CH 14: Library and Visitor (1)
Day 13. Morning.
Carl had officially decided: this was the dumbest scavenging trip yet.
The sun was already baking the sidewalk, the red wagon was squeaking like it needed therapy, and Ellie had managed to spill the last juice pouch without even opening it.
She now sat inside the wagon with a tiara, a plastic spoon, and absolutely no remorse.
"It evaporated," she claimed.
"It exploded," Carl corrected.
"Science," she concluded.
Beside them, Toby marched dramatically with a broken golf club, acting like they were leading an expedition across uncharted land. He was wearing Nana's old sunglasses and a towel as a cape.
"Keep up, peasants," he said, holding up the club like a scepter.
Carl let that one slide. For now.
Nana, as usual, led the pack. Steady, fearless, slightly terrifying. She wore her gardening hat today — the one with the fake flower duct-taped to the side — and carried a paper map of the city marked up in red pen, crayons, and what looked suspiciously like jam.
"We're going this way today," she announced.
"Why that way?" Carl asked.
"Because we haven't died there yet."
---
They passed a melted mailbox, a lawn gnome holding a severed Barbie leg, and a street sign with "DEFINITELY DON'T GO THIS WAY" spray-painted across it.
So naturally, they followed it.
"Why do we always go toward the weird stuff?" Carl muttered.
"Because weird is where the snacks are," Nana replied.
---
They turned a corner and found a chalk mural on the sidewalk: a giant smiling sun, a cat riding a unicorn, and the words:
"BE HAPPY OR BE EATEN."
Toby stopped and blinked. "That's... comforting."
Carl stared at the message.
"You think that's a joke or a threat?"
"Yes," said Nana.
---
Further down, they passed what used to be a bakery. The front windows were shattered, but a burnt croissant sat on the windowsill like an offering. Ellie stared at it.
"I miss bread."
"I miss capitalism," said Carl. "I miss things not trying to kill us."
"I miss the internet," Toby added solemnly.
"I miss beans under 20 years old," said Nana.
---
They continued on.
The air smelled faintly of lemons. Carl made a note to turn away from wherever that smell was coming from. They'd had enough lemon-themed trauma to last a lifetime.
At one point, they found a note pinned to a streetlight with a knife. It read:
"NODE POINT EXISTS. BUT NOT FOR YOU."
Carl stared at it for a long moment.
Then, very gently, he unpinned it and tossed it into the bushes.
"We're going the other direction anyway."
"Great," said Toby. "I didn't like that font."
---
By noon, they found something amazing: a bookstore.
Old, quiet, sunlit.
The front sign was still intact, proudly declaring:
"CHAPTERS & CHOPPERS: BOOKS AND BLADES FOR THE END TIMES."
Carl squinted at it.
"Please let this place be full of sensible people and not... bone furniture."
Taped to the glass door was a handwritten note:
"I'm probably inside. Don't steal my poetry. It's cursed."
"That's a yes from me," said Ellie, already hopping out of the wagon.
"I'm going to live here now," added Toby, peeking through the window.
"Let's not get eaten before we find the bean section," Nana muttered.
Carl gave the wagon one last tug and followed them in.
He didn't know it, but just a few streets away, a man named Brian was hiding in a flower shop, whispering to himself and reading a note about a smiling father and daughter.
They were walking in opposite directions.
But the city?
The city knew.
And it was starting to pull the strings.
---
The bell above the bookstore door didn't jingle.
It mooed.
Loudly.
Carl blinked. "Did that just—"
"MOOOOOOOOO."
"Okay, yep," he said. "Absolutely not a trap."
Ellie sprinted in anyway.
"It smells like old paper and unresolved trauma! I love it!"
The interior was... cozy. Sort of. If you ignored the swords mounted on the walls, the crossbow hanging from the ceiling fan, and the eight "DO NOT TOUCH" signs taped to various beanbags.
Books were stacked everywhere — shelves, floors, teetering towers on top of shelves. All labeled in Sharpie:
"Dystopian, But Make It Sad."
"Books That Shouldn't Be Alive But Might Be."
"YA But With More Screaming."
Carl looked around. "Is this a bookstore or a boss fight?"
From the back of the room came a clunk, followed by a mechanical whirrrrrr and a voice:
"DO NOT KICK THE GLOBE."
They all froze.
A bookshelf opened. Slowly. Dramatically. Too dramatically.
Out stepped a person — or at least, they thought it was a person. It wore full riot gear, a pink bunny hoodie over the armor, and a name tag that read:
"HELLO. I AM PROBABLY JIM."
Jim carried a spatula like a sword and a cat in a backpack.
The cat looked them up and down, eyes glowing faintly, like it was judging their vibe.
Carl raised a hand awkwardly. "Uh… hi?"
"State your alignment," said Jim.
"Chaotic tired?" Carl offered.
'Same," whispered Jim. "You may enter."
---
The group sat around an overturned table that doubled as a reading nook. Jim handed out hot cocoa that tasted suspiciously like sadness and instant coffee.
Ellie immediately added three packets of sugar. Toby just stared at his cup like it owed him money.
"So…" Carl asked carefully, "you live here?"
Jim nodded. "I forget some things, but I thrive here."
Behind him, a bookshelf collapsed with a crash.
"Mostly."
"Do the books... attack?" Ellie asked hopefully.
"Only the romance section."
"Valid," she whispered.
---
Carl noticed the cat staring at him. Intently.
"What's with the cat?"
Jim turned slowly. Whispered. "Her name is Boba. She knows things."
"Like… important things?"
"Like your browser history."
Carl turned pale.
Ellie and Toby looked confused, while Nana nodded had a thoughtful expression.
The cat blinked once. Slow. Menacing.
"She's also in charge of security," Jim added.
"You let the cat run security?"
"She passed the vibe check."
---
Toby wandered into the "Cursed Nonfiction" aisle and returned with a book titled:
"How To Stop Summoning Demons By Accident: A Beginner's Guide."
"Hey Carl, should I be concerned that there's a page bookmarked?"
Carl didn't even look up. "At this point, unless the book is physically on fire, I'm not reacting."
The book lit up briefly.
"Nice," Toby said.
---
Nana spent her time in the corner with a survival guide titled "Still Not Dead: 100 Ways to Confuse Zombies and People You Don't Like."
She took notes with a chewed-up golf pencil.
"Whoever wrote this was either a genius or deeply unwell," she muttered.
"I'm not unwell, but thanks..." said Jim, sipping cocoa through a metal straw.
---
As the sun lowered, Jim offered to let them stay the night.
"Do we have to fight anything to earn that?" Carl asked.
"Not unless the cat doesn't like you."
The cat was grooming itself.
Then it stopped.
And stared directly at Carl.
"I'll sleep outside," he said immediately.
"Coward," Ellie teased.
"Survivor," Carl corrected.
---
That night, the group arranged sleeping bags on the floor, surrounded by books, candles, and at least three booby traps (two of which Ellie accidentally set off before bedtime).
Toby was reading aloud from a bizarre children's book titled "Don't Hug the Porcupine (Unless He Asks Politely)."
Ellie snuggled into Carl's side. "This is nice," she said.
"Yeah," he agreed. "We're indoors, no zombies, and no lemons. That's about as good as it gets these days."
From somewhere deeper in the store, they heard the moo-doorbell again.
Carl tensed.
Jim stood up, grabbed his spatula, and sighed.
"Either another guest," he muttered, "or someone brought yogurt into the poetry section again."
The cat leapt from the shelf.
Carl whispered, "Please let it be yogurt."
---
The moo-doorbell let out one final "MOOOOOOO."
Everyone froze.
Carl clutched a broom. Ellie grabbed a Nerf gun. Toby ducked behind a beanbag labeled "definitely haunted." Jim stood at the ready with his riot spatula, the cat Boba perched on his shoulder like a tiny furry warlord.
The front door creaked open.
And in walked...
A guy.
Mid-20s, flannel shirt, slightly lopsided glasses, backpack slung over one shoulder, holding a map that was very clearly upside-down.
He stopped.
They stared at him.
He stared back.
Then he raised one hand slowly and said:
"Hi. Is this… the public library?"
No one answered.
He blinked. Looked down at the map.
"Okay, definitely not. That explains the cow door."
---
Carl lowered the broom. "Are you armed?"
The guy shook his head. "Just granola and anxiety."
Ellie stood up and whispered, "He's got main character energy. I don't trust it."
Jim kept the spatula aimed. "Name?"
"Jordan. Uh… Jordan Kim. I was trying to get to the radio tower? Then I passed a street that smelled like cleaning products and trauma, and now I'm here."
Nana looked him over. "He looks like someone who apologizes to furniture when he bumps into it."
Jordan nodded solemnly. "Only the fancy chairs."
---
Toby peeked over the beanbag. "Are you a threat?"
"I cried over a crushed granola bar yesterday. So, no."
"A comrade," Toby whispered in admiration.
Jim slowly lowered the spatula. "He may enter."
The cat blinked once, then returned to its shelf throne, approval granted.
---
Jordan looked around the store in awe. "This place is amazing. It's like a survival bunker… but make it Barnes & Noble."
Carl smirked. "Welcome to Chapters & Choppers. Books, blades, and baked goods if you can cook."
"Can't cook," Jordan said. "But I can read food labels and cry about calories."
"That counts," Nana nodded.
---
They gave him a cup of cocoa and a seat near the fake fireplace made of string lights and a space heater.
Ellie asked the important question:
"On a scale of one to 'Oh no,' how weird was your week?"
Jordan took a long sip.
"I got chased by a man wearing eight pairs of sunglasses. He said he was the 'Shadow of Optical Doom.' I barely escaped."
Toby nodded slowly. "So… a seven?"
"Easily."
---
Carl leaned back, just a little. It was rare to meet someone who wasn't part of a cult, trying to kidnap them, or emotionally allergic to sarcasm.
"What's your plan now?" he asked.
Jordan glanced around the room, at the cat, the riot gear, the sugar-high child, and the haunted beanbag.
Then he stood up, dusted off his jeans, and declared:
"Well, I guess I'll book it."
He froze.
Everyone froze.
Ellie dropped her cocoa.
Jim whispered, "Did… did he just make a pun?"
Boba the cat hissed.
Jordan paled. "Wait—wait, no, I take it back!"
"Too late," Nana said. "You've activated the librarian's curse."
"I didn't know there was a librarian's curse!"
"Now you do."
---
The lights flickered ominously. A nearby bookshelf rearranged itself. One copy of Twilight fell from the top shelf and landed open on the floor. Page 47.
Jordan stared at it.
"...Was that a threat?"
Carl smiled. "You'll get used to it."
---
End of Chapter 14 – Library and Visitor (1)
> (No one important died. Weird stuff happened. Snacks were consumed. The plot may or may not have moved. And that's exactly how we like it.)
---