Run, Hide, Fight Back Read online

  HIXON: Mr. Skinner, I just want to touch base with you. I’m here to listen to you and to try to make sure everybody stays safe.

  SKINNER: We’ve got bombs hidden all over. You want more cops to die? Then send them on in. We’ve got so many places booby-trapped.

  HIXON: They were only trying to prevent the loss of life. They weren’t trying to attack you. You told the dispatcher that the people you’re holding were being killed.

  SKINNER: Sun Tzu said that all war is based on the art of deception. And make no mistake, this is war. America has turned against its own citizens. That’s why we have to take our country back. Do you think this mall is just some random target? In the Middle East they blow up mosques. This is America’s church. It’s where Americans go to worship. And now the whole world is watching.

  HIXON: I’m very interested in hearing what you have to say. And I want to thank you guys for keeping the rest of those people in the mall safe while we talk this out. That’s going to count for a lot if we can end this now without anyone else getting hurt. Let’s see if we can keep things peaceful for now so we can all come out of this safe, okay?

  SKINNER: Don’t you understand? Nothing about this world is safe anymore.

  HIXON: Are you okay? Are you injured? Does anyone need medical attention?

  SKINNER: It’s the people we’re holding that you should be worried about. You need to meet our demands or more of them are going to die.

  HIXON: I appreciate you letting me know where you stand. And I just want you to know that, even though some people were shot at the beginning of this thing, we understand that all kinds of unexpected things can happen in a panic situation. Split-second decisions made in the heat of the moment, right? But you’ve done a good job of keeping things cool since then, and it seems like no one else has been hurt. Is that right?

  SKINNER: More or less.

  HIXON: Mr. Skinner, how can we resolve this? I mean, how can we save these children and women and—

  SKINNER: You have our manifesto. You know what we want.

  HIXON: I’m sure someone is working on all that for you. I’m not directly involved in the details. I’m here for just one reason, and that’s to reach a peaceful resolution. But I’m not going to lie to you: getting that plane might be a little tricky. I mean, we should be able to get it, but it might take a little while.

  SKINNER: We want that bus here within an hour or someone’s going to die. Probably a whole lot of someones.

  HIXON: I’ll work on getting you that bus, but I need you to do something for me, okay? To show that we’re both acting in good faith. You’ve probably got some kids there who are crying or some people who are injured. It’s going to be a hassle to move them from a bus and then to a plane. Why not give us the ones that are hard to manage?

  SKINNER: How do you know about them? Do you have eyes on us? You do, don’t you? Well then, I’ll just shoot one of them and you’ll be able to see them die!

  HIXON: No, no! That was just an educated guess. We’re not spying on you.

  SKINNER: You tell everyone they have to leave us alone, unless they want more people to die. If we see any sign that you are spying on us, then their blood will be on your hands!

  GO DOWN SWINGING

  5:50 P.M.

  “So what are you proposing that we do?” Cole says. “It’s not like we can go back down to that corridor where he took Amina. If things go south, there’s no place to hide.”

  “We go the other way.” Grace points. “Amina said it goes out to the mall.”

  “Then they’ll see us.” Cole folds his arms across his chest.

  “It doesn’t end right in the main hall,” Javier says. “It opens into one of the side halls, between Claire’s and Pottery Barn. And at the intersection of that hall with the main hall there are two kiosks. We could maybe use them for cover.”

  Miranda scrolls back through her texts with Parker. “My friend Parker told me there’s at least two guys outside that metal fence or gate or whatever it is,” Miranda says. “And only one inside.”

  “If we created a distraction, maybe we could get one of them to come around the corner to investigate.” Grace holds out one fist and then grabs it with the other hand. “Then we could ambush him, hold Javier’s gun to his head, and use him as a bargaining chip to force them to let Amina go.”

  “Hold Javier’s gun to his head long enough to get his real gun,” Miranda adds. She thinks of Parker and his little sister. “And we’ll make them let everyone go.”

  “We aren’t even sure if he put Amina with the rest of the hostages,” Cole says. “And what’s to stop the guy from detonating his vest and killing us all?”

  “Would you stop nitpicking everything!” Grace whisper-shouts. “What’s the point in worrying about what could go wrong? Everything already has. And the reality is that we’re probably going to die anyway. The cops aren’t going to want to come in, not after that bomb. Who knows how many places are booby-trapped?”

  Miranda takes a deep breath. “I say if we’re going to die, we might as well go down swinging.”

  “You’re right,” Javier says.

  Cole looks at Grace. After she nods, he does too.

  Miranda says, “As for the suicide vest, we grab the guy’s hands first thing. We don’t even let him have a chance to push a button or pull a cord or whatever it is you do.” She points. “We can use some of those scarves to tie him up and gag him.”

  “Then we need to practice.” Cole takes the broom handle from Grace and holds it like a gun. Even though it’s just a round length of wood, in his hands it somehow transforms into an automatic rifle. “Everyone has to know what to do. If we have to take time to think about it, that’s too late.” He puts the “rifle” in Miranda’s hands.

  “Okay, this is what I’m going to do.” He catches Miranda’s eye and says, “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” When she nods, he says, “Point it at me.”

  She swings the end of the handle in his direction, the wood slick under her trembling palms.

  Cole put his hands up chest high, miming fear and surrender. His hands aren’t completely flat—the fingers curl over. With his left hand, he suddenly pushes down the barrel of the “rifle” so that it points at the floor. With his right, he mimes quickly punching Miranda twice in the face. His hand is a blur, so fast that she doesn’t even have time to flinch as it stops a millimeter from her nose. Then his right hand grabs the end of the broom handle, the part that corresponds with the stock. With both hands, he twists and yanks the “rifle” back and turns it on Miranda.

  She raises her hands over her head, not even really playacting anymore. Her heart is beating so hard that she can feel it in her throat.

  Cole shakes his head. “Not so high. Remember to keep your hands in front of your face so you’re ready to use them. Now you do it. Take the gun away from me.”

  “Why do I need to?” She steps back, hands still raised. “I thought you were going to be the one to take the rifle away.”

  “Because we have to plan for all eventualities. Maybe he won’t shoot me, but he could definitely use that gun like a club. So all of us need to know how to get it away from him.”

  They all take turns getting the broomstick rifle away from each other. And then they add ganging up on the person playing attacker, as well as threatening them with Javier’s BB gun and tying them up with scarves. These parts they mostly mime, worried about accidentally hurting each other—especially Javier—or making too much noise.

  “But when the time comes,” Cole says, “we’re gonna make lots of noise. We’re gonna overload his senses.”

  5:50 p.m.

  DISPATCH: Police, fire, or medical?

  DANA TORRES: Um, police.

  DISPATCH: What’s the nature of your emergency?

  TORRES: I just passed mile-marker ninety-four, and something strange is going on. There’s a white tractor-trailer next to I-84. Its back doors are open and there’s orange cones out. And ther
e were three guys in the middle of the road. They looked like they were tied up.

  DISPATCH: Lying in the road? Are they injured?

  TORRES: No. They’re standing up and moving around, but their arms look like they’re handcuffed or something behind their backs. I don’t think they’re hurt. They were yelling at me to stop, but I didn’t know what was going on, so I didn’t. I was afraid to. One of them tried to run after my car.

  DISPATCH: How long ago was this?

  TORRES: About two minutes. I waited until I was sure they couldn’t catch up to me before I called. I don’t know what was going on, and it didn’t seem like a good idea for a lady all by herself to stop out in the middle of nowhere.

  NOT RUNNING AWAY

  5:53 P.M.

  Miranda and the others have made it to the open alcove that leads to the hall one over from the hall where Parker had been hiding in a workroom. Next to them is a set of stairs going up, closed off with a swinging bar. The stairs lead to the offices upstairs, where the shooting started. Their eyes dart from the stairway to the hall and back again.

  But they don’t hear anything. In the silence, Javier points at a security camera. What if one of the security guards is on the other side, watching the feed? Grace uses the broom handle to push the camera so it points into a corner. Then Cole tiptoes to where the alcove meets the hall and cautiously looks up and down. Finally, his shoulders relax. He turns back toward them.

  “There’s an unmarked door on the far side,” Cole whispers. “Probably another service corridor. I think we should take it. They can’t have locked all the doors off all the service corridors.”

  Javier shrugs. “That security guard could have locked every single door without anyone noticing. And even if someone did, who would they tell?”

  The answer hangs unspoken in the air: They would have reported it to the very person who had locked the doors.

  Grace breaks the silence. “Besides, we’re getting Amina back. Not running away.”

  Cole makes his whisper even quieter. “I’m just thinking about you. What if things go wrong? What if we never get out of here?” He reaches down and takes her hand. “You’ve been fighting so hard to live. You don’t want to throw that away.”

  She shakes her head. “You, of all people, should know there are no guarantees. And if we don’t fight back, then who will?” She squeezes his hand and then releases it, while Miranda and Javier act as if they haven’t been listening.

  Earlier, Miranda gulped water from her cupped hands in the store’s bathroom, but now her throat is as dry as dust. Even in socks, the bottoms of her feet feel slick. This is it. They’re really doing this. But it’s still better than sitting in the back of Culpeppers, waiting.

  They venture out. The hall is littered with discarded shopping bags, Perk Me Up cups, a few shoes, and a giant stuffed bear that must have been meant as a Christmas present. Other than their careful footsteps, it’s totally silent. Eerie.

  It’s night now. Past the doors, the darkness is lit up by flashing lights from a line of cop cars several hundred feet away. Just like the exit Miranda first ran to, the doors here are bike-locked. But she thinks Cole’s right, that there must be some doors in the mall that are open, or at least were at one point. People managed to find ways to escape, didn’t they? The bad guys only took the people trapped in that first hall. And if one exit is still open, maybe the four of them can find it. She imagines running down the main hall flat out. Running away from the killers, not toward them. Zigzagging and praying not to get shot.

  Only that would mean leaving Amina behind. Amina and Parker and Moxie.

  By the time they reach the intersection with the main hall, they’re all hugging the wall. After miming what she is about to do, Miranda drops to her knees. Ignoring the screen full of texts from people asking if she’s okay, she puts her phone on video mode, then slides it along the floor and a few inches out into the hall. Although it seems unlikely the killers will notice a tiny rectangle on the floor fifty yards away, her hand is shaking. She tilts the phone back and forth and then brings it in.

  They move farther back, and the other three crowd around her as she replays the video. It shows the empty main hall, which looks like a larger version of the one they are in now. The only difference is that farther down some of the storefront windows are broken, blown out by the bomb.

  The video doesn’t show the security gate Parker talked about. It must be set back where the side hall narrows. But it does show the most important thing: two killers in profile, facing the hostages. They’re dressed all in black, just like the man who came down the escalator, calmly shooting as he went. In fact, the way one of them holds himself makes Miranda think it is the same man.

  “There’s still only two of them on this side,” Grace whispers.

  “Now we just need to figure out how to make one of them come down here. And then we jump him.” As she says the words, Miranda feels them in her body. She needs to move. To scream and jump and hit something really, really hard.

  “But we don’t kill him,” Cole says. “Or it will make us just as bad as them.” His mouth twists.

  “No it wouldn’t.” Grace spits the words. “We’ll never be like them.” She shakes her head. “I wish we knew for sure that’s where they took Amina. And how are we going to get one of them to come down here?”

  “Look—we can take care of both birds.” Javier’s whisper sparks with excitement. He’s pointing at the nearer of the two kiosks, the RC Zone. Miranda has walked by it dozens of times. The guys who work there are always demo-ing toys, hoping to snag some kid who will bug a parent for an impulse purchase.

  “Even if we hide behind that, I don’t think the angle’s right to let us see if Amina’s with the other hostages,” Miranda whispers.

  “That’s not what I mean. Look at what they sell.” Javier nods at her. “You gave me the idea with your phone.”

  Cole gets it first. “Great idea, dude!”

  “What?” Grace looks just as lost as Miranda.

  Cole makes a driving motion with his hands. “We start recording video on one of our phones. Then we put it in a remote-control car and drive it down there!”

  IF YOU’RE GOING TO LIE

  5:53 P.M.

  Parker’s not the only one with a lighter. Blazers also has one.

  “I’m going to create a distraction,” Heels whispers. “And when I do, you guys go into different stores. In the back, pile up paper bags, boxes, receipt paper—anything that will burn—and light it on fire. One of the two on this side of the gate will have to come check it out. And then the rest of us will attack him. Throw things at him, jump him, get his gun.”

  “But what about the other two guys?” Dreads asks. “They’re out of our reach, but they can still shoot us. What are we supposed to do about them?”

  Heels’s expression doesn’t change, but in her voice Parker hears a shrug. “Once we get one of the guns on this side of the gate, I don’t think that’s going to matter.”

  * * *

  At the security gate, Ron is saying, “Have you told K-Kilo about how we can’t find November?”

  “Not yet,” Wolf says. “He knows we were looking for him.”

  “He won’t like that,” Ron says.

  Parker figures Kilo must be their off-site leader.

  Wolf throws his shoulders back. “Let me remind you that Kilo put me in charge of this operation.” He turns his attention to the Muslim girl. “You. Where were you hiding?”

  She presses her lips together and doesn’t answer.

  * * *

  Businessman’s whisper is dismissive. “Do you even know how to shoot an assault rifle?”

  “Actually, I do,” Heels says matter-of-factly. “Anybody else?”

  After a pause, Dreads says, “I shot one once at a range,” and Velcro says, “I was in the army for thirty years.”

  “Then the three of us will rush him. We’ll wait until he’s inside the store, so the rest can
’t see what’s happening.”

  * * *

  Ron says, “Haven’t you seen her before? Amina works at Culpeppers.”

  “Is that where your little friends are?” Wolf asks.

  There’s a beat before she answers. “No. We were hiding someplace else. In a different store.”

  Wolf’s laugh is more like a grunt. “If you’re going to lie, you need to do a better job than that.”

  * * *

  Stanford whispers, “My sister’s one of the people up against the doors. If the killers start shooting, they’ll be the first to die. They’ll be sitting ducks.”

  “Not if we yell at them to start and keep moving,” Heels says. “It’s harder to hit a moving target. And the smoke should make it even harder. Yelling’s good anyway. We want as much noise and confusion as possible.”

  Parker remembers something he saw on the news some months ago. “Last summer the news said if you found a baby locked in a hot car, you could break the glass if you hit the bottom corner with something hard and narrow, like a screwdriver.”

  “But we don’t have a screwdriver,” Dreads whispers.

  “There’s a knife on the floor of Van Duyn’s workroom.”

  “The tip would probably just break,” Heels says. “But the handle end—that might work.”

  * * *

  Wolf says to Amina, “So they all just ran off and left you. Where did they go?”

  She lifts her chin, and her voice carries. “I don’t know. Inshallah, they escaped.”

  Wolf leans closer to her. “And did you see anyone else back in the service corridors?”

  “Only Linda from Pottery Barn.” Amina’s voice breaks. “And she’s dead.”

  * * *

  “Start more than one fire if you can,” Heels whispers. “We want lots of smoke. We want sprinklers going off. Maybe a fire alarm if they’re still operating. The more confusion the better. And then when one of them checks it out, we go for him.”

  In his mind’s eye, Parker pictures the roll of white wrapping paper in the Van Duyn workroom, the stacks of paper candy cups and boxes. He can start the fire right on the worktable, which will put it even closer to the sprinkler.