The stretch of mall where the car had entered was only half a dozen stores long. It quickly ended in a T, where the main concourse began. Dozens of retailers to the right, dozens more to the left. At the far ends, two anchor stores. A JC Penney was off in one direction, and a Costco-type store, Discount Bonanza, sat at the other. Overhead, countless banks of skylights cast sunlight over the wandering shoppers.

That was just the upper floor. Beyond a railing, the mall opened up to reveal another level of stores below, accessible by sets of escalators spaced out along the concourse.

As the Arrival entered the main part of the mall, it veered sharply enough to make the tires squeal. The moisture-sensitive, self-activating windshield wipers did several swipes to get rid of the mall walker’s blood, adding a few shots of windshield washer fluid to get the job done.

“Let us out!” Archie cried. “Tell Pamela to let us out!”

Pamela wasn’t listening to Archie or Rory or Nick. She was too busy communicating with dozens of Arrivals sitting idly in the parking lot.

Their electric engines came on simultaneously.

Slowly, they started rolling in the direction of the mall doors.

Thirteen

“So what’s the problem?” Bruce Clifford asked Katie Montrose as she followed him into his kitchen that morning.

“Archie,” she said.

“Your brother?”

“Yeah,” she said woefully. “Is there any way to get rid of a brother?”

Bruce shrugged. “None legally, that I know of.”

She grimaced. “He just took off with his dumbass friends. I promised Mom I would keep an eye on him today and, like, minutes after she leaves, he pulls a stunt like this.”

“So, what do you mean, he took off?”

“In one of the Arrivals. Looks like one of his immature and totally underage friends is somehow allowed to drive one. They might have gone to the mall.”

“Well,” Bruce said soothingly, “I don’t see how he can get into that much trouble. I mean, those cars are about the safest thing ever made, aren’t they? It’s not like Chief Joe is gonna be pulling them over for speeding or running a red light.”

“I guess that’s true,” Katie said, sounding slightly less worried.

Bruce was filling two mugs from what was left in the bottom of the coffee machine. He set one in front of her and tossed a spoon and a couple of sugar packets her way. Katie noticed the yellow M on the packets.

“You ever actually buy sugar?” she asked. “Or do you just fill your pockets every time you go to McDonald’s?”

“It’s just for company,” he said. “I don’t use sugar.”

“You get a lot of company?” she asked.

“Just you,” Bruce said. “So, your mom still seeing the chief?”

Katie nodded.

“And she still has no idea that you know all about it?”

She nodded again.