08bis Visions of Sugar Plums by Janet Evanovich Page A

and I could still taste the dust in the back of my throat.
    I looked over at Claws and realized for the first time that he'd taken his toy-in-progress with him when the building started to collapse. He had it cradled in his arm, held close to his chest. It was a small, half-carved block of wood, covered in dust, just like the rest of us. Too early for me to tell what sort of toy he was making. I watched him slip past the first line of rescue workers and quietly get into his car and drive off. Smart move, since he was wanted for failing to appear.
    I looked around the lot. And then I looked into the sky.
    "He isn't here," Diesel said to me. "He doesn't hang around after he strikes."
    "What does he look like?" In my mind I was envisioning the Green Goblin.
    "Just a normal, little old guy with cataracts."
    "No utility belt? No lightning bolt embroidered on his shirt?"
    "Sorry."
    An EMT draped a blanket around my shoulders and tried to guide me to a truck. I looked at my watch and dug my heels in. "Can't get checked out right now," I said. "Gotta shop."
    "You don't look that great," the guy said. "You're kind of pale."
    "Of course I'm pale. There are only four shopping hours left before I'm due at my parents' house for Christmas Eve dinner. You'd look pale too if you were in my shoes." I turned to Diesel. "I had time to do some serious thinking while I was trapped under the table, and things became very clear to me. My mother is more of a threat to me right now than Ring. Take me to Macy's!"
    It was midafternoon and the roads were relatively empty. Businesses had shut down early. Kids were on vacation. Shoppers were retiring their credit cards. Jersey was at home, preparing the holiday beast for Christmas Day dinner, gearing up for an evening of toy assembly and package wrapping. In eight hours, when the stores are all closed, the entire population of the state will be in desperate search for batteries, wrapping paper, and tape.
    In eight hours, children statewide will be listening for reindeer hooves on the roof. Except for Mary Alice, who no longer believed in Christmas.
    Anticipation hung in the air over the mall, the highway, the Burg, and every house in every town that mashed together to form the megalopolis. Christmas was almost here. Like it, or not.
    Diesel swung into the lot and got a space close to the mall entrance. No problem with parking now. Inside the mall, the silence was oppressive. Shell-shocked salesclerks stood motionless, waiting for the closing bell. A few customers staggered from rack to rack. Men, mostly. Looking lost.
    "Cripes," Diesel said. "This is frightening. This is like being with the living dead."
    "What about you?" I asked. "Is your Christmas shopping all done?"
    "I don't do a lot of Christmas shopping."
    "Wife, girlfriend, mother?"
    "I'm currently without."
    "I'm sorry."
    He tweaked my nose and smiled. "It's okay. I've got you."
    "Did you get me a present?"
    Our eyes locked, and his expression warmed a couple notches. He raised his eyebrows every so slightly in question, and I felt my temperature rise.
    "Do you want a present?" he asked. Both of us understanding what he was offering.
    "No. Nope." I sucked in some air and busied myself, brushing some dust off my jacket. "Thanks, anyway."
    "Let me know if you change your mind," he said, his voice back to playful.
    Ordinarily, two people walking through Quakerbridge covered in construction dust would attract some attention. At four o'clock on Christmas Eve, no one would have noticed if we'd been naked. I didn't waste time on details such as the right size or color. I went with Lula's method. Fill your bag with stuff close to the register. I finished up at five-thirty, and I wrapped the presents on the way to my parents' house.
    Diesel jerked to a stop at the curb, and we tumbled out of the car with our arms full of boxes and bags.
    Grandma was at the door. "She's here," she called to the rest of the family. "And she's got that hunky sissy boy with