pointing at the end of the hall where the corridor met the main passage.“There’s a space-suited guy and a security guard sitting at it.”
Shay watched people line up in front of the table. It was one of the testing stations mentioned in the morning announcement. One by one, the ex-shoppers sat in the chair next to the hazmat person. Each one had some blood drawn, and the vial of blood was placed in a metal box at the hazmat person’s feet. The security guard checked something off on his list—the person’s name, if the announcement was to be believed.
Shay and Preeti stared at the operation for a few minutes. Shay wondered if it would have been better to have just stayed in the medical ward.
Have I screwed up yet another thing?
A little boy sat in the chair at the testing station. His mother stood behind him, hands gripping the plastic back. The boy coughed. The hazmat man looked up. The boy coughed again. The security guard lifted a walkie-talkie to his lips.
A man—the boy’s father, it seemed—stepped forward and put one hand on his son’s shoulder, the other around his wife. When the hazmat man stood, the father picked his kid up and tried to leave. Two more security guards appeared from down the main hallway, behind the family. The mother punched at them and the father tried to run, boy under his arm like a sack of laundry. The guards grabbed the father and boy, who was crying. The first security guard came behind the mother, who was still attacking the two holding her family, and Tasered her in the back. She slumped into the guard’s arms.
The other people in the line screamed and began pushingat each other to get away from the table. Shay’s knuckles were white where she gripped the door frame.
Preeti buried her face into Shay’s armpit.
Something terrible was going on in this mall. Shay just had to keep Preeti and Nani safe. Hide them until this—whatever it was—was over. If she could do that, everything would be fine.
M
A
R
C
O
S omeone had discovered Marco’s baby monitor. When he turned the receiver on, it started beeping, which he knew from experience meant he’d been found out. Now he would have to examine the PaperClips personally if he wanted to know what had happened with Shay and her grandmother, or the senator for that matter.
The only problem was how to convince Seveglia to let him leave. There’d been some desertions in the ranks of the Grill’n’Shake staff, leading the manager to become suspicious of any and all break requests. He should have known he had nothing to fear from Marco—he needed this job and he had no desire to mingle with the gangs of kids aimlessly wandering the halls.
One of the older dishwashers had developed a cough. Marco decided to check up on him. Roberto sat in a backcorner on a stool. He held a well-used handkerchief in his hand.
“Cold?” Marco asked in Spanish.
“It’s sleeping in the damned kitchen,” Roberto said. “They could at least give us beds.”
“I could take you to the emergency medical team that was in here last night.”
“Like the boss would give us the time off,” Roberto said, smiling wryly.
Marco held up a finger and went into Mr. Seveglia’s office. “Sir?”
The manager, who was beginning to look pretty worn out himself, took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. “You got a problem, Carvajal?”
“It’s not me, sir,” Marco said. “Roberto isn’t feeling great and I think it would be best to get him out of the kitchen. We can’t afford to have any of the remaining staff get sick.”
Mr. Seveglia squinted at Marco as if probing his soul for the truth of the statement. Then he put the glasses back on and turned to his computer. “You take him down and bring him back,” Mr. Seveglia said. “No funny business.”
Marco nodded and ducked out. He gave Roberto the thumbs-up. The old man looked shocked, but stood and followed Marco out of the kitchen.
Outside of the Grill’n’Shake, the mall
Shay watched people line up in front of the table. It was one of the testing stations mentioned in the morning announcement. One by one, the ex-shoppers sat in the chair next to the hazmat person. Each one had some blood drawn, and the vial of blood was placed in a metal box at the hazmat person’s feet. The security guard checked something off on his list—the person’s name, if the announcement was to be believed.
Shay and Preeti stared at the operation for a few minutes. Shay wondered if it would have been better to have just stayed in the medical ward.
Have I screwed up yet another thing?
A little boy sat in the chair at the testing station. His mother stood behind him, hands gripping the plastic back. The boy coughed. The hazmat man looked up. The boy coughed again. The security guard lifted a walkie-talkie to his lips.
A man—the boy’s father, it seemed—stepped forward and put one hand on his son’s shoulder, the other around his wife. When the hazmat man stood, the father picked his kid up and tried to leave. Two more security guards appeared from down the main hallway, behind the family. The mother punched at them and the father tried to run, boy under his arm like a sack of laundry. The guards grabbed the father and boy, who was crying. The first security guard came behind the mother, who was still attacking the two holding her family, and Tasered her in the back. She slumped into the guard’s arms.
The other people in the line screamed and began pushingat each other to get away from the table. Shay’s knuckles were white where she gripped the door frame.
Preeti buried her face into Shay’s armpit.
Something terrible was going on in this mall. Shay just had to keep Preeti and Nani safe. Hide them until this—whatever it was—was over. If she could do that, everything would be fine.
M
A
R
C
O
S omeone had discovered Marco’s baby monitor. When he turned the receiver on, it started beeping, which he knew from experience meant he’d been found out. Now he would have to examine the PaperClips personally if he wanted to know what had happened with Shay and her grandmother, or the senator for that matter.
The only problem was how to convince Seveglia to let him leave. There’d been some desertions in the ranks of the Grill’n’Shake staff, leading the manager to become suspicious of any and all break requests. He should have known he had nothing to fear from Marco—he needed this job and he had no desire to mingle with the gangs of kids aimlessly wandering the halls.
One of the older dishwashers had developed a cough. Marco decided to check up on him. Roberto sat in a backcorner on a stool. He held a well-used handkerchief in his hand.
“Cold?” Marco asked in Spanish.
“It’s sleeping in the damned kitchen,” Roberto said. “They could at least give us beds.”
“I could take you to the emergency medical team that was in here last night.”
“Like the boss would give us the time off,” Roberto said, smiling wryly.
Marco held up a finger and went into Mr. Seveglia’s office. “Sir?”
The manager, who was beginning to look pretty worn out himself, took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. “You got a problem, Carvajal?”
“It’s not me, sir,” Marco said. “Roberto isn’t feeling great and I think it would be best to get him out of the kitchen. We can’t afford to have any of the remaining staff get sick.”
Mr. Seveglia squinted at Marco as if probing his soul for the truth of the statement. Then he put the glasses back on and turned to his computer. “You take him down and bring him back,” Mr. Seveglia said. “No funny business.”
Marco nodded and ducked out. He gave Roberto the thumbs-up. The old man looked shocked, but stood and followed Marco out of the kitchen.
Outside of the Grill’n’Shake, the mall
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