“Who’s your favorite killer?”
I blink. The middle-aged white man points at the button hanging loosely on my shirt. Oh, right, in tacky orange and black lettering, it reads ASK ME WHO MY FAVORITE KILLER IS? I hate wearing it, but I can’t afford another write-up. I’ll die of embarrassment if I get fired from the James Halloween Home Décor shop.
“Ghostface,” I say. To be more specific, it’s Stu Macher from the first Scream movie, but he won’t care. Customers typically only ask, so I’ll ask them. “What’s your favorite killer, Sir?”
For the next five minutes, he stands at the counter, informing me why Freddy Krueger is the best. I nod along as if it’s the best conversation I’ve had all day, and he’s enlightened me, but I’m only half-listening. With a faux smile, I hand him the white shopping bag full of bottles of fake blood. “You’ve given me a lot to consider. Maybe I’ll have a different answer the next time I see you.”
“See, I knew you’d come around,” he says. The man reaches into his pocket, pulls out a crumpled dollar bill, and drops it into the tip jar. “You have a good day.” He disappears into the central area of the mall.
I shift my weight from one achy foot to another. The hard concrete floor kills my feet, and my boss won’t let anyone sit during their shift. It’s bullshit. On the positive side, there’s only ten minutes left until I get to go home.
I open the drawer to the cash register and collect the money. Technically, I’m supposed to do this in the back room, but I hardly ever do. It stinks like dead rats and mold. Besides, no self-respecting robber is going to risk prison time for $200.
Laying the money out on the counter, I count the large stack of fives. Ding! The door alarm chimes alerting me someone is walking in. You’ve got to be kidding me. Why do people insist on coming in five minutes before closing? Knowing my luck, they’ll want to browse.
Strolling up to the counter are Max Williams and Blair Thompson. Max is nearly a foot taller than Blair. His shaggy black hair sticks straight up as if he’s just gotten out of bed. Max tightly grips the straps of his small black backpack. Blair has tucked her bleach-blonde hair behind her ears.
“We still have time to look around, right?” asks Max.
“Ha-ha,” I say. Leaning over the counter, I brush my lips over Max’s, and I then turn to do the same to Blair. Max and I have been together for a year and a half, while Blair and I are almost on our third-year anniversary. Three bisexuals in a throuple sounds like a bad joke, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“I need to finish counting, and then we can go.”
Max waves his hand dismissively. “We have all night.”
“You shouldn’t do that in the open,” Blair says.
“Baby,” Max says. “Hardly anyone comes to the mall, so she’s safe.”
I shoot Blair a sympathetic smile. It takes me about five minutes to finish counting while they stand there playing with knickknacks at the register. Shoving the money into the safe, I let out a sigh of relief. Finally, I get to leave this hellhole.
“The mall is closing in ten minutes. Please make your way to an exit,” a voice says over the loudspeaker.
I flick off all the lights and grab my purse from behind the counter. We make our way to the open door. I type in the code, and the iron metal door lowers itself. It clangs against the concrete.
The smell of several perfumes overwhelms my nose. A cool blast of air blows strands of my black hair in my face. A few employees linger in the hallways, closing their shops. My shoes squeak on the glossy title floor.
“Do you think anyone’s ever gotten stuck in here at night?” Max asks.
I shake my head. “I doubt it.”
“Well, wouldn’t it be—”
“Max,” Blair warns.
“What?” I ask, glancing between them.
Max’s brow raises.
“Oh, come on,” I say. It’s unrealistic for them to fill me in on every conversation they have, but it’s frustrating sometimes.
Max slings off the backpack and unzips it. He pulls out his camera with a mic attached. Max runs a semi-popular vlogger channel. “I want to film a video of us spending the night in the mall.”
“Why?” I ask.
He shrugs. “It’d be cool. Come on, Imogen, please? It’s not like we’d get in any trouble.”
“As long as we don’t get caught,” Blair mutters.
“We won’t,” he says.
I glance around. Instead of going home to take a bubble bath, he wants me to hang out in a dark mall. Ugh, it sounds awful. I don’t know if I have the heart to tell Max no. Blair and I rarely agree to do anything filming-wise with him. Besides, he’ll whine the entire way home.
“I better not get fired,” I warn.
“Yes!” Max exclaims.
Blair shakes her head. “I can’t believe you’re agreeing to this.”
“I don’t want to listen to him whine,” I say.
Max dramatically slaps a hand on his chest. “I do not whine.”
“Sure, baby.” I pat him on the shoulder. Max shoves my hand off, and we all burst into laughter. Sometimes my boyfriend comes up with the worst ideas, but it’s funny.
“How are we going to hide from the mall cops?” Blair asks.
“Imogen could sweet talk them?” Max nudges me.
I shake my head. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna be able to do that. Some are overly serious about their jobs. You’d think for minimum wage they’d work a little less. Well, there was one security guard I didn’t mind. Jenny Loomis, a new security guard, she’d dragged a customer out after they tried to hit me. God fucking forbid I refused to take a coupon from another store.
Pressing my lips together, I glance around the mall. Where the hell were we supposed to hide? Most of the shops had closed, the annoying squeaky escalator was off, the elevator hadn’t worked in months, and they’d locked the washrooms by now.
I blow out a breath. “I have an idea. We can hide in the basement for a bit. No one goes down there except for the cleaning crew.” Most of us employees try to avoid it as best we can.
Blair’s jaw drops. “No fucking way, Imogen! Didn’t a kid like die down there?”
I shake my head. When I started here, some of the older workers told me a story about a kid who fell down the steps and cracked his head open in the basement. It turned out to be bullshit, but Blair hasn’t stopped believing it. She’s obnoxiously worried about demons.
Max looks at Blair. She throws her hands up in the air. “Fine, let’s go to the creepy murder basement.”
Technically, we are going to the creepy basement. It takes only a few minutes. The basement door is gray with the words EMPLOYEES ONLY scrawled across it.
Blair says, “Maybe it’s locked, yeah, I’m sure it’s locked. We should go home.”
Max shakes his head and twists the doorknob. It creaks open. I wrinkle my nose. An overwhelming smell of wet dog hits us in the face. It’s pitch-black down there. Blair and I wait on Max. There’s no way in hell we’re going first.
Sighing, Max pulls a flashlight out of his bag. He flicks it on and steps into the doorframe. “Careful, there’s some sketchy-ass stairs in here.”
My stomach churns. Why did I agree to this? He wasn’t lying about the stairs. The wood groans with every step I take. The handrail is half-off, and the paint is flaking onto the floor. About halfway down, Max turns on his camera and begins narrating to his audience.
“Hey, it’s Maxander, today I have a special treat for you! You’re going to get to see what it’s like in an empty mall.”
We make it down the stairs. Blair wraps her arms tight against her body, and she’s glaring at Max.
I kiss her forehead. “It’s gonna be all right.”
She shrugs.
“We need to find the lights,” I say.
The three of us search for some sort of light. A long rusty chain dangles near the stairs. Reaching up, I pull it. A bright white light illumines the room. I squeeze my eyes close. Hesitantly, I open my right eye and then, after several seconds, my left eye. I blink several times, to adjust to the lights.
Bile rises in my throat. On the concrete, a red blood-like substance stains the walls. Right below it is 666. In the center of the room, white candles sit in a circle. The room is musky but smells like some sort of vanilla candy. What the fuck?
I glance down at the floor and clamp a hand over my mouth. A pentagram drawn in black chalk covers the entire floor. This is the part in the horror movie where you’re screaming at me to leave, but I can’t. My legs feel like jelly.
Blair breaks the silence. “Max, I swear to god, if this is a prank for your goddamn YouTube channel—”
He holds his hands up in the air. “How could I have done this?”
I want it to be a prank, hell I need it to be a prank, but it isn’t one. Max didn’t even know if I’d agree to it.
“We need to call someone,” says Blair.
“Who?” Max demands.
She throws her hands up in the air. “The police?”
“I don’t think so.”
I yelp. Who the hell is that? Slowly, I turn on my heels. Jenny Loomis leans on the stairs, staring at us. Her fingers dig into her belt. She worked today as she hadn’t changed out of her bright blue polo shirt with security guard printed on it. Bright red hair flows down her shoulders. She shakes her head.
“I’ve been wondering when someone would come down here,” Jenny says.
“Jenny,” I squeak. “You did this.”
She laughs. “I’m a part of it, but it’s so much bigger than you can imagine, Imogen.”
Blair says, “We get that your father should’ve pulled out of your mother’s cunt, and shot you all over her, but we don’t have time for this. So, Let us go!”
“I can’t do that. You’ve seen too much.”
“We won’t tell anyone,” Max says.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” asks Jenny.
I say, “No, absolutely not, we got curious, and we’ve made a mistake. Nothing needs to happen, Jenny. This is a misunderstanding.”
Jenny sighs. “I wish it was, Imogen. I liked you.” Reaching behind her, she pulls out a large knife. “A gun would be easier, but I must follow the group’s traditions.” Jenny steps toward us.
I back up and raise my hands instantly. Shit! I don’t have a weapon. I run right into Max, who’s standing still, nearly knocking us both over. His camera digs into my back. His camera! Reaching around, I snatch his camera and toss it at Jenny.
“My camera!” Max cries.
“Now’s not the fucking time,” Blair snaps.
The camera smacks Jenny in the head, knocking her down. “You fucking bitch.”
“Run past her,” I say.
I pump my legs as fast as I can. I grab onto the handrail and dart up the stairs. Max and Blair are on my tail. Relief washes over me.
We’ll be all right. “Not so fast!”
Thump! The sound of a body hitting the stairs echoes through the room. I glance over my shoulder to see Max lying on the bottom step. Jenny is standing over him with the knife over her head. Blood drips down her head and pools on the floor. She brings the knife down into his stomach. Max screams. Jenny twists the knife into his body and jerks the knife up. Unlike in the movies, his flesh doesn’t cut easily, but rather jagged. Blood stains the knife, and her hand.
“No,” I sob.
Jenny stabs him in his chest. His blood splatters across her shirt and the floor. Max opens his mouth to speak, blood pours out of it.
“Stop it!” Blair screams.
“Curiosity does kill the cat.” Jenny brings the knife up to her mouth and licks the blood from it. She grins. “Delicious. Wanna try?”
I involuntarily empty the contents of my stomach onto the floor. The floor wobbles underneath me like I’ve spun around a hundred times in a circle. It’s overwhelmingly hot. The smell of blood is palpable in the air.
I glance between Max, Jenny, Blair, and the door within reach. We need to get out of here, but I don’t know if we can. God, why didn’t I go home and take a bubble bath?
Jenny giggles. “Which one of you is next?”
Blair looks at me, then back at Jenny. “She is. I didn’t want to come here.”
Before I register what, my girlfriend said, Blair’s long fingernails dig into my arm. She shoves me forward. I tumble and reach for the handrail but miss it and fall down the steps. Pain shoots through my arms and legs. I scream out. I come to a stop next to Max’s body.
My shirt and hair soak up his blood. Tears stream down my face. Blair’s familiar footsteps stomp up the remaining stairs.
“What the fuck!?” I shout. How could she do this to me? I love her. I love Max, and she left us here to die. Didn’t she love us?
Jenny’s steel-toed boot stomps down on my shoulder. I bite down on my bottom lip, and the familiar metallic taste fills my mouth. The bitch doesn’t get the satisfaction of hearing me scream.
I tell her, “Fuck you.”
Jenny waves her knife.“Tsk, tsk. Blair’s the final girl, for now, but you are going to make a lovely sacrifice, Imogen. Don’t worry about your girlfriend. We’ll deal with her later.”
I’ve always thought of myself as a final girl, but I’m not. I’m going to die down here.
Jenny raises the knife over her head and aims it at my face.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Fuck the mall.