When The Changewinds Blow Page 3

  "Look-your mom and the cops can help."

  "How? From a black figure who's only visible when he wants to be seen? From fucking thunderstorms that can put something in my own bedroom with me? You're say in' go back and stand in front of the guys with guns who want to kill ya 'cause if you run through the door and get away from 'em you just might run into a guy with a gun someplace who wants to kill ya."

  "They're just dreams, Sam! Just dreams. They're just all in your head. And a black figure who's seen only in mirrors and once in a while when you're alone-that's creepy but it's right out of a horror movie. Those things just don't exist in the real world. I may not be a real brain but I know better than to believe in elves and fairies and Santa Claus and the Boogey-man."

  Sam sighed. "I kinda thought you'd say that. I know that's what Mom and Dad and the cops would say-what almost anybody'd say. Okay, forget the dreams, forget the Boogeyman, forget everything I told you. Just promise me that you won't give me away here. Not until I can get clear and get settled someplace. A day. Two days tops. Will you promise me that?" She stared at her friend in the darkness of the movie house. "Charley-if I have to go home now, or to the funny farm, I'll kill myself. You can't know what it was like. Don't force me to do that. Please!"

  Charley didn't really know what to do. Sam needed help-a lot of it. That was for sure. Help she couldn't give. She needed a really good psychiatrist and a lot of time. On the other hand, Sam was still Sam and she was still her friend, and there was such a note of desperation there that Charley felt Sam might well kill herself at this point. She needed advice on what to do and there was no way she could get it. Anybody she told about this would be hell-bent to recapture Sam, and if anything happened to Sam as a result of what she did she'd never forgive herself.

  "Okay, okay, keep cool," Charley responded, trying to think. "Look, there's not much I can do tonight, and I got school tomorrow and Friday. I was supposed to go to a movie with Harry Friday night, but I can break that without my folks knowing. Look, I'll pick you up here. We'll do this boyfriend-girlfriend bit so it'll look right. I'll pick you up in front of the Food Mart say ... seven-thirty. We'll go someplace and try and really figure it out. If anything happens before then, call me and I'll see what I can do. I swear I won't tell nobody nothin'. All right?"

  Sam seemed somewhat relieved. "All right. Friday night, then. You better get home now-I'll get by."

  Charley kissed Sam and squeezed her hand and then, hesitantly, got up and walked out of the theater. The mall was already mostly closed down, and she had no trouble finding her car. She got in, started it, and pulled out toward the exit light, trying to think, to figure things out, and not paying any attention to the rock blaring from the car radio.

  "And here's the latest from Action Weather. Cool tonight, lows about thirty-five in the city and lower than that in the suburbs, with light snow possible above the six thousand foot mark. In spite of this, unseasonable freak thunderstorms continue in the area due to an unsettled mix of very cold air aloft and relatively warmer air near the surface. High tomorrow around fifty. This is Doctor Ruben Miller with Action Weather. ..."

  A car's lights turned on behind her and slowly pulled out toward the exit traffic light. Just nerves, she told herself. Most people would be leaving now who hadn't already left.

  She turned onto the street and couldn't help but see the lights of the other car turn the same way. She began feeling very paranoid, very silly. Sam was, well, sick, that's all. It'd take a shrink to figure it out, but Sam never really liked it out here in the southwestern boonies or being this far from her dad, she was too straight arrow to even date in the usual ways, and she was hemmed in by her lack of wheels to get out and enjoy things. She'd gone so far into that fantasy life she couldn't quite get out anymore, Charley decided.

  Still, she couldn't shake some of the paranoia that rubbed off Sam like din. Was that the same car still following? What if she made a turn?

  Feeling stupid, she turned onto a side street well before hers just to get a little peace of mind. She went about a block and then saw headlights turn in from the main street. She made a left, then another right before the other car could possibly see her, then pulled over and parked just ahead of a big black car that would partially shield her from view.

  A car passed on the cross street; a dark blue Ford. It was impossible to see who was driving, but that was certainly the car. She pulled back out, then threaded her way through the development and back toward her house again. She chided herself for being so spooked and came up to the stop sign on her street, then forward to the middle of the block where her house was. She almost panicked when she passed a blue Ford-the blue Ford-parked at the corner across the street from her house. It looked like there was somebody in it, but she couldn't really make him out.

  Unnerved now, she parked in the driveway and got out, wanting to be inside as quickly as possible. It was probably a cop-all the cops on TV seemed to drive big, dark cars like that. O'Donnell or his boss had decided to bet a couple of men that Sam was still in town and would be likely to contact her best friend, that was all. It was scary, but it sure as hell wasn't no mysterious dark figure you could see only in mirrors or any magic princesses.

  A mall is a strange place at night, full of half-lit halls and ghostly stores and vast, deserted airspace. There were bars or roll-down security fronts on the stores, of course, and after Security left at midnight all of the entrances and exits also were wired, although, of course, a few key doors had safety bars just in case someone got trapped inside. Some malls had twenty-four-hour security inside, but, fortunately, this wasn't exactly a major crime area and the place was pretty secure against burglars and vandals. All the stores closed at nine; only the theaters were open later, usually until eleven or so, and they had a separate outside exit allowing them to have their final show without disturbing the mall routine.

  By ten the merchants were gone and the cleaning crews were out in force. It was pretty impressive to see them work a whole mall in such a short time, but everything was on such an impressive system that they almost never strayed past midnight. The theaters had their own crew that came in at seven in the morning; their first features were the matinees and it was more efficient to clean them during the unused morning time than pay overtime to a night crew.

  The first security personnel arrived about seven, give or take a couple of minutes.. They checked the locks and made the rounds once to make certain that all was well. Around seven-thirty some mall personnel showed up, checking all the settings and turning on the lights, fountains, and the rest, and soon after the early merchants would begin to show, starting with the food stall people and then the rest. By nine it was all ready to go once again. Only on Sundays, when the mall was only open noon to six, did anything vary. Then, starting at six, a veritable army of cleaning and maintenance personnel moved in and it was often after midnight when they left.

  Behind the facade, however, were miles of service corridors, storerooms, and other areas that were the nuts and bolts of running such a place. There were even some classroom-sized rooms and a small complex of offices. By now Sam had explored them all and discovered the areas where virtually no one went on a regular basis, and mere, well hidden from even the most chance encounter, she'd made something of a nest using some removable seat cushions from stored chairs and other things picked up along the way that nobody would miss. Saturday night she'd made a valuable find, in fact, although she hadn't yet had to use it, where the day cleaning crew who picked up while all was open changed. It was a nice red security badge with a male name on it-George Trask, whoever he was-and a number but no photo. She always wore it when getting in or out of here, though, just in case. She had run in terror and run to the only place she could think of, but when it became clear that she had not been seen or followed and she had, at least temporarily, some safety, the focus had changed. The more nights she got away with it, the more confident she became, now often staying awake late and sleeping
late, sneaking out into the mall itself well after it was alive and going. By Monday it had become something of an adventure, although she knew full well it couldn't last. She also had to know what was going on, what was being said about her, how large the hue and cry, and that was the reason for the note to Charley. She wasn't sure what Charley could do, if anything, but it was better than being alone.

  She also felt frustrated. She didn't want her mom to worry, or her dad, either. He was probably flying out now if he wasn't already here yelling and screaming at her mom and the cops and everybody else. Better they should worry than find her dead, though.

  She would have liked to have reassured them, but what the hell could she say? She'd tried the truth with Charley and Charley had reacted like it was psycho city, so explaining this to her parents was just impossible. She needed to get away for a while, far from here, and sort it all out. Maybe north or east into the real cold where they didn't have thunderstorms this time of year. Someplace where she could get some kind of menial job that would keep her going. Damn it, she knew carpentry and construction. There had to be something out there someplace. Not much chance for a girl, but she played a mighty convincing boy if she did say so herself. She had the walk and the moves and the vocabulary down pat. Hell, she had it down so pat she'd gone right past some people she'd been in school with for a year and they never noticed, and she'd even gotten friendly with a couple of fifteen-year-old girls who hung out here.

  She'd kind of fantasized being a boy off and on and she had to admit it had its points. Boys didn't have to spend an hour and a half just getting ready to go out in public; they didn't have to suffer lewd comments from passing pickup trucks or worry much about being alone on the bus or why a guy was being nice. In a sense, they were just more invisible in everyday life.

  She acted the part well enough but she wasn't a boy, and on Thursday evening that was driven home to her hard. Everything was closed, she was getting her damned period, and there wasn't a reachable tampon in sight. Some blood had seeped through, soaking her panties and getting on the jeans. She had spare panties but she knew she had to work on that jeans stain before it set. The one small washroom that was open had some soap but the basin wasn't big enough for that. Okay, Sam, you figured out the rest up to now-what the hell do you do about this?

  And so she found herself, at two in the morning, stark naked in the middle of the main concourse of the mall, sitting on the edge of the fountain and soaking her pants and underwear. The fountain was turned off for the night, but there was a pool of water there maybe two feet deep. It was also surprisingly warm-well, tepid, anyway-and quite clear. At the bottom she saw what seemed to be hundreds of coins thrown in by people over the week-they generally fished out the stuff on Sundays. Mostly pennies, but there was occasional silver in there and she found herself slipping into the fountain and combing the bottom. She came up in the end with only three dollars, and fifty-five cents in non-pennies but it was okay.

  She finally decided to hell with it and gave herself something of a rinse and she felt a lot better for it. Her flow was still intermittent; by tomorrow she'd buy something that would keep it from betraying her.

  When she got out, rinsed out the clothes and laid them out to dry as much as possible, she found herself feeling a lot cheerier but not at all sleepy, even though she should have been dead tired. She looked out at the silent mall and felt a kind of kinky thrill. In a few hours this place would be jammed with people, but here she was, stark naked in the middle of it all. She decided to have a stroll around the mall. She'd once had a dream about touring a mall stark naked, although, of course, all the stores were open in the dream. Even so, it was sort of like living a brief fantasy and it was kind of funny.

  Most of the stores kept lights on at low levels, but a few were completely dark, and their display windows reflected her form. She stopped at one and stared at herself. She sure didn't look like a boy now, and for the moment she didn't want to. She'd never been thrilled with her face-her ears were too big and her nose was wrong and her teeth were too big and prominent and she had a kind of chubbette face, or so she thought, but there was nothing wrong with her body. It amazed her that breasts like hers could be so effectively concealed by that stiff denim jacket, although she'd paid a price for it in rubbing and chafing. Nice body curve, too, and pretty good hips if she did say so herself. Her ass looked fatter than it should be, but that was about it. She struck a few sexy poses and kind of liked it. She was getting turned on by all this and she didn't fight it. She tried to imagine herself as a boy now, though, and couldn't. No, she could play one all right, but she didn't want to give up what she was seeing now.

  She passed close to one of the security cameras monitoring the staff exit and suppressed a giggle. Couldn't she give 'em something to really look at! Not that she would. If anybody saw her like this now, she'd just die. Suddenly the thrill was gone. What if somebody did show up now? What if some merchant or security man or mall supervisor had to come in real early for something? They hadn't yet, but suddenly the possibility loomed like a certainty in her mind.

  She went back down to the fountain where her clothes were. In the dry mall air the undies were almost dry although they looked like veterans of a chainsaw massacre; the jeans, however, seemed as wet as ever. They generally took an hour on high in the dryer at home. Hell, it might be a long time before they were dry enough to wear, damn it. Still, scrubbing the fresh stain with some hand soap and water had done wonders. It was still there but wasn't much and certainly didn't look like blood anymore.

  Outside, as if very far away, she heard a faint rumble. Oh, God! Not a thunderstorm! Not now! To be heard much at all inside here it must be right on top of her! They were still looking for her, that was for sure. They'd lost her once but they wouldn't give up if they thought she was still around the town. She knew that. If the cops were still looking, then they were sure as hell not gonna give up.

  She felt sudden panic. What would she do if they found her in here right now? Visions of mad slasher movies started running through her head. The jeans were still so wet they'd be more a hindrance than a help. Being chased, naked, through a deserted mall by him . . .

  What was that? Some kind of noise over by the book store . . .

  She grabbed up everything and made for the staff exit, being careful to avoid the camera and other more actual traps and back to her hiding place. She could hear the storm a bit more here, closer to the outer walls, but she could do nothing but huddle, shivering in the dark, eyes glued to the door of the storeroom.

  Oh, God! Please, God! Steer them away from me! I'll do anything, anything, but please don't let them find me tonight! Just send the storm away from here, away from me!

  And, although wide awake and terrified, she seemed to hear the Honied One's voice, as if in a whisper far away.

  "Damn it, I almost had her, but something is deflecting the storms, interfering with the focus. I can't seem to get a fix. This requires too much energy; I am drained. But we will find her, never fear. If not this night, another night. This one must be dealt with. She has tapped the Power. Potentially she is the most dangerous one we have yet encountered. . . .

  And all the white the object of this ghostly conversation sat crouched against the wall in the corner of the storeroom, naked, helpless, and terrified in the dark.

  2

  The Maelstrom

  Morning dawned bright if a little crisp over the valley. Inside the insulated mall the canned music was turned on and a chorus of massed violins was playing a soft, melodic version of Beast of Burden. In the storeroom, Sam had gone to sleep after several hours in spite of herself but her real gain was perhaps two hours of rest and she felt like she'd been run over by a truck.

  Even so, she felt some elation. Once again, somehow, she'd beaten them, if only for a night. One thing was sure, though- she had to get out of here now. They knew, or at least suspected, that she was here. They'd be back, again and again, until they found her. She w
anted to meet no dark figure in this mall at two the next morning.

  Still, it was now Friday. If Charley hadn't decided to stay out of it and if she really wanted to help she'd be there tonight, maybe with a car.

  The jeans were still damp and badly wrinkled, but they would do. The socks might as well be abandoned. After days in them they were beyond the help of merely soaking. She never liked the feel of them anyway.

  First things first. She'd have to get out of here and find enough light to count her money and see just what she did and didn't have. She didn't feel much like eating right now, but she needed tea or a Coke or something with a jolt in it to get her going and keep her moving today. It was gonna be one damned long day.

  She managed to dress and slip out and into the mall proper. She had to pass a few people in back as she always did, but so long as you looted like you belonged nobody ever said much, particularly if you were going out. She headed first for the now open public restrooms. Nothing like a well-lighted stall for privacy, although the men's rooms weren't as nice as the ladies' rooms and had far fewer stalls.

  She sat down and pulled out the crumpled mass of coins and bills and flattened and counted them. A hundred twenty-seven sixty-five. Not much. She still had her mother's bank card but the odds were they changed that just in case she was kidnapped or something. Still, it might be worth a try tonight. Friday night-if the number hadn't been changed it'd be Monday before anybody'd find out it was used again and by that time she really would be gone while they searched here. Not bad. Nothing to lose, anyway.

  A pocket-sized pack of maxi-pads solved the immediate problem and just in time, too. That and some Panadol for the cramps, although it only helped a little. She was one of those unlucky ones who got it bad, at least for a day or so. Charley was luckier in that regard; she hardly ever had it bad. Sam always wondered if it was because she was oversexed or, something or if it was easier once your cherry was popped or if the combination would turn her into a nymphomaniac or something. Hustling much was out today; her lack of sleep, period, and nerves combined to make her unfit for much of anything. She picked up a couple of donuts and a Coke and managed to get them down. It helped only in that it was an improvement over no donuts and no Coke.