I burst out laughing and completely miss the zombie that lunges toward us. “A man bun? Really?”
“So when are you and Malachi getting married?” she asks casually while reloading. “I’ve seen how he looks at you. Are you ready to become the wife of the future leader of Sunderlands?”
The question catches me completely off guard. I’ve never really thought about it like that. If the district ruling families were actually taken down and the territories united again under one leader, they probably wouldn’t even call it Sunderlands anymore. Maybe it would go back to being the United States, the United Districts, or the United Territories…
“Hello! You’re going to get us killed!” Aurora bumps myshoulder, and I realize I’ve been letting zombies overrun our position while I got lost in thought.
“Sorry! I can only think about one thing at a time right now. I’m worried about all of us surviving next week, not planning my wedding with Malachi.”
She makes a disapproving clicking sound with her tongue. “Yep, you definitely needed to get out today. You’ve been way too serious lately.”
I smirk and glance over at her. “Maybe you’re right about?—”
The screen flashes red as we both get devoured by a massive horde of zombies.
“Oops,” I say sheepishly.
“I want to play the claw machines, then we can find something to eat,” Aurora says, practically bouncing over to the far wall where more than a dozen different claw machines are lined up like colorful sentinels, each one filled with random prizes and stuffed animals.
“Here, take this and try one,” she says, pressing a little game card into my hand before we split up to tackle different machines.
After failing about ten times straight, I can see how these things become seriously addictive. It’s complete bullshit. The claw closes perfectly around a stuffed animal, lifts it up, then mysteriously releases it right before reaching the prize slot. The whole thing is obviously rigged.
“I’m going to order us some food,” I call over to Aurora, who’s completely absorbed in her own battle with a machine full of plush unicorns.
She waves me off without looking away from her target.
I walk across the arcade to a small order window I spotted when we first came in. Sure enough, there’s ahandwritten menu taped up next to the opening, and I scan the options with growing amusement.
Noodle Nests. Instant ramen formed into crispy bowls with canned veggies. That sounds okay, I guess. I keep reading. Packed protein bars. No description on those, but that’s dangerous. The protein is probably from bugs. I end up ordering us each a couple of tofu tacos. It sounds like the safest option, and you can practically make tofu taste like anything with the right spices.
The young man behind the grease-stained window slides two mismatched plates through the slot, the metal scraping against chipped paint. Steam rises from the tacos, carrying the scent of cumin and something vaguely meat-like that definitely isn’t meat. I claim one of the rickety benches next to the air hockey table, its surface scarred with decades of carved initials and burn marks.
Aurora bounces over with that infectious grin of hers, clutching something behind her back.
“It’s for you, a Boston, just like Mish.” She hands me the most adorable little plush Boston Terrier stuffed animal.
“Aw, it does look like Mish,” I say, examining the lopsided face and oversized button eyes. “Did you win this, or did it fall out of the machine when you kicked it?”
“Ha, ha, very funny. Give me a taco.” Aurora grabs the plate, and I stuff the cute little stuffed animal in my jacket pocket.
“Aw,no, no, no, no, really? Come on.” Aurora jogs over to where the jeep was parked, and we find an empty parking lot decorated with broken glass.
“Fuck, Cade is going to murder you,” I say, unable to hidemy grin despite our predicament. We got so caught up in arcade games that I lost track of time completely, and now darkness is setting in. “We better get moving before this gets worse.”
No one knows where we are, and when the sun disappears, this place is going to turn into a frozen wasteland. Thank God for Aurora’s internal heater.
“Moving where, exactly? Our ride got jacked,” she says, gesturing dramatically at the empty space.
“Wow, really? I hadn’t noticed the giant missing vehicle,” I deadpan. “We walk, genius. Unless you’ve got a teleportation power you’ve been hiding from me.”
Aurora kicks at a glass bottle, sending it skittering across the pavement. “Great. A lovely evening stroll through murder alley.”
“Come here, drama queen.” She pulls her hood up and zips her jacket to her chin. I mirror her movements, we need to look like we belong here, not like two lost girls with pockets full of arcade tokens. When she links her arm through mine, her gift flows through me, chasing away the evening chill instantly.
As we walk away from the mall, it’s mostly flat wastelands, huge fields of snow stretching endlessly, with the occasional farmhouse breaking up the monotony. It’s when we have to cut through the more densely populated area that we pick up the pace.
The tract housing where the Depths are located are all nice, not fancy, but clean and well-kept. The neighborhood we have to pass through to get back there? A little sketchy. Yards are cluttered with junk, turning the pristine snow into a graveyard of rusted car parts, broken furniture, and mystery debris. The houses look tired, paint peeling like an old sunburn, windows barred up tight. This isn’t gutter zone bad, but it’s definitely not prime real estate for two girls taking an evening stroll.
