Brooke ‘Bookeeper’

Brooke ‘Bookeeper’'s Arc
Chapter 17 of 32

Brooke ‘Bookeeper’'s dream is running a library so all the people in Rust can have some form of entertainment.

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by @MudbugI
Chapter 17 comic
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Chapter 17

After the bearded man left, Brooke walked back to the bench where he'd been sitting. The red book was still there. Beneath it, half-tucked under the cushion, was a folded leather jacket. Dark. Heavy. A raven was stitched onto the sleeve. He'd kept it close for three days and left it on purpose. A message. She lifted it and felt papers in the inside pocket — a small notebook, tally marks beside short descriptions. Faces. Her readers, counted. She locked the library at noon for the first time in months. The boy watched her from his chair and didn't ask why. She set the jacket and notebook in a sack and walked out past the vendor stall, down the road toward the edge of town. There was an old service station Sherrie used — fuel pumps long dry, a weathered storefront, a bench out front where travelers rested. Anyone could stop there. Nothing tied it to her. That was the point. Brooke had a small handheld radio she kept for road runs. She set it on the bench, tuned to a channel Sherrie had given her once, and keyed a single phrase, twice. Then she left it powered on and walked across the lot to wait. She did not say her name. She did not need to. It took an hour. A truck rolled in with no markings. Sherrie stepped out alone, blonde hair tucked under a cap, one hand resting near her belt. Brooke handed her the sack. Sherrie looked at the jacket, then the notebook, then the tally marks beside the faces. Her jaw set. "How long," she said. "Three days in the corner," Brooke said. "He left it for me to find." Sherrie closed the notebook. "They want you scared. They want your people scared." She tucked the sack under her arm. "I'll move on it tonight. You keep the doors open tomorrow. Same hours. Don't change a thing." Brooke nodded. Sherrie climbed back into the truck and was gone before the dust settled. Brooke picked up the radio and walked back toward town. The library would open at dawn. The readers would come. And somewhere behind her now, a line had been drawn she hadn't drawn herself.

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