Chapter Three: The Blue Book
Sardis and the Battle for the Library
Welcome to the serial, Sardis and the Battle for the Library, a speculative fiction tale. New chapters will post on Saturdays at 10 am Eastern.
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September was a tolerable time in Hammondville, South Carolina, Earth. Humidity was tapering off, and the temperatures fell from the triple digits. If Sardis recalled correctly--and in this, he could be certain--stories involving the flaring of tempers also eased away. People thought more clearly when it no longer felt as if the sun was trying to murder them.
“Won’t we look different from the humans?” Drusilla asked.
The portal he had opened had dumped them out onto a quiet, residential street. They walked toward the main road.
“No,” he said. “We both will look just like normal humans. Such is the power of the Nexus.”
A red-haired woman (Adela, the Library whispered into his ear) walked out of her yellow house, pausing to make sure the door locked behind her. She called a greeting as she walked down her front path toward her vehicle. Sardis waved a hand in reply.
Drusilla smiled and waved back. “Do you know her?”
“No.”
“Oh. Are all people so friendly here?”
“It’s the Southern United States. It’s part of their culture.”
“How charming.”
They passed under the arms of a black gum tree. Drusilla stopped, her face tilting up. She caught her bottom lip with her teeth.
“What’s wrong?” Sardis asked.
She pressed her hand against the tree’s bark. “This poor dear. His roots are so confined.” She looked up and down the line of trees. “All of them...” A tear slid down her cheek.
Sardis took her hand from the trunk and slid his fingers through hers. “They will be fine.”
“But--”
“There is nothing you can do for them.”
She sniffed and wiped her cheek with her free hand. She nodded.
Adela, in her little Camry, drove by on her way to work. She glanced over at them as she passed, but Sardis was not able to make out her expression through the glass. But he supposed they did look a little odd. How many in this world cried over sidewalk trees, after all?
A lot had changed, of course, over the years since Bob had settled in the area that became Hammondville. Why he had wanted to retire to that location was still a bit of a mystery to Sardis. When he had asked Bob about, Bob only replied, “The oddities there appeal to me. I can live a quiet life, tucked away from most eyes, and study at my leisure.”
Thankfully, Sardis knew generally where Bob had established his home. With any luck, some remnants of it still existed.
They walked to the far edge of town. Sardis paused to inspect a thick line of trees on the other side of a deep ditch. He knew that any homestead Bob had established would most likely be hidden from view.
“What are you looking for?” asked Drusilla.
He squinted. There. Part of the trees wavered and shimmered. He had worried that they would have to blunder ahead, hoping to find an old path, but it seemed the old magic was still alive. “The path forward, which I have found.”
The ditch, thankfully, was dry. He climbed down into it, helped Drusilla down, then climbed up the other side. He held her hand, acting as an anchor as she clambered out. She grinned like a fool.
“Is this really that exciting?” he asked, feeling an answering smile pull at his lips.
“Oh, yes. Very much so.”
He chuckled. “Follow me. Keep walking, no matter what you see.”
“Shall I hang onto your belt?”
“That might be unnec--”
She slipped her fingers through the leather strap and held on tight. Suddenly tongue-tied, the only thing he could think to do was walk into the shimmering illusion of trees with her in tow.
A mild prickling sensation broke out over his skin, like a thousand crawling ants, and then vanished. Drusilla gasped as the same feeling no doubt fell over her.
They stood on a straight stretch of dirt. A cottage stood in the distance. Drusilla slid her fingers off his belt, which made Sardis sad for some unfathomable reason.
She looked over her shoulder. Sardis followed her gaze. The asphalt highway was still in plain view. The path continued uninterrupted over a now-visible bridge spanning the ditch.
“How extraordinary,” she breathed. “We couldn’t see that bridge out on the road, but we can see it now. Magic?”
“You could call it that. It’s the mere flexing of talent, not unlike how I work with the Library.”
“Does this mean Bob is still alive, against all odds?”
“No.” He looked back at the cottage. “But it means someone is. Let’s go see if they are home.”
Birds twittered as they approached the little green house with white trim. The roof was done in very modern-looking materials. Sardis believed they were called asphalt shingles. There was a chimney, but it being September in the South, it was not in use. A blue Jeep sat under a carport.
Sardis wondered if it was a good idea that Drusilla came along. The uncertainty of the situation twisted his stomach, and he stopped at the edge of a flagstone path that ran up to the front steps.
The person in that home might not be friendly. Drusilla was a grown woman, of course, and capable of taking care of herself. But, still…
He opened his mouth to tell her to stay back when the house’s front door popped open.
A plump woman in a red apron decorated with yellow hibiscus flowers stepped out onto the front porch. She scowled at them.
Sardis hesitated a beat before forcing what he hoped was a pleasant expression. “Good morning, madam.”
“Who are you?” the woman demanded. “And how’dja get in my yard?”
“Ah.”
Drusilla said, “Has a man named Bob ever lived here?”
“Bob?” The woman put her hand on her hips. Her face softened. “Bob’s passed away. Long time ago now.”
“Did you know him?”
“I’d hope so. I’m his wife.”
The woman did not look like she was a century old, much less several. Had Bob lived much longer than Sardis anticipated?
Drusilla tugged on his sleeve. Blinking, Sardis said, “I used to work with your husband. I’m Sardis. May we come in?”
A beautiful smile lit the woman’s face. “You’re Sardis? Oh, sugar, why didn’ ya say so? Come on in.”
Turning around, she disappeared back into the house, the screen door slapping closed behind her. The front door itself stood open still.
Drusilla walked ahead, then stopped when she realized Sardis remained rooted. She asked, “What’s wrong?”
“This shouldn’t be here,” Sardis said. “He-he left so long ago, many centuries ago. Any house built here would have surely given into the elements. And how is his wife still alive? This doesn’t make sense.”
“Do you think she could be lying?”
“But why? Perhaps we should leave.”
She returned to his side and slid her hand through his. “We came here for answers. That requires courage. I know you have that courage within you. And I’m right here, every step of the way. If there are any other bad signs, we will leave.”
Sardis took a deep breath. He jerked his head in a nod. Hand-in-hand, they walked down the flagstone path, up the stairs, and through the door.
A book lover lived in that house. Bookshelves rose floor to ceiling. Reading lamps stood next to comfortable chairs. A large rug lay in front of the fireplace. Through an archway was a dining room, with another archway connecting to the kitchen and two other doors Sardis assumed led to bedrooms.
The woman came out of the kitchen with two glasses of a dark liquid and set them on the dining room table.
“Come on and make yourself comfortable,” she said. She took a seat at the head of the table.
Sardis and Drusilla left their bags by the front door and joined her. Sardis tried his cold glass. It was tea, and very sweet. He tried not to make a face as he set it back down.
“This is delicious,” Drusilla said. “What is it?”
“Sweet tea,” the woman replied. “Glad ya like it. My name’s Carol. And you’re Sardis. But what’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Drusilla.”
“Nice to meet ya. What brings you to Hammondville?”
“How long ago did Bob die?” blurted Sardis.
“Oh.” Carol rocked back in her chair slightly. “Well, Hammondville was barely a town at the time. Sampson’s Feed and Seed was the only store and he sold a little o’ everything. It was 1881, if I’m not mistaken. My memory isn’t all that great but I’ll never forget that day. He was reading one of his favorite books in that chair by the window.” She nodded at a blue wingback chair in the living room. A dark grey blanket was draped over the back. “Then, he closed his eyes. I thought he was nappin’ ‘til I tried to wake him for supper. It was a good thing he’d read that book before. I would have hated for him to die before he knew how it ended.”
Silence stretched as Sardis tried to make sense of this news. Out of habit, he reached for the Library. A resounding nothing came in reply.
Drusilla asked, “And how long had he lived here before he passed away?”
“We built this house here when there was only a plantation or two, the poor souls who worked them, and a bunch of sharecroppers. We came from Baxton. Bob said this was where he really wanted to land for his retirement, to study the strangeness of the place. Seems meeting me put a kink in the works.” She chuckled. “So, that was in the 1840s. But we’d been married a good fifty years before that.” She smiled. “I met him in Charleston, down by the seawall where I was takin’ a walk. It was nice to meet someone else that could hide from people like I could.”
“Hide?”
Sardis said, “You’re a Shadow, then? You can hide yourself and whatever you want. Some people call such beings Shadows.”
“I prefer,” Carol said, “bein’ called a Sweet Memory. That’s another name for my kind. We’re observers, you see, and we help out where we can. But I’ve been retired from that business for a long time now.”
“When you met Bob, did he talk about the Library? Did he say how long ago he had retired from it?”
The smile faded from Carol’s face, replaced by confusion. “Sugar, he had just left the Library when I met him. How come you’re askin’--” Understanding filled her face. “Oh. I see. Bob--he warned me that you might come calling with questions. I didn’t really understand what he meant, but I’m gettin’ an idea now. You just hang on. I’ll be right back.”
She left the table and began looking through the bookshelves in the living room.
Drusilla whispered, “Are you all right?”
“I thought it was ten centuries ago,” he replied. “I was so certain that was how much time had passed outside the Nexus.” His fingers twitched on the table’s glossy surface. “I don’t understand how I got it so wrong.”
She rubbed his arm. “Well, it looks like we’re about to get answers. Don’t worry.”
Sardis felt as if he lived in a snow globe and someone had given it a hard shake. But, instead of fake snow flying up, everything he thought he knew was falling apart and reordering into an unfamiliar landscape.
“Here we are,” Carol said. She returned with a thin blue book in hand. “This is for you. Bob said I was to give it to ya should ya ever come lookin’ for answers and he wasn’t here to give ‘em.”
Numb, Sardis took the book. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome to stay a while, if you want.”
Drusilla smiled, looking ready to accept the invitation, but Sardis shook his head.
“We should be on our way,” he said. He stood. “Thank you, Carol, for your hospitality.”
“You’re very welcome. And you’re always welcome to come back.”
The walk back into town passed in silence. Drusilla glanced up at him, more than once, with an obvious question on her face she never asked.
Eventually, their path took them to Smith’s Diner. The Library told Sardis of a new place in town, Chicken Leg Café, but Smith’s was closer. And Sardis was not in the mood for the loud squawking of an espresso machine. He needed the gentle chatter and coffee mug clink of a small town diner, surrounded by the smell of comfort food.
The last of the breakfast rush were leaving. It was that oasis of quiet before the luncheon onslaught. They took a booth in a far corner.
The waitress, a quiet girl whose nametag read Colleen, offered them coffee. Drusilla accepted but, when Sardis made no response, she ordered hot cocoa for him. Colleen noted the order and left them alone to peruse the menu.
Sardis wasn’t hungry. He fiddled with the cover of the small blue book.
Drusilla sipped her coffee, pulled a face, and set it aside. She watched him for a moment. “What are you thinking?”
He sat back with a sigh. “I’ve never been afraid of answers before.”
“Things will already be different after today, whether you open that book or not.”
And in that lay the source of his fear. When did change become terrifying? When did truth fill him with dread? Perhaps when this became about him, not the names of distant people he would never meet.
He opened the cover and turned to the title page. The flourished handwriting was instantly recognizable as Bob’s. The title simply read, “Instructions Because You Forgot.”
The image of the Library in female form flashed through Sardis’s mind: the hollow eyes, the dirty clothing. The Library suffered because Sardis had forgotten. And now, now it was time to remember.
He turned the page.
After Sardis and Drusilla left, the Library felt large and empty, though Malo knew other living creatures occupied it. Niall was his shadow, following him as he occupied himself with needless tidying.
Sardis had his own haphazard system and Malo knew better than to interfere with it. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t make it all look a little more neat.
The kitchen finished cleaning up, so there was nothing to do in there. He knew better than to check to make sure all cups and plates returned to the proper places. The last time he did that, the kitchen slammed its door closed in his face and wouldn’t reopen until he apologized.
A fluttering of paper drew his attention to the main room. Malo stepped out of the kitchen in time to see several volumes suddenly fly past the pillars holding up the archway that led into the Library itself. They vanished into the stacks to find their homes on the shelves.
Sardis had said the Library would more or less run itself but it threw Malo to see that, nonetheless.
He turned away, trying to think of what else to do, when a sound made the hair on his neck stand on end. He paused and listened hard.
There. Again.
He went to stand beside the pillar around which they secured their ropes before venturing into the Library proper. Niall settled onto his shoulder, tail curling around his neck. The aerial cocked his head and listened, too.
The soft wail of a baby pierced the air.
Click here for Chapter Two // Click here for Chapter Four
Click here for the Table of Contents
WHAAAAAT
A baby?? I need to know what's next!