I studied the books on the shelf, making sure they were in order. Someone had been helping themselves, which made me happy---That was what they were there for. Since the mayor had declared a state of emergency in Lock Haven and the library had been closed, I'd been stopping by occasionally to check on our backup library outside. I figured I wasn't technically working if I didn't enter the library.
I got on my bike and rode to the grocery store. I had a black jacket that I'd geared up with all the usual adventure equipment, plus first aid, hand sanitizer, soap, and some alcohol wipes. The perfect accessory for a deadly quarantine.
The store had been raked over---It was ridiculous. Paper products were gone. Fresh vegetables were nonexistent; I got lucky enough to score the last onion. Canned vegetables were about half picked over. For some reason, there was plenty of spam.
"Thank you for that article about the 1918 flu epidemic," a woman said to me from the recommended six feet away. This is the new normal. "It's good to make people feel better about this situation."
"I'm trying, believe me."
"I miss the library. E-books just aren't the same."
"I do have books available on the shelves out back," I told her. "There's a wide variety. You can help yourself."
"Oh, that would be nice," she said. "I'll stop there after dinner."
"Stay safe."
"You, too."
When Tif arrived at the house in her wheelchair, Paul and I were out in the front yard. I was drinking a Labbatt while he rolled around on his roller skates, and we were practicing with a blowgun. This is a good combination.
Tif observed us for a minute. "Because everyone has a blowgun lying around the house someplace," she said.
"Had this for years," I said. "We spent some time indoors, practicing with the dummy darts. Paul's quite fascinated with it." I took a breath and shot a long dart into a beer can I had propped up on a lawnchair.
"I want to," Paul said. I loaded the blowgun up with a hunting dart and handed it to him. He blew, and didn't quite hit the can, but came close.
"Can I try?" Tif asked.
I loaded the blowgun with a short dart, and handed it to her. Her first shot went a little wide, but not too bad.
"That's actually sort of fun," she admitted.
"Try another," I said. "I've been teaching Paul one survival tactic a day at least. Hey Paul. How do we signal for help in Morse Code?"
"SOS," Paul said immediately. "Dot dot dot, line line line, dot dot dot."
"Very good. And what makes a good firestarter?"
"Milk cartons."
Tif glanced at me. "Milk cartons? Really?"
"They light right up, but they tend to be waxed, which makes the waterproof. I always carry some cut strips of milk carton in my firestarter kits."
"You been teaching him this stuff daily?"
"If we're gonna have an epidemic, might as well enjoy it."
My daughters sat at the table talking as I cooked dinner. Tif glanced at the pan. "This gonna be something you shot with the blowgun?"
"No, it's pork. Grocery store's still open."
"You think eventually it won't be?" asked Biz.
"I doubt it'll come to that," I said,"But it's best to be prepared. You never know how long this could go on, or how bad it could get. I have some food stocked up, but if we go into a full-scale quarantine, I want to be prepared."
"What exactly does that entail?"
"I can catch squirrels and rabbits in the backyard. The blowgun is fun, but I'd probably set deadfall traps---Let a trap do all the waiting. Collect rainwater, make a solar still. Find edible plants."
"Part of you is actually enjoying this," said Tif.
I shook my head. "I'm not, no. I hope it never comes to that. But if it does, I've been learning how to do this stuff my whole life. Once you're in an emergency, it's too late to learn how to deal with the emergency."
"You always say that."
"I always mean it."
"Well...."
"So, after dinner, you guys want to go on a little adventure?" I asked.
"Yes," Biz said immediately.
"Yeah," Tif said at the same time.
I hadn't expected it to be quite that easy. "There's an old Shoemaker story, published in 1912. I wrote a column about it for your mother's birthday last year. It's about fairies from Germany."
"We've been hiding out from the coronavirus all week," said Tif. "I'm not gonna be too picky about what we end up doing."
"In the story, there was a girl named Lotte Rudeshili," I said. "In Germany. Got engaged to a Wilhelm Schwartz. She discovered fairies in the forest and they made her their queen---It's a Henry Shoemaker story. When her parents announced they were moving the America, Clinton County specifically, Lotte and Wilhelm smuggled the fairies over. Shoemaker is real specific about punching air holes in the sack and bribing customs agents."
Tif laughed. I continued,"They lived in the forest, and when she died, the fairies would dance around her grave at night. I have reason to believe this was in the Swissdale Cemetery. When I wrote the article, your mother wanted to go look for the grave sometime. Now's as good a time as any."
"Are we going to blowgun the fairies?" Tif asked.
"No, we're going to let the fairies do their thing."
"Can't imagine we'll encounter too many other people in a cemetery," said Tif.
"No," I agreed. "I figure the Swissdale Cemetery isn't likely to be attracting hordes of people."
My wife parked the Prius under the old tree. I tried to maintain my dignity as I got out of it. Indiana Jones never rode places in a Prius. I was wearing my urban camouflage zombie shirt.
The Swissdale Cemetery is on the outskirts of Swissdale, which means it's basically nestled into farmland in Dunnstable Township. My family got out of the car and Paul began running around.
"We're looking for an old stone, before 1912," I said. "Shoemaker's story was published by then, and she had already died. Initials probably LR or LS; he liked to change the names but often kept the initials. And a German name."
Spreading out, we began looking around. Paul pointed at several gravestones, calling out,"Daddy! I found it!"
"What were those initials?" Biz asked me.
"LR or LS. Probably; I'm not a hundred percent on that. And a German name."
"This one has a sheep on it," said Michelle.
"Usually means a child," I said.
She looked at the gravestone. "Yeah. It is."
I stood next to her and looked at it. "One year old. Died in 1918, which probably means the Spanish Flu epidemic. That's a cheerful thought right now."
Tif and Paul roamed around the eastern end of the cemetery, while Biz, Michelle, and I walked across toward the west. Biz said,"These two look like little cairns."
"There's a couple of those in Highland, too," I said.
Paul let out a little shriek and ran back toward the car. A moment later, Tif called over,"He says he saw a scary hand attacking him."
"We're going to quit letting him watch those YouTube videos," Michelle said.
We reached the path, and I looked over the stones from that point on. "Far enough. These are all modern stones. They obviously started the cemetery on that end and worked their way over this way. Let's turn around."
We turned and walked back, not finding anything. I got to the car, where Paul was coloring a rainbow in the back seat. Leaning over the door, I said,"What's up, little man?"
"There was a scary hand in the cemetery. You want to see?'
"Okay. Show me."
Holding my hand, he led me over to the area between the two gravestones that resembled cairns. Biz followed along. Paul pointed. "There."
There was a work glove lying on the ground where someone had dropped it. I said,"Little man, that's just a glove. See?" I kicked it.
"It scared me. I thought it was going to get me."
"We're in The Stand, not Carrie. Come on, let's go back to the car."
"What are you doing, Daddy?"
In my office, I gestured toward the computer screen. "Since we couldn't find the grave we wanted earlier, I thought I'd check online. I hate doing that, but sometimes you can discover some things."
"You want to wrestle?"
"Soon as I'm done here."
I found Swissdale Cemetery on Findagrave. I ran a search for someone with the initials LR or LS who had died pre-1912, and came up with a few possibilities. And then I spotted Lena Schwendimann Weise, died in 1908.
"Check it out, Pipper. Look. This may be the fairy grave. She died at the right time, and in the story, her married name was Lotte Schwartz. In German, that means black. Her real name was Lena Weise. In German, Weiss means white. I found her."
"Want to wrestle now?"
"Yeah, little man. Let's go wrestle."
Friday, March 20, 2020
Thursday, March 19, 2020
Pandemic: Going Viral
"I've had a report of the Susquehanna Seal in the river, near the Constitution Bridge," I said as we walked through Memorial Park. "Let's go investigate."
"Yeah," said my son, who walked behind me wearing his mermaid outfit. I snapped his picture. We walked down the bank, checking for water monsters in the river.
This is quality time.
Standing by the river's edge, I snapped some photos of the river. Paul stepped into the mud, slipped, and went down. I reached down, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up.
"Careful, little man," I said. "Let's get a water sample."
I stepped down, and slid myself. Saying some things I shouldn't have in front of Paul, I pulled myself back up.
"Nope, can't reach the river," I said. "Come on, let's get back to the car."
"Can I get a Spider-Man popsicle?" Paul asked.
"Yeah, you can."
It was Saturday, March 14.
Sunday, March 15.
I awoke to my phone ringing. Nine AM. Climbing out of bed, I saw that it was the library, and picked up.
"Hello?"
"Lou?" It was New Boss. "Have you seen my e-mail yet?"
She had no way of knowing that I was standing there in my Batman pajamas. "No, haven't been online yet."
"Due to the Coronavirus, the library is closing for two weeks. Staff will be on modified hours, so you won't lose any pay. Report for work Monday, with a list of projects you'd like to get done while the patrons aren't around."
"Can do. How will this affect our active shooter training on Wednesday?"
"It's still on. Since we're going to be here anyway."
"Okay. See you Monday."
Monday, March 16.
New Boss was at her desk when I walked in on Monday morning. "Got coffee on," I said. "I can bring you some, if you like. Gotta start the apocalypse with coffee."
She gave me the biggest grin I'd seen on her since I'd pointed out that the sentence "Oh my god, Becky, look at her butt" passes the Bechdel Test.
"Nah, I'm good," she said. "Staff meeting at two. You have hours figured out?"
"I figure it'll give me all my hours if I just come in at nine across the board," I said. "I'd like to weed the graphic novels, and check the index files for the obits. Also, we still have shelves outside from the book sale---I'd like to set up a temporary library out there, with donated books we're not too worried about. Let people pick up a few while we're closed."
"A goodwill gesture." She nodded. "Make sure you put up a sign."
"I'm on it."
With an armload of books, I went outside into the back alley. Around back, on the patio, we had a few metal shelves standing. I set down the books and began alphabetizing them, creating a small temporary library.
Lock Haven was, comparatively, a ghost town. I'd dropped Paul off with Tif earlier that morning, to his delight. The main highways, which ran through East Main Street and Bellefonte Avenue, still had traffic, but the rest of the city was quiet. First day of the pandemic, and everyone was staying in. One lonely car rode past me as I filed the books.
As I walked down the alley, someone shouted out their window,"Hey! Don't you know you're supposed to be inside?"
"Historians never die," I shouted, and went back into the building.
Upstairs on the third floor, Zach was getting the room set up for the staff meeting. I said,"Did a Teen Paranormal thing in here the other night....You find any aliens we missed?"
"Nah, not yet," said Zach.
"Oh, wait, there's one." I'd missed one little glow in the dark alien on one of the display cases. I picked him up and put him in my pocket.
"So now you're done with the aliens," said Zach. "And we have a zombie apocalypse coming."
"Oooh, yeah," I said. "I been buying T-shirts for this moment my whole life." I pointed at Mel, and then Tracey. "Zombie T-shirt Thursday? Zombie T-shirt Thursday?"
"Let's get the meeting started." New Boss sat down with her agenda. End of the world, and we still have to kick off with a meeting.
"I just wanted to say that on limited duty, we could theoretically all just get drunk," I said. "If you find a monogrammed flask with an alien on it, it wasn't mine."
New Boss shook her head. "I can't believe this place doesn't have an alcohol policy."
"Oh, we do," I said. "We just talk about drinking so much, nobody's noticed it."
"How was the first day of the apocalypse?" I asked Tif and Paul as I worked on dinner.
"Not bad. Paul burned through his worksheets in about five minutes."
"Good boy," I said. "Want to learn how to signal for help in Morse Code?"
"Sure," said Paul.
I turned on my watch, which was an analog model that had a light on it. It flashed three short bursts, then three longer ones, and then three short ones again. I said,"Three at a time, short, long, short. That means SOS. If you wanted to write it...." I took a pen and scribbled three dots, three dashes, and three dots on a paper. "That'd be it."
"Okay," said Paul, and practiced writing it down himself.
"Library's shut down for two weeks to prevent the spread of coronavirus," I said. "I don't know how I'm going to keep from going crazy. I can go in, but I'm not required to put in my usual hours."
"Maybe we can help each other, you and I," said Tif. "I'll watch Paul while you go in and accomplish stuff. I'm going to lose it, sticking to my apartment for weeks."
"That works for me," I said. "Gives me time to get in and help the community, as much as I can."
"And you can make dinner," said Tif.
"And I can make dinner," I agreed as my wife walked in. I pulled out a meatloaf, which I'd rounded off and stuck cauliflower florets into, making it look like the coronavirus. "Loafid-19."
Tif laughed. Michelle shook her head.
"He told me he was going to do this," she said.
Tuesday, March 17.
I entered the library through the staff door and went to my desk. The place was deserted---I'd worked some slow shifts before, but it was mildly creepy. Most of the lights were off, and there was a sign-in sheet at the desk. Tracey and Nancy were also in the building. All of us with no lives.
I gathered some books and went outside to fill up the Ross Backup Library. Added some fiction, some children's, some local history. I put some old comic books out there, too, and weighed them down with a stone.
I sat down at my desk and brought up the webinar. Library employees are required to get three hours of continuing education every year, and the boss had suggested that this was a good opportunity. I'd signed up for one on DNA testing. I checked my messages in another window; I'd received one from SaraLee telling me that she predicted this epidemic to go on until July.
It was Saint Patrick's Day. I was wearing a green shirt that said I got lucky in Lock Haven. I sat at my desk and pretended to pay attention to the webinar. It was a lot less fun trying to get away with slacking off when nobody was around to catch me.
Alone in the building, I heard something behind me. Footsteps, light ones. Leaving the webinar on play, I got up to look around. It was more interesting than continuing education. My part of the building was the oldest section---Built as the mayor's mansion in 1887. I'd heard sounds in there before we couldn't explain, and the library was thought to be haunted.
I pulled a black pouch out of my pack and got out a laser thermometer and an EMF detector. I usually have some stuff on me. Leaving the webinar on, I walked around the room and took a few readings. Temperature was about normal; I got a couple of EMFs. Computers were off, nobody was outside the windows. There was no point in pulling out the digital recorder with the webinar going.
I still had the alien in my pocket. I took him out and set him on the corner of my desk, tracing a little line around him on my desk calendar. Trigger object. We'll see what happens to the alien.
In the hopes of finding something to write about for the PA Wilds regarding the epidemic, I checked the index files for cases of polio in the 1950s. I pulled the drawer and began looking through the cards.
When I turned around to my desk again, the alien was already shifted---It was an inch away from the pen track.
That was something.
Thursday, March 19.
"The place is supposed to be haunted," I called to the guy working on the John Brown House across the alley. "Notice anything unusual?"
He shook his head. "Nah, it ain't haunted."
"Don't be so sure. Funeral director John Brown died here in 1938 when he cracked his skull falling downstairs."
He grinned. "I'll keep my eyes open, then."
"I'm right across the street," I said. "You see anything, let me know."
To my delight, somebody had been around to take some books from my temporary back-up library. A few were missing, including the local history ones I'd put out, and someone had donated a couple more. I shuffled them around and got them in order, then went back inside and washed my hands.
I basically had the first floor to myself again. I scanned in some returned books from the book drop, and put the movies back in place. I took two copies of a "How-to-avoid-Coronavirus" poster from the bulletin boards and put them up on the windows, facing out---I figured they'd do more good where people could see them at this point. I went back to my desk and fired off a few e-mails while I waited for my next webinar. I'd chosen to wear my Zombie Outbreak Response Team shirt.
I heard something behind me---A clicking sound, toward the front of the building. Immediately, I abandoned the stupid webinar and went to check. I didn't see anything, so I ran back for my equipment.
I stalked slowly through the room, checking for temperature drops and other indications. Again, I got a couple of EMFs.
I went to the index file.
I knew the history of the library well enough. Beginning in 1887, it had been the home of Mayor Robert Bridgens, then Annie Halenbake Ross. After she'd died in 1907, it had been left to the city to become the library. I checked through some files on previous outbreaks and disasters.
The Spanish Flu had hit in 1918, when the only real staffer at the library had been Florence Hulings. She'd left for Michigan the next year, though, and I'd never seen any reason to believe that she was haunting the place. It had only been a stepping-stone for her.
Isabel Pons had been the director for the longest; I'd known that. And she'd overseen things through the polio epidemic of the 1950s. But she'd died after a long life, outliving her husband. I moved on to Mary Elizabeth Crocker.
Mary had been the director from 1924 to 1942, when she'd finally died on duty. She'd worked at the library through World War II, and also the 1936 flood, and I'd always suspected her of haunting the place anyway. She'd seen some disasters and shutdowns, which would mean that this one might be making her active.
I glanced at the alien on my desk.
Mary had also been running the library during the "War of the Worlds" scare in 1938, when quite a few Lock Haven people had locked themselves up in their homes.
"It's gonna be okay, Mary," I said, and went back to my desk.
When the phone rang this time, I wasn't in my pajamas.
It was just after dinner, with Tif, Michelle, Paul, and me all sitting at the table playing Uno. Paul had become obsessed with Uno recently, and was getting good enough to win games without any help.
"The grocery store has really been picked over," I said. "No toilet paper, no pasta. Meat and vegetables have been drained; I scored the last onion."
"Jesus," said Tif. "How bad are things going to get?"
"It's unlikely we're going to go full apocalypse, but if things do get like the Walking Dead, come straight here," I said. "Take Grouse Alley. We'll hole up here, build a solar still in the backyard, catch squirrels and forage for plants. I been training my whole life for this stuff."
The phone rang, and I went into the living room to pick it up, dodging our three dogs. It was New Boss.
"I'm calling everyone," she said. "The governor has shut down all nonessential businesses. Now we won't be working at all."
"Ah, damn."
"I know," she said. "But we have to comply. At the end of the two-week period, I'll call and let you know where we're going."
"Okay. Talk to you soon."
"See you."
I hung up and went back into the kitchen. Michelle said,"You up for another game? Paul wants to play again."
"Sure, go ahead," I said. "Looks like I got nowhere to go for a while."
"Yeah," said my son, who walked behind me wearing his mermaid outfit. I snapped his picture. We walked down the bank, checking for water monsters in the river.
This is quality time.
Standing by the river's edge, I snapped some photos of the river. Paul stepped into the mud, slipped, and went down. I reached down, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up.
"Careful, little man," I said. "Let's get a water sample."
I stepped down, and slid myself. Saying some things I shouldn't have in front of Paul, I pulled myself back up.
"Nope, can't reach the river," I said. "Come on, let's get back to the car."
"Can I get a Spider-Man popsicle?" Paul asked.
"Yeah, you can."
It was Saturday, March 14.
Sunday, March 15.
I awoke to my phone ringing. Nine AM. Climbing out of bed, I saw that it was the library, and picked up.
"Hello?"
"Lou?" It was New Boss. "Have you seen my e-mail yet?"
She had no way of knowing that I was standing there in my Batman pajamas. "No, haven't been online yet."
"Due to the Coronavirus, the library is closing for two weeks. Staff will be on modified hours, so you won't lose any pay. Report for work Monday, with a list of projects you'd like to get done while the patrons aren't around."
"Can do. How will this affect our active shooter training on Wednesday?"
"It's still on. Since we're going to be here anyway."
"Okay. See you Monday."
Monday, March 16.
New Boss was at her desk when I walked in on Monday morning. "Got coffee on," I said. "I can bring you some, if you like. Gotta start the apocalypse with coffee."
She gave me the biggest grin I'd seen on her since I'd pointed out that the sentence "Oh my god, Becky, look at her butt" passes the Bechdel Test.
"Nah, I'm good," she said. "Staff meeting at two. You have hours figured out?"
"I figure it'll give me all my hours if I just come in at nine across the board," I said. "I'd like to weed the graphic novels, and check the index files for the obits. Also, we still have shelves outside from the book sale---I'd like to set up a temporary library out there, with donated books we're not too worried about. Let people pick up a few while we're closed."
"A goodwill gesture." She nodded. "Make sure you put up a sign."
"I'm on it."
With an armload of books, I went outside into the back alley. Around back, on the patio, we had a few metal shelves standing. I set down the books and began alphabetizing them, creating a small temporary library.
Lock Haven was, comparatively, a ghost town. I'd dropped Paul off with Tif earlier that morning, to his delight. The main highways, which ran through East Main Street and Bellefonte Avenue, still had traffic, but the rest of the city was quiet. First day of the pandemic, and everyone was staying in. One lonely car rode past me as I filed the books.
As I walked down the alley, someone shouted out their window,"Hey! Don't you know you're supposed to be inside?"
"Historians never die," I shouted, and went back into the building.
Upstairs on the third floor, Zach was getting the room set up for the staff meeting. I said,"Did a Teen Paranormal thing in here the other night....You find any aliens we missed?"
"Nah, not yet," said Zach.
"Oh, wait, there's one." I'd missed one little glow in the dark alien on one of the display cases. I picked him up and put him in my pocket.
"So now you're done with the aliens," said Zach. "And we have a zombie apocalypse coming."
"Oooh, yeah," I said. "I been buying T-shirts for this moment my whole life." I pointed at Mel, and then Tracey. "Zombie T-shirt Thursday? Zombie T-shirt Thursday?"
"Let's get the meeting started." New Boss sat down with her agenda. End of the world, and we still have to kick off with a meeting.
"I just wanted to say that on limited duty, we could theoretically all just get drunk," I said. "If you find a monogrammed flask with an alien on it, it wasn't mine."
New Boss shook her head. "I can't believe this place doesn't have an alcohol policy."
"Oh, we do," I said. "We just talk about drinking so much, nobody's noticed it."
"How was the first day of the apocalypse?" I asked Tif and Paul as I worked on dinner.
"Not bad. Paul burned through his worksheets in about five minutes."
"Good boy," I said. "Want to learn how to signal for help in Morse Code?"
"Sure," said Paul.
I turned on my watch, which was an analog model that had a light on it. It flashed three short bursts, then three longer ones, and then three short ones again. I said,"Three at a time, short, long, short. That means SOS. If you wanted to write it...." I took a pen and scribbled three dots, three dashes, and three dots on a paper. "That'd be it."
"Okay," said Paul, and practiced writing it down himself.
"Library's shut down for two weeks to prevent the spread of coronavirus," I said. "I don't know how I'm going to keep from going crazy. I can go in, but I'm not required to put in my usual hours."
"Maybe we can help each other, you and I," said Tif. "I'll watch Paul while you go in and accomplish stuff. I'm going to lose it, sticking to my apartment for weeks."
"That works for me," I said. "Gives me time to get in and help the community, as much as I can."
"And you can make dinner," said Tif.
"And I can make dinner," I agreed as my wife walked in. I pulled out a meatloaf, which I'd rounded off and stuck cauliflower florets into, making it look like the coronavirus. "Loafid-19."
Tif laughed. Michelle shook her head.
"He told me he was going to do this," she said.
Tuesday, March 17.
I entered the library through the staff door and went to my desk. The place was deserted---I'd worked some slow shifts before, but it was mildly creepy. Most of the lights were off, and there was a sign-in sheet at the desk. Tracey and Nancy were also in the building. All of us with no lives.
I gathered some books and went outside to fill up the Ross Backup Library. Added some fiction, some children's, some local history. I put some old comic books out there, too, and weighed them down with a stone.
I sat down at my desk and brought up the webinar. Library employees are required to get three hours of continuing education every year, and the boss had suggested that this was a good opportunity. I'd signed up for one on DNA testing. I checked my messages in another window; I'd received one from SaraLee telling me that she predicted this epidemic to go on until July.
It was Saint Patrick's Day. I was wearing a green shirt that said I got lucky in Lock Haven. I sat at my desk and pretended to pay attention to the webinar. It was a lot less fun trying to get away with slacking off when nobody was around to catch me.
Alone in the building, I heard something behind me. Footsteps, light ones. Leaving the webinar on play, I got up to look around. It was more interesting than continuing education. My part of the building was the oldest section---Built as the mayor's mansion in 1887. I'd heard sounds in there before we couldn't explain, and the library was thought to be haunted.
I pulled a black pouch out of my pack and got out a laser thermometer and an EMF detector. I usually have some stuff on me. Leaving the webinar on, I walked around the room and took a few readings. Temperature was about normal; I got a couple of EMFs. Computers were off, nobody was outside the windows. There was no point in pulling out the digital recorder with the webinar going.
I still had the alien in my pocket. I took him out and set him on the corner of my desk, tracing a little line around him on my desk calendar. Trigger object. We'll see what happens to the alien.
In the hopes of finding something to write about for the PA Wilds regarding the epidemic, I checked the index files for cases of polio in the 1950s. I pulled the drawer and began looking through the cards.
When I turned around to my desk again, the alien was already shifted---It was an inch away from the pen track.
That was something.
Thursday, March 19.
"The place is supposed to be haunted," I called to the guy working on the John Brown House across the alley. "Notice anything unusual?"
He shook his head. "Nah, it ain't haunted."
"Don't be so sure. Funeral director John Brown died here in 1938 when he cracked his skull falling downstairs."
He grinned. "I'll keep my eyes open, then."
"I'm right across the street," I said. "You see anything, let me know."
To my delight, somebody had been around to take some books from my temporary back-up library. A few were missing, including the local history ones I'd put out, and someone had donated a couple more. I shuffled them around and got them in order, then went back inside and washed my hands.
I basically had the first floor to myself again. I scanned in some returned books from the book drop, and put the movies back in place. I took two copies of a "How-to-avoid-Coronavirus" poster from the bulletin boards and put them up on the windows, facing out---I figured they'd do more good where people could see them at this point. I went back to my desk and fired off a few e-mails while I waited for my next webinar. I'd chosen to wear my Zombie Outbreak Response Team shirt.
I heard something behind me---A clicking sound, toward the front of the building. Immediately, I abandoned the stupid webinar and went to check. I didn't see anything, so I ran back for my equipment.
I stalked slowly through the room, checking for temperature drops and other indications. Again, I got a couple of EMFs.
I went to the index file.
I knew the history of the library well enough. Beginning in 1887, it had been the home of Mayor Robert Bridgens, then Annie Halenbake Ross. After she'd died in 1907, it had been left to the city to become the library. I checked through some files on previous outbreaks and disasters.
The Spanish Flu had hit in 1918, when the only real staffer at the library had been Florence Hulings. She'd left for Michigan the next year, though, and I'd never seen any reason to believe that she was haunting the place. It had only been a stepping-stone for her.
Isabel Pons had been the director for the longest; I'd known that. And she'd overseen things through the polio epidemic of the 1950s. But she'd died after a long life, outliving her husband. I moved on to Mary Elizabeth Crocker.
Mary had been the director from 1924 to 1942, when she'd finally died on duty. She'd worked at the library through World War II, and also the 1936 flood, and I'd always suspected her of haunting the place anyway. She'd seen some disasters and shutdowns, which would mean that this one might be making her active.
I glanced at the alien on my desk.
Mary had also been running the library during the "War of the Worlds" scare in 1938, when quite a few Lock Haven people had locked themselves up in their homes.
"It's gonna be okay, Mary," I said, and went back to my desk.
When the phone rang this time, I wasn't in my pajamas.
It was just after dinner, with Tif, Michelle, Paul, and me all sitting at the table playing Uno. Paul had become obsessed with Uno recently, and was getting good enough to win games without any help.
"The grocery store has really been picked over," I said. "No toilet paper, no pasta. Meat and vegetables have been drained; I scored the last onion."
"Jesus," said Tif. "How bad are things going to get?"
"It's unlikely we're going to go full apocalypse, but if things do get like the Walking Dead, come straight here," I said. "Take Grouse Alley. We'll hole up here, build a solar still in the backyard, catch squirrels and forage for plants. I been training my whole life for this stuff."
The phone rang, and I went into the living room to pick it up, dodging our three dogs. It was New Boss.
"I'm calling everyone," she said. "The governor has shut down all nonessential businesses. Now we won't be working at all."
"Ah, damn."
"I know," she said. "But we have to comply. At the end of the two-week period, I'll call and let you know where we're going."
"Okay. Talk to you soon."
"See you."
I hung up and went back into the kitchen. Michelle said,"You up for another game? Paul wants to play again."
"Sure, go ahead," I said. "Looks like I got nowhere to go for a while."
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