"Erica," you say, "stay here and lay low. Keep your eye on those two and don't let them leave. We'll be back. Okay?"
Erica nods and waves you away, wanting to get back to the film. You and Dustin exit, heading for a quiet place to radio for help.
Dustin finds the projection room and you tiptoe inside. He begins barking into his radio, relieved when he finally gets a response.
"Who is it?" you hiss.
"Mike!" Dustin cheers. You recognize the name as one of the other kids Steve babysits. "Oh my God, you have to listen. I know I've been MIA, and I'm sorry. It's not because I'm mad. I mean, I actually was mad, but it's also because I was trapped underground in a secret Russian base."
Mike's response is garbled. Dustin continues blabbering about the Russians.
"And now they're after us and we can't get out of here without being spotted," Dustin says. "We need help. Can you get Hopper? And maybe Nancy and that gun?"
Mike says, "Dustin, you're cutting—Dustin, you there?" His voice sounds distorted and tinny.
Dustin's radio blinks red.
"Please tell me that scary red light is actually a good thing?" you ask.
"Nope," Dustin sighs. "Low battery. I think Erica has extras in her backpack."
"Maybe she has quarters for the payphone," you say. "Either way, let's go back in."
When you get to your seats, you're shocked to see Steve and Robin MIA.
"Where are they?!" you say, fear and frustration simmering under the surface.
Erica mumbles out apologies and fiddles with her hands in her lap, sheepishly admitting to getting distracted by the film.
"Let's find them," you say with a sigh. "C'mon."
You three split up and search all around the theater, stopping at the snack stand to buy five waters and a bag of buncha crunch. The candy isn't a necessity for survival like the water is, but you hope it'll lift Steve and Robin's spirits—once you track them down.
You hear their voices carrying from the women's bathroom. You start to open the door with your hip, arms full of snacks, when you hear something that makes you pause:
"So we've established that my taste is exclusively 'duds who can't sing.' I may not be able to make a move on my Muppet-sounding Nashville hopeful, but you can do something about your little crush."
"What crush?" Steve asks, voice level and casual.
"Oh, come on!" Robin says. "You said all that stuff about Waldenbooks, and you aren't even going to make a move?"
"I can't, Robin."
"Why not? Because you're afraid they don't like you back?"
"Yeah, pretty much," Steve says quietly. You have to strain to hear him from the other side of the door. "And I've been burned before. Nancy calling me 'bullshit' and sleeping with another guy when we were technically still together really did a number on me and my confidence."
"And your ability to trust," Robin says, "and your ability to—"
"Okay, we don't have to list all my issues. That's my therapist's job."
"I say you go for it," Robin says. "Worst thing that happens is that they say no. Plus, the high version of you was hardcore flirting with them today, and they didn't totally wig out. That's a good sign."
"Did you find them yet?!"
You jump and drop your snacks at the sound of Dustin's voice. He and Erica snuck up on you.
"Dustin!" you say, a bit too loud. You're mortified that Steve and Robin now know you were listening. "I was just—"
"Standing outside the bathroom like a creep when you were supposed to be looking for the sailors!" Erica says.
"I did look for them!" you say. "I, uh, I think they're in here."
You step aside and let the younger teens barge into the bathroom (and chastise Steve and Robin for running off). You gather the waters and candy and walk in last, eyes on your feet.
"New plan!" Dustin says after you've handed out the waters. "We hide here until the movie ends. Then, we leave with the crowd. We get to your car," he adds, pointing to you, "and then we lay low. We don't have backup, but it'll be fine! Right?"
He looks to Steve hopefully.
Steve clears his throat and says, "Uh, yeah, right. Fine."
He glances at you so fast you almost miss it. You avoid his gaze and become very interested in inspecting the tampon dispenser.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Robin motioning to you, prompting Steve to do something or say something.
"Huh, twenty-five cents for one tampon," you say, trying to fill the tense silence when Steve does not do or say anything. "Inflation's a bitch, huh?"
"Hush!" Erica says, her ear against the vent in the wall. "I'm trying to hear the movie. I think they're at the prom now."
A while later, you hear voices as the crowd shuffles out of the theater. Dustin leads you into the throng of people, but one of the Russian soldiers that chased you five back into the mall blocks the exit checking IDs.
He notices Dustin and scowls.
"Abort!" Dustin hisses.
You all slide down the in-between of the escalators, using the area as a makeshift slide. Once you're on the lower level, you book it to the Great American Cookie booth and hide behind the counter with your friends.
You hear a soldier murmuring into his walkie-talkie, but you don't speak Russian and don't know what he's saying. But he sounds like he's getting closer.
You tremble in fright, fearing it's all going to end. If you do die here, at least you'll see your dad again. If you died here, it wouldn't even matter, because your dad would be waiting for you in whatever comes next.
You resign yourself to being okay with that, but something nags in the back of your mind. He wouldn't want that for you. He would want you to keep living, even though the pain of living without him felt unbearable sometimes.
You bury your head into Steve's shoulder, trying not to think about how the footsteps of the soldiers were getting louder and louder and—
Beep! Beep! Beep!
A car alarm rings through the food court's atrium. Then, you hear a crash and the squeal of metal. And, nothing.
Steve peers over the counter and motions for the rest of you to do the same. The soldiers are dead, thanks to the prize-winning contest car, which is now nestled into the Sbarro.
A group of teenagers stand on the second level, one with her arm outstretched. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Did she just throw that with her mind?!
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