The sun serves as the Eye of God, watching Jayson and Mortimer suffer on the interstate, their feet moving sluggishly on its shoulder in the late afternoon. Despite the weather sitting at a comfortable 67 degrees Fahrenheit, they still feel like they are going to die from a mix of dehydration, injuries, and stress. Jayson's legs feel like they are going to splinter, and he uses his cosmic weapon as a cane. He and Mortimer are breathing sharpy, shaky breaths, with Mortimer's tongue out from his panting.

  Ash and sticky blood clings to their sweat damp bodies and clothes, creating patches of tar.

  They trudge along the shoulder of the interstate, the exit ramps streaked with old tire burn. Cars and trucks pass by without a care, and Mortimer groans irritably.

  “This sucks!” says Mortimer.

  “This was your idea,” wheezes Jayson.

  “If I die out here, I'm haunting Claribel.”

  Jayson can’t even laugh. The ache in his chest is too much. They continue their agonizing, onward march. Ignoring the vehicles that pass them. Jayson blinks sweat out of his eyes, but it doesn't get rid of the dancing spots floating in front of his eyes, and now hunger is tightening his stomach on top of the collection of bruises and cuts he accumulated in the burnt factory. At this point, he's certain that he’s about to pass out and faceplant the road.

  This thought is pushed aside when a whiny engine slows to a crawl, and a familiar, light green beetle shaped car stops in front of him and Mortimer, the hazard lights flashing.

  Jayson and Mortimer don’t say anything. They stare at it, waiting for some kind of threat. Instead, the car reverses, swerves to avoid them, and stops next to them. The passenger window eases down with a faint mechanical whir.

  Vanessa McNessa stares them down from behind designer shades. Her white fur is neon-bright against her navy cardigan and pale yellow blouse, hair perfect, not a streak out of place.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Jayson Hopper,” sneers Vanessa. “Did you run out of dumpsters to raid?”

  Mortimer looks at Jayson. “Who is this?”

  “Vanessa. I used to work with her,” says Jayson, frowning and dripping sweat.

  “Neat. Can she give us a ride to the mall?” asks Mortimer.

  Jayson sighs heavily and leans against the passenger door. “Vanessa, can you give me and Mortimer a ride? We need to meet up with Lexia at the mall.”

  Vanessa huffs, nose wrinkling at the stink rolling off them. “Really? I just had my car detailed.”

  “Well, you stopped for some reason. Why not entertain the goodness in your heart for the afternoon?”

  “I stopped because I was curious.”

  Mortimer butts Jayson out of the way and holds up a fifty buck bill. “This is yours if you give us a ride.”

  “Deal. Get in,” says Vanessa.

  Vanessa unlocks the back passenger door, and Jayson and Mortimer slide in, both smiling and slouching like boneless blobs as all the tension is dissolved by the cool AC air blowing on them.

  Vanessa drives back onto the cracked highway, her nose wrinkling and all the windows rolling down. “God, you two smell. What did you two do?”

  “Crawled around in a subterranean factory, got our asses kicked by some guy, then we kicked said some guy’s ass and have been walking ever since,” says Jayson.

  “What he said,” says Mortimer.

  “Wow. Sounds like you need a better hobby. Like popsicle building classes or frisbee golf,” says Vanessa.

  Jayson leans against the open window. The outside world blurs past in stripes of orange, blue, and neon. He lets his eyes sink shut for a second, and-

  “We're here,” says Vanessa.

  Jayson's eyes snap.open, and he jolts up while Mortimer yawns and rubs his eyes. Sure enough, they are in the parking lot, about midway to the Mall's entrance, and parked next to a colorful van where the driver looks like he just saw an alien, and is excited about it.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Jayson opens the door, nearly falling out. Asphalt smacks his feet and the world spins for a second before righting itself. Mortimer tumbles out after, clutching Claribel’s hat in one hand and his chest in the other. Both of them leave stains in the shape of their backs and heads on Vanessa's backseat, and she scoffs and mutters under her breath. Meanwhile Jayson staggers upright, swaying, blue eyes watery, and leaning against the van for support while offering an apologetic smile and wave. The driver grins and waves back, and Mortimer leans against Vanessa's trunk, expelling a heavy breath of air.

  “Oh my God, I'm so tired!” whines Mortimer.

  “Thanks for the lift,” says Jayson.

  “Whatever. Let's find Lexia so she can give you a shower,” says Vanessa.

  Vanessa flips her hair, locks the car with a beep, and follows them through the parking lot. Jayson and Mortimer lead, steps dragging, faces weighed down with fatigue. Vanessa trails, trying to keep her distance from the stink but not letting them out of her sight.

  Mall lights blink ahead. Glass doors reflect the group, and their reflections trip the automatic doors, which shudder and scrape as they peel apart, letting them into the buzzing, bleach-heavy air of Bliss Town Mall.

  They shuffle forward. The floor tiles are scuffed and dotted with balls of reflected light, and echoes of customers chatting and walking float in the air with the music of overplayed songs that can barely be heard over the speakers.

  Jayson glances at some tinted windows, briefly catching motion in the glass of purple, yellow, and black shapes, vanishing into cover. Jayson looks behind him, but only sees Vanessa and mingling customers, nothing else looks like the blurs he saw. But he can't shake the feeling of being trailed.

  Vanessa yawns, already bored. “If you’d move any slower I’d have to get you a wheelchair.”

  “Please put me in a wheel chair,” says Jayson.

  “Me too,” says Mortimer.

  “That was a joke,” says Vanessa.

  “Would it still be a joke if I paid you fifty bucks?” says Mortimer.

  Vanessa thinks for a moment, and within a couple of minutes, Mortimer is relaxing in a wheelchair, a smug, yet tired grin on his face while Jayson hobbles next to them, fuming. Vanessa is pushing Mortimer, content with the extra fifty bucks she just received.

  “I want a turn in the wheelchair,” says Jayson.

  “Do you have fifty bucks?” says Mortimer.

  “No.”

  “Oof. Tough luck buddy.” He snaps his fingers at Vanessa. “Servant, push me to the food court. I wish to replenish my nutrients!”

  Vanessa sighs and turns to the food court, shaking her head. “The things I do for money.”

  Jayson ignores her, eyes locked on the distant glow of the food court sign, hoping Lexia and Claribel are there so they can give Claribel her hat and call it a day. Then go dumpster diving for some food.

  The trio stops at the edge of the food court, and Jayson scans the area, looking for Lexia and Claribel. No luck. But he does spot the Glitch Hunters diving for cover behind pillars, half walls, and cement raised beds. He can feel his brain short circuit and with it comes a flare of pure annoyance that twists his face and tightens every fiber in his body.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” says Jayson.

  “What?” says Mortimer.

  “We're being tracked.”

  Mortimer stiffens. “Mama Bear?”

  “If it is, then she hired people worse than you.”

  “Wow. Uncalled for. Dick.”

  Suddenly, Ashton leaps up from behind the raised bed, camera hooked to his shoulder and his finger pointed at Jayson. “JAYSON HOPPER, SON OF MATTHIAS HOPPER AND ISABELLA HOPPER! SURRENDER YOUR TIME TO ME FOR AN INTERVIEW!”

  Madison pokes her head out from behind the pillar. “Please.”

  Greg stands up from behind the halfway. “Just do it. He won't leave you alone until you do.”

  Meanwhile, Jayson, Mortimer, Vanessa, and everyone else in the food court stares at the Glitch Hunters in total silence. Even the music has stopped, and someone at the far end coughs. Ashton’s grin widens and he hops across the raised bed, lands on the other side, and steadies his camera as he marches towards Jayson’s group.

  Jayson keeps staring, Mortimer narrows his eyes, and Vanessa smirks and uses her fingers to adjust and fluff her hair.

  “Oh, an interview? Count me interested,” says Vanessa.

  “We're not doing interviews,” says Jayson.

  Ashton walks faster and his group follows close behind, and Mortimer stands up, stretching his arms and rocking the kinks out of his neck.

  “If I have to do another fight I will lose my marbles,” says Mortimer.

  “Just one interview, Jayson and Mortimer,” says Ashton.

  Mortimer stops stretching, his claws flex and he growls, “How do you know my name?”

  “The power of research!”

  “Like hell it's the power of research!”

  Jayson stands in front of Mortimer, and the people in the food court scatter while Vanessa steps back, her eyes flicking between the two groups. And Ashton gets a maniac gleam in his eyes.

  “C’mon, just a few minutes of your time,” says Ashton.

  “Counter off,” starts Jayson, his finger raised and eyes focused on Ashton. Then he bolts past Mortimer and crosses the food court in mere seconds. “Get bent, nerds!”

  Mortimer looks back at Jayson, seeing him disappear around the corner, and then he looks back at the Glitch Hunters, who are now a few feet away from him. Greg cracks his knuckles, Madison offers a sheepish smile and wave, and Ashton adjusts his camera lense.

  “So, Mortimer Walters, son of Clyde Walters and Wanda Walters, how about that interview?” says Ashton.

  Mortimer laughs sharply, then abruptly stops. “No.”

  And with that, he turns tail and runs away, too, leaving the Glitch Hunters standing in an empty food court, with only Vanessa by their side.

  “Let’s get them,” says Ashton.

  The Glitch Hunters run after Mortimer and Jayson, leaving Vanessa to stand alone in the empty food court. She stares, jaw open, face burning with offended pride. For three long seconds, she waits, expecting someone, anyone, to turn the camera on her.

  The Glitch Hunters round the corner, disappearing from sight, and Vanessa stomps her foot.

  “HELLO?” calls Vanessa. “What about me?”

  A nasally, puffy faced rabbit stuck in a motorcart drives up next her, his blobbed body wheezing and lips twisted to a smile.

  “I can interview you,” he says.

  Vanessa grimaces. “Ew."