by GM Gambrell
Twenty Seven
The inside of the library wasn’t at all what he expected. The rest of Center, Texas had an ordered feel to it, with nothing out of place. The yards were trim, the streets clean, and even the cars parked in an orderly fashion. But much like the three black tractor-trailers that were out of place, the chaos inside the library was at a stark contrast with the rest of the town. There was clutter everywhere. The floors were covered with newspapers and magazines. Hand-written notes and hundreds of photographs dotted the walls. He bent and picked up a magazine at random and gasped. It was a magazine called Time and the headline on the cover was “The Rise of Magic”. He’d seen another issue of the very same magazine in Marissa’s parent’s basement.
“This is…” Duncan didn’t have the words to form what he was thinking, “…this is the most valuable thing on the face of the planet. There’s nothing else, anywhere, that’s more important than this building. This library contains our history, Jessica, from before the Last War. We’ve lost so much of it, but in here,” he picked up another magazine, “in these pages, are who we once were, who we are.” He felt on the verge of tears. It was the most moving thing he’d ever felt. Here were the answers to much of what he’d always wondered. “This is amazing.”
“It’s not just from before the Last War, Duncan.” She handed him an article from the wall. “It’s also from after.”
The newspaper was from the Center Gazette and was titled “Dallas Falls. Are They Coming to Center?” He scanned the article quickly. It described the heroic efforts of something called the 82nd Airborne in the defense of DFW area. He wondered what DFW meant but the article was brief, telling of the men falling and the President ordering tactical nuclear weapons to be used.
“We did it to ourselves,” Duncan said, handing her the paperback. “Well, at least some of it. We used those horrible weapons on ourselves to stop the Magicians.” He knew then what had caused the destruction in Old Dallas. It wasn’t so much magical attacks as it was the nuclear bombs.
“All these photos,” Jessica began, standing next to a bulletin board. “They’re all people that the citizens in the town were missing. Look at this.” She picked up a picture at random. “John Smith, last seen New York, New York, May, 2021.” She picked up another. “Denise Elizabeth Toole, Houston, Texas.”
“There’s a Magician city called New Houston,” Duncan observed. “And the Lord Probate of New Dallas is named Toole.”
“Do you think there’s a relation?”
“There really isn’t any way to know.”
“These people in the pictures are missing. Were missing. They put their photos in here hoping someone else would see them and know them, maybe know where they were.” Jessica put the picture back with respect. “It’s very sad.”
Duncan was lost in reading a handwritten letter on the opposite wall. “Their whole time was very sad after the war, I think. They’d lost everything, but somehow managed to survive. I think the guilt would have been enough to do them in.”
“I don’t want to read this,” Jessica said. “But we need to, don’t we?”
“Out of respect for our ancestors, if nothing else.”
Duncan and Jessica read the rest of the night, until the batteries in the lantern were on the verge of giving out.
Dear Dad,
Mom helped me type this so you could read it. You know how bad my writing is, but I’m still working on it. Mom says we can’t mail this letter ‘cause the mail isn’t running anymore. She laughed about it, though, and said we wouldn’t be getting any more junk mail. She said to post it here in the library, where everyone is putting the pictures and stories and stuff. Mary put up a picture of Aunt Judy. She was in Houston, but no one has heard from Houston in two weeks and mom cries about it at night when she thinks I’m not listening.
The soldiers say we’ll be safe under the shield and that the Magicians can’t even see us. It’s supposed to be a big bubble, but I can’t really see it. It’s not like the bubbles from that machine you bought me. It’s invisible. They say we can stay here a thousand years, hiding from them. The sheriff doesn’t want to hide. He wants to use the warrior robots the soldiers brought with them to fight back, but the soldiers say they don’t have enough of them and it’s too late. They say we already lost. The President is gone. They said dragons ate Air Force One while it was flying to New Atlantis to surrender. I don’t like that Jeremiah Fredrick man, Dad. He’s evil. Everybody knows when you surrender you don’t get hurt anymore, but he doesn’t care.
They’re going to let us stay awake for another month while they watch, then they’re going to put the shield in something called “Stasis Level Three”. It won’t just be invisible anymore. They say it will slip out of time. They say it’ll be like sleeping, and we’ll wake up after the Magicians are gone and won’t even know we slept. The soldiers say it’s going to be just fine and that we‘ll win, someday.
I miss you, Dad. I hope you make it home before Stasis Level Three.
I love you.
Johnny
