Brooke ‘Bookeeper’'s Arc

Chapter 12 of 32

By midmorning the disguised truck rolled to a stop on a cracked patch of road. Brooke set the brake and studied the building ahead. A stone clinic sat low under a tangle of green vines. Half the windows were broken. A rusted sign on two posts leaned in the weeds, the word CLINIC still readable under flaking paint. She had never been here before. She did not know what waited inside. Brooke told the boy to stay in the cab. She climbed down with her crowbar in one hand. Near the front step, an amber beer bottle stood upright in the dirt. The glass was clean. No dust on the cap. Someone had been here recently, and they had not been gone long. She pushed the door with her boot. It swung open without a sound. Inside, the air smelled of mildew and old blood. Shelves had been tipped. Pill bottles crunched under her feet. In the back room a man sat slumped against the wall. His shirt was torn. Red streaked his arms and chest. He lifted his head and watched her, too tired to reach for a weapon. "Books," Brooke said, flat. "I'm here for books. Nothing else." The man nodded once. He pointed at a cabinet behind the front desk. Brooke pried it open. Inside sat a stack of bound medical texts and three paperbacks. Two titles matched her list. She loaded them into a canvas sack and worked fast. At the door she stopped. She set a clean rag and a half jug of water by the man's foot. He did not speak. She climbed back into the truck, handed the sack to the boy, and pulled away. The clinic shrank in the mirror. Two more titles found. One more stranger left behind who had seen her face.