Fermata: The Spring: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series (The Fermata Series: Four Post-Apocalyptic Novellas Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

she could imagine. What she had just witnessed in the park was straight out of a Hollywood movie.
    The instant that thought crossed her mind, Vick laughed out loud. Like an apocalypse of the reanimated dead wasn’t something out of a Hollywood movie? That’s when the rustling noise turned into a distinct, “Shhhhhh. There will be no talking in the library.”
    Vick’s hand went instantly to the butt of her gun and she flattened herself against the nearest bookcase. How could there be anyone on the floor with her? She’d secured every door, and she would’ve heard any effort to open them.
    “Who’s there?” she called out.
    She was answered with a firm, “If you cannot abide by the rules, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
    The voice had come from somewhere to her left. Cautiously, Vick moved in that direction. When she stepped around the bookcase at the end of the island where she had been working, she was met by an astonishing sight.
    There, at the information desk in the corner, sitting primly by a dusty plastic ficus tree, was a gray-haired woman who was unquestionably a librarian. Just for an instant, Vick decided that she must be seeing an actual apparition, that she could add “ghosts” to every other bizarre normality in her world.
    But then the “ghost” looked up and said, “I saw that stack of books, young lady, and I hope you’re not thinking you’re going to check them all out.”
    When Vick didn’t answer, the woman continued, “I’ll have you know, Missy, that we have a three-book limit. You can look at those books here, but you cannot take them out of the library.”
    Since she couldn’t think of anything else to say, Vick said simply, “Yes, ma’am.”
    The woman peered at her over a set of half glasses, and asked suddenly, “Are you dead?”
    Vick holstered her weapon, and said, “No, ma’am. I’m very much alive.”
    “Well, then, you still have to abide by the three-book limit. Only the dead get a dispensation because they mind so poorly.”
    And with that, the woman took a long, sharp pencil out of the holder on the desk, twisted her hair atop her head in a practiced, perfect bun, and jammed the pencil in place to hold the hair secure. Then she went back to whatever business she thought she was attending to.
    “How long have you been here?” Vick asked, moving forward slowly so as not to startle the woman.
    The question seemed to catch the librarian off-guard. Her composure wavered for just an instant, and a querulous note came into her voice. “Since the night the young people became unruly in the park.”
    “You mean the Fourth of July? Three years ago?” Vick asked, surprise coloring her words.
    “Three years? Oh my. Has it really been three years? I’ve been so busy cataloguing the special collections on the top floor, I suppose I simply didn’t notice,” the woman said, fussing with dusty papers on the surface of the desk.
    Vick was standing in front of the counter now. “Ma’am?”
    When the librarian looked up, Vick said gently, “What’s your name, please?”
    “Mrs. Meredith,” the woman answered brusquely, and then, still peering at Vick, she said uncertainly, “but my friends used to call me Hettie. Are you my friend, young lady?”
    “I am now, Hettie.”
    When Vick asked to see the “special collections,” Hettie led her through a wire cage at the back of the floor that opened into a utility stairwell, which explained how the woman had gotten onto the floor without Vick’s knowledge. The top floor was one open space and it was obvious that Hettie had been living here for quite some time.
    A sofa in the corner was made into a neat bed, hospital corners just so. There were cases of canned goods stacked along one wall, and a small propane stove vented up through an ornate fireplace.
    Hettie, who was observing Vick closely, saw her attention fall on the stove and said disapprovingly, “Apparently the library committee no longer sees fit