D. MacHale - Raven Rise

The old man chuckled. “You are my first visitor today. Why does that surprise you?”

Patrick wasn’t sure of how to answer. “I don’t know. This is a big library in a big city. You’d think a couple of people would drop by.”

The old man shrugged the kind of resigned shrug that could only come from an old guy who had seen it all. “Life is short,” he said with a sigh. “Nobody wants to read about why.”

“My name’s Patrick. I’m a teacher.” Patrick held out his hand to shake. The old man took it. Patrick felt as if he were holding the limb of a fragile bird.

“My name is Richard. I’m a dinosaur.”

Patrick laughed. The old guy had a sense of humor.

“I guess you’re a librarian.”

“I am the librarian,” was Richard’s quick answer. “For the entire city. Possibly the whole state. As libraries close, the books are sent here. This is the last stop. Once this place turns to dust…” He shrugged, and didn’t finish the sad sentence.

“Can you help me do some research?” Patrick asked. “I’m not familiar with how the library works.”

Richard’s eyes lit up, as if this were the first time somebody needed his expertise in a long, long time. Patrick sensed that the man stood up a little straighten

“Are you preparing a lesson?” Richard asked with professional authority. “Or is this for your own interest?”

“A lesson,” Patrick answered quickly, jumping on the idea. “I need to fill in some details about a period in history, and I want to be accurate.”

Richard shuffled off, heading deeper into the room full of books and waving for Patrick to follow. “What period would that be?”

Patrick wasn’t sure of how to answer. He wanted to find out when things had gone wrong. What was it that had changed Earth’s destiny? Where had it begun? When had it begun? He wished he had given a little more thought to that before talking to the old man. What should he say? Once he turned his mind to it, the answer was obvious.

“Early twenty-first century,” he declared. He then took the chance and added, “I want to know what went wrong.”

The old man stopped and glared at Patrick. “What do you mean?”

Patrick wanted to say that he felt sure that whatever had happened, it was on Second Earth. Third Earth had fallen into decay, and that decline hadn’t happened overnight. It had to have been a gradual process. From what Patrick knew about Saint Dane’s quest to control Halla, it might very well have begun on Second Earth. All the territories had a turning point. Patrick realized that there was a good chance that Second Earth had reached its turning point and things had gone horribly wrong. It was as good a guess as any. Of course, he couldn’t say any of that.

Instead he shrugged and answered, “Just a hunch.”

Richard glared at Patrick. Patrick sensed a change in the old man. A wall had gone up. Had he said the wrong thing?

“Is there a problem?” Patrick finally asked.

“I don’t know,” Richard answered coldly. “You tell me. Am I being observed?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Patrick answered, puzzled.

Richard snapped, “You’re testing me again, aren’t you? I’m tired of you people suspecting me of mischief just because I’m a librarian. I’m too old to put up with it anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Patrick asked, genuinely confused.

“Show me your arm,” Richard barked.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Show me your arm!”

Patrick had no idea what the old man was fired up about. Before he could ask again, Richard reached out and grabbed Patrick’s right wrist. The fragile old man wasn’t so fragile anymore. He held Patrick’s arm with one hand and shoved his shirtsleeve up to the elbow with the other, revealing his forearm. Richard yanked Patrick’s arm closer, scrutinizing the skin. Patrick didn’t resist. He was too confused to do anything but stare at the old man who was staring at his arm.

“What are you looking for?” was all he could manage to mumble.

“Don’t insult me,” Richard snarled. “You know as well as I do.”

“Actually, I don’t,” Patrick shot back.

D. J. MacHale

Raven Rise

“Scars,” Richard barked. “I can tell when it’s been removed. You can’t fool me.”

Patrick pulled his arm away. He had had enough of being manhandled.

“I’m not trying to fool you. What do you think’s been removed?”

Richard squinted through his thick glasses at Patrick, sizing him up. “You know that all records from that period were destroyed. Did you think you could trip me up by asking for them? How stupid do you think I am?”

“Look, Richard,” Patrick began patiently, “I don’t know who you think I am, but I am not spying on you or trying to trip you up. All I wanted was to see some records that had to do with that time in history. That’s all. There’s nothing sinister about it.”

Richard seemed to soften. “Let me see your arm again.” He added, “Please.”

Patrick rolled his eyes and shoved his arm out. The old man took another close look while rubbing his thumb over the skin, feeling for scars.

“I believe you, son,” Patrick finally said. “There’s nothing here. Never was.”

Patrick took his arm back and rolled his sleeve down. “What did you expect to find?”

Richard gave Patrick another curious look. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“I’m sorry,” Patrick said. “Maybe I should, but I don’t.”

“Maybe you don’t want to,” Richard added.

Patrick agreed completely. Maybe he didn’t want to know. But he had to. “Is it true?” Patrick asked. “Have all the records from the early twenty-first century been destroyed?”

Richard took a tired breath. “You’ll forgive me for being cautious, but to hold any pertinent records from that time is a crime punishable by death. They have spies everywhere, rooting out anything that remains. They’ve been here before, asking the same questions. But they had the mark. It’s part of them. They usually don’t try to hide it, unless they’re looking for trouble.”

“What kind of mark?”

Richard rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses. He looked tired. “Come on,” he said, and walked off.

Patrick noticed that the old man was once again stooped over. The momentary hope that he could use his skills to assist someone with a legitimate research project was gone. Richard led him along the rows of musty books, stopping at a wooden door that he used an ancient key to unlock. Patrick decided not to ask him any more questions until they reached their destination. He was too busy trying to get his mind around the fact that all records from Second Earth had been destroyed. Why? By whom? Who were the mysterious people whose arms were marked and who spied on people to make sure they weren’t harboring secrets? Or the truth.

The door moved with a creak that told Patrick it hadn’t been opened in a long time. Inside the dimly lit room were tables loaded with ancient papers. It was all pretty haphazard. The walls were lined with books. With all that he’d seen that strange morning, the sight of so many books was still jarring.

“Close the door,” Richard commanded as he shuffled to a bookcase and ran his hands along the volumes. “I shouldn’t worry so much anymore. I’m tired. Nobody cares. Why should I?” The old man found what he was looking for. He pulled a heavy leather volume out from between the others and placed it on the table. Patrick expected him to open it. He didn’t. Instead he reached into the empty space the book had occupied. Patrick watched with fascination as the old man opened a hidden panel in the wall behind the bookcase and took out a flat object wrapped in red cloth.