“That said, it’s not our or, shall I say, your job to make the president’s decision for him. You should lay out the options without leading him in one direction or another. He volunteered for the job, and as they say, with great power comes great responsibility.”
Chapter Fourteen
Saturday, October 26
Fair Oaks Mall
Fairfax, Virginia
As day turned to night on the second day following the nuclear attacks, the atmosphere within the mall changed dramatically. After picking up a duffel bag and a few more things from the sporting goods store, Peter remained inside the storeroom in an effort to stay concealed from others and to avoid unnecessary exposure to any radioactive fallout. Thus far, other than the two young men who’d wandered into the store early on, he’d been left alone.
Everything changed that night. He’d been studying an Atlas that contained campground information he’d found at Dick’s Sporting Goods when gunshots rang out inside the mall. Screams filled the air as the shots continued. The gunmen suddenly stopped shooting. The cessation didn’t prevent people from screaming in abject panic.
Peter retrieved his weapon and rushed to the storeroom door. He cracked it slightly so he could hear better. A voice was bellowing loud enough that he could distinctly make out the words.
“Yo! Shut up! I got somethin’ to say!”
The man paused, waiting for compliance. When people continued to cry and talk to one another, shots were fired again, this time into the skylights above the center of the mall. Peter heard glass raining down on the tent city that had been established by refugees with young families. He gripped his pistol angrily, wanting to put the mouthy bully in his place.
“Do I have your attention now? Listen to me!” he continued to shout.
Peter slipped around the plastic and eased along the wall between the destroyed display cabinets until he reached the front entrance. There were a few people standing in front of the store, but their attention was directed toward the center of the mall. Peter couldn’t see past several obstacles, but he could certainly hear better now.
“Everybody needs to leave. This is our mall, and you’re being evicted. Got it?”
“We have no place to go,” a man complained.
A shot rang out, and a chorus of screams filled the entire mall. The people standing in front of the store fell to the floor and covered their heads. Peter didn’t have to step into the open to find out what had happened.
“Anybody else want to argue?” the gunman asked. He fired off several rounds into the air, drawing more screams. “Good. I think we understand each other. Now get off your asses and get out of here!”
“Where will we go?” asked a woman.
No shots were fired this time. “Well, you can go back to DC if you want. Or you can stay here and play with us. Or I don’t give a damn. Your choice. If you argue, you’ll end up like him!” This time, he fired off a round to act as an exclamation point on his statement.
At that point, people began racing for the exits. Peter did the same although he had no intention of carrying his gear through the front door. He rushed in the dark back to the storeroom. He frantically crammed everything he’d acquired into the backpack and duffels. He inwardly chastised himself for not being ready to escape the space on a moment’s notice. Now he had to find a way out of the mall without being seen with his supplies and weapons.
Once packed, Peter made his way in the dark to the rear emergency exit. He expected it to lead into an alley or even the parking lot. With a deep breath, he slowly leaned his hip against the steel plate attached to the alarmed exit device. He assumed the EMP had disabled the alarm.
He was wrong.
Once the push bar opened the lock mechanism, the hundred-decibel alarm began to wail, piercing the silence at his end of the mall.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” he cursed without trying to lower his voice, not that anybody could hear him. In the relative silence of the eight-hundred-thousand-square-foot shopping complex, the alarm filled the air and echoed off the concrete corridor he’d entered.
He moved carefully in the darkened hallway normally used by mall employees to access the dumpsters and to accept deliveries. Allowing his left elbow rubbing along the painted block wall to guide him, he tried to avoid stumbling over empty boxes that had been left out the night before. After tripping over a folding chair that caused him to lose his balance slightly, Peter gave up on stealth in favor of speed. He powered up his flashlight and picked up the pace.
Suddenly, a door in front of him flung open. Peter’s weapons were stowed away in his sling pack. In his hasty exit, he hadn’t armed himself. If the gunmen fired on him, he’d be dead. He had to make the first move in order to defend himself, taking a page out of the gun battle in Abu Dhabi.
He ran toward the door and body-slammed it in an attempt to knock down the person who’d opened it. The person on the other side was smacked in the back and knocked into the steel and concrete doorjamb.
A woman moaned in pain and fell to the ground. She was unrelated to the gunmen.
Peter felt terrible. He set his bags down and knelt down next to her. “Dammit! I’m so sorry.”
“My head,” she groaned as she held her hand up to her forehead. Blood dripped between her fingers.
Peter heard shouting coming from the front of the store where the woman emerged. He shined his flashlight ahead and saw an exit door.
“Come on!” He reached down and ran his hand through her armpit. He forcefully lifted her up without regard to her pain.
