As beams of light struck around them, leaving nothing but screams and soot in their wake, Mare watched Ada dig her thumb into another clementine. Smoke hovered around the palmetto tree above their heads, brushing against the shadow leaves that darkened the mall sidewalk, coating the air around them with citrus and burnt flesh. For almost two hours now, white gold light had broken through scattered clouds and plastered ceilings, snuffing people out of existence. Each beam found its mark, unfaltering, and one by one Mare knew they were all going to die.
Both Mare and Ada were inside the mall when it started. Mare had been killing time before her nightmare double at Auntie Anne’s, absently walking around the adjacent Hot Topic. It was cramped and dark, and some Blood on the Dancefloor reject was blasting through the shitty speakers. Mare regretted choosing this torture over coffee. As Mare pretended to look at acrylic pins, Ada was on register pretending to work. She’d spent her morning waiting for someone to look like they were going to talk to her and immediately finding something important to do in the back. She was becoming a pro at Solitaire.
When the lights started hitting people in the mall, the store erupted. No one was sure if the chaos was from a mass shooter or just a robbery until Ada’s manager ignited beside her, the heat making her eyeliner run. Displays were shoved to the floor alongside people and other things, making the already cramped space almost impossible to move in. Mare did nothing as a beam disintegrated a small boy hiding under the anime shelves. He’d been wearing a Naruto shirt and light up sneakers. The smell of fried hair itched Mare’s nose. She hadn’t been able to take her eyes off his shoes.
Ada found Mare frozen in the middle of the store and pulled her into a dressing room. Later, she confessed she hadn’t really known why she did it, besides that Mare “looked like a little mouse” standing there. They pressed themselves against the dark walls. Even hiding in the bowels of the mall, they knew the light was unrelenting; the continuing destruction was clear from the screams that were endless, and the screams that were cut short. As they heaved together, a crackling began over the intercom. Mare and Ada groaned against the emergency siren, sharp noise rattling the small room. It, too, seemed endless, and neither of them had been sure how long it accosted them before Mare spoke without meaning to.
“Do you want to go sit outside?”
They did not watch as fleeing shoppers burst into nothing around them, nor did they try to help the old woman throwing up in front of the arcade. They marched through the madness until they found the exit, stopping only for a moment to brace themselves for whatever horror lay beyond.
The sky was a sweet blue, crisp and still in the afternoon light. There were no fires burning, aside from a few cars that must’ve crashed into each other when the drivers were hit. The manicured lawn was electric green and full of Canadian geese. They meandered around, unbothered. The parking lot was half the size it had been when Mare parked. Mare didn’t guess at how many escapees were successful. Ada wandered over to a concrete table and dropped to a crouch. Unsure of what else to do, Mare followed suit.
Two hours later, Ada’s fingers itched over the bright rind, picking a clementine apart with precise motions. She peeled off the pulp strings and flicked them away with disgust, her nails stained an ugly yellow over chipped red polish. Ada balanced half atop her ripped jeans, making quick work of the delicate sections. She offered the first slice to Mare, looking at her with a blank, steady expression. Her black lipstick was smudged.
“I have like four in my bag, so we have enough to last a while.”
“Thanks.”
As Mare bit the slice in half, someone too close behind them let out a scream. It lasted for a beat or two before only ash remained, but Mare still felt hysteria bubbling in her teeth. Both she and Ada flinched and said nothing. Mare tried to push the feeling down. It was hard to think about burning alive—it was hard to think at all. The clementine was unseasonably sweet and left the insides of her cheeks a little raw. She rolled a short string of pulp between her fingers.
Ada shifted closer to hand her another piece, their sneakers bumping. Mare focused on the pressure. The feel of Ada’s shoe grounded them together, bringing Mare a lot more comfort than she expected. It was like if they were touching, the light wouldn’t get them. That would be too cruel, right?
“We shouldn’t be touching,” Ada said softly.
“Why?”
“Because if one of us, uh, gets got, it’ll be pretty shitty for the one who has to feel it.”
“Oh, you’re right.” Mare relented, and scooched closer to the edge of the bench. Her shoe felt cold.
As Ada peeled at the skin of another clementine, Mare thought about the low budget horror movie she had watched with her friends last Friday. Really, she thought about the sound of the cannibal peeling back a young man’s face. It sounded more like a watermelon than an orange, hearty and thick. The skins were discarded on the ground just the same. Her friends joked about how silly it was later, and anyway, what was the point of running from the cannibal when you could fight back? Mare hated horror movies, hated the grim despair she was left with every time the credits came on, but she kept her eyes open through the whole thing. She reached for another orange slice and her fingers brushed Ada’s. They were clammy and wrinkled, tinged citrus down to the nail beds. Mare wondered if it would be ok for her to kiss them, just for a moment, to feel the bitter orange oil on her lips, to feel anything besides anxious. God I’m pathetic. She coughed a curse into her own hand.
“Hmm?”
“Nothing.”
Ada began bending a piece of rind in little pieces, the juice and oil spraying out in a fine mist.
“So, uh, your name’s Mare, right?”
“Oh, yeah. How’d you know?”
“It’s on your shirt,” Ada smiled.
Mare looked down. Her name was printed on the left side of her blue polo shirt in ugly yellow thread. It was the same color as the mustard stain near by her ribs. Or maybe it was cheese. She glanced at Ada’s name tag, which was decorated in cool band pins and random animals holding knives. Mare slid her shirt over her head with a grimace.
“What are you doing?” Ada asked, sounding a bit choked.
“If I’m going to die, I’m not dying in my fucking work uniform” she said, and flung it behind them without watching where it landed.
“That’s fair.”
Ada kept her eyes purposefully on her hands as she passed out more slices.
“So,” Mare started, slicing the orange with her teeth, “what do you think is going on?”
Ada sighed deep from her chest. “Honestly? I hadn't thought about it.”
“Really?” Mare found that hard to believe. She recalled vague tales of the rapture from when her parents still forced her to First Baptist every week. She wasn’t sold on this being the second coming, but she couldn’t rule it out, especially seeing as she and Ada remained untouched. Like most Southern families, her parents had prepared her for the end times long ago. All the fire and brimstone had been white noise in her childhood. Her father had mentioned it's coming during the recession in 2008, and again when the mosquitos were bad that one year in middle school. She hadn’t spoken to him in long enough to know if he had guessed right this time. She told Ada her theory about Revelations.
“Oh, so you were raised Super Christian?”
“Yeah,” Mare laughed, “God was the boogie man that would condemn me if I didn’t pray before every meal. Were you not raised religious?”
“I was raised by a psychologist, so I didn’t have ‘god.’ I had my mom.”
Mare snorted.
“It’s ok, you can laugh.”
“It’s not funny, it’s just– what a thing to say” Mare said, turning her head away.
Ada laughed softly, “This is messed up anyway. I wonder if it is the end.”
Mare cracked her ring finger, and the two lapsed into silence. The sky had faded slightly, less pure blue, more cirrus clouds. The beams of light continued their assault, both in the mall and beyond. They could hear it around them–not so much the screaming, but the touchdown. It was almost a sticky sound, like crackling plastic wrap or insect wings. Mare wondered if the sound was the beam itself or the melting. Were they melting? She thought of saints and witch trials. When she was younger, she read in a library book that when you’re burned alive like that, the burning doesn’t really kill you unless you go into shock. You were more likely to choke on your own dust.
“Can we touch shoes again? It can be just the shoes.”
“What do you want to do when this is all over?” Ada asked later, orange carcasses scattered around them. Mare had been dreading this question. She didn’t like what “all over” could mean, or that “all over” could leave her stranded here alone.
“We should probably contact people. See who's still around, or if the phone lines are even up.”
The idea made Mare’s stomach clench. Talking to a stranger was one thing, but texting her friends, maybe her mom, felt worse than dying. If she didn’t text them, she didn’t have to deal with her friends’ panic . She didn’t have to wait for a reply that might never come. Besides, she’d rather keep eating oranges with Ada, and not think about anything besides her smudged lipstick.
“What if no one else is left?” Mare asked, still trying to decide if it was wishful thinking or not.
Ada clicked her tongue. “We aren’t so special.”
But what if they were? Mare couldn’t help but wonder. The burning had been going on for so long now, and neither of them had ignited. This whole time, they’d sat together almost peacefully, sharing clementines and enjoying not having to go through catastrophe alone. Maybe that was the point of all this. Maybe they were the point.
“I think you’re pretty special,” Mare said suddenly. Ada scoffed and reached for her phone.
“I mean it, Ada. Really.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Mare smiled, “I mean, you helped a total stranger back there and brought her out to share your lunch while people were literally going up in flames. You didn’t just fend for yourself. You’re really cool.”
Ada put her phone down and turned to Mare. It struck her that this was the first time she had really looked at Ada fully. Mare had been a little afraid to look before, in case she blew up. They were close now, knees rubbing against each other. Ada’s lipstick was more than smudged; in fact, there was barely any black at all now, except for a few odd places where she had accidentally wiped it, like below her eye and temple. She looked like someone Mare would’ve wanted to talk to, before. She looked steady, even with the mess, or maybe because of it.
Ada wiped her forehead again, streaking more black across her face and in her white blonde hair.
“Would you believe me if I said I did it because I think you’re pretty?”
Mare blushed harshly, but shook her head.
“No, I think you did it because you’re that sort of person.”
“It can be both,” Ada shrugged.
Mare looked to the sun setting beside them. It was one of those pretty spring sunsets, when the orange bloomed out to pinks and purples like spilled paint. It felt like a normal day. If she didn’t think about it too much, she could imagine that she and Ada had spent the whole day just hanging out, talking about their lives. And really, that’s exactly what they did. It was almost romantic. The orange light was overwhelming and beautiful, and Mare was so glad to share it with Ada. She felt warm. She wondered if she could hold Ada’s hand. Maybe this could be their first date, something they would look back on in a few years and laugh about. Mare turned to ask her about it and flinched, the shock of what she saw leaving her shaking and cold and so empty. Her nose burned at the smell. Suddenly, it wasn’t so bright.
Lilith Yurkin is a graduate assistant at Coastal Carolina University. They are currently working towards a Masters in Writing, spending most of their time writing stories that are usually a little weird and very gay. They served as a fiction editor for 27th edition of Waccamaw Literary Journal. Their work has previously been published in CCU’s undergraduate literary arts magazine, Archarios, and was recently featured at the Funky Fish Camp reading series in Georgetown, SC.
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