Dümped

Sandra was taken to the mall. All the windows and glass doors had been shuttered, the entire place boarded up. The air was thick and stale.

To deal with the darkness, they had torches and lanterns mounted on poles. The heat from the flames made the air heavy. Around her, children laughed as they pushed each other in shopping carts, their wheels rattling against the tiled floor.

She was led to a man slouched on a tattered green sofa. Behind him stood a Christmas tree, its decorations faded and dusty. Boxes wrapped like presents were stacked beside his couch, though Sandra doubted they contained anything cheerful. He wore a Santa suit several sizes too big, the fabric hanging loose on his thin frame.

"Satan, we have a gift for you," one of the boys said before shoving Sandra forward. She hit the floor at his feet.

The man—Santa—shrugged off his oversized robe and stepped toward her.

"She knows where the SVI system is. She tried to turn it on," another boy added.

Santa ignored him. He leaned in, inhaling deeply. "You smell nice. Where do you live?"

Sandra trembled but said nothing.

Santa smirked. "Sam, how about some electricity? It's too damn hot in here."

A small boy bolted down the corridor and disappeared. Moments later, the lights flickered on, and cool air rushed through the mall.

Sandra barely had time to process the relief before the power cut out again.

"I guess Sam is tired," Santa muttered.

"I don't care why you want to turn on the SVI," Santa said, his tone almost casual. "I just want the list of names. You get it? Santa's list."

He grinned, waiting for a reaction.

Sandra hesitated but steadied herself. "What do you need the list for?"

Santa spread his arms. "Look around. We're just kids. Even with these powers, we can't do everything. We need electricity, for one. And we need an adult—someone who actually knows their way around electrical systems."

Sandra narrowed her eyes. "And even if you get the list, how do you plan on finding this person?"

Santa leaned in, his breath warm against her skin.

"Leave that to us."

When Santa realized Sandra wasn't going to cooperate, he sighed and waved a hand. "Lock her up."

The boys dragged her to a storage closet and shoved her inside. The door slammed shut behind her.

Stacks of boxes towered around her, casting deep shadows in the dim light. The air felt tight, pressing in from all sides. Her breathing quickened. She dropped to the floor, curling into a fetal position.

Then she saw it—right in front of her, glowing faintly. BPM. A number beside it slowly ticked upward.

Panic.

She forced herself to hum, a melody she barely remembered. The sound steadied her breath, slowed her heart. As her mind cleared, her gaze landed on a device mounted to the ceiling.

Moderna—Ceiling Cassette.

An air conditioning unit.

Hope flickered. She shifted, knocking down a few boxes so she could climb up. Pulling herself up, she pried off the panel covering the unit.

The door suddenly creaked open.

A boy peeked inside, scanning the room before looking up and spotting her. Sandra froze.

Without a word, the boy gestured for her to come down.

He led her through the dim halls to a room filled with machines.

"Please fix it," the boy—no older than six—pleaded.

Sandra stared at the mess of tangled wires and rusting components. Somehow, in her mind, she could see the machine coming apart, piece by piece, revealing how it worked.

She knelt down and began dismantling it. As she worked, she told the boy to bring her tools and parts. But soon, she hit a problem—one of the components was broken.

She paused, thinking. Then she remembered—back in the storage room, she had seen a box with the same label.

She hurried back, grabbing what she needed. But as she turned to leave, a voice rang out.

"Hey! Stop right there!"

One of the older boys.

He sprinted after her. Sandra ran, weaving through the dark corridors. Just as she turned a corner, she skidded to a stop—Santa stood ahead, watching her.

Heart pounding, she spun and darted down another hallway.

Santa was fast. She slammed a door shut behind her, locking it with a deadbolt. She turned, exhaling—

He was already inside.

Before she could react, he grabbed her by the hair.

But then—

"Ben, what are you doing here?"

Sandra blinked. The small boy from before stood in the doorway.

"I'm helping her fix the machine," Ben said quietly.

Santa stared at him for a moment. Then, slowly, he let go of Sandra.

She hurried back to the machine, replacing the broken part. With a deep breath, she powered it on.

The lights flickered to life.

Ben grinned and switched off his flashlight, his face glowing with excitement.

For the first time, Sandra thought—maybe she wasn't entirely alone here.