September Harvest

By Lisa Maliga

It's 1979 and Laurie Caswell is working as a bookstore clerk at the Northbrook Mall. That Saturday evening, she sees a movie with her boyfriend, Dennis Nolan. Instead of dining at a restaurant, the teenage couple goes to her parents' suburban house for some adult beverages. He leaves, and in the early hours of the morning, she has a horrifying nightmare.

 

A nightmare of a future where the mall resembles a prison. It's populated with overweight, black-clad people wearing face masks, and lining up outside the former Sears department store for mandatory Convict-21 injections.

 

Will the nightmare come true, or will the old book she discovers the next day at a yard sale help change the course of humanity forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lisa Maliga
• Release date: Sep 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9798985044102

Lisa Maliga

Lisa Maliga is an American author of contemporary fiction, psychological thrillers and cozy mysteries. Her nonfiction titles consist of how to make bath and body products with an emphasis on melt and pour soap crafting. When researching her latest cozy mystery, she discovered the art of baking French macarons. She continues to bake macarons, always trying new flavor combinations. When not writing, Lisa reads, watches movies, and is a huge fan of "The Walking Dead." Links: http://www.lisamaliga.com https://twitter.com/#!/lisamaliga https://twitter.com/#!/everythingshea http://pinterest.com/lisamaliga https://www.youtube.com/user/LisaMaliga

Book preview

Part I

Asleep

Saturday, September 8, 1979

I didn’t start the day off very well. Woke up twenty minutes after my shift started. I ran into the kitchen and called my boss and said that my alarm clock didn’t go off and I’d be there in a few minutes. I slammed down the harvest gold wall phone’s receiver and rushed back upstairs to my room to get dressed. Fortunately, my embroidered white peasant blouse was clean, along with my favorite red Dacron slacks. I’d only worked at Malden Books for a month and was concerned about being late. Especially as I didn’t have to work on Sunday, and I’d promised the manager I’d work every weekend for the rest of the month.

I lucked into a decent parking space near the front of Northbrook Mall. Employees were supposed to park in the back, but this employee was running late and who really paid any attention? I rushed up to the main entrance, opening the door on the far right. Passed the local bank and the General Cinema movie theatres. I slowed down for a few seconds, as the aroma of freshly popping popcorn captivated my senses. Then I hurried along, past the information desk, stroller rental and the colorful mall store directory. A jazzy rendition of The Girl from Ipanema provided soothing sounds for shoppers. The noise would grow fainter when I walked by the shops offering their contemporary and bass-heavy blasts of audio freshness.

Golden’s department store was the main anchor, a two-story building with a glass balcony where diners sat and looked out over the elegant entrance. Palm trees and other tropical plants surrounded a turquoise fountain that shot tall plumes of water. The base of the fountain was shaped like a small creek and was spanned by a gently arched bridge. The bottom of it was strewn with coins. Mall shoppers making wishes. Lime green indoor/outdoor carpeting covered the bridge’s floor and it seemed to attract more visitors. That morning, the few slatted wooden benches that overlooked the picturesque view were already taken. The center court water feature had been modeled after a larger one in Palm Beach, Florida. Our Midwestern version was proudly showcased in all the mall’s TV commercials and print advertising.

I hurried by the Russell Stover Candies shop, and passed the different stores, some blasting the latest pop tunes like Heart of Glass heard from Merry Go Round and My Sharona playing on speakers inside the Chess King clothing store. I waved at the cute guy in the yellow shirt at Kinney Shoes who was carrying a stack of shoeboxes across the store. He just smiled wryly, unable to wave at me.

Two stores away from my workplace was Reed’s Furniture, which had a few customers. Usually, the owner, amazingly enough named Mr. Reed, was seated in one of the sofas smoking a cigarette and drinking a bottle of Pepsi. I often wondered if there was a little addition to that soda, like the whisky my high school history teacher dumped into his coffee. The men wore similar outfits: slacks, dress shirt and a wide polyester necktie.

I clocked in thirty-five hours per week as the senior salesclerk at Malden Books. Rushing by the two bookracks featuring the paperback bestsellers, I entered my workplace, knowing I wouldn’t see the sun until midafternoon when I took my thirty-minute lunch break.

Matt was in the back room smoking a cigarette and drinking the rest of his iced tea. His teeth matched his beverage, I noted. He sucked the remnants of the liquid until the straw hit air. Good to see you, Laurie. He glanced at his watch and reached into his pocket to remove a crumpled dollar bill. Could you swing on over to Carousel Snack Bar and get me a large iced tea? Extra ice.

Sure, I said, taking the money. I’ll be right back. I knew it wasn’t a question, but an order. And I could milk another few minutes away from work if I wanted—and still get paid.

He was watching me as I walked back through the olive green-carpeted bookstore and said hello to Shirley who was behind the cash register ringing up a customer. The older woman with the short graying afro and large glasses gave me a big smile. Glad you’re here, Laurie. When you get back, I need a break.

Sure thing, Shirley. I gave her a quick wave and smile and made a right turn as I walked past the paperback displays. Business in the mall wasn’t like it would be right after Thanksgiving; it was the proverbial retail calm before the storm. That’s what my boss had told me the other day.

I walked by the Super-X Drugstore and wanted to get a bag of M&M’s for the movie I’d be seeing that night, but there were already quite a few people at the checkout line, and I didn’t want to push my luck.

I spent the rest of the morning behind the cash register and restocking books in the vicinity nearest the elevated cash wrap unit. Mostly, I was running credit cards through the imprinter, taking money, and bagging books for midwestern readers.

Just before my lunch break, Matt wheeled out a book-filled cart for me so I could shelve them when I wasn’t ringing up sales. Working at a bookstore didn’t mean reading on the job. I found that out during the interview, but I hid my disappointment. On the bright side, I got a thirty percent discount on any book I bought. I grimaced at the sight of a horror novel featuring ashen, blood-drenched monsters. Who reads that kind of garbage? Then I noticed other titles and realized it was a series. Each cover was bloodier than the next. Gross. I’d put those away later as that section was on the other side of the store. It was easier to shelve sports and reference titles as that section was near the main aisle. A 1980 Olympic Hopefuls hardcover caught my eye. I was about to pick it up and have a gander…and then I detected the smell of smoke. It wasn’t a mall or bookstore fire, that was a cigarette. Sure enough, the teenager with a brown curly mop and a pimply face was puffing away, looking at a book on the bargain books table. Why couldn’t people read signs? I mean, it was a place that sold reading material, you’d think that the prominently displayed and succinctly worded NO SMOKING, no food and beverages sign might make an impact. It was common sense. Spilling a soft drink on a book would damage it. So would the Carousel Snack Bar hot dogs—mustard and relish could fall onto the latest Better Homes and Garden cookbook. Cigarette ashes on books could lead to fires and the smoke stench would ruin a fifty-dollar art gift book. The smoking teen took a big puff from his Marlboro. I knew the brand as the box was in his shirt pocket along with a disposable lighter.

Please, no smoking in Malden Books, I said.

Yeah, whatever. He turned and walked away, blowing a ring of smoke, and then exhaling the rest through his nose.

Impressive,