“He really should stop doing that,” I say. “With all these people running around, he’s going to end up getting knocked over.”
Almost as if my words conjured it into being, a figure darts into view in the distance. It looks like a girl, probably a teenager, and she’s moving with an unnatural, hitching gait. She doesn’t hesitate as she runs out of view, heading in the direction of the escalators heading down. She looks up and seems to see the camera.
“No!” she screams. “No! Run!”
Sam and I look at each other.
“Did she just say ‘run?’” he asks.
“She did.”
George looks over his shoulder at her with a confused look, and she disappears, still trying to force herself through her distinct limp to move faster. She’s too far away to see clearly, but it looks like her clothes are stained and part of her shirt is hanging from her waist like it’s been ripped.
“Something’s wrong,” I say. “Something’s going on. Are there police there?”
“I don’t know,” Sam says, starting to get up.
“Is she alright?” George mutters, seemingly to the camera operator, his eyes lifted up and over the lens so he’s not looking at viewers. “Did you see that?” There’s some sort of whispered response I can’t decipher and he nods, setting his attention back on the camera with a fixed smile. “Alright, well we’re just going to keep on going. People around here certainly are getting into this celebration, aren’t they?”
He chuckles a little but it lacks the base of his usual prepared laugh. Something dark comes into view on the floor behind him and an instant later, he steps into it and slips. The reporter catches himself, but then slips again, ending up on the floor. The camera dips forward as the operator leans to help him, showing more of the dark streak smeared across the light-colored marble. Before he can get the other man to his feet, there’s a strange grunting sound and the camera shakes, then hits the floor. It skids a little and I see a black boot step into view then hear muffled, gurgling sounds before the transmission cuts.
“Call them,” I tell Sam forcefully. “Call the station.”
I jump off the couch and run upstairs to get dressed.
Mindy loses her balance and skids down a few of the escalator steps again, but she ignores the pain and runs toward the sound of the nearest voices. She sees a group of girls she vaguely recognizes from school and runs toward them. One of them catches sight of her and takes a step back, looking bewildered and startled at the same time.
“Don’t go that direction,” Mindy tells them frantically. “Go back to the food court. Get out. All of us have to get out!”
“What are you talking about?” one of the girls asks.
Another seems to notice the blood streaming from her injuries and her eyes go wide.
“Oh, my god, what happened to you?” she asks.
“Get out,” Mindy repeats. “He’s up there. He killed Gloria. And Peter and Gabe. And…” A sob catches the words in her throat and won’t let them the rest of the way out of her mouth. “He’s coming. We need to get out.”
“What’s going on?”
Mindy looks up and sees some guys coming toward them.
“She says someone got killed,” another of the group says. “Gloria.”
The guys look at each other, then at Mindy.
“Seriously?” they ask.
“Look at her,” the girl who saw her injuries says.
The guy shakes his head and scoffs. “No. It’s fake. It’s just a hoax. Haha. Happy Halloween.”
“It’s not a joke!” Mindy snaps.
“I have to give it to you, I didn’t expect something like this from one of the popular girls. But you’re committed. That’s high-quality stage blood right there. Did you get some theater geeks to do the latex cuts for you?”
He reaches forward to touch a jagged gash in Mindy’s arm and she yanks it back. The guy laughs.
“Okay. I believe you,” he says in a mocking tune. “I’m going to go see for myself. I’ll vanquish the villain for you, fair maidens.”