by Amy Cross
Stopping outside a grocery store, I look around and try to spot the library. I can see all the usual buildings that I've walked past so many times, but I'm not seeing any library. I'm starting to think that maybe this is a fool's errand, or that someone from school decided they wanted to play a trick on me. It wouldn't be the first time that my scholarly inclinations have been mocked by my peers, although I'm not sure how they'd have arranged something quite so elaborate. Still, as a double-decker bus roars past me in the rain, and as I huddle here under my own umbrella, I'm becoming more and more convinced that I'm going to have to go home empty-handed.
And then I see it.
I'm sure it wasn't there a moment ago, but as the bus races away I suddenly see a a tall, thin church-like building on the other side of the road, squeezed between M&S and a bank. I'm certain I looked over there ten seconds ago and saw only M&S and the bank, but I can't deny that something else is there now. I blink a couple of times, half expecting the building to disappear, and then I hurry to the crossing and wait until the cars stop before making my way across the road. I still can't quite believe that I've suddenly found this place, but sure enough I finally stop outside the front and look up, and I see some words etched into the stone above the entrance.
“Southwall Road Library,” I read out loud. “A gateway to new worlds.”
A gateway to new worlds? Okay, that's officially a weird phrase, but I guess it kind of works. Books could be considered routes into new worlds, so – as I head over to the large wooden door – I tell myself not to overthink things too much. The door itself is shut, and I don't see any lights on inside the building, so as I reach out for the handle I'm already braced for disappointment. If I've come all the way out here in the storm, only for the library to be closed, I'm gonna be mega annoyed, mostly at myself for believing that miracles might be possible.
And then, as soon as I touch the handle, before I even press on it, the door starts to creak open, revealing darkness inside.
“Okay,” I whisper, trying not to let myself feel too spooked. “That seems totally normal.”
I push the door all the way open and look inside, and the darkness lifts a little as my eyes adjust. I see a huge, open hall, with high ceilings and large stained glass windows on either side. I step back and look at the M&S and the bank that flank the library, and I'm really not quite sure how this place can have windows on its sides at all, but I guess maybe they're fake and there's some kind of back projection. Looking inside again, I see that there are a few lights on after all, mainly a little further off where the bookshelves begin. I don't see anybody around, but at least the place seems to be open, so I step inside. Immediately, the sounds of the busy city seem to fade into the distance.
Man, this is one cold library.
To my left, there's a long reception desk, although I still don't see any members of staff. There's not even a computer, but then again this library definitely has some old school vibes going on. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the people running the place are totally anti-technology, given that they don't even have a proper website. Literally all I found online was the fact that the library would be open this evening, along with a listing for The Book of Libraries. Now I come to think of it, that's all pretty darned convenient, but I guess I really shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Hello?” I say out loud, not wanting to raise my voice too much. After all, this is a library. “Is anyone here?”
I wait, but nobody replies.
I step forward, just as thunder rolls in the sky and a flash of lightning illuminates all the windows at once. Looking up at the nearest window, I see that it contains a depiction of a large, strong-looking guy holding a sword, while several other soldiers stand behind him and some kind of tower or citadel looms above them all. The lightning flash has already faded, but at the last moment I saw some words set in the bottom of the window.
“The Soldiers of Tea,” I mutter, furrowing my brow. “Okay...”
Must be some book for kids that I've never heard of.
Making my way past the main desk, I hear my own footsteps echoing all around. I look up and see more images in the other windows, although without the benefit of a flash of lightning it's rather hard to make out the details. Still, my eyes are adjusting more and more to the gloom. One window seems to show a fight between hundreds of warriors, and another shows people in boats on a river. One even looks as if it contains a depiction of an old World War Two plane, set against a bunch of figures that appear to be in the process of stepping through a large gate. I can't imagine what all these pictures could ever have in common, but I guess they must make sense to someone.
As I reach the foot of a set of stairs, I turn and look back the way I came. The main door is shut now, but for the life of me I can't figure out whether there's anyone else here. I guess it'd be against the rules to call out too loudly in a library, so I tell myself that eventually a librarian will show up. Looking the other way, I see tall, dark shelves with minimal lighting, disappearing into the gloom at the far end of the room. Not that I can actually see the far end, of course. I guess the people here are trying to keep their electricity bill down, and I'm almost shivering in the cold, so I take my phone out and bring up the details of the book. As I do so, I half expect someone to leap out and tell me that phones are banned in here.
Suddenly I hear a creaking sound in the distance, coming from one of the aisles. I turn and look, but the sound has already ended. I guess that means that someone's off in that direction, although again I force myself to keep from saying anything. I really just need to find the copy of The Book of Libraries, take it to the desk and hope someone shows up to stamp it, and get out of here.
Fortunately, the online listing includes the book's code, which means that in theory finding it should be a doddle.
Once I've figured out how the shelves seem to be arranged here, I start making my way along one of the aisles. There really isn't much light in this place at all, and I can't help but notice how the shelves tower high above me on either side. Occasional little sets of steps have been left out, to help with access to the very top shelves, which would be totally unreachable otherwise. As I make my way across a junction, I look both ways, just in case I spot somebody else. This place is so still and quiet, I can't shake the feeling that I'm intruding. And it's so much bigger than I expected.
Finally I stop at another junction and try to get my bearings. Given that I've been walking for at least a couple of minutes now, I feel as if I should have found the right section, but it's as if I've barely made any progress at all. This place might have looked fairly modest from the outside, but right now it seems so stretch so far away into the distance. In fact, as I stand here now and look in each direction, I realize I can't see any end to this library.
I look back down at my phone, double-check the book's information, and then head off in what I think is the right way.
After another couple of minutes, I reach yet another junction. The numbers on the shelves indicate that I'm getting closer to where I need to be, although I'm starting to think that this library contains every goddamn book that's ever been written. That's impossible, of course, but it sure feels that way. Still, I'm making progress, and eventually I reach what I think must be the right section. Of course, the shelf I need turns out to be right up at the top, so I have to grab one of the little sets of steps and pull it over, before I manage to start climbing up. I feel slightly wobbly up here, but I soon reach the top shelf and start looking for The Book of Libraries.
“Come on,” I mutter under my breath, “you're here somewhere, I -”
Before I can finish, I hear a clicking sound, and I look over the top of the shelf just in time to see two tall, thin wire-like protuberances moving along one of the other aisles. The protuberances, which almost look like an insect's antennae, stop after a moment and turn slightly, and then they twitch. For a few seconds, I can't help wondering who or what is in that aisle, and whether
they've noticed me, but then the protuberances continue on their way. I watch until they disappear into the distance, and then I tell myself that it's a good thing that I've seen signs of life in this place. At least I'm not alone, and those 'things' were probably just part of something that a librarian was carrying about.
A moment later, a loud sneeze rings out, briefly disturbing the silence.
“Huh,” I say under my breath.
I get back to work, and after a moment I spot the book. With a sense of awe, I carefully slide The Book of Libraries out of its slot, and I'm overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of this old volume. I've wanted to get my hands on a copy of this elusive book for so long, and it's kinda hard to believe that the day has finally arrived.
“Wow,” I whisper, feeling the book's weight.
I honestly think this might be the best day of my life.
For a moment, I'm utterly mesmerized by the book. When I check the spine again, I see the name C. Mathis inscribed in gold. I want to open it right now, to devour every page, to absorb all its information, but I quickly remind myself that I need to get it home. I'll have plenty of time later to devour every page that this book contains. I pause for a moment, still amazed that this long-awaited day has finally arrived, and then I take a step back from the shelf.
Which is when I remember, a fraction too late, that I'm at the top of the steps.
“Gah!” I cry out as I tumble backward, slamming into the opposite shelf and then thudding down to the floor. My feet hit the steps, tipping them over with a loud clattering sound, but at the last moment I manage to reach my hands out and catch the book before it can hit the ground and get damaged.
“Saved you!” I gasp with a rush of relief.
Damn it, I can be so clumsy sometimes.
Feeling a few little pains here and there, which I'm sure will turn into bruises, I slowly and awkwardly get to my feet. I feel like such a doofus, but at least I'm not hurt and – more importantly – the book is still absolutely fine. I look around for a moment, trying to remember which way I came, and then I set off to the left. I think that's right, anyway. Or did I come from the other way? I stop and look over my shoulder, and I feel a little confused, but I guess all these aisles are starting to look the same. Finally, figuring that it's not a matter of life and death, I continue the way I'm going.
As I walk, I look down at the book in my hands, and I feel another flutter of excitement. I know it's dumb to be this excited about a book, and I'm fully aware that I'm overreacting a little, but I can feel my heart beating faster and faster. With this book, I can learn everything about the history of libraries, and I can write the best essay on the subject ever, and I can feel my future starting to open up. Who knows? Maybe this is the moment when I set the wheels of my future in motion. All I want, all I've wanted for as long as I can remember, is to get into a good school so that one day – when I'm older – I can spend my whole life working in libraries. I just want to be surrounded by books, all day and every day.
Stopping at the next junction, I realize that I don't quite recognize this part of the library. I look all around, but to be honest all the shelves look pretty similar. I try to figure out where I am based on the category numbers, but I can't help furrowing my brow as I realize that I'm sure I didn't come this way earlier.
Great.
I'm lost.
Okay, I can figure this out. The Dewey System works perfectly well as a kind of map, especially when you've got the whole thing memorized. And I, naturally, have the whole thing memorized. I take a moment to get my bearings again, and then I set off along what must be the correct aisle. In fact, I'm so confident, I start opening the book as I walk, flicking through the first few gorgeous pages. It's silly, but I'm almost scared to start getting into this book. I guess I've built it up so much in my head, since I first learned of its existence a few years ago, that I'm worried it won't live up to my expectations.
Stopping at another junction, I look around to check where I am, but somehow the Dewey numbers don't match up. I take a moment to try to work out what I'm doing wrong, and then – slowly – I start to realize that I can hear a faint muttering sound coming from somewhere nearby. I look left, then right, then over my shoulder, and finally I step over to the next aisle, and to my surprise I see a figure standing in the distance, examining some books on the shelf.
I open my mouth to call out to him, but then I remind myself that I shouldn't be too loud, not in a library. I hesitate for a moment, and then I start making my way along the aisle, hoping to ask this person if he can direct me to the exit.
Before I've taken two steps, however, the figure turns to me and then runs off, apparently startled by the sound of my approach. He races away as if he's absolutely terrified, and he's soon vanished into the dark and murky distance at the far end of the aisle.
“Okay,” I say under my breath, “whatever.”
This is London. I'm used to people being odd.
Figuring that this place is pretty weird, I turn and try once again so that I can find my way back using the Dewey system. I tell myself that everything here is totally logical, and that I just need to get my head around it all. I stop at another junction, which again feels very unfamiliar, and I try to work out which way to go. At first I struggle a little, but then I realize that I just need to go back along the last aisle, and then take a left.
There.
Easy.
I turn to go back the way I came, and then I freeze as I see that there's a figure slumped on the ground, leaning against one of the shelves. I'm sure I walked this way just a few minutes ago, and there was nobody there, but this guy has suddenly appeared out of nowhere and he looks like he's in some kind of trouble.
I hesitate, thinking that maybe I should just go and fetch help, but then I make my way cautiously over to the figure. The light in this particular aisle is so low, it's not until I'm right in front of the man that I'm able to make out his painfully thin face, and the fact that he looks to be almost wasting away. I freeze, worried that he's some kind of drug addict who's trying to doss in the library, and then slowly and with great apparent effort he turns and look up at me. I think I actually hear the dry bones creaking and scraping in his neck. He opens his mouth, but all that emerges is a faint, dusty groan.
“Are you okay?” I ask, somewhat needlessly. I mean, he's clearly not okay.
“What...”
I wait, but he seems too weak to finish the sentence.
“What's...”
“What are you trying to say?” I reply.
“What's the year?” he manages finally.
“I'm sorry?”
“Are you from outside?” he asks.
“Well, yeah, um...”
My voice trails off. Something's really not right with this guy. His eyes look to be almost bulging out of their sockets, and after a moment I notice that his chest seems to be shuddering slightly, as if some part of him is trembling. A persistent scratching sound accompanies his every breath, as if his body really is so dry and withered that all his bones are grinding against one another.
“What year is it... out there?” he whispers.
“Out where?”
“Outside... in London...”
“Well, it's...” I pause, wondering why he's asking. “I mean, obviously it's 2020.”
“Two thousand and twenty?” he replies, his voice filled with surprise. “I knew I'd been in here... for a long time, but... I didn't know it had been that long.”
“Do you want me to fetch someone?” I ask. “I'm kind of lost, but if you can tell me how to get back to the desk, I can send the librarian.”
“Lost?” He stares at me. “How long have you been here for?”
“Well, I'm not entirely sure,” I tell him, “but about... half an hour?”
“Half an...” He seems shocked by the news. “Half an hour? Then you have to get out, while you still can!”
“What do you -”
“You have to get ou
t before closing time, or you'll never make it! You'll end up like me! Please, you have to go before -”
Before he can finish, a loud, heavy-sounding bell rings out in the distance.
“That's the five minute signal!” the man gasps, reaching over and trying to push me away. “You have to run, or you'll never get out!”
“But -”
“That way,” he says, pointing past me with a long, thin finger. “Just keep going, and don't stop for anything, do you understand? Under no circumstances must you stop. Just run and keep running, and make sure you get out before they ring the final bell!”
“I'll tell them to come and check on you, okay?” I reply, trying not to panic. “I promise!”
“That way!” he gurgles, and now he's shaking more violently than ever, and now I can hear slivers of bone snapping inside his body.
I take a step back, just as I start to realize that some part of his chest is throbbing. A moment later I hear a snapping sound, as if his ribs are breaking, and then I notice that there seems to be something behind him, tucked into the bottom shelf that he's leaning against. For a moment I can only stare in horror as I start to make out a pair of dark red eyes peering out at me from the darkness of the shelf, and then I hear more cracking sounds coming from the man's chest. He lets out a pained groan, just as some kind of dark claw starts breaking out through his rib-cage, sending a cloud of dust bursting into the air. Whatever's on the shelf behind him, it's eating through his body!
I turn and run, racing along the aisle as fast as I can. I don't even dare look back, and I tell myself that there'll be time to figure this all out once I'm safe. I need to get to the desk and tell everyone to evacuate the library, because there's obviously some kind of serial killer in here.
Running so fast that I almost trip, I finally spot the library desk and the exit up ahead. After spending so long lost in this place, I'm about to get back to the main door. And then, just as I spill out from the end of the aisle, I suddenly realize that I've no longer got the book that I came for.