Mall of America

The glass hadn’t plunged in as deep as Rebecca thought it had. It was bleeding but no major gusher. So no major arteries. She still had to pull the chunk of glass out.

She could do this. Of course, she could.

She had cleaned up and taken care of her share of wounds and injuries. Never mind that they were on dogs. Bites from other dogs, rips from barbed wire or abuse from owners. One of the dogs she helped treat had been hit by a car. All of the wounds were gross. No different than this. If anything, it should be easier when it was herself. No sad brown eyes looking up at her. If only her head would stop throbbing and her stomach would stop threatening to shove everything up or down.

The security guard had left and Rebecca felt relieved. Scared and in pain but relieved. How weird was that? She couldn’t help wondering if the security guards had seen Chad and Tyler and Dixon with the exact backpacks? Had they been watching them on the security cameras? Was that possible on a day like today with the crowds? Or maybe especially on a day like today. How else would they know?

She looked around again and couldn’t see any other blue uniforms. Or did some security guards wear plainclothes? If they had been watching the guys and were suspicious of the backpacks that meant they had seen her, too. Would they recognize her now?

Maybe not with this harpoon in her arm.

God, it hurt.

She thought she could hear sirens now. There were shouts from below. Was someone shouting “Police”?

The shouts were drowned out by an ear-piercing electronic buzz. Somewhere an alarm had been set off. No one seemed to pay attention to any of it. There wasn’t a sound that could stall the hysteria.

Rebecca stayed put. She tried to assess the damage to her arm. Her coat was shredded on the left side where broken glass must have pummeled her. Funny, she didn’t remember.

How could she not remember the pain?

It happened so quickly. She was probably lucky to have just one piece of debris stuck inside her.

She carefully ripped the fabric away from the wound and the sight of her own flesh, purplish-red, raw and torn made her sit back. She leaned her head against the rail, waiting for the nausea to pass. She felt the vibration of the stampede around and under her. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t hear over that buzz and now there was an annoying whirling sound like bursts of wind through a tunnel. She closed her eyes and that’s when she realized it wasn’t wind. It was her own raspy breathing.

She had to do better than this.

She needed to get the glass out of her arm.

Come on, Rebecca. Just pull the damned thing out.

One, two, three…like a Band-Aid in one quick jerk. But she’d need to stop the bleeding when she pulled out the glass. Her eyes flew open. She’d have to shove something into the hole the glass left in her arm. If not, she’d bleed to death. This was actually good. It made her think through the process. It made her focus.

She grabbed pieces of her coat that she had ripped away and began peeling out the lining. It’d be cleaner than the outside of the coat. And it was softer.

“I can help you with that.”

Rebecca looked up to find a man standing behind her. He wore a cap that read PARAMEDIC but he was in jeans and hiking boots. No uniform. Although she couldn’t really see underneath his winter coat. A duffel bag was slung over his shoulder.

She should have felt saved, rescued. She wouldn’t have to do this herself. But there was something about the way he held the already loaded syringe that didn’t seem quite right.