WHY THE WORLD'S LAST HOPE IS A CAN OF PEACHES

Chapter 7: The Shopping Mall Massacre (Of Prices)

The roar of the Iron Tithe convoy was no longer a distant hum; it was a rhythmic, mechanical growl that vibrated through the soles of Roderic’s boots, threatening to shake his teeth loose. The sky-bridge groaned under the weight of their desperate sprint, the wind howling through the gaps in the shattered glass.

"Left! Through the service entrance! Move it, you frantic bag of peaches!" Kaia shouted, her voice barely audible over the screeching of tires on the highway below.

"I’m moving! I am moving at the maximum velocity allowed by my cardiovascular system!" Roderic wheezed, his lungs burning with the sharp, metallic taste of smog.

They dived through a set of heavy, rusted double doors just as a spotlight from the lead armored truck swept across the bridge behind them. The interior was a cavernous, echoing darkness—a skeletal remains of a shopping paradise that had long since surrendered to the rot of the world.

"Is this a mall?" Marius asked, his goggles reflecting the faint, flickering emergency lights. "I haven't been in a mall since the Great blackout. I think I recognize that smell. Is that... cinnabon and despair?"

"It’s the Grand Plaza," Kaia panted, leaning against a shuttered kiosk. "It’s a death trap if we stay in the halls. We need to find the old department store on the west wing. It’s reinforced."

"Why is it reinforced?" Roderic asked, clutching his backpack to his chest. "Malls are for consumerism, not combat!"

"Because the people living in it don't like visitors," a new voice echoed from the shadows of a defunct fountain.

A woman stepped into the dim light of a flickering neon sign that read THE GAP. She was wearing a coat made of architectural blueprints and Kevlar, her hair tied back with a measuring tape. Behind her stood another woman, younger, with a surgical mask hanging around her neck and a bag of gleaming, terrifyingly sharp instruments strapped to her hip.

"Kaia?" the woman with the blueprints asked, her eyes narrowing. "You’re five minutes away from being turned into a pancake by that convoy. Why are you bringing a circus to my front door?"

"Talia, skip the lecture," Kaia said, holding up a hand. "We need the shutters down. The Tithe is right behind us, and they aren't here for a clearance sale."

"And who are the extras?" the girl with the surgical mask asked, her gaze settling on Roderic. She walked toward him with a clinical, predatory curiosity. "The sweaty one looks like he’s about to have a systemic collapse. Can I have his boots when he pops? They look like they’d fit me."

"I am not popping! And nobody is taking my boots!" Roderic yelled, backing away. "Who are these people, Kaia?"

"Roderic, Marius, meet Talia Shelterborn and Brielle Lastlight," Kaia introduced, her voice tight with urgency. "Talia is the best defensive architect in the sector. Brielle is... well, she’s a medic. Try not to let her touch you unless you’re actually dying."

"I prefer the term 'biological salvage specialist,'" Brielle chirped, her eyes crinkling in what might have been a smile behind the mask.

"The convoy is hitting the perimeter in three minutes," Talia said, ignoring the banter. "The main security shutters in the lobby are jammed. I’ve been trying to bypass the manual override for an hour, but the gears are rusted shut."

"Rusted? Or just poorly indexed?" Roderic asked, his logistics brain momentarily overriding his terror.

Talia blinked. "What? They’re old-world 'Secur-Guard' plates. They operate on a pressurized pulley system."

"The 2025 models?" Roderic stepped forward, his eyes scanning the ceiling where the heavy metal plates were hanging. "Those aren't just pulleys. They have a secondary lock-pin that engages if the power dips. You don't need to bypass the override. You need to release the pressure valve in the maintenance closet."

Talia stared at him. "How do you know that?"

"I lived in a basement with thirty-four years' worth of 'Home & Security' manuals, Talia. I read them while I was eating my soup. It was either that or the back of the shampoo bottles."

"Can you fix it?" Kaia demanded. "Because if those shutters don't drop, the Tithe is going to drive an armored truck right into this fountain."

"I need a wrench, a heavy lubricant, and someone to hold the ladder," Roderic said, his hands already fumbling with his bag.

"I’ve got the wrench!" Marius shouted, tossing a heavy tool toward him.

"I’ll hold the ladder," Talia said, her skepticism turning into a professional nod. "But if you snap the cable, we’re all going to be wearing those shutters as hats."

"Just keep the light steady," Roderic muttered, scrambling up the ladder Talia dragged from the shadows.

High above the mall floor, the air was thick with dust and the smell of ancient grease. Roderic jammed the wrench into the release mechanism, his muscles straining. Below him, he could hear the sound of the convoy coming to a screeching halt outside the main glass entrance. The heavy thud-thud-thud of boots hitting the pavement echoed through the atrium.

"They're outside!" Kaia hissed, her pistol drawn. "Roderic! Now!"

"It’s... it’s stuck!" Roderic grunted, his face turning a deep shade of purple. "The pin is fused!"

"Hit it with something!" Amara yelled from the lobby entrance, her chainsaw idling with a low, impatient purr. "Use your luck, Peach-Man!"

Roderic didn't use luck. He used his last can of peaches.

He reached into his bag, pulled out the heavy tin, and used the reinforced rim of the can to smash the release pin with every ounce of strength he had left.

CLANG.

The pin snapped. For a second, nothing happened. Then, with a sound like a thunderclap, the massive metal shutters released. They slid down the tracks with a terrifying screech, slamming into the concrete floor with a force that shook the entire building. The glass doors behind them were instantly buried under six inches of reinforced steel.

Roderic slumped against the ladder, gasping for air. "I... I did it. The peaches did it."

"Nice shot, kid," Talia called up, sounding genuinely impressed. "Get down here. We’re moving to the department store."

As Roderic climbed down, his legs felt like jelly. He stumbled on the last rung, his knee scraping painfully against the jagged metal of the ladder frame.

"Ow! Dammit!"

"Oh, look at that," Brielle said, appearing at his side instantly. She grabbed his arm with a grip that felt like a vice. "A laceration. A beautiful, jagged little tear."

"It’s just a scrape, Brielle," Roderic said, trying to pull away. "I’ll just put a bandage on it."

"Nonsense," she said, dragging him toward a pile of tattered mannequins in the department store entrance. "In this environment, a scrape is a death sentence. Sepsis, gangrene, spontaneous combustion—it’s all very likely. Sit."

She shoved him onto a dusty stool and pulled a glowing blue vial from her bag.

"Is that... is that medicine?" Roderic asked nervously.

"It’s a localized cauterizing agent mixed with a heavy sedative," Brielle explained, unscrewing the cap. "Usually, I’d just amputate at the hip to be safe, but Kaia says we need your legs for the running part."

"Amputate?!" Roderic shrieked. "It’s a two-inch scratch!"

"For now," Brielle whispered, leaning in close. Her eyes were wide and unblinking. "But did you know that the bacteria in this mall have been evolving in total darkness for years? They’re hungry, Roderic. They want your marrow. They want to turn your bones into a very stylish flutes."

"Stop talking! Just... just put the blue stuff on!"

"Hold still," she said, dabbing the liquid onto his knee. It hissed on contact, a cold, numbing sensation spreading through his leg. "There. You might lose the ability to feel your toes for an hour, but you probably won't grow a second head. Probably."

"You’re a terrifying person," Roderic said, leaning back and closing his eyes.

"I get that a lot," Brielle replied, packing her tools away. "It’s the bedside manner. I’m working on it. My last patient said I was 'refreshingly honest' right before he stopped breathing."

"That’s not helping!"

In the corner of the room, Kaia was huddled with Talia and Selene, looking at a map of the upper districts. Marius was busy trying to charge his EMP rigs using a car battery Talia had scavenged.

"The Tithe isn't moving," Selene said, her voice low. "They’re just sitting out there. No breaching charges, no gas."

"They know we’re trapped," Talia said. "They’ll just wait for the air to get thin or for us to get hungry."

"They don't have to wait," Kaia said, her eyes fixed on the shuttered door.

Suddenly, the mall’s old PA system crackled to life. It was a high-pitched, distorted whine that filled the atrium, followed by the heavy thumping of a microphone being tested.

"Kaia Everlast!" a voice boomed. It wasn't the gravelly roar of a soldier or the cold hiss of a mercenary. It was smooth, melodic, and terrifyingly familiar. "I know you're in there, Kaia. I can smell the gunpowder and the... is that peaches?"

Kaia went pale. Her hand tightened on her pistol so hard her knuckles turned white.

"No," she whispered. "Not him."

"Who is it?" Roderic asked, his voice trembling. "Is it another guy with a chainsaw?"

"Worse," Kaia said, her eyes wide. "It’s the guy who gave me the five dollars in the first place."

The voice on the loudspeaker continued, its tone dripping with a mock-polite affection.

"You left without saying goodbye, Kaia. And you took something that doesn't belong to you. We’ve brought the Tithe to help you pack. Come out now, and I might let the civilian keep his shoes. Wait another minute... and I’ll let Brielle practice her 'salvage' on everyone in the room."

The voice paused, a chilling silence falling over the mall.

"You have sixty seconds, Kaia. Don't be rude."