Chapter 4: The Sky Screams

The marionette's fingers found the edge of the driver's side window, impossibly strong despite the Honda's sixty-mile-per-hour speed. Alex could hear the glass beginning to crack under the pressure as those dead fingers worked their way into the gap, trying to pry the window open.

"It's going to get in!" Matt screamed, pressing himself against the passenger door. "Do something!"

Alex yanked the steering wheel hard to the left, then immediately back to the right. The Honda fishtailed wildly on the fog-slicked asphalt, and he heard a wet thud as the marionette lost its grip and tumbled away into the white nothing. But the victory was short-lived—two more impacts shook the car as fresh puppets landed on the roof and trunk.

Through the cracked windshield, Alex caught glimpses of the highway ahead. They were definitely on Route 47 now, the road that would take them north to safety. The fog was patchy here, revealing brief moments of clarity before swallowing them again. In those moments, he could see the nightmare above them—an army of dancing dead descending like some biblical plague.

"How many more miles?" he shouted over the sound of fingernails scraping against metal.

"Seventeen, maybe eighteen!" Matt was fumbling with his pistol, trying to count ammunition with shaking hands. "My sister's place is just past—"

The rear window exploded.

Glass showered the interior as a marionette punched through, its arm reaching for Matt's throat. It was a man in coveralls, his name tag reading 'PETE,' but his eyes held nothing human. When he spoke, it was in the voice of Matt's sister Sarah.

"Matty? Oh thank God, I was so worried. Come here, baby brother. Let Sarah take care of you."

"That's not her!" Matt screamed, but his voice cracked with desperate hope. "That's not—Sarah?"

For a moment, Matt hesitated, and Alex saw the trap for what it was. The thing knew exactly which voice would paralyze him, exactly which words would make him doubt everything he'd learned about survival.

The marionette lunged forward, its hands closing around Matt's throat.

"Fight back!" Alex roared, but Matt was frozen, staring into the thing's face as it spoke in his sister's voice.

"I missed you so much, Matty. Let me give you a hug."

The Honda swerved as Alex tried to help while keeping them on the road. Through the rearview mirror, he could see more marionettes dropping from the sky, their strings glittering in the moonlight that occasionally pierced the fog. They were coming down in a coordinated pattern, like paratroopers targeting a specific landing zone.

Matt's face was turning blue.

Something primal took over in Alex's mind—the same protective instinct that had made him stand between Matt and the puppet-man at the police station. He reached back with one hand, grabbed the fire axe from the back seat, and swung it blindly toward the thing choking his companion.

The blade bit deep into the marionette's shoulder, black fluid spattering across the car's interior. But instead of releasing Matt, the thing's grip tightened, and it smiled wider.

"That hurt, Matty," it said in Sarah's voice, now tinged with wounded betrayal. "Why are you letting him hurt your sister?"

Matt's eyes rolled back, his struggles weakening.

Alex made a decision that went against every survival instinct he'd developed in the past few hours. He took his hands off the steering wheel, twisted in his seat, and grabbed the marionette's head with both hands.

"You're not his sister," he growled, and twisted hard.

The thing's neck snapped with a wet crack, but its grip on Matt didn't loosen. If anything, the fingers tightened, and Alex realized with growing horror that the marionettes didn't need working spines or functioning nervous systems. The strings were doing all the work.

The Honda began to veer off the road.

"Matt!" Alex shouted, grabbing the wheel again just as they hit the shoulder. "The axe! Use the fucking axe!"

Whether it was oxygen deprivation or some last surge of survival instinct, Matt finally moved. His hands found the fire axe where Alex had dropped it, and he swung it upward into the marionette's armpit, severing the arm at the shoulder.

The dead fingers released his throat, and Matt collapsed forward, gasping and retching.

But the Honda was out of control.

Alex fought with the steering wheel as they bounced off the shoulder and back onto the asphalt, the damaged front end making the car pull violently to the left. Through the fog, he caught a glimpse of something massive looming ahead—a building, dark and angular against the night sky.

"Shopping mall," he gasped, reading the faded sign as it flashed past. "Smart Shopper Mall."

Matt was still wheezing, one hand pressed to his bruised throat. "Can you—can you get us back on the road?"

Alex tried, but the Honda's steering was gone. Whatever had been keeping the damaged front end functional had finally given way, and the wheel spun freely in his hands. They were aimed directly at the mall's main entrance, picking up speed as they rolled down the slight incline of the parking lot.

"Hold on!" Alex shouted.

The Honda smashed through the mall's steel security shutters like they were made of tinfoil.

Glass and metal exploded around them as they careened through what had once been the main entrance to Smart Shopper Mall. The car skidded across the polished floor, past a directory sign that proudly announced "Over 200 Stores to Serve You!" and came to rest against a decorative fountain that hadn't run water in years.

Steam rose from the Honda's crumpled hood, and the sudden silence was deafening after the chaos of the highway.

"Are we alive?" Matt croaked.

Alex took inventory. His shoulder ached from the impact, and he could taste blood where he'd bitten his tongue, but nothing seemed broken. The mall around them was dark except for a few emergency lights that cast everything in hellish red shadows.

"We're alive," he confirmed, then looked back through the destroyed rear window. The fog was already beginning to seep through the hole they'd torn in the security shutters. "But we need to move. They'll follow us in here."

Matt struggled out of the passenger seat, still clutching his throat. The marionette's severed arm was still wrapped around his neck like some macabre jewelry, and he had to pry the fingers loose one by one.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered, staring at the pale, lifeless limb. "It's cold. It's fucking cold."

Alex grabbed the shotgun and what remained of their ammunition. Seventeen shells, maybe fifteen rounds for the pistol. Not much for what was coming.

The mall stretched out before them like a tomb. Storefronts with gates pulled down, their signs dark and lifeless. A few restaurants with chairs stacked on tables, their cash registers empty and unplugged. Everything covered in a fine layer of dust that suggested the place had been dying long before the strings appeared.

But there was something else—a sound that made Alex's skin crawl.

Music. Faint but unmistakable, echoing from somewhere deeper in the mall. A cheerful, electronic jingle that sounded like it belonged in a children's show.

"♪ Welcome to Smart Shopper, where shopping's smart and fun! ♪"

"What the hell is that?" Matt whispered.

Alex strained to listen. The melody was coming from the mall's upper level, near what looked like a food court. It played for maybe thirty seconds, then stopped, leaving only the echo of their breathing and the distant sound of fog pressing against the security shutters.

"Emergency power," Alex said, though he didn't believe it himself. "Automated systems running on backup batteries."

The jingle started again, but this time it was different. Slower. The cheerful electronic voices stretched and distorted until they sounded like screaming.

"♪ Welcome to Smart Shopper, where everyone's having fun... forever and ever and ever... ♪"

Matt raised his pistol toward the upper level. "That's not a recording."

As if summoned by his words, shapes began moving in the darkness above them. Figures emerged from storefronts that should have been empty, walking with that same fluid, mechanical precision they'd seen on the streets. But these marionettes were different—they were all wearing the same uniform, the same bright red vest with a cheerful yellow name tag.

Smart Shopper employees, all of them smiling, all of them moving in perfect synchronization toward the escalators.

"Welcome to Smart Shopper!" called the lead figure, a teenage girl whose name tag read 'BRITTANY - HERE TO HELP!' When she spoke, it was in a perfect imitation of a customer service representative, bright and helpful and completely insane. "How can we assist you today?"

More employees were emerging now—cashiers, stock clerks, security guards, even what looked like a store manager in a wrinkled tie. All of them had strings. All of them were descending toward the main floor with that horrible, synchronized grace.

"The food court," Alex said, backing toward a service corridor he'd spotted near the fountain. "We need higher ground, somewhere we can see them coming."

"But what if there are more up there?" Matt's voice was barely a whisper.

The lead marionette—Brittany—had reached the bottom of the escalator. When she tilted her head, Alex could hear the vertebrae in her neck grinding together like broken glass.

"Are you looking for anything in particular today?" she asked in that horrible, helpful voice. "We have a special on new arrivals in our back room. Very exclusive. Very... permanent."

The other employees spread out behind her in a perfect semicircle, blocking any retreat toward the main entrance. Through the hole in the security shutters, Alex could see more shapes moving in the fog—the marionettes from the highway, drawn by the sound of the crash.

They were trapped.

But as Alex looked around the darkened mall, his architect's eye began picking out details. Emergency exits, service corridors, maintenance areas. This place was a maze, but mazes could be navigated if you understood their structure.

"This way," he hissed, grabbing Matt's arm and pulling him toward what looked like a janitor's closet near the fountain.

Behind them, Brittany's voice echoed through the empty mall with artificial cheer:

"Please don't leave without completing your shopping experience! Our store policy requires that all customers make a purchase before departing. And we have such wonderful things to show you!"

The jingle started playing again, faster now, building to a crescendo that sounded like carnival music played in hell.

Alex kicked open the service door and pulled Matt into the narrow corridor beyond, just as the first of the highway marionettes began pouring through the hole in the security shutters.

The mall was no longer empty. The mall was full of helpful employees, eager to provide the kind of customer service that lasted forever.

And somewhere in the darkness above, something was playing a song that promised they'd never, ever have to leave.