by Amy Cross
"We have to get out of here!" I say, adrenalin pumping through my body.
Thomas grabs my arm. "Don't run! There's meat here! They're at their most vulnerable when they're feeding."
"It's killed him!" I shout.
"We can't change that!" Thomas shouts back. "Lewis would want us to get this fucker!" It's insane, but despite the fact that his friend is being attacked, Thomas seems more interested in watching what's happening and considering how to take advantage, rather than trying to help.
We watch as the Mite climbs on top of Lewis, who is still struggling to get free. Slowly, the Mite extends a kind of tube from its face, piercing Lewis in the neck, and moments later a kind of slurping sound starts. The tube is partially transparent, and I can see blood and other matter flowing up from Lewis, as if the creature is sucking him dry. After a moment, I realize that the creature is slowly getting larger, like a tick gorging itself on its victim's blood.
"Kill it!" I shout at Thomas.
"Shut up!" he replies, but he starts inching forwards, getting closer and closer to the creature. Finally, he aims the spear and stabs it straight into the creature's head. There's a high-pitched squealing sound, and the creature swipes at Thomas with one of its legs, but misses. After a moment, the creature withdraws the tube from Lewis and then slumps to the ground.
"Is it dead?" I ask, shocked.
"Yeah," Thomas says, although he stabs the creature's head a few more times just to make sure. "They're both dead."
I look down at Lewis. He's definitely dead: the hole where the tube punctured his neck is about the size of a fist, and his whole body seems to have crumpled inwards a little, as if a considerable part of his internal mass has been sucked out. Globs of blood and tissue drip from the end of the tube. The creature was basically sucking him dry.
"Can you carry him?" Thomas asks, as he pulls a large knife from a sheath around his waist and starts cutting the creature's head away from its body. "There's not a lot of usable meat on these things, but there's enough to feed the tribe for a night or two."
I look down at Lewis. Sure, I can carry him, but I'm not certain whether there's much point. I know it'd be sentimental to insist on burying the body, but I feel like Thomas should just accept that it'd be a waste of energy to drag the corpse. "Can't we just bury him here/" I ask.
"There's meat on his bones," Thomas replies as he cuts away more of the Mite's body.
"Are you serious?" I ask. "He's human!"
"There's meat on his bones!" Thomas shouts, apparently angry that I'm quibbling about the prospect of eating Lewis. "We don't have the luxury of throwing him away!" He finishes pulling pieces from the Mite. "Relax," he says. "We're not going to eat him. We've got chickens. We'll use his body parts to feed them."
"And then we'll eat the eggs?" I ask.
"And the chickens," Thomas adds, smiling. "I know it's a little bit gross, but it's the way of the world in the library. But this -" He holds up chunks of the Mite's head. "Seriously, we cook this, it actually tastes pretty good. Just pretend it's beef or something."
Looking down at Lewis again, I realize it'll be much easier to carry him if I'm in my wolf form. "Thomas," I say, a little apprehensively, "if I show you something, do you promise you'll be able to keep my secret?" I look over at him. "And you're definitely not allowed to try to eat me."
He frowns.
After a moment's hesitation, I switch to my wolf form. I see the shock in Thomas's eyes as he stares at me, and I see his hand tighten a little around the hilt of his knife. His first instinct is to attack, or perhaps to defend, but either way it's obvious that he sees me as a threat. "You're a werewolf?" he says.
I grab Lewis's hand and wait for Thomas to show me which way we're going. A little reluctantly, Thomas turns and starts walking along the aisle, carrying the chunks of Mite in his arms. We walk in silence for a couple of hours, and then Thomas stops and turns to me.
"We're almost there," he says. "For your own safety, you should be human again when they see you."
I let go of Lewis's arm before switching back to my human form. "Thanks," I say, hauling Lewis's body up over my shoulder and struggling forward. As we walk around the next corner, I stop as I see a dozen or so people in the next aisle. There are makeshift tents everywhere, and along one side there seems to be a small row of vegetables and plants. It's like a little encampment, and it wouldn't look particularly strange out in the wilderness; but here in the middle of a huge library, it's a bizarre sight, as if two entirely different worlds have collided.
"Welcome to our tribe," Thomas says.
I take a deep breath as I see some of the people look up and notice me. A few of them start wandering towards us, and they seem stunned by my presence. There's something slightly creepy about this place, but I guess I can handle it for a single night. Tomorrow morning, I'll be off to find Duncan. Tonight, I'll stay here with these people and eat. I need to rest, just for a few hours. I need to rest and recover from recent events, but I'm not willing to give up. I might be surrounded by people who have given up and accepted their life in the library, but I refuse to do the same. I'm going to find Duncan, and together we're going to find our way out of this library.
Jess
One year later...
"There's a war coming," says Marsha, sitting peeling potatoes as I tend to the spinach plants.
"You keep saying that," I tell her. It's true: Marsha spends all day, every day worrying about some war she's convinced is going to sweep through the library and kill us all.
"It's true," she says, the way she always does. "The whole library is going to be engulfed in flames. Even the shelves will burn. It'll be the end of everything. There'll be fire for centuries, and finally when it's over there'll be no more books left. All the knowledge will be gone."
I smile. It's easy to dismiss Marsha's ravings. "Let's hope you're wrong," I say.
She doesn't bother to argue. She never does. She just gets back to her work, scrubbing and peeling potatoes. For some reason, the library is a perfect place to grow potatoes. While we struggle to get other crops to grow, potatoes seem to flourish. It's almost uncanny, but I swear that lately we've been living on potatoes and our crop is getting better. Even the spinach is starting to grow more reliably.
"You know why the crops are so good?" Marsha asks suddenly.
I sigh. "No," I say, "but I bet it's got something to do with -"
"It's the war," she says, as if she knows everything and I know nothing. "The blood and remains of so many dying people have sunk into the soil, and enriched the whole library. It seems good now, but mark my words. The war's going to reach us eventually, and there's no hope for us. We'll be dead faster than you can swing a sword."
"Sound hopeless," I say, turning to see Thomas walking towards us. "How's it going?" I ask him.
"Not bad," he replies. "Two members of the tribe claim to have seen rabbits in the library. Can you believe that? If it's true, we can eat like fucking kinds." He pauses. "What about you, Jess? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I say. Thomas asks me how I'm doing at least once a day. It's cute; I guess he knows that I've still got ambitions to one day find my way out of the library, even if I've accepted - for now, at least - that my best bet is to stay here. It's been a year since I came to the library and got separated from Duncan, and when I first met Thomas I was determined to just stay with him and the tribe for one night and then move on. But I soon discovered that the library is a more dangerous place than I could ever have imagined, and now I'm content for a while to remain here while I work out a plan. Sometimes, late at night when everyone's asleep and I'm looking up at the stars, I have to admit that I'm no longer certain that Duncan will ever turn up again. I mean, if he was out there somewhere, wouldn't he have found me by now? And wouldn't I somehow sense that he's out there? After a year, I feel like maybe he's gone for good. I just hope he didn't die in some horribly painful way, and that maybe he's found his way out of the library. In s
ome ways, it might be easiest if he believes I'm dead.
"I need your help with something," Thomas says. "Can you come around the corner with me for a moment?"
I put my tools down and follow him. We reach the main aisle, and he points towards the horizon. "See that?" he asks.
I look into the distance and, to my surprise, I spot a figure walking towards us. He - or she - is so far away that it's impossible to make out any details, but merely the sight of a stranger is a momentous occasion. For a moment - just a moment - it occurs to me that it might be Duncan. It'd be just like him to come strolling back into my life after a whole year, but after a minute or two it becomes clear that the person approaching our tribe's settlement is a tall, thin man who looks nothing like Duncan.
"Stop!" Thomas shouts out to him. "What's your business here?"
The stranger stops a few meters from us. He has a shaved head, a painfully thin body, and large, round eyes. "I bring an offer of peace," he says.
"We're not at war," Thomas replies.
"You will be," the stranger says. "Our forces are moving across the library, and you must decide whether you will welcome us or be crushed beneath our boots."
"Typical," Thomas says. "No space can exist for long before one group of men decide to spread misery. What is the name of your army?"
"We are the Democratic Patriots of the Library," he informs us solemnly. "We are disciples of the great beast, and we are on a mission to spread our democratic peace throughout the entire library. Those who do not believe will be destroyed."
"So you're a cult," Thomas says. "How deeply unpleasant."
"We are no cult," the stranger replies. "We are the force of righteousness. We have been given this holy mission by our god."
"What's your god's name?" I ask, stepping forward.
The stranger immediately puts a hand over his face, as if he finds the sight of me to be distressing.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"Tell this female to stop addressing me," the stranger says. "Females are not meant to speak in such a way."
"Our females speak," Thomas says. "Our females have the same rights as our males."
"That is a heresy," the stranger says. "Be warned that when our army crosses through your part of the library, we will impose our own law as dictated by our god. Females will know their place."
Thomas turns to me, a hint of a smile on his face. "I don't think so," he says, looking back at the stranger. "We will not submit to your foolish notions. If you try to overrun our part of the library, we will defend ourselves."
"Then you will die," the stranger says, turning and walking away, heading back the way he came.
"Cheery guy," I say.
"I was afraid this would happen," Thomas says, turning to me. "We mustn't tell the others. Not yet. It might be nothing."
"Nothing?" I reply. "You heard him."
"This has happened before," Thomas continues. "Crackpot demagogues decide they want to spread their own particular brand of fascism and cruelty across the library, and they set out on some great crusade that usually falls apart within a day or two. We've had some saber-rattlers come and try to push us around before. I doubt anything'll come of it."
"And if they do turn up and try to conquer our part of the library?" I ask.
"We're a peaceful tribe," he says, "and we have just a couple of aisles. Why would they bother hurting us? They'll likely just see us and move on. We have nothing for them. It wouldn't make sense for them to attack us."
We start walking back towards the rest of the tribe. "You're forgetting something," I say, keeping my voice down in case we're overheard. "Some people just like to kill for the sake of it."
Later that night, we sit around a small campfire and roast the head of a recently-killed tick. It's strange, but in the year I've been living with the tribe, I've almost come to like tick meat. It's a little chewy, and its gray color isn't very appetizing, but it tastes okay and I always feel much stronger after a meal, as if the meat is filled with nutrients. We don't manage to capture a tick very often, though, and they seem to be becoming rarer lately. Sometimes I worry that they're smarter than we realize, and perhaps they've decided to avoid us because we're too good at killing them.
"You're comfortable here?" Thomas asks, his face lit up by the firelight that flickers in the darkness.
"I don't know," I reply. He tries to bring up the subject of my feelings quite often, and I'm never keen to talk about it.
"If this Duncan guy came back," he continues, "would you just abandon us and go with him?"
I shrug. "I came here with him," I start to say, "and -"
"But you've found a life here. With us." Thomas stares at me for a moment. "Was your life with him really so wonderful?"
I shake my head, smiling. "Hell no," I say. "It was dangerous. Duncan has a knack of attracting trouble everywhere we go. It was crazy. I guess it was exciting." I pause. "Do you think he might still be alive out there in the library somewhere?"
"Maybe," Thomas says. "Was he..." He sighs. "I shouldn't ask this, but was he... like you?"
"A werewolf?" I say. "Yeah."
"Then he might have had a decent chance," Thomas continues.
"And he had a map."
"Then he should have been able to find what he wanted and get out of here."
"He wouldn't have left me," I say.
"Maybe he had no choice," Thomas says. "Maybe he looked at the vastness of the library and realized that he had no chance to find you. Maybe he looked for a while, and then he gave up."
"Maybe," I say, feeling a little sad. The truth is, I would go with Duncan again if he showed up. I know it's crazy, but traveling around with Duncan was kind of fun. Plus, I have another reason to get out of the library: I want to go back to the wilderness, to live as a wolf and roam across huge open spaces. Here in the library, everything's closed in and constricted. We all live between the shelves. I also have to hide the fact that I'm a wolf, so I rarely get the chance to run properly. This isn't the kind of place where I want to spend the rest of my life, and while Thomas seems to be a normal human who'll die in forty or fifty years, I could live for centuries and centuries. I can't possibly spend so long just rattling around between the shelves of the library.
"Sometimes you look lost in thought," Thomas says. "I can't help wondering what you're thinking about."
"I'm thinking about the world outside the library," I say. "Don't you miss it?"
"I've never known it," he says. "It was my parents who entered this place, with the others. Their generation has pretty much died out now, and most of us were born in the library."
"So you've never seen the outside world?" I ask, shocked.
He smiles. "Is it worth seeing?"
"It's definitely worth seeing," I say. "Maybe if I find a way out of here, I'll take you with me."
He shakes his head. "I don't want to go," he replies. "I like it here. I like the bookshelves. I've heard stories of the outside world. They say there are no bookshelves, at least not the way there are here. I can't imagine that. Wide open spaces with no grids, no order. I don't think I could handle it."
"Smoke!" calls out a nearby voice.
"What?" Thomas asks, turning to look over at a group of other people who are sitting nearby.
"There's smoke nearby," one of them says, pointing at the sky. Sure enough, a thin column of wispy white smoke is rising into the darkness.
"I'll check it out," I say to Thomas, quickly getting up and hurrying along the aisle. When I'm sure that no-one can see me, I climb up onto the top of one of the bookshelves and switch into my wolf form. It feels good to be up here again, and I immediately see that the source of the smoke is a few aisles away from our position. Suddenly, in the moonlight, I see things moving high up between the shelves. I jump to a closer vantage point and see that there are people walking towards our group, carrying large banners. Getting even closer, I peer over the edge of the shelves and see that there are about fifty
of these people, all heavily armored and carrying weapons. I guess that stranger from earlier was right: an army really is coming.
I switch back to my human form and hurry back to the group. Thomas is waiting for me, looking worried.
"It's an army," I say. "They're coming straight for us."
As soon as they hear my words, other members of the group start panicking. An incessant chatter rises up as they start desperately gathering their things, but it seems hopeless. There's no way such a large group could possibly escape an army without being noticed.
"Halt!" shouts a voice from along the aisle.
We turn and see that a group of soldiers has arrived. I turn and look the other way, and I see that there are more of them at the other end of the aisle. They've quickly caught us, and there's nowhere to go but up. I could definitely climb the shelves and, in my wolf form, I could probably get away, but I can't leave Thomas and the others. They're defenseless, and even Thomas seems to have no idea what to do.
"Go!" he whispers to me. "Save yourself!"
"No way!" I reply. "I'm gonna stay, and we're all gonna get out of this."
He shakes his head.
"Who here speaks for you?" shouts a voice as one of the soldiers steps forward. With medieval-style armor all over his body, he looks like he's stepped from the pages of a history book, and he makes for quite a bizarre sight standing in the library.
"I do," Thomas says, stepping forward.
"And me!" I shout, joining him.
"We are the Democratic Patriots of the Library," the solider says, "and we are annexing your aisles as part of our empire. You can become valued citizens if you choose to adopt our way of life."
"And if we don't?" I ask.
"You will be swept aside, your bodies ground up to fertilize our new land."
"You have no right to do this!" Thomas says, his voice filled with anger.