and the right-turn to the library. If Brixton ran by and they were outside, guaranteed one of them would stop him.
“What’s the rush? Are you running from someone?” They would ask.
Every time allotted the same questions which in turn, the individual in question responded with the same nervous answers. The same laughs of conquering poured out of their wretched, crooked smiles along with slaps on the back by their fellow partners. He hated the humiliation. With that being said, he didn’t time himself much. He preferred to walk rather than go through all of that. The temptation haunted him every time a day like this came about.
Today would be a good day to time. I bet I could get under eight. I bet I could get less than that.
His legs itched to be set free from the confinement of the apartment. If it weren’t for his promise to stay put, he would have done it. Instead, he took a deep sigh and began to read.
The rain tapped against the window like the ticking of a distorted clock. One tick then two ticks back to back. Its irregular pattern soothed his desire to go outside. He felt its relaxing ticks take over him and soon enough he forgot about the time.
Chapter ten had just come into view when heavy footsteps echoed in the empty hallway just outside the sliding door. A wave of sound like bombs exploding accompanied the increasing running stride. As Brixton neared the front door, so did the stomping. Chills fizzed up and down his spine. The most terrifying thought he could ever think came into view.
Fatalities. They’re coming for me. My mother is still at the library. Wait. What if they caught her first? How long has it been? What if they already killed her?
Brixton’s heart sank into his stomach. He didn’t know which was louder, the pounding in his head or the pounding in the hallway. Both expanded to immeasurable heights. More echoes bounced off the walls making them screech with agony. They were so old and could crumble if shook just right.
In that brief moment, he concluded that any slight chance of running away came to a halt when the running ceased. Panting hovered at his front door. The hallway still echoed with disturbance.
His mind fell into sudden obscurity. He knew in a matter of seconds his life would be over. But then again what reason was there to live anymore? His mother was probably dead. She was all he had. A lump welled up in his throat. He swallowed hard.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Pounds on the door jolted Brixton back into the living room and to the front door pulsing with rage. The door handle jiggled in frenzy. Too afraid to open it, he squinted and looked through the peephole.
Chapter Two: The Figure at the Door
Like this helps. I can’t see a thing. Mom, why did you make me color the glass with marker? Mom? Mom!
BANG!
“MOM!”
“Brixton! I told you to watch for me!”
BANG!
“Open the door, quick!”
Brixton fumbled to unbolt the locks. Once he unlatched the first, his hands moved faster than he ever thought they could. In almost one swoop, they all unlocked and he flung open the door. It opened with such force, pictures fell off their rusted nails and onto the floor with a shatter. Glass shards bounced then slid across the cement floor. Alarmed, Brixton sprang to the crash site to pick up the broken pieces.
“What are you doing?! Leave that and help me! Run and grab the rest of the load I dropped all over the place.”
He looked over her shoulder at the books scattered along the hallway then headed toward them. That must have been the bombs dropping sound.
“Don’t walk…run!”
Sonu’s forceful demands brought back the anxiety he had just gotten over once he saw her blurry figure through the peephole. Never had he been so afraid, startled, excited, and confused in all his life. He sprinted down the hallway and grabbed all the stragglers. Sonu already threw her load over the broken pieces of glass. She waited for him; one hand on the handle the other on the largest of the bolts. Brixton raced through the door and plopped the remainders on the table. A few slid off and landed with more bomb bangs on the floor.
“What took you so long? You’ve been gone for hours!” he gasped.
“Just a minute…let me catch my breath...are the blinds shut?"
“Yeh, you pinned them shut,” Brixton lied.
“Okay good. Don’t touch um.”
“What was that? Mom, what happened out there? Why do you have so many books?” he asked while fumbling to pin the curtains back up without being noticed.
“They’re going to burn it down.”
“Burn what down?”
“The…the library.”
“Who is?”
“Who do you think? The…Fatalities,” she said still trying to catch her breath. “A week from tomorrow. I had to go the long way around so they wouldn’t see me.”
“So who wouldn’t see you?”
“The Fatalities. I just told you.”
“How did you find that out?”
“I had to do this, Brix. You can-NOT tell anybody that we have these. Anybody. Do you understand?”
“How did you find out so far ahead of time? Who told you?”
“Anybody, Brix.”
“Yes, don’t tell anybody. How did you hear about this?”
His patience grew weary. Sonu had hardly answered any of his questions. He felt concerned for his mother and started to question her sanity. Had she gone mad? Was she making this up? How could she have possibly heard about something like this?
“I’m going again tonight. I’ll go before the spotlights turn on. Please be on a better lookout next time.”
“This is absurd! We can’t keep all these books!”
“You would rather see them turned to ash?”
“No. But we’ll get caught. They’ll kill us on the spot.”
“They’re already killing us, Brix. Without these.” She picked up a book that slid onto the floor and placed it back on the table. Her gentle touch soothed the books as if they were living things. The room felt calm again. “Our minds will surly turn to mush.”
“How did you find out about this?”
“Never mind that. Just remember this, Brixton Bex.” Sonu’s voice was calm now as well. “There is a small door on the side of the library where no cameras reach. It’s in the alleyway. A door opens up to the basement. Go up the winding stairs until the main lobby opens up on to the second floor. That’s how you get to the books
