, kid.”

SUNDAY