Time to Hide by John Gilstrap

“They close these doors at twelve-thirty.”
    She shot him a panicked look.
    When they stopped, Brad threw a look over his shoulder. So far, so good. “They’re not locked -locked. They’re just designed to keep people from wandering in from the mall after midnight.”
    â€œSo how—”
    Brad pointed to the sign that had been slipped into a mahogany-framed plaque on the strip of wood near the seam where the doors joined. EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY. ALARM WILL SOUND .
    â€œThey can’t actually lock an exit,” Brad explained. “In case of fire. They alarm them instead.” He produced his Leatherman from his belt. “So, you just disconnect the alarm box.” He folded out a pair of needle-nose pliers with wire cutters built into the jaws. “Best forty bucks I ever spent.” Standing on tiptoe, he clipped two wires leading from the alarm box. “ Voila. ”
    â€œAre you sure it will work?”
    â€œNo,” he said, and he pushed the right-hand door open. No alarm. He smiled. “But I was pretty sure.”
    Dimly lit and massive in its proportions, the inside of the Galleria was silent, save for the staccato slapping of their flip-flops as they hurried across the sky bridge toward the second-level entrance to the parking garage.
    â€œNow we really need to hurry,” Brad said. “We’re probably on a lot of security cameras right now.” Noticing the deep furrows of concern in Nicki’s forehead, he smiled. “Like you said. Different.”
    Nicki didn’t know how to respond.
    â€œRelax,” Brad said. “We’ll do fine. I’ve come too far too fast to be stopped by some rent-a-cop.”
    At the doors, Brad pulled them to a stop, then scanned the edges of the doors themselves. “You see any alarm contacts?”
    â€œI don’t even know what an alarm contact looks like.”
    Brad crossed his fingers. “Here goes.” He pushed the door open, and then they were outside, where the humid night air embraced them in a wet hug.
    â€œWait here,” Brad said, grabbing Nicki by her shoulders and planting her on the curb. “I’ll be right back.”
    â€œI can keep up,” Nicki said, with barely enough air to manufacture a sound.
    â€œI know you can, but there’s no sense wearing you out. I’ve got to get some wheels.”
    Nicki scowled. “But our car is at the hotel.” His look told her everything. “Oh,” she said.
    With the skills he’d honed over the years, he could grab any car that he wanted. It’d be slim pickings, though. At this hour, there were precious few to be borrowed from a mall parking lot. Still, Brad took off as if he knew what he was doing, running full tilt across the largely empty upper deck and disappearing down a ramp.
    The night seemed awfully quiet. Sitting there on the curb, all alone, she felt vulnerable, and the ceaseless hammering of her heart didn’t help. In her mind, she could see countless thousands of blood cells log-jamming in the hardened vessels of her lungs, waiting their turn to supply her ever-increasing demand for oxygen. Already, she could feel the swelling in her ankles. In a few more minutes, she’d be able to see it, too.
    It was still too soon to take any more meds, but it wouldn’t be long; just an hour or so. Meanwhile, she could just wait out the episode.
    The irony of it all made her so angry: After seventeen years on the planet, without any semblance of a life to speak of, why did real living begin at the very time when her body was least able to handle it? She’d had enough trauma in her life for God’s sake. Why couldn’t someone else take a turn?
    Nicki leaned back against a light post and scanned the concrete horizon, resisting the urge to close her eyes. With so little time left, she found herself begrudging every second that her eyes were closed. There was just too much to see.
    But