Chapter Ten

 

After some quick debate, Ryan and Krysty had taken the reins of the disgraced sec men's horses. Dean rode behind Ryan, and Krysty saddled up with Doc. Jak, Mildred, Alton Adrian and J.B. chose to follow on foot. The two beaten Freedom sec men were allowed to plod along in the lead, where a watchful eye could be kept on them.

 

Rollins had told the truth. The Freedom Mall was close by. The mall came into view long before they actually reached the single, imposing entrance. A massive construction of the most redbrick anyone had ever witnessed in a single location, with inset panels of tan fieldstone, the architectural beast seemed to have thrust itself upward into the hilly surroundings from a sea of black asphalt.

 

All of Ryan's group had seen malls like this before. In Mildred's case, being a former resident of the late twentieth century, she had actually shopped inside quite a few before being placed in the long sleep of cryonic suspension. A wallet of credit cards with her name embossed on the faces was probably still tucked away inside her purse in a hospital storage locker somewhere.

 

Ryan's most recent memory of a mall near this size was the leveled remains of the SkyHi Mall back at Bear Creek Ridge in Colorado.

 

Unlike Freedom, which gave off the air of being as solid as a hunk of shining, freshly hewn stone, the SkyHi facility had been hit hard by quakes and severe weather, causing entire walls to cave in upon the once spacious and well-appointed interior.

 

That had been many long months ago. The group had been staying in Jak's former homestead in New Mexicountil an interruption saw Dean kidnapped and Ryan forced to go after the boy alone in a desperate attempt to bring him back alive. Ryan had engaged the mat-trans unit to make a long jump high up the North American continent to Canada, where his old foe Major-Commissar Gregori Zimyanin had taken command of a series of slave mines.

 

The baron had stolen the boy to use as bait to lure Ryan into a final confrontation that only one of them would survive. The final battle had nearly taken them both down, with Zimyanin ultimately falling to his death.

 

However, Ryan had never seen the body to make sure. Major-Commissar Zimyanin had a particular habit of coming back from the dead. When pressed, the one-eyed leader would admit he still wasn't sure Zimyanin was truly wormfood. Coldhearts like the major were damn hard to chill, and even harder to bury.

 

"Parking lot looks clear. No junk cars, no wreckage or plant growth," Doc observed with a note of pleasure in his best baritone voice.

 

"Yeah, this place is positively tidy," Ryan added dryly.

 

"We keep it cleared," Rollins said. "First order of business each spring is to repair the lots. We towed the wags out years ago. Mall management prefers the areas around the perimeter to be unobstructed."

 

"What about that mess?" Dean piped up, pointing at a melted, blackened mass of metal and plastic as they headed for the front entrance.

 

"That's new, boy. With all of the recent stickie attacks we've been having, our group has been working overtime keeping the areas clean. Drives the stickies crazy. There's nothing close to burn, so they have to drag in their own shit to set on fire. Pieces of furniture. Small engine motorcycles. Old dried-out lumber. They even trailer in larger objects from time to time to light up Freedom's nightlife."

 

"They were probably looking for stuff in the old hospital when they came upon us," Alton said quietly to J.B and Mildred as they listened to the conversation from the rear.

 

"Stickies do love their fireworks," Ryan agreed. "I've even seen them set each other ablaze when they're really worked up."

 

Rollins laughed. "Right! Right! Believe it or not, one of the crazy bastards actually figured out how to use a catapult. A goddamn catapult! Don't know where they got the bastard thing. Used to be an outdoor theater presented in Old Salem where they'd reenact ancient history and stuff. Mebbe it came from there. Anyway, they were flinging flaming shit up on the roof of the mall for a few weeks. Made for some long nights for all of the mall sec men, but at least we could see it coming from a mile away in time enough to dodge."

 

"What made them stop?" Krysty asked, reining her horse over to keep close to Ryan's deep-copper-colored gelding.

 

The sec leader shook his head with amusement. "As usual, being the scholars they are, none of the stickies seemed to realize that we could see where the flaming loads from the catapult were being launched, and high-power bullets go a lot farther than a fireball."

 

"Took them out using snipers?" Ryan asked.

 

"You bet. We dug up some old Army ordnance in a swap with a ville, and in the trade we picked up an old bolt-action sniping rifle with a night scope. That did the trick. Started picking off muties right and left. Poor stickies had to leave their catapult behind, and the next morning a team of sec men went out with fire axes and dismantled the damn thing triple quick."

 

"Doesn't sound like you have a problem," Ryan said.

 

"Six months ago, we didn't. Things are different now. I don't know what's been going on in the downtown area, but the muties seem to bewell, they seem to be getting smarter somehow."

 

 

 

AT THE GAPING MAW of the reinforced mall entrance, Rollins and his sec men parted company with Ryan's group. Mike and the staggering Ike were led away by two of their fellows, while the others took the horses in the opposite direction. A line of people, men, women and a few kids around Dean's age were awaiting entry via the Freedom checkpoint.

 

"Hans will check you through. He's the gatekeeper," Rollins said as he followed his men through a second sec-personnel entrance. "No offense, but I hope not to see you again."

 

"Likewise," Ryan agreed as he and the others took positions at the back of the slowly moving line.

 

"What's your take on that guy?" J.B. asked quietly.

 

"Seems on the up-and-up. Could be some kind of trap, but a ville this size, all enclosedI want to get a closer look," Ryan replied.

 

"Same here," Krysty said. "Feels okay to me. What it appears to be, it is."

 

"Then we're going in," Ryan stated. "Stay alert."

 

 

The entrance was well guarded, again by four of the Freedom Mall sec men dressed in green. All were armed with long blasters cradled in their arms. One carried a .30-caliber Browning automatic, while the others cradled M-16 assault rifles. They were bulky men, padded with what Ryan guessed to be body armor similar to what Mike and Ike were wearing. They also wore bulletproof antiriot helmets with fold-down protective visors.

 

They didn't smile or speak, their faces slightly bored and their eyes hidden by the helmet visors. Greetings and pleasantries were left up to Hans, an elderly gentleman with the cherubic face in the old-style three-piece suit and necktie.

 

"I've seen malls and such before, but never like this one," Krysty commented. "This one is in great shape."

 

"Built to last, and we believe in taking care of our home," Hans replied, his eyes twinkling. "I take it you're new to Freedom, missy?"

 

"Yes. Yes, sir," Krysty replied, her natural good manners and breeding shining through when addressed with respect. The gatekeeper was unlike most of his ilk, with no leers at her breasts or comments on how they could "work an exchange" to let Krysty and her friends enter.

 

"Okay, here's the spiel, for your education and enlightenment," the older man said. "Plus, since I've memorized all this, might as well pass it on. First some history. Freedom Mall was opened to the public on August 21, 1975, predark calendar. Thousands of people streamed inside to shop in the ninety-three stores that were tenants. Freedom came with 1.4 million square feet of space on a span of seventy-six acres. There were 5,200 parking spaces. In 1989 they expanded upon the design, adding another 350,000 square feet to the mall's south side and room for an additional eighty stores and a twelve-unit food court. On a good week back then, Freedom saw 250,000 shoppers. During holiday seasons, the number doubled to a half million. Today our numbers are much smaller, but Freedom is more than a mere destinationit's a ville unto itself with all the offerings of a traditional outdoor city, and then some."

 

"You charging a toll to get in?" Ryan asked.

 

The old man shook his head. "No."

 

"That's a switch," Dean said.

 

Hans held up a finger. "However, there are certain rules you have to follow once you're inside, sir."

 

"Such as?"

 

Hans used the finger to point at Ryan's weapons. "You can carry one blaster each for protection. I can already see your group believes in traveling well-heeled. That's fine by me. Only a fool travels outside without ample firepower. However, indoors you lose the extra hardware. Most people go for the pistols, but I'll leave that up to you. Check the other blasters here. You won't need any long blasters or Uzis in Freedom. You can pick them up when you go. Check them now, and you'll get a receipt. There's a fee of one mall credit per weapon storage. Pay when you leave. If you don't want to pay, or don't come back to check on your blasters in thirty days, they become mall property. Stay as long as you want, just don't forget your hardware. No returns."

 

"Give us a second to talk this over."

 

 

Hans nodded, even as Ryan saw him make a gesture with his left hand, an alert signal for the armed guards.

 

"What do all of you think?" Ryan whispered.

 

The Armorer didn't hesitate with his disapproval. "Think I don't like letting somebody else sit with my blasters."

 

"Me, neither," Jak agreed.

 

"And they charge you for the privilege. I, for one, have never liked being jabbed in the hand with the rip-off stick." Doc said.

 

"Look, this is standard operating procedure," Alton told them. "Same drill last time I was in here. Even if you leave some of the heavy artillery behind, you people are still better armed than most. Me, I'm going in. I appreciate your company and your help getting here. But it's getting dark, and if I were you, I'd get inside, too, before night falls and the gateway into Freedom shuts down. I sure as hell wouldn't want to be out here with another pack of stickies wandering around in the dark looking for the ones you chilled."

 

Alton nodded a goodbye, and went back over to the small booth where Hans was waiting for him. Since he had only the Colt, he was quickly led through the check-in process into the main entrance, where he vanished from sight.

 

"What other options do we have?" Krysty said. "Like Alton said, I don't like the idea being out at night with as many stickies that are reported to be around here. We can do our traveling by day."

 

"J.B.? Go in or stay out?" Ryan asked.

 

"I'm not the one to ask right now. I can't see worth a damn in the dark. Daylight, sure. Even though I don't like leaving blasters behind, I vote we stay."

 

"Anybody else want to add an opinion?" Ryan asked. No answer came. "Then it's settled."

 

Ryan strode back over to the check-in counter and unlimbered his Steyr, taking time to unload the cartridges. After doing likewise, J.B. handed over his Uzi, preferring to keep the raw force of the M-4000 shotgun hanging beneath his coat by a shoulder strap.

 

"That all of the extra blasters?" Hans asked as he looked them over.

 

"Yeah. We're keeping the pistols, per your adviceexcept for my friend, there. He's hanging on to the shotgun."

 

"I can take your word there's no extra hardware?"

 

"Unless you want to search us, and I don't have a problem with that."

 

"No need. We try and limit the violence inside, but we can't fully stomp it out," Hans said. He reached down for a receipt book and scribbled down the makes of the weapons and Ryan's name. The receipt book had carbons, and he handed over a copy. "Where do we get mall creds?" Ryan asked as he folded the slip of paper and placed it in a pocket.

 

"Bank of Freedom, Incorporated. You'll see it on the right when you go through the second checkpoint. You can exchange your currency there."

 

"Right."

 

"What's the rate of exchange?" Mildred asked.

 

 

"Varies. Never heard any complaints. Freedom Mall wants to keep your business, so we play fair with what you want to spend. When you're ready to go, you can give back what you didn't use and we'll return what's left of your funds minus a ten percent handling fee."

 

"Lots fees in place," Jak observed.

 

 

"Welcome to a sampling of a civilization of sorts," Mildred said with a chuckle. "Let's just hope there isn't a Freedom Mall sales tax."

 

 

 

THE MALL INTERIOR WAS a queer mix of preservation, restoration and retrofitting. There were two floors, with the second floor having a high ceiling that stretched up to a series of clear sky panels that allowed the sun to provide interior illumination. Half of the upper level was floorless, with open walkways that allowed the sunlight to filter down below, giving room for multiple sets of wide stairwells and narrow, nonfunctioning escalators. An overblown abstract sculpture also dominated in the area they currently were looking at, the "arms" of the piece stretching skyward, graceful and long.

 

The populace spilled out everywhere, most walking, some on skateboards or inline skates. A rickshaw-styled taxi service seemed to be doing well, manned by weary-looking bare chested men as the two-seater carriages rolled past.

 

Most of the visible storefronts had kept their original signage, with new additions added below. Others had chosen to strip away or cover the names of original Freedom tenants. Mildred counted several familiar names from her previous life that were still in evidence.

 

"First thing we do is find a place to stay," Ryan said.

 

"Well," Mildred said brightly, "any mall this size I ever went into had directories to help out new visitors. Directories were also good promotion for stores. They helped steer you where they wanted you to go, not where you might stumble by accident."

 

"Comp terminals?" Dean asked.

 

"No, Dean, not that high-tech, although now that I think about it, some places did feature information banks with computers, in case someone was interested in finding out more about a store or wanted to find a particular brand of merchandise. Pretty slow, primitive stuff, though, and designed to be idiot proof to keep Joe Public from becoming frustrated and screwing up the system."

 

"Could just ask somebody. Might be a lot simpler," Krysty said. "Plenty of folks to choose from."

 

"In a place this size?" Mildred retorted. "By the time they explained where we wanted to go, we could have already been there."

 

"It was just a suggestion," Krysty replied.

 

 

"I must confess to a strange feeling hovering between euphoria at having a roof over my head in a secure environment, and claustrophobia at the number of people crammed alongside us in here," Doc commented after being jostled by a passing couple.

 

"There it is," Mildred said, pointing toward the back of the long hall of shops past the Bank of Freedom. The group peered down at a black monolithic slab that seemed to glow with a hidden radiance from within.

 

Everyone approached the Slab. From their earlier viewpoint, it had appeared to be rectangular, but now they could see it was triangular. The same information was on all three sides, a carefully lined map of the interior of Freedom with numbers and letters in each box or passageway of the grid. The code numbers corresponded to a long list of shops and services stenciled in below, each section with a different heading in alphabetical order.

 

"Upper level is split into two parts, Section A and Section B," Dean said.

 

"And the lower level is also divided into Sections C and D," Doc read. "We are currently in D, according to the You Are Here arrow."

 

"Layout looks pretty basic, and each of the sections is split by a big store. Says here the old JC Penney is the link to either side."

 

Mildred whistled softly as she looked over the listings. "Impressive. Someone in here has graphic-arts skills, and we all know how unusual that is to come across. This directory appears to be completely up-to-date. At least, there were no chain stores in the 1990s called The Gaudy Boutique or Mike's Meats to my recollection."

 

"Why glow?" Jak asked, speaking for the first time since they had entered Freedom. The albino had been scanning the visible rail of the level above them, keenly staring at any of the passersby who chose to look down. Unlike Doc, Jak found no peace or security in having a roof over his head. A roof could hide many things. The only way in and out of Freedom was crawling with sec men, but it also made a man stay wary.

 

Ryan felt the same way, but was more inclined to go with what was presented to him in front of his own eyeat least, for the moment.

 

Mildred answered Jak's question. "The construct we're looking at has fluorescent tubes on the inside with clear glass walls. I don't know where the power source is. It could be batteries or hooked into the system somehow. All you have to do is make up your color-coded overlay on a plastic sheet of acetate this looks like it was generated by a computer laser printerand attach your listings to the back side of the glass so no one can get to it, and presto, you've got your very own mall directory."

 

Dean pointed a finger at one of the headings with the listing Travel-Lodging.

 

" 'Freedom Center Station,' " he read. " 'One night or one year.' "

 

"The place looks big," J.B. said. "Takes up a chunk of the far end of the mall."

 

"And it's close by, too. We've walked long enough today," Krysty added.

 

Ryan was in total agreement. "Bunks for one night seems about all we can afford right now. I held back part of our jack at the bank. My guess is some of the stores in here will take tender they don't have to worry about reporting or running through the proper channels of exchange. After what we've seen, I'm sure the mall probably hits them up for a ten percent handling charge just like us visitors."

 

"We've got some bartering power with the antibiotics I found. Medicine is worth a pretty penny, especially in a place like this," Mildred noted.

 

"We'll see about selling it or swapping it tomorrow," Ryan said. "Tonight I just want to sleep."

 

"And see about scrubbing that skin dye off," Krysty teased.

 

Dean wasn't listening to any of that. His attention was still on the inwardly lit mall directory and the maze of attractions and shops it promised. "Hey!" he suddenly yelled. "Look at this!"

 

"What?" Ryan asked, a little annoyed at Dean's outburst. He'd almost drawn out his side blaster, thinking they were about to be attacked.

 

"Here, Dad! Dr. Michael Clarke, Eye Specialist."

 

"By the Three Kennedys," Doc agreed in a hushed tone. "It seems we've found a solution to J.B.'s eye problems in the timely form of this good optician."

 

"I don't know," Mildred said gently, not wanting to get J.B.'s hopes up until they knew more about the mysterious Dr. Clarke. Besides, a doctor wasn't needed as badly as a new pair of corrective glasses.

 

"Guess we can make one detour before bunking down," Ryan agreed. "Think you can find this place, Dean?"

 

"No prob, Dad."

 

Ryan gestured for Dean to take the point. "Lead on, then."

 

 

 

"BLUE LIGHT SPECIAL!" a dirty young man with shaggy brown hair cried out, waving his scabby arms and dancing around in a circle. As his patched long coat flapped around him like a cloak, he continued to chant, "Blue light! Blue light! Blue light special!"

 

The words created a surge in the milling crowd. Every man, woman and child dropped what they were doing and followed the mall crier.

 

"Where?" a man demanded.

 

"Which front?" a woman added.

 

"Name the place! Name it!" a couple said, their voices overlapping, matched in strident intensity.

 

"Where?" was the group cry. "Where is the blue light?"

 

A strobe suddenly erupted into being, shimmering, flickering, calling out over and over again in a strident on-off pattern from a shop located two dozen storefronts away. The instant the light revealed itself, most of the onlookers took off at a pace between a brisk walk and a fast jog.

 

"Pardon me, sir," Doc said, addressing a weather-beaten man dressed in a patched red-flannel shirt and threadbare denim jeans, "but what is a 'blue-light special' and why has it caused such excitement from our fellow mall visitors?"

 

"It's a secret," the man replied mysteriously. "A surprise sale."

 

"A sale of what?"

 

"That's the secret. A blue light means you save big on whatever the store chooses to sell dirt cheap. You never know when a store is going to have a blue light, and you never know what is going to go on sale. But the faster you can run and get there, the better selection you'll have. Personally I've never found anything worth a damn. I've got a bum knee, so by the time I show up, all the good stuff has already been taken. It's not fair, but then again, nothing in life ever is."

 

"You don't say," Doc said, stroking his chin.

 

 

 

J.B. STEPPED OUT of the small entrance to Dr. Clarke's office. Clarke had also kept a piece of the past, retaining the Lenscrafters sign his facility originally used.

 

The visit to the eye doctor took only moments. The prices quoted for the man's services, including a pair of eyeglasses, were well beyond the group's current financial status. Another solution would have to be sought, but not until all had gotten some much needed rest.

 

Silently the group walked back to the Freedom Center Station. In a former life, the boarding hotel and apartment building had served as a "hub" store, one of the name-brand anchor shops that ensured a large crowd of excited customers would continue to come out to buy on a regular basis. Mildred recognized the logo of the place immediately.

 

"Sears. Where America Shops For Value," she said dryly.

 

Once the rate was paid, and three rooms were secured, the companions went their separate ways. Each couple got a room, with Dean, Jak and Doc getting the third.

 

Usually a room alone meant time for lovemaking for Ryan and Krysty, but exhaustion had combined with the still fresh memories of Pharaoh Akhnaton's mind games to still their passions. They mostly succeeded in cleansing themselves in a lukewarm shower, and were asleep within seconds of lying down together, their bodies intertwined tightly.