EYEHEARTZOMBIES

Virginia watched around the corner of the library for a few moments while Seth and Ruth walked away. They were such cute kids. She noticed that they were holding hands as they walked. They hadn’t come in together, but they were definitely leaving together. She wondered if she’d see them in the library again. She hoped so.

Back in the foyer, she locked the door and the deadbolt. The door lock actually required an ancient skeleton key to lock. She always thought it was such a waste to have to worry about a lock like that when there was a great deadbolt on the door, and a floorbar if they needed it. That reminded her. “Better safe than sorry,” she said quietly, then knelt down to drop the brass bar into its slot in the floor. She stood back up and tried the light switch. It was already on, but maybe a wiggle would bring the power back. Nothing.

She turned again and went out of the foyer into the library proper. The flashlight was sitting on the circulation desk again, turned off thank God. Some sunlight filtered through the clouds and rain, but no where near enough to make her feel comfortable. That old flashlight was almost out of juice, though. Time to see what she could do about that. She snatched the metal tube up off the desk and turned toward the basement stairs. Give her a chance to try the phone again, too.

She pulled the door open and propped it open with the brown plastic wedge that was laying on the floor nearby. The kids must not have ever seen that, or if they did they didn’t use it, ’cause it was several feet away from the door, like it had been kicked aside. Once she was satisfied that the door was open all the way and firmly held, she started down the stairs, the flashlight on the steps in front of her.

She knew there was a janitor’s supply closet at the base of the stairs, just to the left. Batteries’d probably be in there if anywhere. She guessed there was a chance she’d find some up in the circulation desk or in the reference librarian’s office, but those would have to come later. If at all. The light was barely cutting through the underground gloom. She reached the bottom of the stairs and swept her light toward the janitor’s closet.

Something ran from her beam and ducked behind the staircase. Virginia screamed and tried to chase it with the light. She caught the creature crouching by the staircase. It was a rat. Well, more a mouse than a rat. Its black fur sparkled and shimmered in the flashlight’s weak beam and its eyes glowed red. The little thing ran a hand through its whiskers and looked up at her. She held a hand to her chest and laughed a bit. “Ginny, you’s gonna give yourself a coronary. Get ahold on yeself, girl.” She smiled in the darkness. “‘Twas just a mouse.”

Coronary was such an odd word for her to use, she felt. She was educated, obviously, being a librarian and all, but until five years ago she’d always just said “heart attack.” But, five years ago, her father had died from a heart attack. The doctors had always called it a “coronary” so she’d gotten used to the word. And, in some perverse way, it was a bond to Pop.

She reached out a hand to grasp the doorknob on the janitor’s closet and turned the knob a smidge before she remembered it was always locked. She reached into the pocket on her simple A-frame dress and pulled out a small ring of keys. She found the one marked with a “J” and slipped it into the key slot. A quick turn and she was in.

The room was murky, even in the darkness. Fumes seemed to rise from the floor and shelves. A room you’d definitely not want to spend too much time in. She wondered if Jebediah, Jeb to everyone, had come in today. She didn’t remember seeing him, but he beat her in some mornings. No, of course he hadn’t. She’d have heard him if he had. Jeb was an old black man that came in every morning but Sunday to sweep the library. He also dusted everything, polished the desks and tables, and kept mice out of the books. Well, he tried to keep the mice out, at least.

If he had been in, someone would have seen or heard him. He was usually wandering around in the library. He didn’t seem to like being down here any more than anyone else did. Oh, there wasn’t any way he was here. “Ginny, get yourself together now. You’re jumpin’ at shadows and spooks. There’s nothin’ and nobody down here. Find them batt’ries and get your ass back up stairs to the sunlight.” She swept the light around the room and found a small box marked “Batt.”

The box held all sorts of tube-encased power. She took the box and closed it again, tucked it under her arm, and left the closet. She closed the door behind her and heard the lock click back into place. “You just say out from under my feet, little mouse,” she said into the darkness. She heard a squeak in reply come from the other side of the basement. Little bugger moved fast. She started climbing the stairs when she heard a groan come from the other end of the basement. She squeaked before she could stop herself. She turned, her foot still raised to the first step, and looked around the basement with wide eyes.

The flashlight didn’t pick up anything. She remembered the bathroom at the other end, beyond the librarian’s office. She didn’t think anyone had been in there today. Oh God help her, she didn’t want to find out what was in there. But what if it was Jeb? What if he was hurt? Or Sue, the reference librarian? She couldn’t bear to have one of them hurt or killed ’cause she was too scared to find out what was going on. She said a silent prayer and took her foot off the step.

The basement was only about half as wide as the library, so she crossed it quickly. She noticed the broken, empty hook where the fire extinguisher had stood. She knew there was another one upstairs, a little one tucked under the circulation desk. “Good luck finding it,” she whispered to herself, knowing it would be buried behind some pile of books or another. Once something disappeared into the desk it was rarely seen in the same year.

The flashlight beam flickered as she passed the column with the hanging strap. She hissed and shook the flashlight, coaxing a brighter flash of light out of the ancient tube. It settled back into the dim cone of light it had been all along. “Don’t you go out on me,” she whispered. She clamped her lips shut on the end of the whisper, not wanting to alert whoever — or whatever — was in the bathroom, in case they weren’t friendly. No, no, don’t think like that. There’s nothing bad or scary in there. Nothing at all. Probably just another mouse or rat or something.

She reached the door and heard another soft moan. There was definitely someone in there. She could see the door leading to the second flight of stairs off to her left behind her. She hadn’t been to the lower level in months, maybe years. There wasn’t much down there. The fuse boxes and hot water heater. Several cases of old books. Nothing that you needed on a day-to-day basis when running a library.

Her left hand touched the doorknob. It was colder than she thought it should be. Or was that just her imagination? Nerves, Ginny. Control your nerves, girl. The handle’s just col’ ’cause it’s col’ down here. Your just gettin’ all jumpy and worked up. Can’t say I blames ya, though, not with them things sittin’ up and all. OK, come on, girl, open that door and see what’s in there. She turned the handle.