Ah the time of the year when everyone is tired of the hot weather, the smoke is thick in the sky, and the children are beginning to get restless. They have been free for months and are comfortable with that freedom. Time to take it away and prepare them for the capitalist system they were born into.
Once upon a time there lived a little mouse who thought the floorboards were the sky. Then came the cat.
At first, they fought and fought. Then after being trapped during a rainstorm they found neither of them liked the humans above.
Cat took Mouse outside. Cat showed Mouse the far blue sky. Cat also showed Mouse the bank that housed the money that could be their ticket to a better life.
The two began planning. Their plans needed three others: Otter, Rabbit, and Dog.
On the night of the heist, police swarmed the area. Rabbit had been undercover police and ran. Otter fought and died in a hail of gunfire.
Cat, Mouse, and Dog ran into the night with the loot. The three hid in an old barn on the edge of the city, finding comfort and warmth. Cat and Mouse curled up with one another, saying that they would never part.
In the morning, however, they were discovered by the chickens. Rooster crowed and slashed and alerted the Farmer. Farmer caught Dog along with the bank robbery loot, but Cat and Mouse took Rooster hostage as they fled into the ancient wood.
In the center of the ancient wood, they came across a small hut that smelled of sweet meat. They crept close. Rooster said he would stay in the yard. Cat and Mouse fit under the hut, spying on the old witch above them. On the third day, Rooster stopped crowing.
The two of them kept to themselves for a time under the old witch's hut. She would drop small presents for them to eat. Soon they were above, the Cat curled up in the witch's lap while Mouse sat on the window sil watching the sky turn from dark blue to light and stars shine and fade.
Then Farmer found them. Farmer, using the money from the bank robbery, had purchased the ancient wood and was evicting the old witch. When Farmer tried to remove her, Cat scratched and Mouse bit. Then Farmer lit the hut on fire and sicced Dog on them. Dog had been turned domestic under the Farmer's thrawl. He attacked his old mates, but Cat and Mouse worked together to trap Dog and Farmer in the burning hut.
The old witch gave Cat and Mouse gifts, a magical sword for Mouse and a 1967 Corvette Stingray for Cat. Then she lay down and left this world in a pool of mist and fire.
Cat and Mouse returned to the city. They stopped in front of the bank they had robbed. They drove to the house where they had met. They decided to leave town but had one more thing to finish.
Rabbit lived just over the river. They found the house and waited for Rabbit to come home. When he did, Mouse pulled the magic sword and chopped the traitor's head off in front of Rabbit's children. Mouse then told them that their papa had it coming, and to come for him if they also wanted to die.
Then Cat and Mouse drove from the city in the 1967 Corvette Stingray. The two of them had many more adventures, but they never trusted anyone else again. The sky remained empty of clouds with no limit.
To the illustrator: I don't know what your usual author notes look like, but his is how me and Don Julio did it: Caption, then my notes on what needs to be in the drawing. Basic story is a goose wants to fly, so he goes into an airport. There he takes a plane and is downed by the military. Easy peasy, hope you brought your red pen (I'm not hiring a colorist, figure it out).
Caption: Look at Silly Goose sitting in a pond!
Illustrator notes: I don't give a fuck what this looks like. Goose. Water. What the fuck ever. Just make the goose like one of those Canadian "sure means well" looking things, not like the little bastards that used to hiss at me when I was a kid.
Silly Goose is all alone!
I dunno, copy the last and throw some other geese in the background. Mean girl geese. Not like in pink with blond hair, but just looking at Silly so you know they're talking shit.
Silly Goose, where are you going?
Get the fucking goose out of the water walking. Sandy beach, rocky shoreline, as long as it looks like a fucking goose leaving the water.
Silly Goose has decided to fly!
Flap the fucker's wings. Blank white behind him, whatever non-water shit you decided. No fucks given except for wings in motion.
Flapping his wings makes Silly Goose tired!
No idea what a tired goose looks like. Do whatever the fuck you want, just don't make it look like the bastard had too many tequila shots and now has the spray shits. Tired, not sick, I'm saying.
Silly Goose, you can't go to the airport!
I want this goose in front of a gate with a guard in a uniform and weapon drawn. Don't make the goose shit, but make him look like he's back away slowly. The guard better be ready to send this goose to hell at the slightest honk, but he has handcuffs outstretched like that could bring him peace.
Silly Goose always finds a way!
Time to unleash the beast. Two page spread. Don't draw the normal flapping at the guard goose attack. Everyone has see that shit. I want the goose biting at this guy's crotch while he screams in pain and fires off shots into the ceiling. Dick biting and then tearing out his throat. Better yet, guard bloody on the ground with chunks taken out while the goose walks away carrying the guard's weapon with handcuffs on his side. Bloody goose prints following.
Silly Goose makes a friend!
Silly has the weapon trained on a pilot or a flight attendant, I don't care. Somebody who can fly a plane. Make them hot, too. Like sexy, but not scared. Like sassy, like the audience thinks that maybe Silly and them have a chance. I'm gonna call them Pilot, but make them whoever.
Silly Goose finds a plane!
Quick image of Silly leading Pilot along the tarmac to a hanger. There's a mechanic in overalls, they don't have to be sexy but maybe. They'll be dead soon anyway.
Don't stand between Silly Goose and flying!
Silly and Pilot standing at one end. The weapon has smoke coming off it. The mechanic is falling, fucking dead with a hole in his face. Not like his forehead like every other Sopranos bullshit head shot, but below the eye so it shatters the skull a little. Like his front is dented while this giant blood spray covers the rear of the plane. Pilot maybe is into it.
Away Silly Goose goes!
Another two page spread of plane taking off. Make it a small plane, like one of those jets rich guys take to islands where they fuck geese. Pilot and Silly are in the window up front, weapon still in Pilot's face but maybe you think it doesn't have to be there. Silly all business. Swarms of security and cops are below them firing at the plane.
Silly Goose enjoys the blue sky!
Silly has the gun in his lap, staring at the sky. Pilot is next to him, staring, something's there. Maybe put a far off hint of geese in the distance, like a shadow in a cloud or something. Peaceful though, like nothing could go wrong.
Silly Goose sees his pond friends!
It's those mean girl fuckers from before. I don't know how you drew them. Same shit, but flying in a V formation. Silly looks angry, wings on the stick and the gun falling to the floor.
Silly Goose takes his revenge on all the dumbasses who made him feel small!
Just a plane tearing through the V. Goose guts abound.
Silly Goose missed one!
One terrified little mean girl goose shitting itself midflight while trying to hide in the cloud. Silly sees it, though, coming around to take it out. He's pissed. Pilot is looking both paniced and very horny.
Oh No, Silly Goose, Bug out!
I don't know how you want to do this, so I'll give you what's happening and some options: Silly is almost about to kill that fucking mean girl goose that would not let him sit at the table in 6th grade because his shoes were "too poor" whatever the fuck that means, but a fighter jet beats him too it. Exploded mean girl goose, Silly looking surprised, Pilot is excited. Maybe inside the cockpit, seeing it explode or a long shot with everything in view, but that might not get the sexy look on Pilot's face.
Fly, Silly Goose, Fly!
Gimme a page or two of the two planes flying. Loop de loops, however the fuck you spell that. Show a mountain in the distance.
Silly Goose decides to try something he saw in a movie
I'll be honest, unless you have better ideas, let's just steal that last scene from Top Gun: Maverick. Close flying to the mountain, pulling up and inverted. The fighter jet blows up against the mountain. Big explosion.
Silly Goose celebrates with Pilot!
Make'em kiss.But have Pilot hold the gun.
Pilot turns out not to be Silly Goose's friend after all!
Pilot pulls the gun and holds it on Silly Goose. They walk to the back of the plane, rich shit all around. Like those seats that spin. Fuck I always wanted to ride on one of those. Pilot's hair is all sexy as shit, and they know what they are doing is wrong. Silly Goose has wings open, like saying, we can get past this and shit.
Silly Goose gets away!
This can be over multiple pages. Silly handcuffs (you've been drawing the handcuffs on his side that he took off the guard, right?) Pilot to one of the seats and knocks the gun away. Then Silly opens the plane's door and flies out.
Silly Goose glides back to the pond to enjoy his day.
Nice peaceful shot of Silly landing in the blood soaked water. Make the goose look satisfied. Maybe put some plane and goose chunks around. In the distance have the plane sending that cheating bastard Pilot to hell by crashing in an orange fireball.
This should be about 25-30 pages depending on how apeshit you went on planes flying around. We're contracted for 30 pages, so put some sketches or whatever dumb shit you drawers do to fill space.
And thanks, you're the best.
The circulation desk had not seen a patron for over an hour. Circulation decided to use the time to check in the book drop, asking Childrens to keep an eye out. When Circ got back, Childrens was folding little paper animals.
"Did you see the new Super Mario Movie?" Circulation asked.
Childrens held up a paper turtle, saying, "No. I can't."
"We had fun with it. It's silly and has a lot of references to the games. I guess it would have to though. What do you mean you can't?"
"I do not believe in abusing mushrooms," Childrens said.
"Oh, well, I guess I get that. Like psychedelics?"
"No, no, no. Noooo. I'm on those right now." Childrens waved a paper squid in the air.
"So, physically?" The book dorp was forgotten.
Childrens ate the paper squid, slowly chewing it to a wet pulp. "Do not hurt the fungus for the Forest Queen lives among us."
"How about you fold those in the back? Or go home?"
Childrens held up a paper dragon. "How about that?" The dragon fell to the carpet. Childrens cried "Wah-hoo" and jumped up and down on the origami before running through the staff door.
Welcome to the Banned Library! We talk a lot here about our little adventures in, around, and far from the building, but we never talk about the building itself. Today we will fix that. First, let's start with the history of the place then a small tour.
History
The first library in town was a small shack behind a butcher shop named "Pigs N Stuff." The butcher's wife, Mable Abrams, was an avid reader and collector of books. She would loan them out to the locals and to the school becoming our first town librarian.
Around 1892, our prosperous little town commissioned the first charter for a public library. The five prominent families (Abrams, Carpenter, Davies, Roche, and Pittman) raised the majority of the money for the initial building on Second Street. This building burned to the ground in 1896 after the unnamed librarian drunkenly left a fire burning in the fireplace one cold December night.
The next building also burned in 1899.
The town then decided to build out of stone. The Carpenter family held funds until the others agreed to erect a six-story tower along with the new three story building with basement. The tower, still the tallest structure in town, acted as a fire and tornado watch, and the library itself as a shelter.
Major renovations were made in the 1950s, completed in 1956. The library expanded to twice the size as well as updated with modern plumbing, electrical, elevator, and air conditioning. Various improvements have been made since but the structure itself has remained the same.
First floor
Walking in the library, you see on your left the circulation station cut into the wall separating staff workspace and the public space. The circulation and technical services workroom, staff bathroom, and loading dock are beyond. This left side of the building, still called the new part by some, is the addition made above and below.
To the right, tables and chairs are laid out in the magazine area. The rounded wall and stained glass windows are the base of the tower with the wall now open space. The children's and teen department fills the rest of the first floor with ample shelving.
An elevator, stairs, and public restroom are in the center far wall. Please use the public gender-neutral restroom before we continue as it is the only restroom in the building open to the public.
Basement
Let's go down the steps to the basement. The most updated public area in the building, the basement houses the computer lab of twenty public workstations and a printer. We chose the basement for the lab because the heat in the summer months can be too much in the rest of the building.
The three other double doors house our tech department, storage, and the plumbing and air conditioning units of the building.
Second Floor
A quick elevator ride to the second floor puts us walking a small path to the Fiction section. Through the double doors on the left side of the building are a meeting room with kitchen where classes and large summer reading programs are held. The center of the second floor is open to view the first floor with two paths leading to the nonfiction section, reference desk, and small table area.
Attic
The stairs by the reference desk lead down to the first floor and up to an attic area. This space is closed to the public and mostly acts as storage due to heat. The attic space was not expanded with the rest of the building during the renovation and no ventilation was added although it does have electricity (when it works).
Tower
The Carpenter Tower stands at six stories. Access is gained through the attic, and a spiral staircase leads to two landings and a viewing platform at the top. Like the attic, the tower is closed to the public due to heat and lack of ventilation. Temperatures at the higher levels can reach up to 120 degrees (48 degrees Celsius) in the summer months. However, scientists and others still use the viewing platform for weather instruments, other experimentation, and observation.
And that's our building! Please come down and visit and feel free to ask any questions to our staff.
When I find myself somewhere I probably should not be, I ask myself what my great-grandfather would do. MK Harker, from the records I shared last time, was a decisive and talented individual. He was also mentally disturbed from his time in the war and hated fire and everything to do with it, including firemen. I do not often refer to him when it comes time to do the annual fire inspection of the library. However, the man did innovate.
As I stood outside the trailer park looking at the rows of disposable homes kitted out with flower gardens and fake lawn animals, I thought that MK would probably just go up and ask for the car repair manuals to get the bookmobile fixed. The ex-girlfriend of Children’s cousin Carol did not need them, and he could fix the car. Candi would understand. I told the children's librarian so.
She shook her head, the red wires she called hair bouncing around in the summer heat. "We waited for a few days, sir. Candi might destroy them. She's a liar and a one of the worse people I've ever met."
"What did your cousin see in her?" I said.
Childrens said, "He saw himself in her." Her face turned bright red. "I shouldn't have said that."
"Maybe I should do the talking?"
"Good idea. You distract her while I sneak around the back. Just don't be lured in by her ways."
"What ways are those?" I asked, but she was already gone around the back of the second trailer on the right, tying her hair back in a ponytail.
I sighed and made my way to the trailer. Up close it was a little run down with some rust spots here and there. A little company of lawn gnomes sat out front, each holding a different firearm. The one with the shotgun was shirtless and squinting as if to say "you might be bigger, but I'm meaner." At the foot of the door was a welcome mat turned around, which I liked. Every time you stepped out the world welcomed you. I knocked.
A voice came from inside, high and shrill, "Who is it?"
"ST Harker, ma'am. From the library."
"What?"
I repeated myself wondering what the hell I was going to say next.
The door opened with a creak and a blast of cold bought air from a ticking window unit washed over me. The woman standing there was at least six foot and wearing a bikini top and cut off shorts. Standard Southern summer lounge wear. "Library?" she said, her voice pleasant at a normal volume. The room beyond her was dark.
"Yes, ma'am. Just stopping by to, um, well…"
"Go on."
From inside the trailer, I could hear a scraping and saw a shaft of light fall across the floor as curtains somewhere inside began to part. If Candi turned around, things might get a little strange for us.
I said, "Well, the library had a notice for some overdue books at this address. I was wondering if maybe you had them?"
"Oh, well, I don't think I have any books from the library," she said.
"Are you Candi?"
"I am. How long ago were they checked out?"
"A few years."
Candi frowned. "I mean, maybe. I did like to read a while, but I've only been here for a minute."
Around the back of the trailer came a crashing sound. I wondered what the hell Childrens was up to.
Candi turned and brought back the shrill with, "Quiet, you damn dog." Back to me. "Come on in, let's look around."
"I uh… I have a fear of dogs. Let's look out in your car."
"In my car?"
"Yeah. Most folks, the books slide under the seat, and they just don't remember."
Candi nodded and stepped toward me. I had no idea what made her believe me other than some divine authority over books.
"What's the book?" she said, fishing her keys from her pocket.
"I'm not sure. I forgot the paper back at the library, but there should be a stamp on the title page with our name and a call number on the spine."
"Okay," Candi said. She pushed past me, her hand touching my butt. "Let's look in the back seat first."
This had taken a turn, but there was not much I could do. She pushed the button on her fob, and a red Honda Civic chirped back at us. She opened the back door and said, "You first."
"I'll check the other side," I said and tried not to be too awkward as I circled the car.
After about five minutes of leaning over in the back seat, it was clear nothing was under the seats but old french fries and a sticky puddle I did not want to investigate. I looked up to see Childrens peeking out from the side of the trailer. She smiled and waved two large books at me.
"Well, I don't think it's here," I said. "Maybe if you do find it, bring it to the library. It's no worry and I'll take the fine-"
Candi grabbed me by the front of the shirt and pulled me in for a kiss. A damn good kiss. A damn good kiss that wiped my mind of whatever I had been doing.
"Never had a librarian in my back seat before," Candi said.
"I uh um well…" I said.
Candi leaned in again, but I pulled back. Over her shoulder I could see Childrens standing with the books in one hand and dog's leash in the other, both on her hips. Her head shook slowly. I noticed she had a cut on her forehead that was bleeding down to her eye. That shook me out of whatever was happening.
"I'm sorry. I have to go," I said.
Candi stuck out her bottom lip and tried to pull me close again. "No, you don't."
"Sorry," I said and exited the vehicle.
"Well, you know where to find me," she said grinning.
"If you find the book, thanks," I said looking back where Childrens had been. She had gone around the trailer. I made it to the car and sat in the air conditioning, waiting for my partner in crime.
When she got in, she introduced me to Tom the dog while throwing the car repair books in the back seat. "You have lipstick on," she said giggling.
Libraries are the town center. The help desk, the knowledge base, the relaxing temperature controlled space in town that everyone can use. They are the park except the trees have been converted into shelving and ephemeral lessons. But not everyone can get to them, so sometimes the library has to go to them.
"I need a bookmobile," the children's librarian said.
The circulation librarian said, "You haven't even done a story time yet."
"It starts in a few minutes. But I can go to my cousin and get it fixed quick."
The circulation librarian pushed up her thick glasses and said, "Better take the director."
So that is how I found myself pulling up to a lone house out on a dirt road with a sign that said, "Carol's Repair."
"This is a mechanic?" I said.
"Carol does overall repair. Man can fix just about anything," Childrens said. She had her bright red hair tied back under a bandanna. It was a hot day and getting hotter.
"You ever seen Cujo?"
"Hush. It ain't like that."
"No, the dog's a… what is that?"
Childrens was out the car and squealing at a large greyish brown animal lumbering toward her. "Hey, Brady," she said as the dog leaned on her leg to get a few pats.
"That Sara?" a man's voice said. He had a deep drawl that somehow develops fifteen minutes outside of town. The kind of voice that still says "Chi-car-go" when talking football.
"Hey Carol. Been a minute," Childrens said, giving the little man a hug.
He was fifty at least, small and wiry with a faded tattoo on one muscled arm. Might have been a mermaid or an anchor at one time. He said, "Who you brung you?"
I shook the man's iron grip and said my name. He nodded, looked down at my Converse, and hooked an eyebrow at Childrens.
She said, "This is my boss at the library."
"You got the job," Carol said, his face splitting into a grin that matched Childrens. "I saw you post on the Facebook."
"I did. And we got a little bit of a problem."
"Uh oh," Carol said.
I handed over the bookmobile's owner's manual. He thumbed through it while I explained. "Had a guy look at it a while back. He said the alternator's busted. That the wiring rotted, been eaten by mice, or both. I'm afraid, though, we don't really have it in the budget to fix it."
"Mister, you gave this girl her dream. Ever since we was little, she had all these books and put them in order and read to the little ones. If I could help, I'd do it and you'd only pay for parts. Free labor."
"If?" Childrens said.
Carol said, "It's Candi." He spit.
"What's she got to do with it?"
"She took ole Tom and the manuals. I can still do most stuff, but for wiring like this I'll need the full schematics from the manual, and she took them."
Childrens chewed on her lip. "We can get them back."
"Who's Candi?" I said.
Carol spit again. From the look on his face, this would not be easy. From the look on Childrens face, she would do it with or without me.
"Paige, we wanted to talk to you about some of the displays you have been creating," Jaime said.
I said, "There have been some complaints."
"Was there any display in particular that was worse than the others?" Paige asked.
The sound came from the nonfiction stacks. A lovely sound, low and feminine. The kind of sound that starts in the chest and rises not to escape the throat, but to leave it wanting.
It had been a long day. The reference librarian had been yelled at over masks, over food, and over noise. He was over confronting patrons.
One morning the reference librarian found a body by the book drop. Older gentleman slumped over like he got real tired after a marathon and just crumpled. Sometimes running a long life can do that.
The paramedics took him away on a stretcher. The children's librarian thought she would get to see one of those black bags, but they just loaded him up and slipped a white sheet over his pale form. Later we found out it was a heart attack.
The library shelving robot was drunk. Or whatever you would call a robot swerving around the library throwing books at patrons.
"I don't understand. Where did the money come from?" the children's librarian said.
The reference librarian leaned back and nodded to the circulation librarian out working the curbside table. "Her."
"She's barely been here two weeks. Has she even met with the director?"
"Well, not her exactly. Seems our previous circulation staff budget was embellished by the tenure of our old coworker."
"She costs less so we get a new page."
"Bingo," the reference librarian said.
The children's librarian pushed back a lock of golden hair from her forehead. "Has anyone told Freddy?"
Before the reference librarian could respond, the circulation librarian called out to them. They rose and went outside.
"I'm so glad to meet you both," a woman said from across the curbside table. Older with a yellow baseball cap and a matching mask. "My daddy loved you both so much. Talked about you all the time. He passed away yesterday in his sleep."
The librarians introduced themselves. The children's librarian took the lead, saying, "I'm so sorry, but who was your father?"
"You must think me silly. Sheila Anchor. My daddy was Ansel Anchor."
"I'm sorry to hear about your loss," the children's librarian said. "Seems so sudden. He was just here this weekend."
"That art class made his toes curl. He talked about framing that picture he drew. We couldn't find it, though. Is it still here?" Sheila said.
The reference librarian said, "It could be in the meeting room. The art teacher left her supplies and things."
A severe looking man with gray hairs and no mask on his face said, "Excuse me. Don't mean to break up the memorial service, but I need some damn books."
The circulation librarian waved to him. They began talking at the other end of the table.
The children's librarian said, "We can go check."
The reference librarian hesitated, but she took his arm. They went inside. As they crossed to the meeting room, he said, "Shouldn't someone stay out there with Julie?"
"You wanna see what they painted in there?"
"Fair enough."
"Seems odd him dying like that."
"Old man dies in his sleep. Not that odd. Pleasant, really," the reference librarian said unlocking the meeting room door.
She said, "How will we know which is his?"
"Check for the signature 'Old Cranky Bastard' down at the bottom."
Except the meeting room was empty. No art supplies. No canvases. No paints. No easels. Nothing in the small kitchen either.
The reference librarian said, "Maybe she took it out the fire door?"
"Without a key? We would have heard the alarm," the children's librarian said.
Back at the table, they explained the art teacher must have the paintings and again offered their condolences. Sheila Anchor left, thanking them for treating her father so well during his last days. They promised to talk to the art teacher and put them in touch.
At the other end of the table, the maskless man said, "I don't have to. I been vaccinated so just give me my damn books."
"I still need your card number, sir. Or your name," the circulation librarian said.
The man stuck his finger in the librarian's face. "I'm gonna get you." His finger drifted to each of them. "All of you. I been vaccinated."
Then he left. The librarians were speechless.
The reference librarian let the art teacher into the library at ten on saturday. Old Man Anchor was dead twenty-four hours later.
"My Christopher, you look good enough to eat," the art teacher told the reference librarian.
The reference librarian said, "Well, thank you. I might give you indigestion, though."
The children's librarian felt her blood run cold. She said, "I thought your class started at noon?"
They stood by the table for curbside pickup. A light morning rain pitter pattered down. Breaks in the clouds showed signs of sunshine coming later in the day.
The art teacher flashed her teeth. "I thought I would prepare. Some of my students are known to come early."
The reference librarian let her into the library. The children's librarian watched them walk into the dark building. Her arm was linked to his, and they laughed like old friends.
Around eleven, a couple came to the curbside table. The children's librarian greeted them and thanked them for wearing the black masks over their noses and mouths. They had the same dark hair and color-catching gray eyes of the art teacher. The man had on a brown hoodie that gave his eyes tan flecks while the woman's blue wrap over a white dress lit her face up. They walked past her. The reference librarian led them to the meeting room.
At eleven forty-five, Old Man Anchor came to the library. The sun had come out, just a few dark clouds in the sky dropping heavy rain drops. He said, "Damn old devil is beating his wife today."
"Excuse me?" the children's librarian said.
"The devil beating his wife."
"I guess I don't know the devil was married."
The old man grimaced. "I'm here for the art class."
"Us, too," said a young woman. Two of them, each holding big sketch pads under their arms with sorority ribbons in their hair.
"Well, then I guess we should let you in," the children's librarian said with an uneasy smile.
The reference librarian went to lead them back, but the children's librarian waved him off. When they got to the meeting room, the door was locked. Before she could get her key, the door opened.
"Well, Mr. Anchor. Look at you. Little rain on you, I see," the art teacher said from the dark meeting room. She stepped into the light. She wore a dark red robe that draped around her shoulders.
"Miss Karryn," the old man said, wiping at the water on his shoulders. "Devil's beating his wife out there."
The art teacher took him by the arm. "My daddy used to say that about sunshowers. 'Karryn, baby, when a day is so pretty the devil just has to take it out on someone and make it rain.'"
Old Man Anchor smiled and let himself be led into the meeting room. The college girls followed. The children's librarian started to follow, but the art teacher came back and blocked her way.
"Sorry, but I'm always a bit shy when I model for students. Do you mind if we have privacy?" the art teacher said. She pulled her robe up on her shoulder.
"Model?" the children's librarian said.
"The human form. Once you understand that, you can make art from just about anything."
"Nude modeling?"
"Well, modest."
"Nude modeling in the library?"
The art teacher gave a smile. Then she closed the door.
The children's librarian told the door, "Please don't lock the door. Fire codes."
Back at curbside, the children's librarian told the reference librarian, "She's doing nude modeling back there. Told her not to lock the door."
"Because of the fire codes," the reference librarian said.
"Yeah."
"The director did approve the program."
"He did," the children's librarian said.
After lunch until about two, with the sun out and the puddles evaporating in lazy mist, people came to get their holds. Young and old, singles and families. The librarians were busy. So busy they did not hear the sudden screams die down to moans in the meeting room.
Around three, the clouds came back. The two college girls and the old man left first. They walked slow and silent from the building, pale and dazed. The couple came next, smiling and hugging one another. They waved and told the reference librarian they would love to have him at the next meeting.
The art teacher left last. She nodded to the children's librarian and whispered something to the reference librarian.
"What did she say?" the children's librarian said.
"The reference librarian said, "That she looked forward to next month. Thanks for letting her use the library."
The children's librarian believed he was lying.
The reference librarian made coffee. He sat alone in the conference room and smelled the coffee. He wondered if it was strong enough. He wondered if he should have poisoned it.
The circulation librarian came into the conference room. She sat beside him in one of the large comfy chairs. The board of directors, when they were still meeting here, had requested the best. She said, "So what's he like?"
"Who?" the reference librarian said.
"The second branch librarian."
The reference librarian looked around. Seeing no one, he said, "Creepy bastard. I mean, we all got our things, but he's been out there too long. Gotten into some things in the county that should not-"
"Hello," said the children's librarian as she breezed into the room and sat across from them. "We talking about Mr. Creepy from the land out yonder?"
"Lower your voice," the reference librarian said.
The children's librarian stuck out her tongue. "He's strange, but he's still a librarian."
"That alone should scare you," the reference librarian said.
"Is the director coming?" the circulation librarian said.
The technical services librarian said from the door, "He is in his office on a call. He said we should handle it." She limped around the table and took a seat next to the children's librarian.
"Would you like some coffee, Miriam?"the reference librarian said.
"Did you poison it?" said the tech serv librarian with a small smile.
The circulation librarian said, "I can't tell if y'all are joking anymore."
"Ask your predecessor," said the tech serv librarian.
Before the circulation librarian could ask what that meant, a small tapping came from the door. They turned and found the second branch librarian standing in the doorway. Small, wrapped in dark cloth and the smell of sage, the second branch librarian smiled.
"It has been too long since we have met," he said, his voice high and full of teeth.
"Coffee, Jacob?" said the reference librarian.
The second branch librarian took the seat at the far end of the table. He folded in on himself becoming a lump of coal and eyes looking out at them. When he spoke, his teeth shinded. "No, thank you, Christopher."
"Well, I am, dammit." The reference librarian rose and poured a cup.
The second branch librarian spoke: "I have little time. I am aware some of my patrons from the county vandalized the city book drop. This is unacceptable, and I wish to make amends and offer my apologies. I propose an outreach project of sorts to mend fences."
"What kind of project?" the circulation librarian asked.
"An art class from the local co-op needs a space. Free instruction to the public. After hours, so it can be contained. They will pay more than enough to use the space to fix the book drop."
"We can't let people in to use the library," the children's librarian said.
"We can if we invite them to use the space. If we use responsible practices, six feet, masks, etc. If you want the money for your book drop, this is the only way."
"We could take money from the second branch budget," the reference librarian said.
The second branch librarian flashed his teeth. "I have already spoken to the director and the art class. They find this acceptable. Once a month, the weekend after the full moon."
"That's this weekend," said the children's librarian.
The circulation librarian leaned forward. "Did the Nguyen family go to this art class?"
"The sweet Nguyen family has enjoyed many of the second branch's programs," the second branch librarian said.
"What do you think, Mirim?" the reference librarian said.
The tech services librarian said, "None of my business. I don't do programming."
The reference librarian turned to the children's librarian. "Jamie?"
"We need a book drop. I say we do it," the children's librarian said.
The second branch librarian rose. "The art class and their teacher will be in contact."
"We didn't decide," the reference librarian said.
The second branch librarian rose and walked to the door. "It was decided before I even came. As I said, I talked to the director. Good day to you all. We should meet again soon." He left with a small tapping.
The reference librarian told the children's librarian, "Okay, here's what we do: You go first, get the door open wide. I'll push this bin out fast as I can behind you, so get out the way. I'm gonna hit the curb hard and might bounce a bit. Don't let that worry you."
"You don't want to use the ramp?" The children's librarian said.
The reference librarian shook his head. "If I make the turn, go down a few feet, then have to turn again? Seconds lost. People could be out there waiting to get in. Asking when we open, when they can donate old shit nobody cares about. No masks. The bastards."
"Should I come behind you with a cart? Catch anything that falls?"
"And have two of us out there at the same time? Are you mad?"
"I didn't used to think so."
"Jamie, we must do this fast. Changing the book drop bin is nothing to laugh at."
"I'm not laughing. Every day seems the same. Same patrons, same curbside, same you and same me. Nothing ever changes. Even online programs. I don't know whether the wheels on the bus are going round and round or coming or going," the children's librarian said. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
The reference librarian wanted to comfort her, but in the times of plague there is no touch. Words mean little. Action, though. He knew action. "Hey," he said. "Let's get these bins swapped out. How about it?"
The children's librarian's eyes crinkled and her head nodded. A smile somewhere under that Miss Frizzle mask came through. Focus and duty, the reference librarian thought, can bring us through.
They got into places. The children's librarian stood by the door, her hand on the bar ready to push. The reference librarian stood with hands on a yellow bin. He gave it an experimental shove and enjoyed the way the wheels glided. Well oiled wheels.
"Go," he said.
The children's librarian shoved open the door with a heavy metal clang and ran around it. Halfway, though, with a hand on the door, she stopped. A green light shone around her. In the door frame against the overcast sky, she became a shadow in the sick flickering glow of whatever she was gazing at outside in the parking lot.
The reference librarian stopped himself from pushing the bin into her. "What's wrong?" he said.
"Oh, Chris," she said.
He got the bin out of the way and stood beside her in the doorway. The book drop was ablaze in dark green fire. Black in the center where the bright white should be and flickering forest colored light to a smokeless sky.
Beyond the book drop, out in the parking lot, came the mirthless laughter of children. "The Nguyen family," the children's librarian said.
"Who?" the reference librarian said.
"They went to the second branch and came back."
"I'll make a call," the reference librarian said.
"And another thing, if you think you can tell me what I can and cannot check out, then you can go right to hell in a hand basket that says 'I'm the worst person who ever did things' on a ribbon tied around it," the patron in the yellow hat told the circulation librarian.
The circulation librarian stared ahead. She was new at her job. The reference librarian and the children's librarian watched her from a window. She continued to stare ahead, swaying side to side, her eyes looking past the curbside table.
The patron in the yellow hat said, "Did you hear me?"
The swaying stopped. The circulation librarian said, "Oh my, I'm sorry. I seem to have drifted away just now."
The patron in the yellow hat took her turn to stare. She said, "What?"
The librarian waved a hand. "Oh, the way you talked. Just lulled me off. I was thinking about this little dog my mother had who would yip and snap and snarl at nothing at all. Poor little thing. Got run over by a bus."
"I need to check out the encyclopedia," the patron in the yellow hat said.
"Oh, we threw that old thing away," the circulation librarian said.
"Why would you do that?"
"Because they don't publish it anymore. But you can go online."
"My taxes fund this library, and I need the encyclopedia."
"Would you like a refund?" the circulation librarian said.
The patron in the yellow hat paused. "Yes?"
"One moment."
The circulation librarian turned and walked inside the library. The reference librarian and the children's librarian stood near the window, stunned. She asked them, "Sorry, still new in town. Which way is the tax assessor's office?"
"Next to City Hall on Main Street," the reference librarian said.
"And the highway from there?"
"Down Main, turn on Second and keep going until the intersection."
"Thank you, Chris," the circulation librarian said and turned back to the patron outside.
"Welcome, Julie," said the reference librarian.
"Well, are you gonna get me my refund?" the patron said.
"First, you can go to the tax assessor's office and file your grievance with them. They are next to City Hall on Main Street," the circulation librarian said.
"I know where they are. I pay my boat-"
The circulation librarian talked over her, "And when they have laughed you out on your ass, keep going down Main Street, turn on Second Avenue, and follow it to the highway. Once on the highway, follow it straight to hell. I'm sure the devil is missing his dumbest flunky right about now."
The patron was stunned. The circulation librarian smiled, turned, and went inside. The reference and the children's librarian high-fived.
Now that the world is in the full grip of winter, you must choose a demonic or otherworldly overlord for which to serve. Do you want fire to warm your home or animal servants to bring you food? What are you willing to give up, blood for blood or do you have a spare virgin lying around? The staff of the library is here to help you make these easy decisions.
Karryn the Vampire Queen - Brenda from Circulation
Overview
Karryn's pretty cool overall. She's immortal, loves to laugh, and makes the best bloody mary's. If you need someone to call up and hang with, there's no beating this dark overlord. Plus, she's a voracious reader. If you let her in, she will satisfy all your needs on those lonely nights.
Cost
Couple pints of blood once or twice a week
Pros
Good drinks and good times
Cons
Little woozy after hangs, and she mmay tell the same stories over and over
The Tome of Ancient Sorrows - Chris from Reference
Overview
The only reference book you will ever need. It's big and heavy, easily capable of bringing a grown man to his knees with one overhead blow, yet light enough that it can be carried around by any library staff. Just one look in these pages will show you secrets that will melt your brain.
Cost
A melted brain.
Pros
Unlimited knowledge and awesome potential for destruction
Cons
Reading too often can lead to cackling insanity and ooze in ears
Sheila the Book Cart - Freddy the Page
Overview
Built in Detroit in 1956, this book cart has survived to today on wheels of evil and shelves of determination. Giving your soul over to this cart means never having to say "I can't carry that." Sheila will bring light unto your heart and death unto your enemies.
Cost
One Soul
Pros
Great carry capacity, space age design
Cons
May lose passion for all things
Marquis the Butterfly King - Jamie from Children's
Overview
Once a small butterfly, Marquis slaughtered fields of enemies and stomped six bloody boot prints onto the souls of the dead. With his coal and fire inlaid wings he carries the souls of the undying to their places of torment. Hear his forlorn wail and tremble.
Cost
One gumdrop
Pros
Never fear when you know true death
Cons
May destroy you
Without people in the library, the staff have gotten much freer expressing ourselves. They sing more. Play more music. Argue on the floor about dumb topics.
And some curse like sailors.
"Ahhh, fucking ducks on the ocean," the circulation librarian screamed. A crash followed. Books raining from the second floor and onto the floor and the heavy metal of a cart tumbling down the stairs.
The page on duty, a young boy not even 18, said, "You did that on purpose."
A circulation library saw him standing in the stacks, looking at her. She looked down at the cart and the books. She turned back to him. saying, "No I didn't."
"That was my favorite cart," he said.
"Well, it's dead," she said.
"You pushed it."
"That's what you do with carts, Freddy. You push them."
"Not like that." He walked around her and down the steps. "Not down steps."
"Be careful, Freddy. You can be pushed, too," she said, too quiet for him to hear.
The page pushed away the books with one hand while keeping the other on the cart. Carefully he lifted it and double checked the welds. Then the wheel fell off. One of the three shelves tilted. The page began to cry soft tears.
The reference librarian materialized beside the circulation library and looked over the balcony. He said, "Why did you do that?"
"Remember last week when I wanted a new cart?" the circulation librarian said.
"I do."
"Now I might get one."
"You're kinda fucked up. Might want to go home."
The circulation librarian smiled. "Have to put in an order first for my new cart."
"Just one question first," the reference librarian said.
"Shoot."
"Why do that to the boy?"
The circulation librarian smiled. "Remember last week when I wanted to hire a new page?"
She walked one way and the reference librarian walked the other. Down on the floor, the page held the cart to his chest and rocked it back and forth. He sang a low tune, cursing the circulation librarian in his mind. He began a plot, an idea. Rage boiled and spilled over.
Then the children's librarian came to the page's side with another cart. She pulled the cart from his hands. She helped him gather the books. She gave him an ounce of humanity.
The children's librarian said, "Not today, Freddy. Today we handle this. Then we plot to destroy her with her own fucking hands. We'll make her eat this cart. Until then, I'll get my welding equipment. I'll make her live again in some way."
The page nodded. Then he smiled a smile touched with madness and wild fury.
The box buzzed and the gate opened slow and steady. Kiera drove the library van forward. The familiar drive rocks crunched under the tires. In her mind she knew she could turn around at any time. She was not the little girl that had first come to the King House twenty years before, but Kiera always came back.
The compound stood empty once again. Kiera parked the van by the Big House and got out. Around the back of the van she picked out the supplies she needed. Glitter, glue, burlap squares, and twine. Sticks gathered from the grounds of the branch library. Dirt from the library graveyard. Everything needed for her craft project.
The door opened slow. Ms. Davis's eye showed in the crack. "Kiera," the elderly woman said. Long ago a much younger Ms. Davis had also said her name. Ms. Davis did not smile then either.
"Ms. Davis. I'm here for the craft time."
"Are you alone?"
"You should have let me see the children."
The door opened wide. "You know how they are with strangers."
"He was my boss."
"Still. Strangers upset the little ones." Ms. Davis slumped now. Once a towering figure, her back arched and bent. A small cane held her up, gripped by one veiny hand. The black dress fell straight, giving away no curves or semblance of the body underneath. Ms. Davis had bent but not broken. Not yet.
"Set up on the tables. I will send them out," Ms. Davis said and stepped back. The door closed with a thump.
The day had a gentle wind that blew the tall trees into a gentle sway. The picnic tables, three of them, sat in the sun. Kiera set supplies out for eighteen children. Six to a table. She expected less. Kiera kept busy, hearing the doors of the small buildings around the Big House open and close. Behind her, small feet shuffled through dead leaves.
"Miss Kiera?"
Kiera finished placing the last of the supplies and faced the children. Six of them all dressed in the King House uniform of white t-shirts and denim plants. They were set apart by their jackets, complexions, and hair. The girl who had spoken stood front and center. Her wild and curly hair blew in the wind, hiding and accenting her face and big brown eyes.
"Hi, Maisey. Want to make something fun?" Kiera said.
The children surged forward. They wrapped around her. Keira said hello to each of them, touching the tops of their heads and laughing as they swarmed around her. She asked them questions. How was the cold? Is the food better? What's your favorite book now? All the questions children talk about with friends. Kiera took each child in turn, all of them gathered around one table. No new children at least, but at least one missing.
"What's all this?" Maisy said.
"I thought we could make something special. Where's Patrick?" Kiera said.
Maisy shrugged. "He went away."
Kiera let that go. Kids came and went here in all sorts of ways. She would stop that. She explained to the children what they would be making. She held up an example, but said theirs did not have to look exactly like that as long as it stuck to the basic shapes. For the next hour Kiera taught the children how to tie the sticks with the twine. How to bind the graveyard dirt with a little hair or spit and wrap it up in burlap.She went over how to hoop and lash the twine into shapes to hold the whole thing together. Little fingers worked, and Kiera encouraged them. They smiled a few times.
Far later, looking back at this hour, she remembered the ones who smiled.
At the end of the hour a sharp bell rang out. All the backs at the table went straight, even Kiera. She told them to go on. She could finish. They had done enough. Then she watched them walk back to the small buildings surrounding the Big House. Kiera resisted the urge to tell them to run, get in the van. She resisted yelling to them not to worry. It would be over soon.
The hard work was done for them. She gathered each sculpture with their small bags. Bound hoops and string and sticks. With care she packed them away and got in the library van and left King House. With luck and a lot of hope, she would only come back to face Ms. Davis once more.
To Be Continued…
Kiera had one rule: no kids. The last time she had sold pot or pills to someone under eighteen she had been seventeen. She had never been that desperate or greedy. She even made Freddy wait until he was of age, but once he was a customer she liked his business.
Then Freddy came with his secret club talk. She had been amused. Then, knowing what she knew, she got a little worried.
The children's librarian crossed the park and saw the woman pushing the stroller around the track that looped a lazy snake around the playground and the picnic areas and back again. Kiera slowed and let the woman catch up.
"Hey, Mary," Kiera said.
The woman showed teeth in a flashy grin. Rounder around the chin, another baby on the way maybe. "Kiera, I love those boots. Have I told you? Bold."
"Thank you."
"And that dress. Just a keeper."
"Kind of you. Got it at Fridays."
The mother clucked her tongue. "I can never make it there. Only open one day a week. Who can remember?"
"Some things are worth remembering," Kiera said, thinking that anyone with a calendar could make do.
"Listen. I thought I might be a little low this month."
"You thought?"
"I am."
"Then you get low." Kiera held her smile, picture perfect for walking on a brisk day.
"But I need… He just gets so agitated. With the new job. And he's missing the money."
"Tell him you bought something at Fridays."
"He'll want to see what I got."
Kiera maintained an easy pace, her boots clopping on the soft asphalt of the track. She liked that sound. "Then buy something cheap that looks expensive."
"What if he asks for a receipt?"
Mary whined more, Kiera giving non committal answers. She would listen all day and talk about story times, books for growing readers, anything for the library. For wives drugging their husbands into submission she had little patience.
Kiera said, "Then break up. I'm not a doctor and this is not a pharmacy. I don't bring lollipops for the kids."
"That's not fair," the young mother said.
"Lot of that going around," Kiera said. "Do I need to go back to work?"
"I want it."
"How much?"
"About half."
"Then you get about half."
"He gets so sad, though. He's been playing with Ginger. Not just pushing her stroller with his foot. Getting down and holding her. And he holds… Can't I just make it up next time?"
Kiera had a hand in her pocket counting out the pills in the little plastic bag. She said, "Not how it works."
Mary slowed. Kiera slowed to match. The wheels of the stoller squeaked a little. A squirrel ran in front of them and from inside the stroller came a cry and a pudgy arm reached out.
"Okay, I guess. Okay," Mary said.
Kiera began putting the pills back into the small bag. A small envelope appeared and disappeared. The small bag of pills went the other way.
"If this is short, this is the end," Kiera said.
Mary said nothing.
The two walked in silence around the track, around the picnic tables and the playground. The small arm reached out again and again. They talked some more, chit chat about the weather and the town and the summer reading program. Ginger would be old enough in a few years, but she could get her thousand books before kindergarten badge this year. Maybe her father could read to her, Kiera said. Mary teared up.
Kiera broke off where they met. She said, "See you at story time" and did not wait for a reply.
She had an idea about what to do with Freddy. If he had a secret club, she knew a few people as well. If the boy kept on, she would tell the bossman. He had changed so much since their visit to the branch library. He could make all her problems go away now.
To Be Continued…