Twisted (35 page)

Fifteen minutes later, Diana and Cindy stood with the group of people who were staying. There were only seven of them, and they were all college students. Diana and Cindy, Jay and Larry, Hal, Sue, and Heather.

“I wish we could stay.” Nan waved as she climbed into the van with Betty Woo. “But my mom's sick, and I have to take care of my little brother.”

Betty nodded. “And I'm house-sitting for the Forresters. They'd be really upset if it turned cold and the pipes froze. But I really feel like I'm deserting all of you.”

“Don't worry about it.” Jay smiled at the two girls. “Just make sure someone comes out here to get us when the roads are clear.”

“Hey, Cindy. I'll see you later.” Paul leaned out of the window of the news van and waved.

Cindy waved back, but Diana noticed she didn't look happy. It was too bad that Paul wasn't staying.

Gradually, the caravan began to move. Officer Goetz was at the rear, and he gave a little toot on his horn as he passed them. No one had anything to say. The silence was only broken by the howl of the wind and the sound of sleet hitting the plate glass windows.

They stood like statues looking off into the distance as the caravan crossed the parking lot and pulled out onto the road. Even Heather was silent as they huddled in the doorway, under the overhang, and watched as the last set of taillights disappeared in the blowing snow.

Jay opened the door and they all trooped in. Their footsteps sounded hollow and empty in the giant open space and the sound of the Christmas music playing over the loudspeakers seemed forlorn now that everyone had left.

“Well . . .” Jay cleared his throat. It was a surprisingly loud sound in the empty mall. “Cheer up, everybody. We're snowbound, and there's nothing we can do about it. I guess we'd better make the best of it.”

Dave nodded. “Good idea. Is anybody hungry? I've got the keys to the Crossroads Pub, and my dad said to help ourselves.” “I think I should call home first,” Diana spoke up. “My parents might be worried if they hear we're stranded out here.”

Cindy laughed. “It's not
if,
it's
when.
Your parents always watch the
Night News,
don't they?”

“Always.” Diana nodded. “Why don't we all call home and tell our parents we're fine? Then nobody'll worry about us.”

Jay nodded. “Good idea, but we'll have to use a land line. Our cells don't work way out here. Make your calls, and then we'll all meet at the Crossroads Pub. And lighten up, gang. This is going to be fun!”

“Right!” Sue smiled her best cheerleader smile. “There's plenty of food and we can stuff ourselves silly. And there's a bed for everyone at the furniture store. Just think about how lucky we are. If you have to get snowbound, this is the perfect place!”

Diana nodded along with everyone else, but she strongly disagreed. Sue was partially right. The mall would be the perfect place to be snowbound . . . if Heather had left.

T
he Crossroads Pub had a friendly atmosphere with its wood-paneled walls, oak tables with captain's chairs, and stacks of pewter mugs behind the bar. There was a wooden sign on chains over the door, and the room was decorated to resemble a British pub, with antique family crests on the walls and framed pictures of famous British soccer players. It was a fairly small space, seating only thirty, and the intimate, almost cluttered atmosphere was a welcome change from the emptiness of the giant mall outside.

Diana could smell the bratwurst sizzling on the grill in the kitchen, and she smiled across the table at Jay. “Sue was right. This is fun. Do you think Dave needs any help in the kitchen?”

“I don't know. Let's go ask him.” Jay stood up and so did Diana. “Better take your mug with you. He says it gets hot back there.”

The kitchen smelled wonderful, and Diana walked over to the grill to inspect the plump sausages. They were a beautiful brown color and juice drizzled out to sizzle against the coals. She walked over to Dave and gave him her best I-haven't-eaten-in-a-month look. “How long until we eat?”

“Less than ten minutes. If you want to help, slice open some of those buns and spread them with the coarse-ground mustard.”

“What can I do?” Jay looked just as hungry as Diana felt.

“Get the crock of pickles out of the cooler and fill a couple of those green glass jars.”

“I want to help, too.” Cindy appeared in the doorway, and grinned as she walked over to inspect the sausages. “God, it smells good in here!”

Dave grinned. “I know. Dad gets the sausage fresh from a little shop in Wisconsin. And St. John's monastery bakes the buns, especially for us.”

“But who makes the pickles?” Jay came out of the cooler, carrying a huge earthen-ware crock of pickles. “They're the best I've ever tasted.”

“My aunt makes them for us. She uses my grandmother's recipe.”

Diana came over to peer into the crock of pickles. There were at least a dozen garlic cloves floating on top, and she grinned. “At least we won't have to worry about vampires.”

“I didn't know you were superstitious.” Jay looked surprised.

“I was just joking.” Diana was a little embarrassed. “I'm really not superstitious at all.”

Cindy laughed. “Oh, no? You won't walk under a ladder, and you made me go three blocks out of my way so a black cat wouldn't cross our path. Face it, Diana. You're definitely superstitious.”

“No, I'm not.” Diana began to blush. Cindy had a big mouth. “It makes perfect sense not to walk under a ladder. Something might fall on you. And what's the big deal about walking a couple of extra blocks? You're always saying I should exercise more.”

Cindy turned to her brother. “Right. You heard her, Jay. She's not superstitious. This is from the girl who totally freaked out when I bought black candles for Halloween.”

“I just don't like the smell of licorice, that's all. And the candles you bought were scented.”

“Oh, sure.” Cindy grinned at her brother. “Did you know that Diana rubs a rabbit's foot right before she takes a big test? And she even goes through a little ritual, every night before she goes to bed. She's got a set of miniature Guatemalan dolls in a tiny box on her bedside table, and she takes them out and gives each doll something to worry about. She says the dolls do the worrying for her, and that helps her to sleep better.”

Diana took a step toward Cindy. She was all primed to dunk Cindy's head in the vat of pickles, but then she noticed that Jay wasn't laughing. He just looked very interested.

“Where do you buy dolls like that, Diana?”

“I . . . I think I got mine from a catalogue.” Diana did her best to stop blushing. She still wanted to kill Cindy for violating her privacy.

“They'd make great gifts.” Jay looked totally serious. “I'd like to order some.”

Dave nodded. “Me, too. You could give them to almost anyone, and they demonstrate a very sound psychological principle.”

“They do?” Cindy stared at Dave in astonishment.

“Absolutely.” Dave looked serious as he turned to Cindy. “My psych professor was talking about the effect worry has on sleep patterns. It's really disruptive. Haven't you ever had trouble sleeping because you were worried about something? Like a mid-term? Or a killer final?”

“Well . . . sure.” Cindy still looked a little dubious. “But I don't see what that has to do with Diana's little dolls.”

“It's simple. Diana tells the dolls her worries. And by verbalizing them, she takes off some of the pressure. Since her anxiety is lessened, she can sleep better. And it's a well-known fact that well-rested people are much more efficient.”

Diana had all she could do not to say,
I told you so!
to Cindy. But she didn't, because that would seem childish. She just grinned, and started to spread mustard on the buns.

“These are ready to come off the grill.” Dave signaled to Jay.

“Bring that big platter over, will you?”

Jay grabbed the platter and headed for the grill. Then he turned back to Cindy. “If you want to help, you can put pickles in those big green jars.”

Cindy walked over to where Diana was working, and lowered her voice so that Jay and Dave wouldn't hear. “I'm sorry, Di. I never should have told them all those personal things about you. I guess I just wasn't thinking.”

“You're apologizing?” Diana turned to Cindy in surprise. Cindy never apologized.

Cindy nodded. “Yeah. I am. I started thinking about how it would feel if somebody did that to me. And I probably would have killed them. Are you still mad at me?”

“No, I'm not mad anymore. But you
do
have a big mouth.”

Cindy winced. “I know. But I'm going to watch it, Di. Really, I am.”

“Okay.” Diana smiled at Cindy. And then she said the first thing that popped into her head. “You've never promised to try to watch your mouth before. What's got into you, anyway?”

Cindy began to blush. It was so unusual, that Diana couldn't help staring.

“I don't know. I guess it was something Paul said. We were talking in the news van, and he mentioned that he used to go with a girl who had a big mouth. The reason he broke up with her was because she told her friends some of the personal things he'd said to her.”

Diana nodded, and waited for Cindy to go on.

“We started talking about how some things are private, and how much it hurts if another person you trusted violates your privacy. And that's what I just did, except I didn't even realize what I was doing, until after I'd done it.”

Diana smiled. Cindy had only known Paul for an hour or so, but he'd obviously caused her to think very seriously about herself.

“Why are you smiling?” Cindy looked confused.

“Oh, I don't know. I was just thinking about how much I like Paul. He's perfect for you, Cindy.”

“I know.” Cindy sighed. “I wish he'd stayed behind. I gave him my phone number, but maybe he's got a whole collection of girls' phone numbers. Do you think he'll call me?”

Diana took a deep breath. That was a difficult question. If she said yes, Cindy would be terribly disappointed if Paul didn't call. But if she said no, Cindy would be horribly depressed. There was only one thing to do, and that was to tell the truth.

“I don't know, Cindy. I hope he does. He seemed to really like you. But I don't know him well enough to guess what he's going to do.”

“Me neither. That's why I asked. I guess I'll just have to wait and . . .” Cindy stopped and frowned. “Did you hear something?”

“No. What did you think you . . .”

Diana stopped in mid-sentence as she heard a noise. It sounded like a muted pounding and it was coming from somewhere outside.

“I hear it. But I don't know what it is.” Diana hurried over to Jay and Dave. “Cindy and I heard someone pounding, outside. Is there a back door to the Pub?”

Jay turned to Dave. “Oh-oh. I locked the front entrance when we came in. Maybe somebody's trying to get in.”

“The loading dock!” Dave led the way through the storeroom. “We were supposed to get a delivery tonight. Those big rigs are heavy, and one of the drivers might have made it through. We'd better check it out.”

Dave unlocked the heavy metal sliding door and Jay helped him push it up. They peered out into the blowing snow, but there was no truck outside.

“Hello? Is someone out here?” Jay cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted as loud as he could. “Hello?”

“Over there!”

Jay pointed, and Diana caught sight of a parka-clad figure stumbling toward them. Dave and Jay jumped off the dock and hurried to help the stranded truck driver.

“Oh, my God!” Cindy looked scared. “But where's his truck?”

Diana gave the only possible explanation. “He must have gotten stuck on the road, and walked in. It's a good thing you heard him, Cindy. He could have frozen to death out there.”

“I'm going to get some coffee.” Cindy was turning to go back to the kitchen, when Dave and Jay pulled the truck driver up on the loading dock. She took one look at his face, and her eyes widened in shock. “Paul!”

Cindy and Diana rushed to help, and in a few moments, they had Paul seated in the warmest part of the kitchen, right next to the grill. He leaned back in his chair, and gave a deep sigh of relief. “Thanks, guys. I thought I was a goner out there. All the doors were locked.”

“I'm going to unlock the front entrance right now.” Jay nodded. “Someone else might make it through, and try to get in.”

“Did you come in the news van?” Cindy noticed that Paul had brought his video camera case.

“No. I talked them into letting me do a human interest segment on the people who were stuck at the mall, but they couldn't spare the van. I talked Officer Goetz into letting me drive one of the delivery trucks. He didn't think you should be trapped out here without an emergency vehicle. But I ran into a snow drift I couldn't get through. There was no way around it, either, so I had to leave the truck about a mile down the road. I've got to call and tell him I made it.”

Dave nodded. “I'll do it. You just rest up, and have some more of that hot coffee.”

“This fire sure feels good!” Paul took another sip of his coffee and grinned at Diana and Cindy. “I didn't think I'd ever warm up again. It was really cold out there.”

Diana noticed that Cindy's face was white, and she could tell that Cindy was thinking about what would have happened if she hadn't heard Paul pounding at the door.

“We're certainly glad you made it!” Diana smiled at Paul. “But now you're stuck out here, too.”

Paul nodded. “I guess I am.”

Diana had the urge to laugh. Paul didn't seem a bit concerned that he was stuck at the mall with them, and she didn't think it had anything to do with the human interest segment he was supposed to do for the station.

Just then Dave came back with a grin on his face. “Officer Goetz says congratulations. He also told me he advised you against even trying to get through.”

“That's true.” Paul looked a little embarrassed. “But I told him that I had to see Cindy, and I convinced him that it was an emergency.”

“What emergency?” Cindy looked puzzled.

“Remember when you gave me your phone number?”

Cindy nodded. “Sure.”

“Well, you forgot to write down your area code.”

 

The communications room was locked, but he was resourceful. He'd found a full set of keys in the security office, and he now had access to every part of the mall. It was late, and almost everyone had found a place to sleep. The furniture store had plenty of beds.

He glanced around and smiled as he saw the empty walkway. He was the only one out, and no one would be able to observe what he was about to do.

The room was dark, but he didn't switch on the lights until he'd locked the door behind him. Then he walked to the box labeled, “telephone,” and began to systematically unplug the wires, labeling them as he went. He would cut off their link to the outside world. It was very important that no one interfere with his plan. But when he had finished, he would hook everything back up again so the whole world would know exactly what had happened.

Icy snow rattled against the plate glass window. The sound pleased him. It reminded him of muted snare drums, the kind they used for funerals of state. On the twenty-fifth anniversary of President Kennedy's death, they'd replayed footage of his funeral. The muted snare drums had impressed him even more than the riderless horse. Of course this wouldn't be a funeral of state. She didn't deserve that honor.

She hadn't been frightened when she'd opened his present, but that didn't matter. She was only the first, and it would take them a while to figure out the pattern. Of course, they'd think it was an accident. He'd planned it that way. They would all be accidents. And they'd be so horrible, no one would ever want to come out to the Crossroads Mall again. It might take a few months, but the mall would close without the huge crowds of customers that the owners had expected. The big chains would be the first to pull out, and without them, the mall would have huge empty spaces with no revenues. No one would drive out here to patronize the smaller stores, not when their goods were easily obtainable elsewhere. Eventually, all the stores would close, turning this huge complex into a ghost mall. The investors would suffer, just like he had suffered, and they'd end up salvaging what little they could to cut their losses.

Land was the only constant. The land was stronger than any brick and concrete edifice that man could build. Grass would push up through the asphalt, and tiny trees would grow in the cracks. Walls would crumble and birds would build their nests in the rubble. It would take years, but the land would reclaim this place. And it would be his land, the land his grandfather had intended for him. It was his Christmas present, the only one he really wanted, and Santa would make sure he got it.