Into the Mall

“Damnit, son, I said don’t move.”

“I’m not moving, but this is a mistake!”

The security guard huffed. “You got that right. People don’t come to the mall no more. Why you fools trying to break in?”

Jackson glanced at Tim, his raised arms shaking. Either from nervousness or fatigue, Jackson didn’t know. What he did know was they didn’t have a lot of time. Midnight approached.

“Sir, we just…”

“We need to get to the carousel.”

Balking, the guard said, “Why?” and let out a singular laugh.

Looking again at Tim, Jackson slowly shook his head. Tim continued. “We’re on a mission.”

“You guys terrorists or something?”

“My friend and I aren’t terrorists, “ Jackson started. “But if you let me set down my backpack, you can look at the books inside. They explain everything.”

But Jackson knew the books wouldn’t explain anything to this old man. He wouldn’t know how to read Chiza, and he’d see the carving chisels and get the wrong idea.

“Okay. Put the bag down, and I’ll lower my taser.”

Squaring his shoulders, Jackson shifted the backpack and let it slide down to land on the ground in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tim lowering his arms, too. Jackson hoped he wouldn’t do anything…

“Put your hands up, old… gnnnnn”

In a moment of confusion and dread, Jackson saw the guard shift his aim toward Tim and fire the taser. Tim collapsed on the tile. All Jackson could think was he couldn’t make the carvings by himself.

“Now, son, I said don’t move!”

“Yo, I’m not moving, but he doesn’t have a gun or anything. He’s just… He’s an idiot.” Licking his lips, Jackson leaned down to rummage through the pack at his feet. “Here, man. Look. The books.”

“Son, I need to call this in.”

Screaming, Jackson said, “There’s no time!”

The security guard fell silent, his mouth agape.“What’re you boys up to, huh?”

Opening the Marphial Conscript, Jackson fingered pages of the book, hoping the illustrations would be enough to convince the guard to help.

“Come here, please. Tim will be fine. I need your help.”

The guard looked back at Tim, his eyes looking wistful. “I never tased no one before.”

“Dude, it doesn’t matter. I need your help. Come here!”

The command startled the guard into submission and Jackson was relieved for that small reprieve. “This book here? It’s an instruction manual of sorts. We were given a job.”

The guard looked between Jackson and the book. “Job? What kind of job? A-a-and what kind of book is this? I can’t read it.”

“It’s another language, but just look at the pictures.”

After looking at a couple illustrations, the guard simply said, “Horses?”

Shaking his head, Jackson said, “These aren’t normal horses. They are Bezzen’a. Death horses, sent here from… Hell.”

Licking his lips, the guard asked, “Hell?” as sweat started to bead up on his forehead. Jackson felt like he might be making progress.

“Yes, Hell. They’ve been here for almost a hundred years, locked by the spell that keeps them bound in place. Look at me. Tim will be fine. Look! We came here tonight to reinforce the spell with new carvings.” He hefted his bag slightly so the tools inside would clatter around. “I have some wood chisels just for that purpose.”

“I shouldn’t of taken this job, son.”

“Are you listening? Come on,” he said while standing. “It’s almost midnight. The Bezzen’a have their best shot at escaping then. Come on!” he shouted while trying to get the security to stand back up. “I need your help. If we don’t get those carvings into the carousel, they’ll escape.”

“The… horses?” The security guard looked confused.

“Yeah, the horses. On the carousel.” Jackson started moving backward, deeper into the mall. Toward the carousel in the center.

“Hey,” the guard stammered. “Hey, stop right there!”

Turning quickly with his pack, Jackson sprinted.

When he arrived at the carousel, he was disappointed that the hell horses weren’t already showcasing their power in some way. Thankfully, the security guard hadn’t caught up and Jackson knew he had to get to work.

Looking at this watch again, he knew he had less than ten minutes to make over twenty new carvings in the base of the carousel.

The sound of a gun being cocked made Jackson pause. Slowly turning, he saw the guard with the weapon. Now he knew why it had taken him so long to follow Jackson: he didn’t have a gun on him, and he’d gone to wherever he kept one hidden.

“Son, I need you to step away from the carousel. I’ve already called the cops. They’ll be here soon.”

Feeling trapped, Jackson couldn’t stop tears from welling up. Was this the end? Had he failed his mission? Would the end of the world be brought about by a security guard?

Was he working for the Chorva Society?

Jackson started to ask when he saw a figure move behind the guard. A loud thud sounded, followed by a gunshot. Jackson screamed as the bullet passed too close for comfort. Looking behind himself, he saw it had hit one of the horses in the neck.

The swirling red miasma that immediately started pouring out of the bullet hole told Jackson they were almost too late.

Looking toward the guard, he saw Tim with his greasy black hair and pale face wielding a chair which could only have come from the food court. With a noticeable stutter, Tim said, “C-come on. There’s s-still time.”

With two experts on the job, Jackson knew Tim was right. In just a handful of minutes, the new carvings were in place and the bullet hole in the horse looked more like splintered wood and less like the small portal into the underworld. The world was safe, for now.

Word Count: 981