Pteranodon Mall (2 page)

Chapter Three

The brats had finally skulked off to their respective shops; it took them long enough. Another few minutes, and Desmond Lampton would have been forced to put his foot down and use his authority.

Not that Desmond had any real power. He would have just stood beside their table, tapping on his sweeping brush, until they took the bloody hint and buggered off. The good-for-nothing, bone-idle brats. They wouldn’t know real work if it smacked them all in the chops.

He reached their table, wondering if he should have done that anyway. That chick who worked in the nail-bar was hot. He’d give his left eye to spend some quality time in the sack with that prize piece of arse. Desmond might have to make a few more discreet inquiries about that one, to see if he could find out where she lived.

The gobby kid, who worked with that shifty-looking bastard in the discount store, had left a chicken drumstick. Desmond casually dropped that into his special bag before cleaning away the rest of the crap that the messy little bastards had left.

It shouldn’t be allowed. That’s all he had to say on the matter. They sloped in here with their noise, unsightly hair, and general shitty behaviour, and left their crap all over his spotless table. All without giving a toss about it. It would be poor Desmond here who’d get in trouble if the shift manager paid the eatery a surprise inspection.

Desmond gave the table a swift wipe before removing himself from the eatery. He didn’t like it here. There were too many kids around, and they were the ones who served the food. It was time to make a quick exit before even more of the pint-sized fuckers streamed through that door. Desmond absolutely detested Saturday morning in the Hopeview Shopping Mall.

He made his way along the main concourse, pushing his cleaning trolley ahead of him. The rear wheel on his left squeaked. This told him that his mate, Henry Wild, had switched trolleys again, the shithead. Desmond grinned. He didn’t blame the old bastard. After all, he’d switched them in the first place last week.

There were still a few more minutes before opening time, so it gave him just enough time to slow down and stop right outside the beauty shop’s front window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the hot chick again.

He couldn’t see her. Bloody hell, what a disappointment. Desmond pressed his face against the glass, wondering where she was. He almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of someone banging on the window. It didn’t come from this shop, though. He stood back to discover that blond twerp from the toy shop scowling at him. The twerp stood there, amongst a display of Legos, giving Desmond daggers.

He grabbed the handles of his trolley, stared at the black and white tiles, and pushed his trolley past both shops while grinding his teeth. If it wasn’t for the fact that without this crappy job, where he’d probably end up sleeping rough again, he would have marched right in there and punch that clown right in the chops.

“None of these kids have any respect for me,” he muttered.

Henry always told him to lighten up whenever Desmond got like this, reminding him that they were exactly the same at their age. He’d flash those stumpy teeth, blast out that rotting-meat breath, and call him a miserable old bastard.

He reached the new car display and turned left, heading towards the restroom area. Maybe Henry did have a point. He did admit that recently the tolerance for these kids had reached an all-time low. Thing is, he just couldn’t help himself. Just being close to anyone under the age of twenty-five made him want to either hit them or, if they were pretty, take them to bed. The chances of doing either were slim to none, not if wanted to keep this shit job or wanted to go to prison.

Desmond stopped by the restroom corridor. He waited for some older man wearing a Martin’s Department Store uniform to pass him before opening his special bag. Along with the chicken, he had also collected a slice of meat feast pizza, two burger meat patties, and a lump of spicy beef. He left out the fries.

He knew for a fact that his new pet wouldn’t eat those. Desmond had second thoughts about the pizza too. From what he’d found out, little Joey wasn’t keen on anything but meat.

None of this stuff was for him, despite what Henry thought. He grinned to himself, remembering the old man’s face when he’d noticed Desmond’s special bag last night. Just like that nosey old bastard, Henry had swiped the bag off the trolley and opened it up, chuckling at the sight of the two pieces of fried chicken that Desmond had swiped from a table just ten minutes earlier.

Last night, though, was a bit of a strange time for him. For last night was when he found the little bird; at least, that’s what it looked like.

The bloke from the department store hadn’t even noticed this cleaner. Desmond could have stood here in his birthday suit and that clown wouldn’t have paid the slightest bit of attention, not that this came as a surprise to him. Still, it paid dividends to be careful.

On his shift, last night, he had come across what had to be the weirdest thing he had ever found on his travels. Desmond was quite used to finding dropped money, watches, phones, even underwear. He considered that to be a perk of the job. The guy behind the bar in the Lamb and Flag paid well for some of the gear he brought in. Not the underwear, though. That went in the bin, unless it was from some female teen; that ended up under his bed.

Of all the gear he had found, nothing compared to the pretty bird that had poked its head out from under one of the cubicles in the gents. After putting his racing heart back where it lived, Desmond crouched gently swinging the door inwards so he could see the rest of it. He had frowned. He’d frowned a lot. Although it was covered in red and blue feathers and had bird feet, hell, it even sounded like a sparrow. It clearly wasn’t a bird, not with teeth like that.

For the first time in weeks, Desmond laughed out loud at the sight of this weird little animal cocking its head to one side while chirping like a sparrow. Looking back, that had been a very dumb idea as he must have shocked the life out of it.

The bird’s feathery arms pushed forwards, showing Desmond those hooked claws before it ran straight for his face. His old army training kicked in just in time, and he fell to the side, hitting his head on the tiles. A slight bump to his head was better than losing his nose to those teeth or it turning his cheeks into bloodied ribbons.

Desmond snapped his arm towards the bird and wrapped his fingers around the squawking creature’s neck. He gave it a gentle squeeze, grinning when it suddenly stopped making all that headache-inducing noise. Despite his brush with a trip to A&E, Desmond was still chuckling away. His find was dangerous, mean-tempered and unpredictable, just like him.

He’d got himself a new pet, something weird and nasty, a meat-eater, that’s for sure. Desmond had no idea how it had gotten into the toilets or where it had appeared from. At first, he assumed the bugger must have escaped from Franco’s Pet Emporium on the second floor. Thing is, he knew that fat old shithead didn’t have anything more exotic in that place anymore, not since the baby alligator incident. The only animals suffering in that shop were two old rabbits and a parrot missing its feathers. Besides, Desmond would have heard about it by now.

It didn’t matter where it had come from. The bird-thing belonged to him now and that’s all that mattered. Desmond closed his special bag and looked up. If Franco wanted to argue otherwise, well, he was welcome to chat to Desmond’s fists.

He carried on wheeling his trolley as calm as you like towards the double doors that led to the maintenance areas. He noticed a few more yawning employees slouching about, making their way to their respective shops.

As per usual, not one of them acknowledged him. He was just another piece of the mall, part of the furniture. This was fine by him. Desmond didn’t want these drones to meddle in his affairs. They had their world, and Desmond had his world. None of them had a clue of the hidden kingdom lying inches beyond these sparkly walls.

He unlocked the plain grey door and pushed it open, Desmond wheeled the trolley inside and closed the door behind him. Now he felt that he could truly relax, knowing that no bugger would find him in here. This was his place, his sanctuary. Well, it was during his shift. Oh, the other cleaners came here, but only to grab supplies. They didn’t venture any further from this storeroom, not like him.

Desmond flicked on the lights, illuminating the rows of blue metal shelves, containing everything the janitors needed to do their jobs. He left the trolley by the door and walked past the clear containers containing the various chemicals they used, past the boxes full of sponges, wipes, and cloths. He moved past the rolls of toilet tissue and the replacement mop heads.

He had no interest in any of that stuff. The other door, the one which led into the maintenance areas, was what had his complete attention. The door that Desmond had locked only twenty minutes ago and now it stood wide open.

“You have got to be having a laugh here,” he growled, rushing over to the door. How could this be? There wasn’t anybody else in the mall at this time who could have been in here. Even the hired security guards weren’t authorised in here. He paused; there was the operations manager but right now, Mrs. Killmore would be making sure that everything was ready for today’s trade. She sure as fuck wouldn’t be skulking around here.

Desmond held onto the edge of the door trying to stop the shakes. Usually, he wouldn’t have cared about it, but his pet was down there. The pet that would be making him a lot of money. This didn’t make any sense at all. No matter how many times he went through this, it still came to the simple fact only he and that fat dyke held a key.

“The security cameras!” His mouth dried up. Why hadn’t he thought of those? Oh, there were no cameras in the toilets, but there were plenty of them dotted about the mall. One of them must have seen him last night, taking his exotic bird down here. She must have seen him.

Desmond peered around the door expecting to see her standing there with his pet at her feet, her hands planted on her hips, giving him a look that could melt stone. There wasn’t anybody there. Hell, the light wasn’t even on. Mrs. Killmore wouldn’t go down there without turning on the lights. His fingers brushed over the light switch, but he didn’t flick the switch. This changed things. It meant that somebody was in there who wasn’t allowed. He didn’t want to throw any light on the matter, nor did Desmond want to shout out.

His fingers then touched something on the wall that was wet. He brought his digits to his face, frowning at the sight of thick blood dripping from his fingertips. Oh, this changed things all right. Desmond rushed back to his trolley and grabbed the adjustable wrench that he’d tried to fix that dodgy wheel with earlier.

Desmond’s suspicious mind had already constructed the whole reason for the open door mystery, a theory which totally fit the facts. He gripped the wrench tightly and hurried over to that door. He flicked on the switch, not giving a crap anymore. It had to be Franco down there, it was obvious now. That slimy dago must have been the one who’d seen him take the bird down here. Of course, he wouldn’t have it displayed in his shop. Everyone knew the man was as dodgy as fuck. There’s no way that Franco could pay the mall’s exorbitant rent through selling a few bags of food. He must have a sideline of selling illegal exotic animals. It all made sense now.

Yeah well, the bird was his now. The cleaner nodded to himself. Nobody stole from Desmond, not unless they enjoyed hospital food. He saw a few more spots of blood along the wall and the floor. He guessed that the bird wasn’t too keen on going back either. Unlike Desmond, that Franco obviously hadn’t realised just how mean this multi-coloured bird could be.

This blood wasn’t going to be Franco’s only donation this morning, that’s for damn sure. If he could find the thieving bastard that is. Last night’s self-assurance that no bugger would find his new pet now hit him right in the face.

How exactly was he going to find the bugger? This place really was a maze of pipes, venting, corridors, and alcoves. He remembered telling Henry that you’d be able to hide a couple of bull elephants down here, as long as they didn’t make much noise, of course.

He stopped beside another door which led to a metal ladder to get to the roof. God, he was such an idiot. The first place to check was obviously where he had left his bird last night. Desmond spun around and went back the way he came, until he reached a metal hatch embedded in the corridor wall. As he suspected, the hatch wasn’t locked. Then again, Desmond wasn’t a hundred percent sure that he had locked it.

The hatch swung open, and he grimaced when his fingers found a couple more spots of wet blood on the edge on the hatch. It looked like his bird hadn’t gone without a bit of a fight. “Good for you,” he whispered, climbing inside. Desmond crawled along the chute on all fours, continuously cursing at the mess that his hands and knees were sliding through.

It’s only when Desmond finally reached the small enclosed room, and gaped at the collection of wet bones and lumps of unidentifiable flesh piled in all four corners, when he believed that perhaps this wasn’t one of his brightest ideas. Desmond also believed that maybe this wasn’t Franco’s doing after all.

Desmond climbed out of the hatch, wiped his hands down the sides of his overalls, and stared at the empty cage in the corner on this slaughterhouse. Oh Lord, had his new pet really caused all this mess? He crouched and surveyed the scattered remains. Now that his mind had settled down, Desmond could now see, that although it looked like somebody had been in here dancing while holding a tin of red paint, the devastation looked worse than it actually was. He reached across and picked up a rat’s tail attached to half a body. In fact, there were dozens of gutted rat bodies scattered across the floor.