Masked Men Came Callin

     At two o'clock in the afternoon on a normal Friday, masked men entered the library. Armed and spread out in a search pattern, they stalked over to the magazine area, into the fiction and nonfiction stacks, and around the children's section. Story time had just gotten started and moms bouncing toddlers to the tune of "Wheels on the Bus" tried to smile to not scare the children.

     Brenda walked around the circulation desk toward the man standing central. His straight back was due to the stupid amount of gear he had strapped to a combat vest rather than any type of discipline. His mask had white teeth stenciled on it as if he was a toddler trying to be a monster.

     "You need to move your car," Brenda said.

     "Ma'am, you should stand back and let us-" was all he said before she held up a hand.

     "You need to move that ugly SUV before someone lights it on fire," she said.

     At this point I had been called and found them at the entrance way. I said, "What's going on?" as I walked up.

     The masked man said, "Sir, we are here on official business. You need to-"

     I held up a hand. "Wasn't talking to you."

     Brenda clucked her tongue, saying, "They're blockin Jeddy's space out front, and he's got books on hold."

     "Shit." I looked at my watch and the car outside. I turned to the masked man and said, "Yeah, you need to move that car."

     "We have the cooperation with local law enforcement," the masked man said.

     "Where are they?"

     "They're on their way."

     "Yeah, I bet. You here for story time?"

     His eyes squinted. "We are here for-"

     I raised my hand again. I was not trying to be a tough guy. I know my patrons just as well as Brenda did. I know which ones are kind and nice and hardworking. I know which ones are entitled blowhards who vote for their wallets rather than with them. And I know which of our patrons rides around with weapons and hopes that aliens or vampires or the federal government will try to invade our town.

     I formulated a way to say all that, but before I could Heather walked out of the children's area and said, "Boss, are these guys here for story time? Some kinda prank? They're staring at the kids like perverts."

     That felt better as a line of inquiry. 

     I said to the masked leader, "Your guys in there perverts?"

     Before he could speak, Sean leaned over the railing from the reference department. "You think you got perverts down there, you should see the mask on this one. Design on it looks like he drank from the wrong garden hose if you get my meaning. Jackson Pollack is just staring at the art books."

     Brenda let her eyes go wide. "I should call the cops. There's perverts in the library again. Must be Friday."

     "Those supposed to be teeth?" I asked Leader.

     "Here," came a voice from the magazine section. Leader turned and left us going that way. I could see another masked man in sunglasses leaning over James Alvarez, an 82 year old retired doctor and former Marine who was doing the crossword on the library's only copy of the newspaper in pen. The bastard.

     Brenda said, "Oh my god, the perverts are going after the old people."

     "Yep, same here," Sean said from upstairs. "I think the perverts up here are going back to the World War II section looking for not-so-fresh meat."

     A few patrons around the library laughed. Most kept on reading or using the computers.

     Leader and Sunglasses had their hands on Dr. Alvarez now. The younger men pulled at him, but he pulled in his arms and leaned forward. They would have to carry him. He would not move.

     Dr. Alvarez would not have to wait long. Outside was a distinctive rebel yell. If you have never heard the sound, imagine Smokey Bear got caught in a trap and is happy to have a reason to kill again. Once used by racist whites in the Civil War, the rebel yell has now been co-opted by the insane. Few differences can be found.

     Jeddy had arrived and found his parking spot out front blocked in by several SUVs. At the time, I could only see one. The spot they were blocking, though, was a five minute "need to just run in" spot flanked by the bookdrop and a sign reading "We got books and shit." I don't know if the staff added the last part. Few people used the space much after we started towing, but Jeddy thought it was the greatest bit of freedom since sweat pants were invented.

     Jedidah "Jeddy" Calida often would circle the building until that spot was free. His books on hold had come in, generally either for what he called his "smut books" or the newest celebrity chef cookbook. Man believed himself to be a gourmet of both, and I can attest his Gordon Ramsey beef wellington is divine so I'll believe him about the smut books. Anyway, if the spot was not available after five minutes Jeddy would become a tad overzealous about parking rules.

     That the SUVs were not just taking the space but were blocking it was bad. That the SUVs had government plates made it worse. Or better, depending on your views of civilization.

     The molotov cocktail smashed into the interior of the SUV and lit the thing up like a dragon's maw. Another spit fire across the hood. Yet another crashed down under the vehicle as if it had an underglow from hell.

     Leader let out a cry. Jeddy let out a rebel yell as his car left the scene. The masked men ran outside. Some left the scene, but I doubt they were after Jeddy.

     When the police arrived, they were forced to sign it as an act of the gods. Spontaneous automotive combustion. It does get hot here in the American South, and stranger things have happened.

     Nobody in the library ever saw a thing.