The Book

Jeremy spotted Myra approaching him. He spied her through the gap in the books. He was in the Metal work section; not many other people went there, it was quiet and Jerermy knew he could remain undisturbed for hours should he want to spend time on his own. He could hide and no one would know where he was. He quickly scanned the shelves, but his eye did not fall on the spine he needed to locate. It was here somewhere, he'd read about it. He estimated that he had about ten seconds before Myra was with him.

He looked up. There was no way he could mistake her awkward gait for anyone else, the churning of her upper body as spindly legs struggled to keep her considerable frame upright while in motion. Her jaundiced skin - a result of spending too much time in the basement sorting index cards for the library's Dewey system - glowed buttercup yellow under the sodium lamps; the way it ebbed and flowed as she walked was almost hypnotic. Jeremy wondered what would happen if the curtain material holding all that flesh in were unleashed. A feeling of sickness washed over Jeremy. He gagged, Myra almost upon him.

"Are you taking any books out?" She spoke the question accompanied by a volley of spittle.

Jeremy reached into his inside pocket and immediately his hand felt the handle of the knife brush his fingers. In one swift movement he had it out and was maniacally stabbing Myra in the chest. Blood spurted everywhere; her last words a gurgle as the life drained out of Myra and spread across the carpet tiles, lapping against Jeremy's shoes.

"I'm just looking," Jeremy said, his eyes on his shoes. "I'm looking for something specific." He brought his gaze up to look straight into Myra's eyes. In his head he was wiping clean an imaginary blade.

Myra wrinkled her nose at him, as if she could detect a smell that brought about thoughts of voiding bowels.

"Well, we can't house people all day, you've been here for three hours - not to mention the fact that this is the tenth day in a row that you've been here and not taken a book out. Other people want to read these books, too. Perhaps I can help?"

Jeremy stuttered. The book in his hands felt heavy. He'd never been in a library before where visitors were questioned as to the reasons they were there. It wasn't as if he was reading the papers for free, like most of the old people in the area - especially the ones that had already been banned from the newsagents. Myra just continued to glare at him.

"I'm leaving now," Jeremy mumbled. He handed Myra the book and pushed past her, picking up the pace as he got closer to the door.

Once outside, Jeremy cursed himself for his failure to complete the task he'd set out to do that morning. He could see Myra pushing her cart around the library, picking up books from the table where people had discarded them and replacing them on the correct place on the shelves. He had to get back in there, had to find the one book he wanted. The only problem was Myra. She was a big problem.

The next day Jeremy was back, shuffling around the shelves. It was dark in the library, the lights were off at such an early hour. Jeremy had snuck back in as they were closing last night, hidden himself amongst the farthest shelves and waited. He'd spent all night searching, but still he hadn't found anything. Admittedly, he'd spent an inordinate amount of time in the biology section reading about reproduction, tissue at the ready. His thoughts kept moving to Myra and he lost the urge to masturbate. He'd even failed at man's most basic instinct - could it get any worse?

A glance at his watch told Jeremy he only had an hour left until Myra came in for work. At that time he'd have to secrete himself somewhere, perhaps in the reference library. Later he could come out and pretend to have only just come in. He needed that book. His job was on the line without it. There was just one row left and then he'd know that every shelf had been checked.

At that precise moment, Jeremy's eyes settled on the exact book he wanted.

"Yessssssss," he let out with a hiss. "Just what I was looking for."

He danced a jig of glee, like a child that's just been told they can have whatever they want in the sweet shop. With light steps Jeremy hunkered down in the remote corner, book open in his hands and a demented smile on his face. Myra will be surprised, he thought to himself. Oh yes should would.