Bound: A Short Story (2 page)

I glance at the clock. Today is the first day I wish dinner
time wouldn’t come soon. Instead of work, flowers and the blushingly great time
with Sean dominate my thoughts.

And statues and flames. I’m not sure what unhinged my brain
to become so obsessed with what happened last night. It’s like when I’m reading
an Agatha Christie novel, and I’m so intent in discovering the mystery that
it’s all I can think about until I find out.

But this isn’t a mystery novel. This is the real world, and
my obsession is silly, bordering on crazy.

Unable to concentrate, and not busy enough to block my
thoughts, I head downstairs to the archives. No one else is down here – almost
everything is accessible by computer nowadays. But what I need isn’t.

I turn on the microfilm machine and insert the article from
the school paper about the flood. It’s exactly as Fran told me, including the
bit about the student snapping due to exam pressure. Nothing new, and no
indication about what happened to the student in later editions of the paper.

Then I scan backwards through the microfilm, flicking
through the older dates. Three years back, I find what I’m looking for – a
reported death of a student in the library. Heart attack. Something I think
impossible at such a young age, but the writer claimed it was due to a
combination of stress, high amounts of caffeine in her system, and a family
with a history of heart conditions at an early age.

Still unsure of the deranged idea blooming in my head, I
continue to look back and find two more incidents, with just as shaky causes of
death, before my sweaty fingers slip on the knob of the microfilm machine and
the film tears.

I curse and remove the film, hoping it can be repaired.

But my worry over the microfilm masks my true fears. Three
deaths in ten years all on this campus. There was even an article about a
sickness spreading throughout campus that caused extreme lethargy, right before
that student flooded the library.

Maybe he wasn’t so crazy after all.

The girl’s eyes from the night before flicker in my mind
like strobe lights.

Or perhaps I’m going crazy, too.

* * * * *

I force myself to return to work, to shut down the
irrational fears in my mind. I’m seeing into things, misinterpreting – I didn’t
get much sleep last night.

The sun sets and darkness closes in. No more warmth pouring
through the windows, only odd shadows hiding from the fluorescents. Tonight the
stacks seem alien, the books looming as if they have a life of their own,
bindings their skin and paper their flesh. I never thought I’d feel misplaced
among them, but I do now.

Yes, every book has a heartbeat.

Fran disturbs me from my book pulling. “Can you do a
walkthrough before your break?”

I nod. The last few hours passed too quickly.

Cart back at my desk, I peek my head into the reading room
and catch Sean’s attention. “I need to do a walkthrough, then I’ll be ready.” I’m
not sure what I’ll be ready for. Ready to ignore him yet again? To finally give
in and allow him that chance he’s asking for?

“One sec.” He waves me closer.

I grit my teeth and slide forward. “We can talk in a bit.”

“No, not that.” Unlike earlier, his voice is low, as if
worried he’ll attract attention. “Is it just me, or does something in this
library seem off? I completely forgot how uncomfortable this place made me feel
and why I avoided it while going to school here. But I’ve been sitting for a
long time, remembering, and I get this sense that the stacks are closing in on
me. It’s creepy.”

I pause, a retort caught in my throat – not what I expected
him to say. The student, frozen in mid-page turn, flashes across my vision. And
the students found dead. No, all the weirdness is in my head.

“Really? Do you want me to consider you a crazy person
before you attempt to ask me out?” The words are a false heap of chatter,
accusing him of what I fear about myself. He doesn’t deserve such rudeness, and
I’m about to apologize, until he does.

“Sorry, sorry. My nerves got the best of me then.” He moves
to touch my arm, but I pull back before his fingers brush my skin. I can’t have
a reminder of how good his warmth felt – it won’t help me turn him down.

“I’ll be back.” I leave Sean with that longing look in his
eye and head to the second floor.

Creepy.
The word echoes, growing louder.

Row upon row of books loom on the second floor, the stacks
like marching soldiers. At any moment they’ll unsheathe tiny swords hidden in
their spines.

Get a hold of yourself, Leda.
Paper, ink, and glue
can’t do a damned thing to harm me. My friends, my companions, words come to
life off the page – no more. This is not
Game of Thrones
.

The second floor is deserted, except of course for the
books, hundreds looking down on me with hungry eyes, pleading for me to read
them.

I reach for a book left open on one of the desks, abandoned.
Before I touch the pages, I see the water spots. Yet another sad survivor of
the flood.

I glance around, making sure the reader who left it here isn’t
on her way back from the bathroom. No one. I sigh in relief, afraid to see the
stare of the student from last night. And the crazy eyes.

This is foolish.
I’m
acting foolish. Nerves, like
Sean said – I’m just putting off the inevitable talk with him.

I pick up the book, and the world falls away. Off-white
surrounds me, black lettering etched in the floor and walls, and water stains
splotched across the landscape.

Throb, throb, throb. A pulse, stronger than my own blood
rushing in my ears, beats around me. Unseen hands push me, then pull, the
throbbing sound crescendoing with every jolt. Static electricity crackles
across my skin, touching each nerve. I trip over my own feet, stumbling.

I flail to brace myself on the walls, to place my hands on
the enormous words, but they ripple, like a turning page. The book’s heartbeat
thuds in my mind, digs for my soul. I fall to my knees, but even the floor
turns to waves, and I feel nothing beneath my hands but the beating and tiny
shocks stinging my fingertips. Tossed about like a dinghy on rough seas, I
topple to my side.

No, this isn’t happening. I’m hallucinating, having a panic
attack over my meeting with Sean.

The heart throbs louder, killing my thoughts.

The words on the floor stick to my skin like tiny suction
cups, pain stinging me with every beat. Slowly, my energy drains. I can’t
struggle any more, rolling about on the rippling floor. A pressure in my chest
builds until my body is pounding along with the sound around me.

This is real, as real as the night I spent in Sean’s arms.
Not another Stephen King novel, though it feels like something he’d write
about.

I squeeze my eyes shut and will myself to release the book I’m
holding in my world. If I’m no longer touching it, maybe I’ll wake up, like the
girl did last night.

No use. The vicious words still surround me; the beat pushes
against my body, strangling my insides.

Trapped.

“Help!” The pounding drowns my shout, but I hope someone,
anyone hears me. I steady myself and find the energy to stand, knees wobbly,
fear burning in my stomach like acid.

I won’t let it suck me in, keep me here. This is not how I
want to get lost in a book, not how I want my life to end. I attempt to walk.
Feet unsteady from the sight of the roiling words under me, from the pushing
and pulling, I trip and fall again.

More suction cups lick at my skin, sapping my strength,
devouring my endurance. The pressure in my chest doubles. Heart attack like
that one victim?

No more. Stop this!

I lash out, hoping to catch the book unaware and rip the
page with my nails. Instead I hit solid, human flesh.

“Whoa, Leda. Calm down.” Sean’s voice.

The world filters back, carpet underneath me, stacks of books
towering toward me. Soldiers; yes, soldiers, ones that want to storm me as if I
were Helm’s Deep or King’s Landing.

Sean grasps my upper arms, refusing to let go, even after I
struck him. “What happened? You’ve been gone a half hour, and I found you
standing here, as still as one of those performers pretending to be a statue.”
The smile, the shyness, all of it’s gone, replaced by worry, a tremor in his
voice.

The book lies at my feet, face down, front and back covers
daring me to spout off the craziness I experienced. No one will believe me – I’ll
be discounted like the student who caused the flood. A librarian who spent too
much time with her books and not enough with other human beings. Maybe they’d
be right.

Sean waits, patiently, quietly, clinging to me.

I inhale deeply. Madhouse or not, I can’t let this happen to
anyone else. I point at the book.

He lets go of me and reaches to pick it up.

“No. Don’t touch it.” I grab his hand before he’s lost in
the pages. “It... it sucked me in. I was literally in the book. And I think it
was feeding off of me.” Now I wait for the condescending response, for his
dismissal and cold shoulder.

Sean shifts his gaze between me and the book.

“I know it sounds crazy, but you said yourself that you felt
something creepy...”

He squeezes my hand. “I believe you.” He licks his lips.
“And I remember why I never wanted to come here. The first time I did, I
somehow lost an hour. And I knew I hadn’t fallen asleep. That’s all I remember,
and that’s even trying to slip away from me, like something is clouding the
memory.”

I fall into his chest and he wraps his arms around me. My
tears trickle slowly. No, I can’t resist a man who has his nose in a book, nor
one who believes what I say, no matter if it sounds like utter gibberish.

“It’s like they’re alive. All I could hear was its
heartbeat.” The press of Sean’s arms and the warmth of his body soothe me, the
throbbing sound fading from my mind.

Soon, I barely remember the pounding or the ripples of the
pages, the sucking. A type of amnesia settles in, only small bits of memory
remaining.

The books’ defense mechanism.

No, I can’t forget all of it. Must keep everyone else safe.

“Do you smell that?” Sean releases me, looking around.

I wipe the tears from my eyes and sniff the air. “Smoke.”

He nods and darts between the stacks.

I follow, tentatively. The books gaze down at me,
threatening to topple, to fall over and bury me, break all my bones. Soldiers
waiting for the right time to brandish their knives. Razor-sharp edges of
paper.

Sean turns a corner, disappearing, and I run to catch up,
not wanting to be alone. I breathe easier once I emerge from the stacks, but
not for long. The smoke stings my nostrils.

Before us, the girl from last night kneels next to a pile of
burning books, a box of matches in her hand. She whirls around to face us. “I
have to. I have to do this. Please don’t stop me.” She trembles, dropping a
match.

I snatch the box from her. “I won’t.” My hand is steady now,
and I dig out a match and strike it. “I’ll help.”

Sean grabs a match as well, ducks into the bathroom, and
emerges with some paper towels. “This’ll make things go quicker.”

I take the makeshift torch and hesitate a moment, amazed at
how one minute I’d never imagined I’d harm a book, and the next feeling the
compulsion to burn them all.
Goodbye, friends.
I run down the stacks,
lighting any book I can. The soldiers cower now, knowing their enemy has a
weapon they can’t defend against. Their heartbeats quicken.

This may not work, though, unless the entire library burns
down, or the sprinkler system kicks in and soaks every book here. I light up
the curtains, then find Sean and the girl, and tug both of them into the
stairwell.

The fire alarm comes to life, the loud piercing squeal
digging into my brain. Better than the books draining my soul.

Won’t stop what I started. I head down the stairs. “The
basement, quickly. The journals will go up fast.”

They follow. The basement is empty. We light up as many
newspapers and journals as we can before the smoke becomes overpowering.

I double over coughing, knowing there isn’t much else I can
do. We abandon the matches to the blaze. All three of us reach the emergency
exit and push our way out.

“We should head to the front of the library, make sure we’re
with everyone else.” Sean tugs at my sleeve.

The girl trundles behind us, unresponsive.

Fran sees us coming and rushes up to me. “Are you okay?”

I nod. Yes, now I am, the smell of the burning books a
healing balm.

“I don’t know what happened, how this could have started.”
Her voice sounds distant, far away, coming from another world. “And for some
reason the sprinkler system hasn’t kicked in. Someone must have disabled it.”
The corner of her mouth twitches, and she lets out a long breath, her entire
body relaxing, as if a grip that holds her finally releases.

The girl sits down on the lawn, wraps her arms around her
knees, and rocks back and forth. Her eyes remain fixed on the blaze now
consuming the library.

Sean bends toward my ear. “Do you hear that? I think they’re
screaming.”

Screams, yes, screams. They beg to be saved and curse their
killers. The wails touch my ears, then disappear from my mind mere moments
after I hear them.

Like in my dream, but thankfully, I’m not burning with them.

I wrap my arms around Sean’s waist and rest my head on his
chest. “I think I’m ready to give you that chance.”

After all, Jane Eyre managed to find love after Rochester’s house burned to the ground.

~~~~~

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Fortunes of Fate Series

Dreams in
Shadow

Love
Fades

Other Titles

“Kindled Morphogenesis” in the anthology
Modern Magic: Tales of Fantasy and
Horror
.

“A Little Bit of Magic” in the anthology
Hazard Yet Forward
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Fractured
Fairies: Immortal Woes & Ode to Buses and Libraries

Tales of
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Hell Hath
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