Who Is Brian Quinn?

Mirror door - The Mall - Puddle Jumping

"I've been stuck here for years," muttered the man who called himself Gary.

"Stuck where?" whispered Hiram.

"I don't know," he replied. The two men were flying along in an ambulance. Dark streets slick with rain sped by, reflecting the dim wash of the streetlights. "My position is an odd one, a frustrating one," Gary said.

Hiram's impression of Gary was that the man hadn't slept for a long time. Possibly years. His eyes were black and ringed with great dark circles that spoke of an endless vigil. Some mad obsession, its claws deep in the guy's skin. "What exactly is your situation?" asked Hiram. "And where are we going?"

After Gary's poignant show of force, the two men had fled the hospital, somewhat awkwardly due to Hiram's wound, found a derelict ambulance and appropriated the vehicle. Gary drove as though he knew where they were headed, goading the ambulance along through empty streets and deserted intersections; being the middle of the night there was no need to use the siren.

"My situation is this," replied Gary. "I've been trapped in this place for years, trying to escape, hopelessly trying to find others. Someone, anyone who might be in the same situation." He turned to Hiram, his eyes dark and indecipherable.

Hiram winced. His side ached where the bullet lay, like he'd swallowed a brick. "I need to get this taken care of," he breathed. Sweat stood out on his forehead.

Gary glanced down without expression. He exhaled. "I know where to go." His eyes returned to the road.

They pulled up in front of a diner, a greasy joint filled with brown vinyl booths and the stale smell of cigarettes. Inside, Gary made for the bathrooms at the back. Hiram slumped into a booth near the door, breathing heavily. A shrew of a waitress with bright blue veins and a soiled dishrag approached him. She stopped and clicked her tongue. "Can I help you?"

Suddenly Gary came hurrying back and pulled Hiram from the seat and lugged him away toward the bathrooms. "Come on, we've got to get you cleaned up."

"Ok," muttered Hiram, nearly unconscious.

The waitress watched them go then glanced sideways at herself in the window. She fished in her pocket for a lighter and lit a cigarette.

In the bathroom Gary stood in front of the mirror. A full length affair, murky and slightly warped. Hiram hung from his shoulder, barely able to stand. His legs wobbled and shook, his eyes fluttered like moth's wings.

"I've only found a few of these, three or four. They come in handy." He looked in the mirror. Neither himself or the lax body beside him could be seen in its surface. No reflection. "At first I thought I could use them to escape, thought maybe they were exits, ways out of here. But they're not. Just doorways to other, similar places." He hoisted Hiram up higher and stepped through the mirror, right leg first, then his shoulder. Pulling Hiram with him, Gary slipped into the glassy surface of the mirror, leaving the bathroom behind. The surface of the mirror shuddered as they went through, like a glass of water.

"I've never read any of Stan's books so I don't know if these portals are part of the story or just some kind of glitch in the whole structure. Should have read his books. I really don't know much about anything," he continued talking to Hiram who seemed to have passed out completely. "But," he continued, mostly talking to himself. "I've sort of got the place figured out, at least I know how to get around. And that's something." He exhaled and looked around. They stood in the open, in a parking lot surrounded by daylight and a dim overcast sky.

Gary lugged Hiram's inert frame across the asphalt, feet dragging in oily puddles. A massive shopping center, a mall, loomed up before them, a huge sprawling structure surrounded by scattered shards of asphalt and debris. It looked like the place had been hit by a bomb. Crumbled walls, twisted beams and charred wreckage covered the ground. The mall itself, what was left of it looked like it had fallen out of the sky, a towering facade of blackened brickwork and empty windows. A single crow flew from a crevice, a dark smudge against the sky. Gary grunted and looked up. The sound of engines could be heard overhead. The distant drone of planes.