She drove home and grabbed the things she would need to check out a book: strong rope and a grappling hook, a compass, a flare gun, matches and a can of hair spray, a sharpened wooden spear, and, of course, her library card. She couldn’t remember exactly, but she made a silent prayer that she had no outstanding fines.

She put on all blue clothing. (It was widely known that librarians could not see the color blue. This was probably just an urban legend, but Diane was willing to do anything to put the odds more in her favor.)

On her bed she spread out four different maps of the library. She noted the inconsistencies in each map, trying to determine which paths were truth and which were certain death. All four maps indicated that the European history section was located on the second floor, northeast corner, but Diane knew this to be untrue, as there has only ever been one book of European history ever written, and it was a pamphlet about the small country of Svitz and it had been lost to a fire during last year’s Book Cleansing Day festivities. The pamphlet was not meant to be burned, but it had a picture of a giraffe on the cover (the national tall mammal of Svitz), and the Book Cleansers mistook the giraffe for a handgun. A giraffe can look a lot like a lot of things to someone wearing a hazardous materials uniform and a welder’s mask, so the mistake was understandable.

Without that book, there couldn’t possibly be a European history section anymore. She threw the maps out as obvious forgeries. Realizing she wouldn’t know what to do with them even if they were needed, she tossed the pile of supplies and makeshift weapons as well.

She would have to go off memory and instinct. Mothers of teenagers are good in libraries. They are wise and attentive from their years of experience, and they are unrelenting and fearless because of their focus on a good education for their kids.

Before getting in her car, Diane stopped by Josh’s room. That day he was a desk lamp.

“Josh, I love you. I just wanted to tell you.”

“What? Where is that coming from?” He was a vase full of sunflowers now.

“Nothing. Just saying that I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, his petals cocked to the side in wary confusion.

“Everything’ll be fine,” she added, not knowing at all if everything would be fine.

27

Jackie pulled the supplies from her car. The parking lot of the library was otherwise empty, as it usually was.

The entrance to the public library was through an unassuming pair of glass doors that said PUSH. Above that a blue plastic sign said NIGHT VALE PUBLIC LIBRARY. That was all. The dramatics of its reputation were not echoed in its architecture.