Jacked by Kirk Dougal Page B

close.”
    The two boys trotted into the dark with Tar in the lead. He led them on a twisting course, first left, then right, but always southwest. After a few minutes they reached the end of another alley and stood just out of the sunlight. Across the street was a massive building, the gray of the sky reflected off the dirty white and rust walls.
    “The old mall? We’ll never get in there,” said Toby. “It’s been boarded up for years.”
    “Yes, we can. Down that side street are the places where the trucks used to bring in stuff. We can get in those doors. Just follow me.”
    Tar led the way under an overcast sky with Toby just a step behind. He was scared. Only Toby being there kept him going forward because he did not want to look like a wimp. Tar kept thinking every step could be his last. He would have much rather ran all the way back home, pulled the covers over his head, and cried himself to sleep.
    They made it across the street and hurried down the side of the building until they came to a point where it swung away from the street. The sidewalk angled down into shallow pits, while over-sized metal doors looked out from the walls like the bug eyes of a monster.
    “See, I told you,” hissed Toby. “There’s no way in.”
    Tar only motioned for his friend to follow as he jogged past the four doors to the far side of the setback. There, a set of metal stairs snaked up against the concrete wall. At the top was a black door.
    “There,” said Tar.
    The two boys walked carefully up the steps but, even so, the metal rattled on each riser and sounded against the bare walls.
    “We gotta hurry, Tar. Somebody’s going to hear that.”
    Tar nodded. In fact, he thought he heard hooves on the street already but he was not sure. His heart pounded so hard in his ears he was having trouble hearing anything. He put his hand against the metal box next to the door. A second later the latch clicked.
    “Chilly,” said Toby.
    They stepped into the dark building and Tar shut the door behind them. He waited until it locked before he took off his backpack and rummaged in one of the side pockets. He brought out two little boxes, barely wider than his hand, and felt in the dark for the switch. One of the flashlights lit up and he used it to turn on the other one and hand it to Toby.
    “I’m not sure how long we have with these batteries but there’s too much stuff in here to trip over,” he said.
    “You’ve been in here before?” Toby asked.
    “Yeah.”
    That was his only answer. Tar was not ready to admit that when he was younger he would sneak down here and watch the school kids through the mall windows on the south side. When Uncle Jahn had found out about his trips he had beat Tar’s butt until he had trouble sitting still during supper but he had come back again and again. Tar needed to see other kids, even if he could not sit with them in some boring class or run yelling through the schoolyard during playtime. When Jahn realized the beatings would not stop him his uncle gave up trying to keep him away from the others and preached instead about knowing who Tar could and could not trust.
    The pair walked through the loading dock, the area clear except for a half-dozen tow motors and piles of wood skids. It had been a couple of years since the last time Tar had been in the building and it took him three tries before he finally found the door he was looking for. When he did he and Toby stepped through into a wide open area with tables and chairs spread all over. Along the far wall were a long line of places where food was served at one time—he had described it to Jahn and his uncle had told him the place had been called a Food Court—but in the middle of the area was the thing that made Toby suck in his breath and stumble on the dusty tile.
    A large circular machine rose from the floor and traveled up the height of two flights of stairs. Gold and silver shined back from the flashlights’ glare, as did the painted