![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
prisca posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
p_r_i_s_c_aTitle: The Hidden Library (Part 9)
Character: Zeke Tyler, Casey Conner, OCs
Rating: R
Word Count: 3628
Finished: May 2016
Casey looked at the big white building in front of them and felt disappointed. It was not what he had hoped to find. Michelle, the leader of a group of people living near a small town named Clearwater, had told them about the old mansion when they had asked her for Thunder Mountain.
"It's a mixture of a pub and a whorehouse," Michelle had warned them.
"But don't let yourself be fooled. The owner is a big guy with a booming voice, but quite okay. You can trust him. Give him this note, and he will let you go downstairs.
If there is any place around where you can find information, it is the mansion library. Whenever I find documents about the past, I take them there to keep them safe."
Zeke had looked at her doubtfully. That didn't sound very promising. A library, a place full of books and documents, in a whorehouse? They had passed a lot of places, towns, and villages during the last months, and it was always the same. Destroyed, plundered houses, shops, churches, and libraries. During these times, everything was somehow valuable; books meant paper, paper you could use for a fire to keep yourself warm. No one thought that all that got destroyed would be gone forever; everyone just wanted to survive the next day.
The young woman smiled as if she could read his mind and pointed at the wall behind him. It was covered with all kinds of pictures and paintings, including two old vases and a silver candlestick on the mantelpiece of the old fireplace. Casey couldn't take his eyes away. He had been standing there with sparkling eyes, taking in the beauty.
"There was a time I was thinking like you," Michelle had told Zeke.
"I was responsible for other people and took what was needed to ensure we could survive. I was pretty good with it, you know, we only lost two guys within a year because of a stupid accident.
But one day, I ended up in an old monastery some miles from the town. It felt like a shock when I discovered that everything was almost untouched. Because someone had protected it. All the time. An old monk, he had survived the Big Death by sealing himself off from the world outside. He called himself the Guardian of the Past.
He told me: 'The death is not the end. But when we wipe out our history, the future will also die.'
Two nights later, he died. And I was the only one who still knew about all the treasures. Enough to ensure the survival of all of us. The winter was coming, one of the women was pregnant, and we needed more blankets and bullets for the guns. But all I took with me was the food and some firewood. The rest I kept secret.
In the meantime, there are three more places like the monastery; the library is one of them. Whenever I find a work of art I try to save it; sometimes I even pay for it, with food, water, clothes."
Suddenly, she looked sad.
"I'm a good leader, you know; I take care of my folk. But I'm not completely honest with them anymore. I'm afraid they wouldn't understand what I'm doing."
Zeke had kept quiet. A part of him thought that her behavior was pretty stupid. This was not the time for sentiment. The old world was gone forever, and no one could need paintings and books anymore. You needed to let loose if you wanted to survive. He had realized this soon enough during the first weeks and months after the Big Death. Without him, many people at the Marriott Hotel in Herrington wouldn't be alive anymore. He had been the one who had gathered food, fresh water, gas, and batteries; more than they needed for the moment; fully aware that everything they had taken for granted throughout their life would be gone soon enough. For sure, he wouldn't have hesitated even for a moment to treat all he had found somewhere in a monastery or elsewhere.
Then his eyes fell on Casey, who was still standing in front of the wall with the pictures and paintings with sparkling eyes. And he had known it: Casey was different. Casey had changed him. And he was able to understand what was going on with Michelle.
:::
The excessive noise hit them the moment they entered the main house. The hall was filled with smoke from an open fireplace, a skewer of meat was hang up over it; a young boy turned the crank on and on. Casey preferred not to think about what animal it might be; it didn't look like anyone here was very picky.
On stage, a band was playing. If you wanted to call the noise, the three guys produced on a poorly tuned guitar and an improvisational drum set some kind of music. Three or four more or less unclothed girls were moving around the room, screaming and laughing, when one of the guys grabbed for them. Most of them were in a drunk state. Zeke had to acknowledge that whatever the innkeeper served seemed to be worth its price.
The big, broad-shouldered guy with a full beard stood behind a long wooden bar counter. The upper half was protected with a monitoring grid, two small windows could be opened and closed when needed, the small grilled door locked with a heavy chain. Two guns, visible to everyone, on the table behind him. The guy was not stupid. It was a dangerous business. Two or three dozen drunk guys who did spend too much time alone on the roads; a handful of girls, half naked and obviously ready for everything, this outright cried for problems.
Zeke glanced at Casey; he knew well enough that he felt uncomfortable in places like this. And honestly, Zeke wasn't even sure they were at the right place. When a hidden library had ever existed here, it was probably long gone. Maybe it was better to leave before they attracted too much attention. But the determined glint in Casey's eyes told volumes.
"We should at least ask him," he said as if he could read Zeke's mind, forcing his way through the overcrowded room. Zeke followed him without hesitation; no way that he would lose sight of him here.
The guy behind the bar eyed them with cautious narrowed eyes. "Beer," he asked. "Or some of my booze? I accept tobacco and tins, sugar, and milk powder." Then, a slight grin appeared on his lips while he looked at Casey.
"What's with you? Ever had fun with a girl? Maybe I can help you."
Zeke stiffened, but before he could step in, Casey chuckled slightly. Usually, he had good instincts, and Zeke decided to keep quiet, at least for the moment. "No, thanks. I'm more interested in information."
"What am I, an inquiry office?"
"I guess you are a guy with secrets. Michelle told us about you."
Besides a slight flickering in his eyes, the guy stayed unmoved. "Michelle, huh? Nice name. When she is just as cute, I'm interested."
"I'm afraid she's much too smart to waste her time in a place like this," Zeke dropped in. "She gave us this for you." Slowly he pushed Michelle's note through the small window. The guy studied it for a long time; finally, he looked up and nodded slowly.
"Okay. To put a long story short, I don't trust you. I actually trust no one. Beside Michelle. Even if I can't understand why she's doing all that, she is special. Try to cheat on her, hurt her, and you will have a problem."
Casey smiled at him openly. "We won't do anything that can harm her," he promised. "We are just looking for information. Michelle thinks maybe we can find some answers here."
"What kind of answers?"
"Thunder Mountain. Ever heard about this place?"
"The resort? Sure!" He glanced over to the crowded tables, the drunk guys, the girls, and finally pulled the face. "Though they are living pretty much cut off from the outside world. Try to keep their existence secret. But guys get drunk, have some fun, and finally, they start talking too much."
"You know, where to find this place?"
"Maybe. Northwards, in the mountains."
"Good God!" Casey paled and grabbed for Zeke's arm. "So we are finally on the right track."
Maybe. Maybe not. Zeke wasn't easily convinced. At the beginning of their trip, he had been sure that Casey was chasing the product of a crackpot. In the meantime, he had changed his mind; there were too many rumors about this mysterious place; it did exist, at least it had existed once. But he still wasn't sure what would await them when they finally reached it. Casey did believe that it was his mission to find Thunder Mountain. But what then? He wasn't sure that they would get welcomed with open arms.
Zeke turned back to the guy behind the bar. "Have you ever been there," he asked. "Do you know how to get there?"
"No!" The guy shrugged. "None of my business. I'm not looking for asylum, but I prefer to care for my own shit. Not interested in hooking up with others."
"Get it. What's with the hidden library downstairs? Can we find more information there?"
The guy narrowed his eyes. "It's only because Michelle asked me to help you," he finally snarled, pointing at a small door behind him."But try to cheat on me, and you will regret it!"
:::
Casey stopped breathing when they stepped into the library gallery. Through small windows at both ends, some light was falling into the colossal room, though it couldn't reach all parts of it. An old, wooden spiral staircase led down into the shadowy depths. Shelves of books everywhere, from the bottom up to the artfully decorated wooden ceiling.
"Holy shit," he murmured, feeling dizzy. Whatever he had expected, not this. The air was dusty, but not unpleasant, it was a smell of leather and old books. When his eyes adjusted to the half-light, he finally was able to take in more of the surroundings. The old desk with the wooden chair in front of it, some comfortable large armchairs in front of the fireplace, silver candleholder on the mantlepiece. The high ladder on wheels, so you could reach the books on the top shelves. Some old paintings on the walls.
It felt as if the world outside didn't exist here; this was a place of beauty, knowledge, and eternity. Even Zeke, who usually wasn't easy to impress, kept quiet to take in the atmosphere for a while. He had always liked libraries; during his first years at boarding school, he had spent hours and hours trying to escape the madness around him, at least for a while. Even after the Big Death, he had never stopped reading, especially horror stories written by Stephen King or Dean Koontz. Probably pretty weird, as if the world around wasn't frightful enough.
After a while, though, his rational mind got the upper hand over his surprise. They were here for a good reason; had hoped to find information about Thunder Mountain. The question was, where to start? He hadn't expected that the library would be that big; several hundred, no thousands of books, most of them pretty old, though.
Casey's hand touched his arm and tore him out of his thoughts. "It's hard to believe that this is real, isn't it," he almost whispered.
"Yeah." Also Zeke lowered his voice automatically; it somehow felt wrong to disturb the silence in the library, even if no one was around who could feel bothered. "Wanna go downstairs?"
He turned around, followed by Casey. Cautiously, Zeke tested every step just to be sure. The wooden staircase seemed to be in a good state, but the last thing they could need was to break through or to fall and risk a fracture.
Downstairs, it was almost dark; not much light came in through the gallery windows. His flashlight batteries were almost dead, and it got more and more challenging to find charged ones, so Zeke was thankful to discover two antique oil lamps on a small rack.
The flickering light brightened only the middle of the large room, but it was enough to notice numerous boxes piled up beside the fireplace. They looked somehow out of place, and Zeke remembered Michelle's words again. 'The library is a good place to keep all kinds of papers in safe custody. Whenever I find old documents or journals, I try to bring them there.'
"Great," Zeke grumbled, slowly recovering from his surprise. "It looks like a lot of work is waiting for us."
:::
"Zeke?"
He looked up from a pile of papers he was searching through, unable to say how much time had already passed. Luckily, Michelle did her best to establish an order, so their task went quicker than expected.
Casey stood beside the desk, an old, wooden one with many drawers and a small hutch. He had picked up his oil lamp and looked slightly confused.
"Anything of interest," Zeke asked.
Casey shrugged. "We are not alone!"
"Mice? Rats, maybe? We should tell Michelle she needs to get rid of them."
"No, it's nothing like that. Someone hides under the desk."
"What do you mean?" Zeke frowned, suddenly feeling alarmed. "Better come over here."
To his surprise, Casey chuckled slightly. "I don't think that she will hurt me. It's more that she's afraid of us."
Zeke cursed inwardly. She? What the heck was going on here? Who was 'she'? And why was she hiding under the desk? Did the guy upstairs know about her? If he did, why hadn't he mentioned it? What do they plan? And if he didn't know about her, how did she come here? Not many people knew about the library's existence; the only entrance was locked with a chain, and the windows at the gallery were small and metal-grilled. The guy for sure knew how to safeguard his property.
Too many questions, too little answers. Cautiously, Zeke crossed the room. When he reached the desk, he could hear it, too. Suppressed breathing, a sporadic sniffing, silence again. Strange, but not dangerous. Without further ado, he grabbed Casey's shoulder and pulled him some steps back from the desk before he bent down and risked a glance. Whatever he had expected, not this.
"Woah," he blurted out.
"Don't scare her." Casey was at his side again and stretched out his hand.
"Hey. You don't need to be afraid of us. We are friends. Why don't you come out there?"
The little girl was wearing oversized flap trousers and a plain, white shirt, which emphasizes the first impression that she was very small and helpless. But her green-brown eyes told something different. She refused to talk, seemed a bit scared of them.
"My name is Casey. And this is Zeke." He smiled at her. "Will you tell us your name?"
Again, no reaction.
"Maybe she can't understand us," Casey pondered.
Zeke shrugged, unsure what to think of her. She was young, four, five at the very most, too young to survive alone. And she didn't look undernourished or neglected. Someone seemed to take care of her.
Suddenly, footsteps on the gallery. The guy's voice echoed through the library. "Rose?"
"Guess she is here," Casey answered.
The guy rushed down the stairs, glancing at Casey and Zeke threateningly, before kneeling in front of the desk.
"Rose! What are you doing here again?"
She turned her head towards him. "The decontamination did not work. We have to burn the bodies. The darkness is coming. There is no one left to play with anymore."
Her voice was calm, but her words made Zeke shudder. The guy nodded, putting a hand on her shoulders. "You need to listen to me," he said surprisingly gently. "I've told you not to leave your room in the evening. It's too dangerous. Do you understand that?"
She stared at him for a moment, then turned around and, without further ado, ran upstairs so quickly that she was practically a blur. The guy looked after her, shaking his head.
"We didn't mean to scare her," Casey reassured him.
"Not your fault." He shrugged. "She is different from other people. No matter how hard I try to keep her away from here, she always finds a way. As if this is the only place where she feels safe."
"What's wrong with her," Zeke asked.
The guy smirked slightly; finally, he shrugged. "You've heard her. She is all fucked up."
"Most of us are, in one way or the other." Casey shuddered slightly. "But what she said. The darkness is coming. The decontamination did not work. What's the meaning of that?"
"I don't know. Don't know anything about her and what she had to go through. One day, she turned up here, together with her mother.
Pretty girl, I let them stay. Then, some weeks later, she got sick. Very sick, high fever, unconsciousness."
"The virus," Zeke asked. "I've heard some mutations in it still exist."
"What do I know? I'm not a doctor. All I can say is that she died within two days. The little one doesn't." The guy kept quiet for a moment. "She didn't even cry when it was over. All she said was: 'We need to burn the body.' Fucked up, like I said."
"What do you expect?" Casey's eyes sparkled, annoyed."She's still a child. She's all alone. She has seen her mother dying. She needs someone to help her get over all this."
"Well, none of my business, right? But I am not callous. I let her stay here. Because kicking her out would be like a death warrant. She has a place to sleep; she gets enough to eat. That's more I would do for anyone else. No one can afford to give away anything for free anymore."
He pointed at the lamp on the desk. "Don't forget to pay for the oil later."
Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the spiral staircase and left the library.
"What a fucking prick," Casey murmured.
"Case, calm down, okay," Zeke begged him. "I'm sure he is a good guy. He takes care of her. As good as he can. Difficult times, you know that."
"She needs more than this," Casey answered."What kind of life is awaiting her when she gets older, Zeke? This is a whorehouse. You know what will happen to her if we don't step in."
Zeke sighed. "Case, we can't!" It was not an option to take her with them. In the Chevrolet, there was no room for the little girl. Even though Zeke knew it was not rational, she gave him the creeps with her strange behavior.
"We have to," Casey protested. "We can't leave her here!"
"Remember our plans? The Mountain? Isn't it you who insists on going there? We can't when we are taking her with us. We would have to go back to Herrington."
A smile sneaked on Casey's face while thinking about the Marriott Hotel and all the friends they had left behind."Herrington would be good for her. There she could heal."
Zeke eyed him thoughtfully. This was not what he had expected. "Before making a decision, you need to see something," he said. And placed a box with documents on the desk. Documents about a military experimental laboratory. A giant complex built into the mountains, protected by a large steel gate and barbed wired fences.
There were even some details about the lab position: somewhere in the Bighorn Mountains, in the backcountry, with not many towns and villages around, no one who would ask curious questions.
And finally, an old newspaper article talking about streets, ending in nowhere. Helicopters at night; parachutists and airdropped, small boxes. Next to the Crow Reservation. Only about 70 miles away from the place they were now.
Casey browsed through the papers, finally looking up with his face slightly blushed and his eyes sparkling. "Do you think this is it?"
"I don't know. But we have never had such a promising clue."
"Oh God, Zeke!" Casey threw his arms around him, shaking with excitement. "We made it! I can't believe that we made it! Thunder Mountain!"
"The darkness is coming." The voice made them jump. This girl was moving like a ghost; how could she be back again, and they hadn't even noticed her coming down the stairs? "But there is still hope. You need to go to Thunder Mountain."
Zeke stiffened in every movement. This was too much. But Casey turned around to Rose. "From where do you know this name? Thunder Mountain."
She looked at him solemnly, and finally, she shrugged. "It's no one around to play with anymore," she murmured.
"Would you like to play with other people," Casey asked. "Maybe even go to school, learn to read and to write? I know a good place."
Zeke frowned. "What are you talking about? You know, it's either Herrington or this place in the mountains."
"Maybe not." Casey beamed at him. "What's with the old convent and Sister Hannah? Michelle will be back here soon; we can leave her a letter. I am sure, she would love to see the old convent chapel and wouldn't mind bringing Rose there."
The little girl had turned around to one of the large shelves, and now she came back with a book in her hands. "Read," she whispered, holding it out to Casey.
He smiled wide. "Yes. Reading a book. You will learn it. You will learn a lot of things."
She nodded slowly. "Okay," she said.
Character: Zeke Tyler, Casey Conner, OCs
Rating: R
Word Count: 3628
Finished: May 2016
Casey looked at the big white building in front of them and felt disappointed. It was not what he had hoped to find. Michelle, the leader of a group of people living near a small town named Clearwater, had told them about the old mansion when they had asked her for Thunder Mountain.
"It's a mixture of a pub and a whorehouse," Michelle had warned them.
"But don't let yourself be fooled. The owner is a big guy with a booming voice, but quite okay. You can trust him. Give him this note, and he will let you go downstairs.
If there is any place around where you can find information, it is the mansion library. Whenever I find documents about the past, I take them there to keep them safe."
Zeke had looked at her doubtfully. That didn't sound very promising. A library, a place full of books and documents, in a whorehouse? They had passed a lot of places, towns, and villages during the last months, and it was always the same. Destroyed, plundered houses, shops, churches, and libraries. During these times, everything was somehow valuable; books meant paper, paper you could use for a fire to keep yourself warm. No one thought that all that got destroyed would be gone forever; everyone just wanted to survive the next day.
The young woman smiled as if she could read his mind and pointed at the wall behind him. It was covered with all kinds of pictures and paintings, including two old vases and a silver candlestick on the mantelpiece of the old fireplace. Casey couldn't take his eyes away. He had been standing there with sparkling eyes, taking in the beauty.
"There was a time I was thinking like you," Michelle had told Zeke.
"I was responsible for other people and took what was needed to ensure we could survive. I was pretty good with it, you know, we only lost two guys within a year because of a stupid accident.
But one day, I ended up in an old monastery some miles from the town. It felt like a shock when I discovered that everything was almost untouched. Because someone had protected it. All the time. An old monk, he had survived the Big Death by sealing himself off from the world outside. He called himself the Guardian of the Past.
He told me: 'The death is not the end. But when we wipe out our history, the future will also die.'
Two nights later, he died. And I was the only one who still knew about all the treasures. Enough to ensure the survival of all of us. The winter was coming, one of the women was pregnant, and we needed more blankets and bullets for the guns. But all I took with me was the food and some firewood. The rest I kept secret.
In the meantime, there are three more places like the monastery; the library is one of them. Whenever I find a work of art I try to save it; sometimes I even pay for it, with food, water, clothes."
Suddenly, she looked sad.
"I'm a good leader, you know; I take care of my folk. But I'm not completely honest with them anymore. I'm afraid they wouldn't understand what I'm doing."
Zeke had kept quiet. A part of him thought that her behavior was pretty stupid. This was not the time for sentiment. The old world was gone forever, and no one could need paintings and books anymore. You needed to let loose if you wanted to survive. He had realized this soon enough during the first weeks and months after the Big Death. Without him, many people at the Marriott Hotel in Herrington wouldn't be alive anymore. He had been the one who had gathered food, fresh water, gas, and batteries; more than they needed for the moment; fully aware that everything they had taken for granted throughout their life would be gone soon enough. For sure, he wouldn't have hesitated even for a moment to treat all he had found somewhere in a monastery or elsewhere.
Then his eyes fell on Casey, who was still standing in front of the wall with the pictures and paintings with sparkling eyes. And he had known it: Casey was different. Casey had changed him. And he was able to understand what was going on with Michelle.
:::
The excessive noise hit them the moment they entered the main house. The hall was filled with smoke from an open fireplace, a skewer of meat was hang up over it; a young boy turned the crank on and on. Casey preferred not to think about what animal it might be; it didn't look like anyone here was very picky.
On stage, a band was playing. If you wanted to call the noise, the three guys produced on a poorly tuned guitar and an improvisational drum set some kind of music. Three or four more or less unclothed girls were moving around the room, screaming and laughing, when one of the guys grabbed for them. Most of them were in a drunk state. Zeke had to acknowledge that whatever the innkeeper served seemed to be worth its price.
The big, broad-shouldered guy with a full beard stood behind a long wooden bar counter. The upper half was protected with a monitoring grid, two small windows could be opened and closed when needed, the small grilled door locked with a heavy chain. Two guns, visible to everyone, on the table behind him. The guy was not stupid. It was a dangerous business. Two or three dozen drunk guys who did spend too much time alone on the roads; a handful of girls, half naked and obviously ready for everything, this outright cried for problems.
Zeke glanced at Casey; he knew well enough that he felt uncomfortable in places like this. And honestly, Zeke wasn't even sure they were at the right place. When a hidden library had ever existed here, it was probably long gone. Maybe it was better to leave before they attracted too much attention. But the determined glint in Casey's eyes told volumes.
"We should at least ask him," he said as if he could read Zeke's mind, forcing his way through the overcrowded room. Zeke followed him without hesitation; no way that he would lose sight of him here.
The guy behind the bar eyed them with cautious narrowed eyes. "Beer," he asked. "Or some of my booze? I accept tobacco and tins, sugar, and milk powder." Then, a slight grin appeared on his lips while he looked at Casey.
"What's with you? Ever had fun with a girl? Maybe I can help you."
Zeke stiffened, but before he could step in, Casey chuckled slightly. Usually, he had good instincts, and Zeke decided to keep quiet, at least for the moment. "No, thanks. I'm more interested in information."
"What am I, an inquiry office?"
"I guess you are a guy with secrets. Michelle told us about you."
Besides a slight flickering in his eyes, the guy stayed unmoved. "Michelle, huh? Nice name. When she is just as cute, I'm interested."
"I'm afraid she's much too smart to waste her time in a place like this," Zeke dropped in. "She gave us this for you." Slowly he pushed Michelle's note through the small window. The guy studied it for a long time; finally, he looked up and nodded slowly.
"Okay. To put a long story short, I don't trust you. I actually trust no one. Beside Michelle. Even if I can't understand why she's doing all that, she is special. Try to cheat on her, hurt her, and you will have a problem."
Casey smiled at him openly. "We won't do anything that can harm her," he promised. "We are just looking for information. Michelle thinks maybe we can find some answers here."
"What kind of answers?"
"Thunder Mountain. Ever heard about this place?"
"The resort? Sure!" He glanced over to the crowded tables, the drunk guys, the girls, and finally pulled the face. "Though they are living pretty much cut off from the outside world. Try to keep their existence secret. But guys get drunk, have some fun, and finally, they start talking too much."
"You know, where to find this place?"
"Maybe. Northwards, in the mountains."
"Good God!" Casey paled and grabbed for Zeke's arm. "So we are finally on the right track."
Maybe. Maybe not. Zeke wasn't easily convinced. At the beginning of their trip, he had been sure that Casey was chasing the product of a crackpot. In the meantime, he had changed his mind; there were too many rumors about this mysterious place; it did exist, at least it had existed once. But he still wasn't sure what would await them when they finally reached it. Casey did believe that it was his mission to find Thunder Mountain. But what then? He wasn't sure that they would get welcomed with open arms.
Zeke turned back to the guy behind the bar. "Have you ever been there," he asked. "Do you know how to get there?"
"No!" The guy shrugged. "None of my business. I'm not looking for asylum, but I prefer to care for my own shit. Not interested in hooking up with others."
"Get it. What's with the hidden library downstairs? Can we find more information there?"
The guy narrowed his eyes. "It's only because Michelle asked me to help you," he finally snarled, pointing at a small door behind him."But try to cheat on me, and you will regret it!"
:::
Casey stopped breathing when they stepped into the library gallery. Through small windows at both ends, some light was falling into the colossal room, though it couldn't reach all parts of it. An old, wooden spiral staircase led down into the shadowy depths. Shelves of books everywhere, from the bottom up to the artfully decorated wooden ceiling.
"Holy shit," he murmured, feeling dizzy. Whatever he had expected, not this. The air was dusty, but not unpleasant, it was a smell of leather and old books. When his eyes adjusted to the half-light, he finally was able to take in more of the surroundings. The old desk with the wooden chair in front of it, some comfortable large armchairs in front of the fireplace, silver candleholder on the mantlepiece. The high ladder on wheels, so you could reach the books on the top shelves. Some old paintings on the walls.
It felt as if the world outside didn't exist here; this was a place of beauty, knowledge, and eternity. Even Zeke, who usually wasn't easy to impress, kept quiet to take in the atmosphere for a while. He had always liked libraries; during his first years at boarding school, he had spent hours and hours trying to escape the madness around him, at least for a while. Even after the Big Death, he had never stopped reading, especially horror stories written by Stephen King or Dean Koontz. Probably pretty weird, as if the world around wasn't frightful enough.
After a while, though, his rational mind got the upper hand over his surprise. They were here for a good reason; had hoped to find information about Thunder Mountain. The question was, where to start? He hadn't expected that the library would be that big; several hundred, no thousands of books, most of them pretty old, though.
Casey's hand touched his arm and tore him out of his thoughts. "It's hard to believe that this is real, isn't it," he almost whispered.
"Yeah." Also Zeke lowered his voice automatically; it somehow felt wrong to disturb the silence in the library, even if no one was around who could feel bothered. "Wanna go downstairs?"
He turned around, followed by Casey. Cautiously, Zeke tested every step just to be sure. The wooden staircase seemed to be in a good state, but the last thing they could need was to break through or to fall and risk a fracture.
Downstairs, it was almost dark; not much light came in through the gallery windows. His flashlight batteries were almost dead, and it got more and more challenging to find charged ones, so Zeke was thankful to discover two antique oil lamps on a small rack.
The flickering light brightened only the middle of the large room, but it was enough to notice numerous boxes piled up beside the fireplace. They looked somehow out of place, and Zeke remembered Michelle's words again. 'The library is a good place to keep all kinds of papers in safe custody. Whenever I find old documents or journals, I try to bring them there.'
"Great," Zeke grumbled, slowly recovering from his surprise. "It looks like a lot of work is waiting for us."
:::
"Zeke?"
He looked up from a pile of papers he was searching through, unable to say how much time had already passed. Luckily, Michelle did her best to establish an order, so their task went quicker than expected.
Casey stood beside the desk, an old, wooden one with many drawers and a small hutch. He had picked up his oil lamp and looked slightly confused.
"Anything of interest," Zeke asked.
Casey shrugged. "We are not alone!"
"Mice? Rats, maybe? We should tell Michelle she needs to get rid of them."
"No, it's nothing like that. Someone hides under the desk."
"What do you mean?" Zeke frowned, suddenly feeling alarmed. "Better come over here."
To his surprise, Casey chuckled slightly. "I don't think that she will hurt me. It's more that she's afraid of us."
Zeke cursed inwardly. She? What the heck was going on here? Who was 'she'? And why was she hiding under the desk? Did the guy upstairs know about her? If he did, why hadn't he mentioned it? What do they plan? And if he didn't know about her, how did she come here? Not many people knew about the library's existence; the only entrance was locked with a chain, and the windows at the gallery were small and metal-grilled. The guy for sure knew how to safeguard his property.
Too many questions, too little answers. Cautiously, Zeke crossed the room. When he reached the desk, he could hear it, too. Suppressed breathing, a sporadic sniffing, silence again. Strange, but not dangerous. Without further ado, he grabbed Casey's shoulder and pulled him some steps back from the desk before he bent down and risked a glance. Whatever he had expected, not this.
"Woah," he blurted out.
"Don't scare her." Casey was at his side again and stretched out his hand.
"Hey. You don't need to be afraid of us. We are friends. Why don't you come out there?"
The little girl was wearing oversized flap trousers and a plain, white shirt, which emphasizes the first impression that she was very small and helpless. But her green-brown eyes told something different. She refused to talk, seemed a bit scared of them.
"My name is Casey. And this is Zeke." He smiled at her. "Will you tell us your name?"
Again, no reaction.
"Maybe she can't understand us," Casey pondered.
Zeke shrugged, unsure what to think of her. She was young, four, five at the very most, too young to survive alone. And she didn't look undernourished or neglected. Someone seemed to take care of her.
Suddenly, footsteps on the gallery. The guy's voice echoed through the library. "Rose?"
"Guess she is here," Casey answered.
The guy rushed down the stairs, glancing at Casey and Zeke threateningly, before kneeling in front of the desk.
"Rose! What are you doing here again?"
She turned her head towards him. "The decontamination did not work. We have to burn the bodies. The darkness is coming. There is no one left to play with anymore."
Her voice was calm, but her words made Zeke shudder. The guy nodded, putting a hand on her shoulders. "You need to listen to me," he said surprisingly gently. "I've told you not to leave your room in the evening. It's too dangerous. Do you understand that?"
She stared at him for a moment, then turned around and, without further ado, ran upstairs so quickly that she was practically a blur. The guy looked after her, shaking his head.
"We didn't mean to scare her," Casey reassured him.
"Not your fault." He shrugged. "She is different from other people. No matter how hard I try to keep her away from here, she always finds a way. As if this is the only place where she feels safe."
"What's wrong with her," Zeke asked.
The guy smirked slightly; finally, he shrugged. "You've heard her. She is all fucked up."
"Most of us are, in one way or the other." Casey shuddered slightly. "But what she said. The darkness is coming. The decontamination did not work. What's the meaning of that?"
"I don't know. Don't know anything about her and what she had to go through. One day, she turned up here, together with her mother.
Pretty girl, I let them stay. Then, some weeks later, she got sick. Very sick, high fever, unconsciousness."
"The virus," Zeke asked. "I've heard some mutations in it still exist."
"What do I know? I'm not a doctor. All I can say is that she died within two days. The little one doesn't." The guy kept quiet for a moment. "She didn't even cry when it was over. All she said was: 'We need to burn the body.' Fucked up, like I said."
"What do you expect?" Casey's eyes sparkled, annoyed."She's still a child. She's all alone. She has seen her mother dying. She needs someone to help her get over all this."
"Well, none of my business, right? But I am not callous. I let her stay here. Because kicking her out would be like a death warrant. She has a place to sleep; she gets enough to eat. That's more I would do for anyone else. No one can afford to give away anything for free anymore."
He pointed at the lamp on the desk. "Don't forget to pay for the oil later."
Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the spiral staircase and left the library.
"What a fucking prick," Casey murmured.
"Case, calm down, okay," Zeke begged him. "I'm sure he is a good guy. He takes care of her. As good as he can. Difficult times, you know that."
"She needs more than this," Casey answered."What kind of life is awaiting her when she gets older, Zeke? This is a whorehouse. You know what will happen to her if we don't step in."
Zeke sighed. "Case, we can't!" It was not an option to take her with them. In the Chevrolet, there was no room for the little girl. Even though Zeke knew it was not rational, she gave him the creeps with her strange behavior.
"We have to," Casey protested. "We can't leave her here!"
"Remember our plans? The Mountain? Isn't it you who insists on going there? We can't when we are taking her with us. We would have to go back to Herrington."
A smile sneaked on Casey's face while thinking about the Marriott Hotel and all the friends they had left behind."Herrington would be good for her. There she could heal."
Zeke eyed him thoughtfully. This was not what he had expected. "Before making a decision, you need to see something," he said. And placed a box with documents on the desk. Documents about a military experimental laboratory. A giant complex built into the mountains, protected by a large steel gate and barbed wired fences.
There were even some details about the lab position: somewhere in the Bighorn Mountains, in the backcountry, with not many towns and villages around, no one who would ask curious questions.
And finally, an old newspaper article talking about streets, ending in nowhere. Helicopters at night; parachutists and airdropped, small boxes. Next to the Crow Reservation. Only about 70 miles away from the place they were now.
Casey browsed through the papers, finally looking up with his face slightly blushed and his eyes sparkling. "Do you think this is it?"
"I don't know. But we have never had such a promising clue."
"Oh God, Zeke!" Casey threw his arms around him, shaking with excitement. "We made it! I can't believe that we made it! Thunder Mountain!"
"The darkness is coming." The voice made them jump. This girl was moving like a ghost; how could she be back again, and they hadn't even noticed her coming down the stairs? "But there is still hope. You need to go to Thunder Mountain."
Zeke stiffened in every movement. This was too much. But Casey turned around to Rose. "From where do you know this name? Thunder Mountain."
She looked at him solemnly, and finally, she shrugged. "It's no one around to play with anymore," she murmured.
"Would you like to play with other people," Casey asked. "Maybe even go to school, learn to read and to write? I know a good place."
Zeke frowned. "What are you talking about? You know, it's either Herrington or this place in the mountains."
"Maybe not." Casey beamed at him. "What's with the old convent and Sister Hannah? Michelle will be back here soon; we can leave her a letter. I am sure, she would love to see the old convent chapel and wouldn't mind bringing Rose there."
The little girl had turned around to one of the large shelves, and now she came back with a book in her hands. "Read," she whispered, holding it out to Casey.
He smiled wide. "Yes. Reading a book. You will learn it. You will learn a lot of things."
She nodded slowly. "Okay," she said.