Above Creek, Robin screamed again. Creek ran out from underneath the second floor overhang to see the man with Robin trying to drag her away from the atrium, presumably down the mall to one of the far exits. Creek glanced toward the escalators and saw the man who had just run up them, training a gun on him. Creek moved as the shot hit near his feet, and looked around as he ran, trying to find what he needed.

He spied it—on the other side of the atrium, naturally: a small, red fire alarm box, four and a half feet up the wall next to the entrance of a jewelry store. Above him he could see the man who'd shot at him moving to get a clearer shot. Creek clicked on his shoes and kicked off, sailing across the atrium in yard-eating steps. Behind him he could hear the pings of bullets hitting objects and floor tiles; the guy shooting him hadn't figured out how to compensate for the bouncing. Creek hit the atrium wall, yanked down the alarm, and bounced off before the guy upstairs could line up another shot.

The sound system of the mall, which up to this time had been playing the lite hits of the last two decades, erupted into wailing shrieks as the sprinklers in the atrium launched into their showers. The very last of the shoppers burst from their hiding places like flushed partridges, as did whatever salespeople were still in their shops. They were running to beat the fire doors, already dropping down from their ceiling enclosures where they stayed rolled up until they were needed to block the spread of flames from one area of the mall to the next. Fire-tight doors also dropped at the front of every shop; mall staff and customers could still get out through the back paths behind the mall stores.

As he moved, Creek watched the doors seal off exits in every direction; once dropped, the fire doors could be opened only by the Arlington Fire Department. Robin and Creek were stuck, but so were the other guys. They were all trapped together.

The man who'd been shooting at Creek got distracted by the noises and the doors snaking down from the ceiling. Creek used the distraction to pick the gun off the body of the man he'd jumped on. The man upstairs brought his attention back on Creek just as Creek was lining up his shot. The man fired first, a panic shot that went wide. Creek calmly hit the guy center mass and watched him fall. Creek bounded up the escalator to find the final man by the railing, holding Robin and a gun, the latter pointed at the former. The alarm sirens, having done their job of telling people to get out before they burned, went silent.

"Easy," Creek said to the guy.

"I don't know how you're jumping around like that, but if you get any closer, I'm going to shoot her in the head," the guy said.

"I'm not moving," Creek said. "Robin, how are you doing? You okay?"

"No," Robin said, and managed to sound slightly astounded that Creek would ask such a stupid question.

"She's going to be worse if you don't drop your gun," the man said.

"Look, guy," Creek said. "All we came here to do is try on some shoes. I got a pair and she got a pair. I don't know what all of this is about."

"Shut up," said the guy.

"All your friends are gone," Creek said. "You're by yourself."

"Oh, I've got more friends waiting, you can bet on that," the guy said. "Now shut up and drop the gun."

"If I drop the gun you might kill me," Creek said.

"If you don't drop the gun, I'm going to kill her," the guy said. "Now drop the fucking gun."

"All right," Creek said. "I'm dropping the gun now." And he did. The man moved his gun to aim at Creek; Robin activated her shoes and kicked at the railing, forcing her body into the man holding her and launching the both of them at high speed into a mall wall. His shot plowed into the railing near Creek as his arm was jerked wildly away and his body squashed into the wall. Creek bent to pick up his weapon.

Robin crawled away from the guy; the guy groggily raised his gun to shoot at her. Creek shot him in the shoulder and kept the gun trained on him for his entire slide down the wall. The man screamed all the way down, pawing at the mess of his shoulder with his good arm until Creek whacked him in the temple with the butt of his pistol.

He turned his attention to Robin, who was still on the floor. He checked her for injuries, but other than bruises and cuts she seemed fine. "Thank you," Creek said. "I was hoping you'd figure out what I was saying about the shoes." Robin batted him away.

Creek backed off, dropped the pistol into his jacket pocket, and reached into his inside jacket pocket for his communicator. He flicked it open and was mildly surprised it was still functional after his workout. Creek wanted to get Ben Javna to get them protection at the mall before the fire doors opened; Creek didn't know if their last little friend was telling the truth about having backup, but he didn't want to find out one way or another.

Javna wasn't answering his communicator. Creek got voice mail, but switched off without leaving a message. Then Creek pocketed his communicator and looked around and finally up at the shattered atrium skylight. After about a minute he raised up his gun and fired at the skylight, dislodging the remaining sections of glass. From the floor, Robin flinched.

"What are you doing?" Robin spat.

"We need to go, Robin," Creek said, and walked over to help her up. "We need to go now."

"Wait for the police," Robin said. "We can wait for the police."

"There might be more of those guys out there, Robin," Creek said. "Until we're at the State Department, I can't be sure we're totally safe."

"The fire doors are closed," Robin said. "We can't get out."

Creek pointed at the skylight. "That way," he said. "Up off the roof and then down the fire exits. Anyone who's waiting won't be expecting that."

Robin looked like she was going to cry. "I just want to go home," she said.

"You can't," Creek said. "Not right now. Soon. But now we need to go. Can you still jump?" Robin nodded. "Okay. I need you to jump on to the top of the WallBall cube. Okay? And then push off as hard as you can, right through the skylight. Easy." Robin nodded dully, steadied herself, and leapt to the cube. Creek followed suit. Robin bounced up through the skylight; Creek readied himself to do the same.

"Hey!"

Creek dropped and fumbled for the gun in his pocket, and then relaxed when he saw Chet the WallBall attendant looking up at him. He'd been cowering under his counter mis entire time.

"Jesus Christ, man!" Chet said to Creek. "What the hell just happened here?"

"I wish I could tell you," Creek said, getting up. He dropped the gun on the top of the WallBall cube.

"Yeah, well, my shoes," Chet said. "You're still wearing my shoes. I want them back."

"I need them," Creek said. "And I think you're done for the day."

"You said you wouldn't do anything stupid with those shoes!" Chet said. "Look at this place! I mean, God damn! I trusted you, man!"

"Sorry," Creek said, and jumped through the skylight.

Chet watched him go. "No more shoes in advance for anyone," he said.

Acuna woke up in a haze of pain and blood, dragged himself out of the shop window, and gazed around to see three of his men dead or unconscious on the second floor. He limped over to the railing and saw the fire doors down, the other man on his second team lying flat in his blood and Ed, still immobile, splayed where Creek had kicked him. He didn't see Creek or the girl.

Motherfucker, Acuna thought, and then winced and closed his eyes. Even thinking hurt at the moment. Creek did a number on them all, all right. When he opened his eyes again he saw Chet, dragging the unconscious broken-legged WallBall player out of the court.

"Hey!" Acuna yelled, and immediately regretted it.