Sweat stung Trish\u2019s eyes and she scrubbed her face with the hem of her threadbare shirt. When the shirt was new, it stretched taught over her soft belly. Now it hung limply and revealed the hollowed dimples of her ribcage as she lifted it.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy\u2019s it called the Library?\u201d Susannah\u2019s youthful tones cut through the silence of the barren wasteland.<\/p>\n
\u201cIn the old days, libraries housed thousands of books,\u201d Lani responded as she stirred the pot of what would have to pass as soup\u2014cactus water flavored with old bones, cactus chunks, and whatever insects, snakes, and rodents happened across their path.<\/p>\n
They were a ragtag bunch that she held together with little more than hopes and hollow promises that things would be better once they reached the Library. Most people thought it was a fairytale. They weren\u2019t far off. It existed. At least, it did eight months prior when she dropped off her last group of survivors.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s a book?\u201d Thomas cut in predictably. Though they were siblings, he shared few features in common with bright-eyed Susannah.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s how people used to pass along knowledge before the turn of the century. Before information went digital.\u201d Lani couldn\u2019t have been more than a child before the digital era began, when physical books were recycled as pass\u00e9 and replaced with space-saving tablets. Even Trish herself could count on her fingers how many times she\u2019d seen an actual book, much less held one.<\/p>\n
\u201cDigital?\u201d Susannah asked.<\/p>\n
Lani tapped the young girl on the forehead. \u201cMuch like everything you know is kept here, there was a massive brain that stored all the information in the world. But that brain died and took with it everything we knew.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh.\u201d The girl worried at her cracked lips. \u201cSo why\u2019s this place called the library if the giant brain is dead and there aren\u2019t no more books?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTrish? You\u2019ve been there. Why don\u2019t you explain it? Maybe it will stick this time.\u201d<\/p>\n
Trish let out a slow breath and squinted at the kids. Even though the hour was late, the sun still beat down with blinding intensity. \u201cEveryone makes their way to the Library. Either this one or one of the others spread around the world. Lani said that digital was like a big brain of shared knowledge? Well, everyone who lives at the Library has their own knowledge\u2014what they read, what they\u2019ve experienced, what they\u2019ve been told. Each person is like a book.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo even though I don\u2019t know anything\u2026 I can still go to the Library?\u201d Susannah asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cEven human libraries need readers.\u201d Lani set down the ladle and wagged a hand at Thomas. \u201cGo tell the others dinner is served.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dinner. Trish\u2019s stomach surged in protest. Every meal was a gamble with fate\u2014would they die of starvation or from whatever went into their next meal?<\/p>\n
* * *<\/p>\n
Trish shielded her eyes from the sun and stared at the cracked and peeling picture of a family long since broken apart. Her wife had mocked her for wanting the tangible photograph. That was before digital died. Now most days it was all she had of them. Even when they were together, she didn\u2019t recognize the stranger inhabiting her wife\u2019s body. She folded it along well creased edges and tucked it into her carrysack.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll make camp next stop,\u201d she called out. \u201cKeep an eye out for any edibles.\u201d<\/p>\n
Hsss.<\/em> She whipped out her pistol and fired in the direction of the sound. The bullet pierced the skull of a hooded snake, only inches from Thomas\u2019s foot. \u201cStay alert.\u201d Tonight there would at least be meat in their watery meal.<\/p>\n Thomas\u2019s lip trembled and his eyes brimmed with tears as he stared at her. His chest rose and fell with each heavy gulp of air. \u201cYou could have hit him,\u201d Susannah cried, rushing to his side and flinging her arms about him.<\/p>\n \u201cIf I missed, that would have been the least of his concerns. Be careful when handling the body, the teeth are still venomous.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou could have shot him,\u201d the girl repeated.<\/p>\n \u201cSusannah\u2014\u201c Lani chided, \u201cthat is the way of the road.\u201d<\/p>\n Thomas sniffled loudly and pushed his sister away. \u201cI\u2019m fine Suze. She\u2026 she didn\u2019t hit me.\u201d He knelt down next to the snake and gave it a vicious prod. The desire to kick it warred with practicality on his face. Practicality won out as he gingerly lifted it by the tail. \u201cThanks.\u201d His eyes met Trish\u2019s.<\/p>\n A bite from that snake and\u2026 well, they didn\u2019t have the bullets to spare on giving him a clean death. She would have given him a choice\u2014stay behind and waste away or hope that he bled out swiftly from a slit throat.<\/p>\n She had not always been that fast on the draw. Once she would have taken the time to evaluate, to aim, perfect the shot. Once she had.<\/p>\n Trish evaluated her exhausted and terrified group. \u201cAnother hour and we\u2019ll stop.\u201d She would prefer to push on for another few hours, but at least one hour would get them far enough from the smell of gunpowder and blood. If they could make it that far. \u201cOnly a few more days left.\u201d Her words were a soft, whispered promise.<\/p>\n Through a mixture of coaxing, cajoling, and flat out ordering, she managed to rally her group onto the road, or at least, what she considered to be the road. She had traveled this path so frequently that her feet knew the steps to take, even when she was worn to the bone and her mind wandered. Each step was a reminder of an unseen landmark.<\/p>\n Though the snake\u2019s blood would seep into the ground and by her next journey would no longer be visible, every time she passed that spot she would remember what could have been.<\/p>\n They stopped in a petrified grove. Once it was filled with giant trees whose leafy arms provided shelter. Trish settled against one of the solid trees. When her eyes closed, she could feel the weight of her son, nestled in her lap. She could feel the heat of her wife\u2019s arm pressed to hers, smell the sweat of her hair. When she opened her eyes, it was gone.<\/p>\n Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed it down as she fumbled in her pocket for the photograph. Her thumb brushed across the face of the little boy.<\/p>\n \u201cWho\u2019s that?\u201d Susannah\u2019s voice was small. Her hands were stuffed under her arms.<\/p>\n \u201cShouldn\u2019t you be helping Lani with the fire?\u201d<\/p>\n The girl scuffed her toe. \u201cYeah. I am. But she thought\u2026 and Thomas said\u2026 I shouldn\u2019t have yelled at you. Thanks for saving his life.\u201d<\/p>\n Trish passed the girl the photo. \u201cMy wife and son.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ve never seen a picture before,\u201d the girl held it gingerly in her hands. \u201cThis must be really old. From before digital.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not that old,\u201d Trish laughed softly, hoping to dispel some of the nervous energy. \u201cEven during digital, people would still print pictures. Though, not many.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWill I get to meet them? At the library?\u201d<\/p>\n She gently took the photograph back and folded it, trying to hide the shaking of her hands. \u201cI am sure you will meet my wife. Our son did not\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Too slow. She had been too slow.<\/p>\n \u201cYou should spend time with your brother. The road is dangerous, anything can happen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf life is so dangerous, shouldn\u2019t you spend this time with your wife?\u201d<\/p>\n Trish closed her eyes and shoved the photo blindly into her bag. \u201cI don\u2019t deserve to spend time with her.\u201d<\/p>\n Susannah wrapped her arms around Trish. \u201cI bet she misses you.\u201d<\/p>\n Trish awkwardly patted the girl on the back. \u201cIt isn\u2019t that simple.\u201d<\/p>\n This was her penance. The price she paid for leaving her son to die. Because she was too weak to hold the knife to his throat. Too weak to let anyone kill him. He was a fighter. A measly snake bite wouldn\u2019t kill him.<\/p>\n She spent the night with him tossing feverishly in her arms. She spent the night knowing he was in pain but hoping\u2026<\/p>\n In the morning her caravan left without her.<\/p>\n A week later, she stumbled into the Library with bloody fingers and a hollowness that no amount of food could fill.<\/p>\n A month later she left.<\/p>\n She did not say goodbye.<\/p>\n When she returned with a group of stragglers, her wife quietly let her into her apartment\u2014their apartment\u2014one that should have been filled with the sound of childish laughter.<\/p>\n She was barely home for a week before she found another excuse to leave.<\/p>\n She returned with an orphaned child, one that her wife took in and doted upon.<\/p>\n Trish pressed her lips softly to the girl\u2019s forehead. \u201cI am certain my wife will love to meet you. She will likely insist that you stay with her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd will you stay with us, too?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere are others out there. I must help them make their way to the Library.”<\/p>\n Happiness was for other people. People who deserved it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Sweat stung Trish\u2019s eyes and she scrubbed her face with the hem of her threadbare shirt. When the shirt was new, it stretched taught over her soft belly. Now it hung limply and revealed the hollowed dimples of her ribcage as she lifted it. \u201cWhy\u2019s it called the Library?\u201d Susannah\u2019s youthful tones cut through the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":13,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[900,1004],"class_list":["post-9866","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","tag-random-prompt-generator","tag-short-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9866","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/13"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=9866"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9866\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9866"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9866"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9866"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}