Miranda helps him lift his feet onto the chair. All the moving around has loosened the makeshift bandage. “I’m going to tighten this,” she says, taking the ends of the sleeves. He nods and then clenches his teeth. It’s like squeezing a bloody sponge. Should she try to make a tourniquet? She sees a shard of a memory: Matthew with a belt around his biceps. Miranda shakes her head, forcing herself to focus on this room, this guy whose lifeblood is hot under her palms.

“Thank you,” Javier says. “Again.”

She just nods and wipes her hands on her jeans, remembering too late that there’s a bathroom. How long can they take cover back here until they are hiding not with a bleeding boy but with a dead body?

Taking out her phone, she sends the same text to both of her parents, knowing it will produce very different results. Her dad will spring into action. Her mom will probably fall apart.

Shooting at Fairgate Mall. Hiding in Culpeppers. Plz tell cops. Someone shot in leg.

As Miranda finishes, Amina looks up from her phone. “I have been trying and trying, but no one’s answering 9-1-1. How is that even possible?”

“It’s possible because everyone here who can still dial is calling 9-1-1,” Cole says. “They’re overwhelmed. We’re on our own.” His tone is no-nonsense, but his hand trembles when he pushes the hair out of his eyes.

Grace is sitting with her back against the side of the desk. She shakes her head. “No, no, no.” Her voice rises, breaks. “Someone is coming to rescue us.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Cole says bluntly. “Didn’t you hear what the shooters said about taking hostages?” Miranda tries to remember what she heard on the other side of the metal shutter. “And if there’s hostages, the police will hang back and negotiate. They won’t want to come barging in, not if that risks everyone getting shot. So this could take a long time.” He opens the desk’s top drawer and starts rifling through it.

Grace’s only answer is a whimper. She starts to rock back and forth.

“This can’t be real,” Amina says. “It’s like a movie. Or the worst nightmare ever.” She closes her eyes. “I just want to wake up.”

“None of us can afford to check out, not if we want to live.” Cole opens another drawer. “Look around and see what you can use as a weapon.”

But all the room holds is clothes. What are they supposed to do, blind the killers with a glitter-encrusted sweater?

After rooting around in the desk, Cole comes up with a three-hole punch and a pair of scissors. “We need to be ready to attack if they get inside the store.”