STARCOURT MALL WAS THE IDEAL location to travel to for anything ranging from new clothes to the latest flicks to kisses that tasted of ice cream. The late morning sun streamed through the diaphanous roof, illumining the faces of carefree customers as they milled about the interior of the mall, shopping bags dangling from tanned arms and laughter saturating the atmosphere. The heady scent of fragrance from Fine Perfumes intermingled with specialties from the food court, a stark contrast to the fresh air outside. Outlets such as RadioShack and Time-Out Arcade had supplanted their downtown counterparts, the entire region on the brink of collapse in the months following the mall's opening. There was something for everyone at Starcourt, no matter their age.

However, those who had to work at the mall didn't get to experience the same thrill as everyone who was able to shop there.

Amara had only been working for two hours and she was already exhausted. Steve was in the backroom; even being slightly more truthful when hinting that he was interested in a girl he was serving ice cream to hadn't earned him a date, and he was oh-for-two so far that day. This left Amara and Robin behind the table, counting down the minutes until their lunch break arrived.

"Have a nice day," Robin drawled, extending her arms and handing two ice cream cones to the couple in front of her. They thanked her and departed, revealing the next customer; upon recognizing who it was, Amara's face lit up into a smile for the first time in hours.

"Dustin!" she exclaimed, taking advantage of the fact that there were no other customers to weave around the counter and engulf him in a hug. "You're back!"

"I'm back!" Dustin beamed up at Amara. While she adored all of the younger kids, she had always nurtured a soft spot for Dustin. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they both loved everything science fiction, or perhaps it was because he'd been bullied for his cleidocranial dysplasia, a condition that, similar to her autism, he didn't choose to have. "Are we still on for Back to the Future this Wednesday?"

"If I can find any time in my schedule, then definitely," Amara promised. She caught sight of Robin, who was watching their exchange in amusement. "This is my friend Robin, by the way."

"Hi!" Dustin greeted over-enthusiastically; Robin waved airily, resting her palms on the counter. Dustin turned back to Amara expectantly, "Uh, is – is he here?"

Before Amara could respond, the employee door burst open, Steve's shoes scuffing against the tiled floor and a grin extending across his face at the sight of his best friend. "Henderson," he breathed, raising his arms and earning a laugh from Dustin in reply.

"Henderson!" Steve bounced on the balls of his feet, not caring what Robin thought of him for behaving so childishly. His weird child friend was finally back after an excruciating month of unfair wages and ongoing rejection. "He's back! He's back!"

"I'm back!" Dustin gestured at the Scoops Ahoy sign, having left for Camp Know Where before Steve's interview took place. "You got the job!"

"I got the job!" Steve emulated playing a trumpet before going in for their signature handshake: a standard shake of the hand, a fist bump, and a fake lightsaber fight. Robin could only blink in perplexity as Steve and Dustin battled it out with sound effects, concluding when Dustin impaled Steve's abdomen and the latter mimed blood gushing from his fictitious wound. The two unlikely friends collapsed into a fit of giggles, overjoyed to be in each other's company once more.

"How many children are you friends with?" Robin couldn't resist asking, overlooking the fact that Amara was friends with the same individuals. Steve swiped a hand over his mouth and motioned at his co-worker with a nod towards Dustin as if to say, 'This is who I have to deal with every day.'

Unfortunately, Dustin had arrived at Scoops Ahoy at the time when ice cream was in particularly high demand, meaning Robin and Amara were stuck on their shift for another half-hour. Though he had been eager to inform Amara of his brilliant, hotter-than-Phoebe-Cates girlfriend who he had won over with her advice, Dustin saw her needing to work as the perfect opportunity to pester Steve about why he hadn't asked her out yet, not that she knew that part. She'd have her chance to catch up with him later, but for now, she was in charge of operating the cash register as always.

"I really hope that one's the last," Robin remarked after she'd given a strawberry cone to their latest customer. "Those kids are menaces."

"He is, don't worry," Amara understood that as loyal as the kids were, they were often bothersome to those who hadn't been in on saving the world. "There's also El, but she's not allowed here – "

"Yeah, and how's that working out for you?" Robin called out to Steve in reference to his comment that too much ice cream wasn't a 'good idea for keeping in shape for the ladies.' Turning back to Amara, she muttered, "That kid strikes me as his wingman."

"Oh, he probably is," Amara agreed, depositing cash into the register and slamming the drawer shut a little harsher than she intended to. "He's probably there to encourage Steve's whole 'show her you don't care' thing."

Robin's eyes narrowed. "'Show her you don't care?'" she repeated.

"Steve's stupid advice for winning over girls," Amara muttered scathingly, reminiscing their conversation on the train tracks all those months ago. "I offered Dustin some better girl advice, but he went with Steve's for whatever reason."

A thought struck Robin as they continued working. As much as she wanted to shove Steve for flirting with every girl who wanted ice cream when he had Amara right in front of him, he'd never expressed any indication of not caring about her. Perhaps it was because they were already friends, or Amara knew Steve's shitty advice well enough to catch if he was attempting to use it to win her over, or he wasn't even trying to make a move to begin with. It frustrated Robin that her co-workers had feelings for each other and yet neither of them was initiating anything.

"So," Robin settled for changing the subject, "What are the chances we actually get some time off?"

"The weather forecast called for rain tomorrow," Amara pointed out, drumming her nails on the table. "Maybe people won't be as desperate for ice cream then."

"We can only hope," Robin mumbled, her gaze fixed on the booth where Steve and Dustin were conversing in hushed whispers. "What do you think those dinguses are talking about?"

"Probably a new strategy for Steve to score a date," Amara theorized, checking her watch; they had fifteen minutes remaining in their shift. "You weren't lying when you said Dustin was his wingman."

"I just don't get why they're being so quiet," Robin wondered, offering samples of orange sherbet and chocolate to two customers. "It's obvious Steve needs all the help he can get."

"I intercepted a secret Russian communication!" Dustin blurted out, answering Robin's question regarding what it was he and Steve were discussing. Everyone in the parlor pivoted to face them, but it had more to do with the volume of Dustin's voice than what he had mentioned – after a few moments everyone returned to busying themselves with their ice cream, too caught up in the capitalist sanctuary that was the Starcourt Mall to fathom an international threat.

"Okay, that was odd," Amara spoke once the customers they were serving exited with their ice cream. "Looks like they weren't talking about girls after all."

"I doubt that," Robin smirked, supporting her elbows against the table. "Whatever the hell that was, Steve's almost definitely going to see it as a way to finally get a 'you rule.'"

LUCAS WAS ONE OF AMARA'S closest friends, their bond fortified by her defense of him against Billy's racially motivated incursion, but she swore she was going to bang her head against the wall from how many samples his little sister and her posse of friends were soliciting. It was afternoon now and Erica Sinclair and her minions had requested half a dozen samples so far. Steve was showing no signs of taking over their shift, too preoccupied with attempting to translate the Russian message Dustin had recorded the previous night.

The fundamentals of capitalism implied that those who worked hard would get rewarded, but samples were free and Erica evidently knew that.

Amara pried open the freezer yet again and scooped up a sample-sized portion of mint chip ice cream, handing it to Erica. The aforementioned girl was quick to consume it, discarding her plastic spoon adjacent to the five others in the cup atop the counter. Meanwhile, Robin was doing her best not to fall asleep.

"Mmm, can I try the peppermint stick?" Erica more demanded than asked. She was flanked by her cronies, all of whom had matching red sample spoons in their grasps. Where the hell were these girls' parents?

"Haven't you already tried the peppermint stick?" Robin retorted. She was only half-right; at this point, Erica had presumably tried every damn flavor in the Scoops Ahoy parlor.

"Yes, and I'd like to try it again," Erica shot back. Apparently, that was all it took for Robin to whip her head in the direction of the backroom and holler Steve's name as if he'd have better luck chasing Erica away. Amara reluctantly grabbed another plastic spoon and dug up a sample of the peppermint stick for Erica, who swallowed it with a contented sigh. But she was far from finished requesting samples. "Can I try the cherry jubilee?"

"I'm sorry, but no," Amara tried a different tactic while Robin journeyed to the employee room to insist Steve take one of their places. The smile was wiped off of Erica's face as Amara continued, "There's only so many samples we can give you before we run out of money. If we run out of money then we go out of business, and if we go out of business then we can't give ice cream to you or anyone. You wouldn't want that, right?"

"I guess you're right," Erica grumbled, dropping her spoon into the cup. "Hopefully you'll make enough money between now and tomorrow. I'll see you then, sailor girl." She urged her crew out of the parlor and only then did Amara exhale in relief. There weren't any imminent requests for ice cream, so she had a ripe opportunity to join Steve, Dustin, and Robin in the backroom.

" – You think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape, and you're trying to translate, but haven't figured out a single word because you didn't realize the Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do," Robin was stating, eyebrows raised in mock discovery. "Sound about right?"

"More importantly, why didn't you guys tell me this?" Amara added, not used to Steve or Dustin concealing something of that importance from her; after all, she had been the first person they had turned to when in need of assistance after Dart escaped.

"He wanted to impress y – "

"We were going to tell you later, okay?" Steve cut across Dustin, blaming the stuffy interior of the backroom for the spontaneous bloom of his cheeks. "We just got caught up – whoa! What do you think you're doing?" he demanded of Robin, who had lunged for the tape amid his distractedness.

"I wanna hear it," Robin replied simply.

"Why?" Dustin and Steve questioned simultaneously, curious as to what she would bring to the table.

"'Cause maybe I can help," Robin pointed out. "I'm fluent in four languages, you know."

"Russian?" Dustin queried hopefully. Amara knew that Robin wasn't proficient in Russian, but she was likely the only one out of them who could eloquently speak Spanish, French, and Italian. She'd probably have better luck than the rest of them.

        "Ou-yay are-yay umb-day," Robin recited, earning impressed reactions from Dustin and Steve and a shake of the head from Amara, who had been on the receiving end of this stunt before.

"That was Pig Latin, dingus," Robin deadpanned, prompting Steve to slap Dustin's shoulder with his banana peel while she joined them at the table. "But I can speak Spanish and French and Italian, and I've been in band for twelve years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me."

"Do you know any other languages?" Steve asked Amara, who was surveying their interaction in merriment. Her best friend was a girl of many talents and it was rare that she had an occasion in which she could put them to use. The least Steve could do was give her a chance to hear the tape so they could maybe get somewhere.

"I have a hard enough time with English, so there's no way I could handle more than one language." Amara reminded Steve over the din of the bell out front. "I happen to be better with numbers, but that's not helpful for translating this. Just let her listen, okay?"

"I don't even want credit, I'm just bored," Robin begged as the bell dinged again, holding out her scooper in exchange for the recording. Steve sighed through his nose before relenting and trading objects with her reluctantly, making his way back outside to respond to the frantic tinkling of the bell.

Because Amara was, in her words, better with numbers, she agreed to operate the cash register so Steve would only have to sling ice cream. Dustin and Robin working together would surely be sufficient for them to decode the transmission, and Amara and Steve would keep the façade of them being nothing more than low-paid employees at an ice cream parlor.

As he was scooping rocky road ice cream into a cup, Steve couldn't help but observe Amara out of the corner of his eye. During their first few days working at Scoops, the two of them and Robin would alternate between slinging ice cream and handling the cash register, but Amara's mastery of the latter job had led Robin and Steve to effectively cede that task to her whenever she had a shift. For a girl who was constantly judged for having a diagnosis many perceived to be schizophrenia, she needed a reminder that she was good at something, and math was an example of such.

In the months since Amara had disclosed her autism to Steve and he had accepted her, her mindset had improved substantially. But Steve still knew that she felt weighed down by society's preconceptions of people like her. It made him want to pummel anyone who dared judge her before getting to know her the way he had.

"So how did Dustin overhear that message in the first place?" Amara inquired upon ensuring that nobody was in earshot of them. Steve snapped back into reality and shifted closer to her, gesturing for her to do the same so they could lower their voices.

"He heard it through his radio tower," Steve relayed, hoping no one would take notice of how suspect they might appear, but as always everyone was too preoccupied with their ice cream to pay them any mind. "He was trying to get in contact with his girlfriend or something."

Amara's jaw dropped. "Dustin has a girlfriend?!"

"Yeah, he does," Steve whispered, embarrassed that the aforementioned boy had scored a girlfriend while he was still single, even if he had his suspicions that she wasn't actually real. He deliberately elected not to mention Dustin's earlier comment of get your head out of your ass and ask Amara out already, for God's sake! reminding himself yet again that he wasn't good enough for her. "Her name's Suzie. According to Henderson, she's a certified genius and hotter than Phoebe Cates."

"Well, good for him," Amara declared, thinking back to how Mike and Eleven as well as Lucas and Max being together often left him and Will on the sidelines. It was nice to know that Dustin had someone even if it was a long-distance relationship, though Will was likely lonelier than ever at this point. She hoped the Party would eventually take up his offer of a game of Dungeons and Dragons. "Either way, Dustin's radio tower must be powerful if it can pick up a broadcast all the way from Russia."

"Yeah, well hopefully we can figure out what that message means soon enough," Steve mumbled, re-positioning his hat as it threatened to fall off his head. "I didn't know Robin could speak four languages."

"That's because you've both been too busy arguing over whiteboard tallies to actually give each other a chance," Amara brought up thoughtfully, brushing a strand of honey brown out of her line of sight. "The whole reason why I suggested we all work here was that I was hoping you guys would become friends."

She pivoted to take the order of an elderly woman and Steve pondered the possibility of him befriending Robin. Sure, she was sarcastic and loved to poke fun at him for his inability to achieve a 'you rule' on her scoreboard, but she clearly had talents of her own and quirks similar to the ones that had drawn Steve to Amara. Plus, Amara had mentioned that other than himself, only Robin knew and accepted her for her diagnosis.

Maybe Steve could push aside his vexation towards Robin and establish a friendship with her, at least for Amara's sake.

The next customers to cross the threshold of the parlor weren't girls Steve would have to suffer the humiliation of being rejected by, nor a ragtag group of children accompanied by a single parent, but rather Max and Eleven. Amara did a double-take – not only was she unaccustomed to seeing Eleven sport multicolored rompers as opposed to oversized shirts that were too small for Hopper to wear anymore, but she was also under the impression that Eleven wasn't allowed to be in locations with vast amounts of people such as Starcourt.

"Hey, guys!" Amara greeted, smiling warmly. "Nice outfit, El."

"Thank you!" Eleven beamed, but she appeared lost – it didn't take a genius for Amara to gather that she had never had ice cream before. But unlike with Erica, Amara was more than willing to offer Eleven all the samples she needed to determine what flavor she wanted.

"Here," Amara murmured, nabbing a sample spoon and retrieving a small amount of vanilla ice cream for Eleven to try as a starter. "Try this, it's vanilla. If you don't like it you can try something else."

Eleven ended up liking vanilla and felt no need to try any other flavors, so she ordered a vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles and extra whipped cream per Max's recommendation while the aforesaid girl requested a strawberry cone. "That'll be $2.50 total," Amara stated, deciding not to charge Eleven for the toppings as a courtesy. Max handed her the money and Steve began scooping their ice cream for them.

"Hey, if you don't mind me asking," Amara began, hoping she wasn't inserting herself into a matter that didn't concern her. "Are you allowed to be here? I won't tell Hopper or anything, don't worry. I'm just curious."

"She deserves to have some fun. Mike lied to her and treated her like garbage," Max brought up to which Eleven nodded firmly. "Besides, nothing bad's happened so far."

"Oh, I see," Amara answered warily, handing Max her change. While she agreed with Hopper that places with large crowds were a potential safety hazard for Eleven, she acknowledged that Eleven deserved to experience the thrill of the mall as much as everyone else. She deserved a day in which she had the chance to be a normal teenager. As for what Mike had done to make Eleven angry at him, she didn't need to know. "Just stay out of trouble, okay?"

"I will," Eleven responded.

        At that moment Robin jammed open the glass partition door. "We've got our first sentence," she exclaimed. This was a surprise to Steve, who hadn't expected her to make that much progress in such a short amount of time. As for Amara, it was something she was more accustomed to as Robin's best friend but nevertheless in awe of.

"Oh, seriously?" Steve, who was balancing two ice cream cones in his hands, turned around and moved closer to Robin alongside Amara, both of them eager to learn more.

"Yeah," Robin nodded before droning in a Russian accent, "The week is long."

Steve's excitement fizzled out no sooner than it had formed. "Well, that's thrilling."

"I know," Robin clearly felt let down by the result of an hour's worth of hard work, but she chose not to let it deter her. "But, progress."

"Great job, Robin," Amara made sure to tell her. Translating a Russian dispatch was no easy feat, even for someone articulate in four languages.

"See, Steve? At least someone's grateful for my hard work," Robin commented snarkily, though she remained smiling. It was nice to see that she and Steve were finally warming up to one another. "You'd better not ask for any breaks, Popeye."

With that, she sealed the door shut and retreated into the backroom, leaving Steve and Amara to give Max and Eleven their orders. Amara hoped that neither of them had detected anything even if they were no strangers to a parallel dimension and supernatural commodities that resided in said realm – the last thing they needed was their picturesque day obstructed by a meaningless foreign code.

"Okay, here you go, you got a strawberry and then a vanilla with sprinkles, extra whipped cream," Steve handed Eleven and Max their requests. The teenagers thanked their older companions, already digging into their ice cream.

"Wait a second," it was only then that it dawned on Steve that Eleven was in a mall congested with townspeople, a place Hopper had specifically informed all of them she wasn't authorized to be at. "Are you even allowed to be here?"

Max and Eleven shared a knowing look before breaking out into laughter and scampering out of the parlor, not answering Steve's query. He was left to mop up the sticky residue from the counter, processing everything that had occurred that day; Dustin's return, a secret Russian communication, his sardonic co-worker revealing her fluency in four languages, and Eleven spending a day where she wasn't tucked away in her cabin with only Mike for company. And yet, Amara remained stationary by the cash register for the next mallgoer to inevitably order ice cream as though it was another ordinary day.

"How are you so... okay?" Steve found himself asking. The question caught Amara off-guard; Steve had a way of making her feel more vulnerable than she had ever known, and it terrified her. Emotions were complex and if Amara had it her way she wouldn't feel anything for Steve beyond friendship, but she supposed fate was cruel that way. It also didn't help that he epitomized the rugged, self-sacrificing hero in her favorite sci-fi novels, the maverick who craved adventure and stability all at once. "I mean, there's a Russian message we're trying to translate and you don't seem bothered. Or you could be, and I'm reading this wrong, and I shouldn't have even said anything – "

"I'm fine, don't worry," Amara cut across Steve's rambling, and she meant it entirely. "Sure, it is a little odd, but it's nothing we haven't already done, right? If we can fight off a pack of Demodogs we should have no problem deciphering the code and alerting the FBI or the CIA or whatever. Just think – after all this you could actually score a date."

As they resumed slinging ice cream and Robin and Dustin continued unraveling the recording, Steve resolved not to flirt with every girl who desired ice cream for once. Even if Robin was too fixated on translating to keep a record of Steve's losses, he knew that it was doing him no good being turned down for a date over and over again. But as always, Amara was too preoccupied with ensuring she gave customers the correct amount of change to detect Steve's shift in character. She was the type of person who when undertaking an assignment remained fully committed to it and found it challenging to focus on anything else, but it wasn't as though Steve was making any effort to indicate how he felt about her.

He vaguely wondered if this version of himself would have even stood a chance at winning over Nancy.

STARCOURT MALL WAS SOMETHING of a neon wasteland at night. The once-bustling mall had long since closed, its customers having returned home after an eventful day of shopping with the promise that they would come back the next day. The mall's employees had also rushed home the moment Starcourt's operating hours expired, eager to indulge in the precious few hours they had with family and friends – all but three workers at Scoops Ahoy and their friend who had brought forth a foreign transmission they'd spent the day decrypting while keeping a cover of being unlucky enough to have to work at the mall everyone else had the chance to shop at.

The whiteboard that had once been used to track Steve's rejections now had a message scrawled across, the Russian in red and the English translation in black beneath it. The aforementioned boy, Dustin, Robin, and Amara stood before it, willing themselves to make sense of what it implied.

"The week is long," they all recited in sync, "the silver cat feeds, when blue meets yellow in the west."

The statement didn't hold any more significance than it had before they'd spoken it out loud, so the quartet decided to close up shop for the night. It was a quarter to nine and though Amara didn't have parents waiting expectantly for her return, she looked forward to retiring for the night with The Peace War and Annie Lennox's voice for company.

"I mean, it just... " Steve sighed, sliding down the gate and sealing up the parlor for the night, "it just can't be right."

"It's right," Robin insisted. Steve confirmed that the entrance was properly locked before the four of them began their journey to the exit.

"Honestly, I think it's great news," Dustin chimed in.

        "How is this great news?" Steve chuckled bitterly, jogging to keep pace with his three companions. "I mean, so much for being American heroes. It's total nonsense."

"It's not nonsense," Dustin contended, leading the four of them past Lovelace Lingerie. "It's too specific. It's obviously a code."

"What do you mean, a code?"

"Like a super secret spy code."

"That's a total stretch."

"Is it, though?" Amara piped up before either Steve or Dustin could bicker any further. "Whoever created this dispatch had to consider that someone might overhear it, so don't you think they'd at least try to disguise what it meant?"

"You're buying into this?" Steve questioned. As in every scenario he had been entangled within the past two years, he was evidently once again the least knowledgeable of the lot. It bruised his ego more than he wished to admit.

"Listen, just for kicks, let's entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission," Robin added as they ambled by Sam Goody, the four of them briefly bathed in neon light. "What'd you think they were going to say, 'Fire the warhead at noon?'"

"Exactly."

"And my translation is correct. I know that for sure, so... 'The silver cat feeds.'" Robin continued, brandishing her hands as she tried to express her thoughts coherently. "Why would anyone talk like that unless they were trying to mask the true meaning of their message?"

"Exactly," Dustin repeated.

"And why would anyone want to mask the true meaning of their message if they didn't want an enemy of the state to expose them?" Amara spoke up. It was almost unnerving to Steve how in sync her and Robin's minds were, but they were best friends after all.

"Exactly!" Dustin seemed to take pleasure in rubbing in Steve's face about how right Robin and Amara were. Steve retorted by mimicking Dustin, in too bad of a mood to offer any input.

"So I guess that confirms your suspicion," Robin voiced, turning to Dustin for verification.

"Evil Russians," Dustin corroborated, shoes scraping against the waxed floor.

Robin didn't bother holding in her giggle in response to Dustin's assertion. "I can't believe I'm about to agree with this strange child, but, yeah, totally evil Russians." She glanced at Amara, who wore a similar expression of mirth.

"So how do we crack it?" Dustin inquired, eager to unveil more about the code they had discovered and translated half of in the span of a single day. Neither he nor Robin and Amara heard the fourth pair of footsteps trailing behind them slow to a stop, too engrossed in their discovery to notice that Steve had made one of his own.

"Well, I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges," Robin suggested, absentmindedly shrugging her shoulders.

"A pattern," Dustin latched onto that idea. "Right, like maybe 'silver cat' is a meeting place?"

"Or a person."

"Or a weapon."

"It's probably going to take a super genius to crack it, but... " Robin trailed off upon finally noticing that Steve wasn't contributing anything because he was no longer walking in line with them. "Where's Steve?"

The boy had come to a halt in front of the mini arcade and was digging through the pockets of his uniform, no doubt for change. "Hey, Steve," Steve fumbled and let slip the coins in his grasp at Amara's remarking of his name, causing them to clatter to the ground. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, it's a quarter," Steve mumbled to himself after checking the cost of the rocking horse ride entitled Indiana Flyer. Why he was interested in the type of ride they had all outgrown was beyond Amara. "I need – Do you have a quarter?"

Robin chuckled in spite of her confusion, shuffling closer to Steve along with Amara and Dustin. "Sure you're tall enough for that ride?"

"Quarter!" the urgency in Steve's tone was enough for Amara to delve into her backpack and fish out a quarter, tossing it to Steve. He caught it and lowered himself to his knees, inserting it into the slot with trembling fingers. The ride activated to the tune of Daisy Bell but Steve made no move to get on, not that Amara was expecting him to.

"You need help getting up, little Stevie?" Robin teased, causing Dustin to chortle and for Steve to shush them both.

"Will you two just shut up and listen?" Steve hissed. Amara, Dustin, and Robin were taken aback at his seriousness but they complied. After a few beats, Dustin's grin faded as he recognized the tune, and not from the dozens of times he had heard it play at the county fair.

"Holy shit," he breathed, lifting a finger and pointing it at the still-moving horse, or rather the melody resounding from it. "The music. The music!"

"What music?" Amara inquired, but Dustin was too busy rummaging through his backpack to answer her question. He retrieved the tape recording and pressed play; the Russian was nothing more than garbled nonsense to someone like Amara who found it difficult enough to grasp the English language, but the music in the background matched what was still echoing from the ride they were standing beside.

Robin was still lost. "I don't understand."

"It's the exact same song on the recording," Dustin hastily explained. The tune that had been aggravating himself and Steve all day seemed to hold more significance to the code than they had originally recognized.

"Maybe they have horses like this in Russia," Robin theorized, but even she didn't seem certain.

"'Indiana Flyer?' I don't... I don't think so," Steve's countenance was uncharacteristically grave as he conceded that as powerful as Dustin's radio tower was, it didn't have the capacity to obtain a communication all the way from Russia. "This code it... didn't come from Russia."

The melody resonating from both the rocking horse and the tape was suddenly eerie as the quartet came to the realization that what had started out as a cure for their boredom and a long shot of them becoming American heroes was so much greater than they had initially anticipated. For that day, three low-paid Scoops employees and their friend were the first to pull back the curtain and unearth that Starcourt was far from the American Dream-style mall it claimed to be.

        "It came from here."

published to quotev: 11/13/22
published to wattpad: 10/5/24