Empty Space

The Frederick County Mall began stitching itself off at 6:00PM—not all at once, but in slight, deliberate, calculated pieces.

“I thought it was supposed to close at 8,” Brian hissed— “I told my mom to pick us up then. It’s closing two-hours early…”

“Call her back, we still have time. We can meet her around back.”

Mark didn’t seem so sure of himself. Normal hours were posted on the other side of the shopping structure and they couldn’t be certain.

“She didn’t answer,” Brian muttered, holding his phone up in the air for service. The bars on the top of his phone both signaled low battery and low signal.

“We are too close to the concrete…”

The maze of side doors was more for commuters using the nearby transit system, or mall-rats itching to sneak back in or hide from prying eyes of mall-security. Who—by this time were surely halfway through, funneling wayward teens to an exit, any exit. Even the music was already starting to dwindle from the speakers overhead. Eerie notes of upbeat songs from a not-so-distant past whirled through the empty space as the clanging of heavy, metal gates being dropped rang through the four-story structure as shops closed one-by-one. Each store sealing itself off from the outside world.

The Frederick County Mall was an ominous structure, large, looming and full of windows that lead to blank backdrops. Facades that made it appear more like a University or a Cathedral than an actual Shopping Center. It didn’t help that half the structure was closed for renovation, abandoned after a flood. Sealed off for future use by tenants or shoppers and it seemed no amount of money could save it. Half a mall simply wasn’t functional enough. From the outside, one couldn’t tell it was sinking back into the Earth. Partially submerged. Rumors had circulated for years, stories of hidden safes and underground tunnels—the sort of stories that keep you awake, and send chills down the crook of your spine. No one wanted to be in the mall alone, not first, or last. That is just how this part of the world worked.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Jenna whispered, mostly to herself. She had been coming to this mall since she was a little girl, you would think she would be used to that rising feeling of dread and despair. Her parents had owned a child’s toy-shop on the third floor and had since shuttered due to financial burdens. She knew this mall inside and out, not much had changed in twenty-years. It still held the faint, musky smell of settling water, reminders of a life, long lived. Somewhere in the distance was an assortment of department store perfumes and burning cinnamon pretzels that did little to drown the stench. Lights still glowed faintly on the carousel at the center of the food court as they passed—and even so, the dead-air seemed to teem with life, holding onto the faint buzz from air conditioning units that had yet to fully disengage. Lights from interior shops had dimmed or been turned off, making displays look hauntingly empty. A few lingerie shops now looked macabre—lifeless—useless without the purpose of eyes passing by.

When they finally made it to the farthest exit at the front of the mall—Brian half expected to see his mom’s van parked at the round-about. There were no other kids, or cars, or stragglers around. Only the lid off a paper pretzel cup lie on the ground, waiting for the wind or a janitor cart to come by.

“Let’s just go,” Alex whispered, his eyes fixated on his own reflection in the glass double-paned door. He shoved the “push” bar, and felt the breeze suck back against his skin with a force he didn’t recognize—“before he changes his mind.”

The security officer stood only ten feet away. A ring of random keys dangled from a pull-string buckle on his belt loop. He hadn’t yelled, or raised his voice, or spoken to them. It was unsettling, as though he didn’t want them there, didn’t want to interact with them unless he had to—and yet, it also felt like he didn’t want them to leave.

“The sign out there still says 8,” Brian muttered, his shoulder pressed flatly against the set of doors that were already bolted into the ground. He pointed his eyes at the sign nailed into the concrete feet away from them.

“You know it closes at 6 on Sundays,” the security officer hissed, his reply short and lifeless, just like he was.

Jenna blinked curiously, in all the years she had visited, and lived and helped her parents while they worked, the mall never, ever closed early, even on holidays.

The security officer tilted his head, a small smile of indifference dotted his face.

“Well…” he said, stepping closer to the group, a singular silver key in hand as he leaned between them— “you need to decide if you want to leave or not. Daylight is wasting…”

He unlocked the door Alex leaned against and it opened briefly, allowing more air to pass between him and freedom. They were one step away from being out of the mall.

It was about this time a light flickered on overhead, competing with orange glow of the sun lowering out on the parking lot.

“Wait,” Brian hissed, grabbing hold of Alex, stopping him from fully opening the door.

“This doesn’t make sense, the sign still says 8, look at that sign…”

Inside the mall, just to their right was a locked bulletin board with plastic letters—

"Mall Hours: Monday-Friday 10AM-9PM, Saturday 9AM-9PM, Sunday 9AM to 8PM. Holidays and Special Events excluded.”

“Maybe it changed for today,” Mark whispered.

Nobody moved, nobody replied.

The officer stood between them, holding the door, his face terse and unmoving.

“Are you all leaving or what?”

His voice sounded tired, annoyed, impatient.

Jenna looked back into the darkened mall. There was no one else in sight, no other security officers or shop-keepers.

“I think we should wait for his mom, if that is okay with you. She should be here shortly.”

Alex sighed, slumping slightly against the cold metal frame of the door as he let it close, the “push” bar clicking in place.

The security officer pulled on the door, making sure it was secure before locking it firmly into the ground with that same silver key.

“Why did you lock it,” Mark asked, his fists balled, nervous beads of sweat exploded from his skin. “What if our ride shows up, you will just have to let us out and do this whole thing all over again…”

The security guard wasn’t paying him any attention, and he surely didn’t offer any answers. The key suctioned back to the key ring at his side. The mechanical rope winding itself back with a sickening lurch.

He only looked at Jenna—who by now had a strange twisted feeling in the bottom of her stomach.

“You sure,” he whispered, a coy grin upturning his lips. “It’s much safer outside.”

Jenna didn’t reply. She gave a polite smile instead and wondered how long it would take to get to another side-door, or a window, to escape.

“There aren’t any other openings, no other ways out. Besides, I can’t leave you unattended while I have the door open after-hours. That wouldn’t be so safe. Not for you, or me.”

“We should just go, outside…” Alex seemed more nervous now. Brian’s phone had officially died and the rest of them didn’t have service.

“I tried to tell you…You won’t get a signal after-hours unless you are nearer to the parking lot.” the security officer replied, matter-of-factly, in an abrupt, hapless manner. He was already walking back into the shadows of the darkened mall.

“I lost sight of him,” Brian said, his eyes squinting into tiny slivers.

“We really should have left. Now we have two hours to kill and no way to call anyone to come get us.”

Jenna turned towards the center vestibule of the mall, watching, listening, waiting.

Something still felt wrong.

They made their way back to where the carousel at the food-court was, Mark leaned against the railing that housed the seats, peering down the long stretch of mall behind them.

“Does it look darker to you,” he whispered—” I don’t see the officer anymore, maybe he left?”

“Doubt it, he still has to let us out.” Brian answered, looking down another corridor that lead to the larger of the department stores. Every window and door were shuttered, even the bathrooms.

“It does look darker,” Jenna replied, she noticed the glass dome overhead had, in fact, turned into a grayer shade of night. Haze from the parking lot illuminated the outer panes of glass.

The clicking sound of a door slamming echoed around them, much like the front exit had.

Heavy, mechanical, sudden.

Another lock engaging.

Alex strained, leaning further over the rails of the carousel. “That was strange.”

“Probably another exit on one of the department stores. Some stores probably stayed open. Technically the mall shouldn’t be closed…so…” Mark was the only one not on the carousel. He paced around the unmoving ride as the others waiting for time to pass.

Jenna couldn’t shake the feeling someone was watching them. Watching her.

Maybe something from one of the closed storefronts—and suddenly she felt exposed. Vulnerable, open.

“We should move around,” Jenna whispered, eyeing the growing darkness as it moved in on them.

There weren’t any bones about it—the mall was getting darker and darker as each minute ticked by on the clock.

All that could be heard was the slight shudder of a slow-moving fan and the squeaking of their shoes as they walked along the grouted tile.

“If we keep moving, it will be easier for us to hide, to find the security guard, not to be so visible.”

Alex seemed to mirror this notion as he ran up to the front of the line.

The front doors came into view again,

Still locked.

Still shuttered.

Still barely illuminated by the exterior emergency lights.

Brian pushed passed them as he trotted up to the bulletin board—the fear spreading fast between them as they soon noticed what he was so upset about.

“The hours…the sign…its changed.”

Jenna felt the white-hot-prickles of fear dropping in the pit of her stomach.

The sign had surely changed, Sunday now said 10-AM-6PM.

The four stepped closer to the sign, like maybe it would change again, or be wrong.

“Maybe we read it backwards,” Alex whispered, his throat seeming to stop the words before they began.

“The sign outside also says something different…”

Brian and Mark were now sprinting back into the nearly pitch-black corridor.

“We have to find him…I know what I saw.”

Jenna had known too, deep down. If only she still had the key to her parent’s store, they could have tried hiding, waiting it out.

She looked back over her shoulder, Alex no longer appeared right behind her.

Mark and Brian no longer could be heard.

Complete silence.

“Mark, Brian…Alex…”

The sound of a gate lifting from down the hallway caught Jenna’s attention—it was slow at first, like the fine metal bars caught hold of something and refused to let it go before slamming upwards into the ceiling.

No one made any noises, no scream, no laughter, no shouting.

“You should have left, Jenna.”

The security officers voice spoke, calmly, quietly.

She turned, pushing on the “push” bar, hoping for it to give and release her.

“Not so fast, it’s bolted, top and bottom, just like the rest of the mall.”

Jenna felt something staring at her, once more, as she quietly turned to see what she no longer could—

Not even her reflection peered back.

Just dark, empty shadows.

No outline of a security guard, no crouching friends, no sick prank.

She walked to where the sound of the gate had been, only to realize there were three more shapes in the window.

Still and silent.

They hadn’t been there moments before.

“Brian…Mark…Alex…”

Jenna could barely let out a whisper as the realization hit her.

The shapes were familiar, their outfits similar to ones her friends wore—except they were frozen just as they stood.

She tapped on the window—“Guys…this isn’t funny…”

Their faces hung humbly in the window—one pointed towards her, one facing the ground and the other to the sky. Their expressions blank—lifeless, like mannequins.

Too perfect.

Their skin even held the sheen of plastic. Disjointed at the seams and it appeared one more empty spot sat waiting for her, and by the time she realized she couldn't move, she was already in place.