The Book (33 page)

The passenger door opened and a young woman stepped out with a newborn in her arms. She looked up at the brick and stucco house with smiling eyes, as if it were exactly what she had imagined. From the driver’s side came a man in his mid-twenties looking expectantly at the swooping gable roof and the iron plated, diamond glass windows before joining his wife and their child. Dreams were going to be built here. Years of memories they would fondly recall in the decades ahead.

The back door opened from the driver’s side and a man stepped out looking haggard and exhausted and beaten. His detached expression was lost behind his beard, humble eyeglasses and dusty brown mop of hair. It was Holden. He had finally made it home after such a long journey. He had done what he could to disguise himself, but it didn’t take much. After what he had experienced, he looked different. He was different. And it was mostly in his eyes. While thin and trodden, they had a new vibrancy to them. There was a mission behind his gaze that was unlike anything they would be expecting from someone who used to be content with a simple, small life.

He had been planning every day. During the long, moonlit walks in the street with his thumb in the air, hoping someone would pull over and save him, to drive him a few more miles before his shoes fell apart. He thought about it every hour. Dreamt of the ramifications. What he had been planning to propose to them was something they would not be expecting to hear, but he hoped that the proof of his ability to escape from the hold of the Publishing House would be voice enough. All they needed was to trust in him and trust that his plan, though oddly unbelievable and seemingly against their entire belief system, would work. He just prayed that, in his destabilized condition, he wouldn’t appear like a man that has lost his mind. Because, in truth, the man they would be expecting died somewhere along the road to Washington.

Home again, home again. Jiggety Jig
.

“Well. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” He pulled a cylindrical duffle bag from the roof and dropped it onto his shoulder before limping toward the door. The past eleven weeks had not been kind and he was looking forward to a hot bath and a chance to relax before dropping the bomb on everyone. He led them to the front door. They found it unlocked.

What the three of them were expecting and what actually met their eyes were two very different things. The estate, normally quite serene, was bustling with life. In the foyer alone, there were ten people Holden had never seen before. There was a group of young children in the sitting room listening to a woman as she read from a children’s book. In the great room there was another group that seemed to be teaching a class. They were each holding a copy of The Book, except for one, who was steadily reading aloud from an original printing. Holden was so stunned by the complete difference between what he had left and what he now discovered that he hadn’t see her coming.

“Oh gosh, I hope you three haven’t been standing here too long. Sometimes we don’t even hear the door. I’m Marion.”

He turned to see her face and there was music.

She looked brilliant and beautiful. Vibrant and alive. Comfortable in her new clothes. All sense of fear and worry gone. In fact, Marion even looked younger. When she reached the foyer, Marion hugged the woman Holden had traveled with before admiring the infant in her arms. “So adorable! I’m sure we’ll get down to business and find out how you guys got the address and where you hail from and all, but we always start with hugs. It’s just so nice to see new people. And an infant!”

“You’re kidding,” Holden bellowed, as Marion turned and nodded. She extended a hand to introduce herself. Amused, he held out his own and they shook hands. Holden knew he looked different, but he thought at least Marion would recognize him.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Alex and this is my wife, Kari. We’ve just heard so much about this house from our friend here and…well, we really look forward to getting involved any way we can.”

Marion turned to Holden again, intrigued. “So, where exactly are you…” She paused and tilted her head. Blinking often, she knit her eyebrows and leaned forward, staring into him. “Holden?”

“Yeah, Marion,” he smiled. “It’s me.”

She released a squeal of unabashed delight and leapt into his arms, only to retract immediately beneath a smile of total shock. “Oh-my-gosh, you stink.”

“I forgot I had them on.” he dragged the glassless frames free and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I could use a haircut, I’m sure.”

Marion ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it toward his forehead. “I don’t know. I think it works too.” They shared a smile. “Holden, I have to tell everyone you’re here. They’ll be so happy.”

“No. No…no…wait,” he said, taking her hand. She looked down at it and beamed. “I don’t want people to see me like this. But, I would like to kind of…call a meeting. Do we really have forty-five people?”

“Yeah, isn’t it amazing!? Most of them are like me…on a watch list or somehow associated with
The Free Thinkers
. Just let me take you around,” she pleaded, playfully. “Can I just take you around?”

“Alright, but no introductions.”

“Fine. Whatever. Sure.” She gripped onto his hand, glanced back at the people he arrived with and said, “I’m sorry. I’ll be right back. I just miss him so much. I was so worried.”

Alex waved her away. “After what he’s been through…go right ahead.”

“Yeah, we’ll just make ourselves at home,” Kari offered, reaching a free hand into the crook of her husband’s arm. “Maybe listen to this story with the kids.”

Marion gripped his hand and led him gradually through the many rooms where they used to sit and enjoy one another. “Holden, I can’t even begin to tell you…I don’t even know where to start.”

He knew where to start.

He stopped and locked eyes with the large wall in the great room where they had begun a list before he was taken. A list of random ideas of where they could find old books or pages or paragraphs. The list had been three lines long when he left. Now, the fine, dark print had bled onto a second wall to the right of the fireplace.

“That man there, and the older couple sitting on the couch, those are two of Winston’s neighbors,” Marion whispered, pointing them out. One of the older women noticed her and waved. “Their houses are even bigger than this one. It was Jeff’s idea to reach out to them because he figured that we would need more space. You wouldn’t believe it, Holden. Each of them had a few books in their house. Stuff that their family had hidden for sentimental reasons. They broke the law to keep those books and when Winston showed them the differences…they were keyed up to join. And Holden, I swear you’re going to lose your head over this. Without you here, Shane has been amazing. He’s really here for himself now. Every time a new person joins the group, Shane forces them to list out their talents, no matter how small, and now he has a construction crew! They remodeled the guest house, built a new bathroom and completely fixed up the attic with bunks and everything. So many people are living here, it’s crazy. Oh, and they renovated the basement. Can you believe it! Shane rebuilt all the bookshelves so they’re shallow enough to hold as many stories as possible without having to stack books in front of one another.”

“Look at the wall. Everyone comes up with ideas, we follow a few leads and we just…find them. See those people on the couch with The Book. It’s their job to read through a new story aloud with four other people. Two of them are following along with the digital version and one is reviewing any possible changes in Winston’s log book. Then they take one of the many leaves from the yard,” she paused, giddy, “God’s paper…remember?” Holden bobbed his head in the memory of little Ronnie. “And then we use our own homemade ink to write out the differences and mark out the page.”

“This…this is so great.”

Marion turned to agree with him, but she could see so much missing beyond his withered words. Marion saw what Holden had seen in himself every time he passed his reflection. But she didn’t ask him that question. “What happened to you Holden? Where have you been all this time?”

“First?” he asked, squinting one eye as the disheartening images were brought to memory. “Hiding out with some Unfortunates until I looked different. Hitchhiking for a while. Staying away from major cities until I met Alex and Kari. After they listened to me about The Book, I drove with them back to their apartment and helped them move. Her favorite novel is
The Catcher in the Rye
. Funny, right?” They shared a laugh, but Holden was embarrassed by his dirty smile and turned away.

Marion’s heart was broken for him. She gripped his hand tighter as she spoke. “You don’t seem happy.”

“I am happy. I just…I’m afraid it may all be for nothing.”

“Holden. If anyone should be happy, it should be you. This is all because of you. If any of these people knew you were here right now…”

“Yeah, well. They’re not going to like what I have to say.” Marion looked concerned. When he didn’t reassure her with his typical shrug of indifference, she grew frightened. There was too much. He needed to avoid the matter, so he changed the subject. “I noticed all those children in the sitting room. Are you teaching classes?”

“We call it
Knights and Bishops
. It was Winston’s idea,” she noted, walking him back toward the foyer. “He thought that, as a group, we should raise any children we have in the stories of these books and teach them everything we can about the Publishing House with the sole intention of making them as intelligent as possible so that one day they could be placed secretly within any government organization. And then, on the day we strike, they’ll all move at the same time.”

“The day we strike? Man, you guys have come a long way in only a couple months.”

Holden’s tired eyes shimmered as he watched the group of seven toddlers listen intently to the young woman who was seated at the piano bench with a tall children’s book, its once-saturated cover art now dim and dusty. They weren’t just pawns anymore. He had been gone for eleven weeks and they had moved forward without him – to the edge of the board to create their own, much stronger pieces. Marion was so happy to see his response that she began to swing his arm with her own.

“Winston was right, Holden. Every time a new person came in, there was another mind. And it was like we were all one brain that just continued to grow smarter and smarter.”

“Is this actually going to work?”

“Holden.” A rosy glow twinkled her fresh, strong-featured face and she turned to look deeply into him. “We have a grass roots movement in every state where buildings have been branded. We send people off every week and Moby is constantly out delivering Muckrakers. It’s all so –”

“What’s a
Muckraker
?”

“Oh, Winston again. I don’t know where that word came from, but it’s what we call the branding machines now.” Holden couldn’t help but picture Jane’s face as Marion spoke. His eyelids contracted and she switched gears without understanding his reaction. “People have quit their jobs to come here…pooled all their life savings into a large fund for groceries and things. Everyone is working. All day long, someone is doing something. I know. It sounds crazy, right? Can I take you to the library? I know you want to clean yourself up, but it’ll be quick.”

Marion led Holden down the cellar steps so they could keep talking without the constant brewing of people walking around them. Holden noticed the smell before he even reached the cobbled floor and once he noticed the new bookshelves, he was almost sad. The scent had once been musty and unappealing, but that was the cellar. Now, the same, crisp tang that collected in his nose was overwhelmed by the smells of pine and sawdust. Holden knew it was for the better. The shelves looked wonderful and there were so many narrow aisles with plenty of shelf space open for new books. Still, he couldn’t help missing the smell.

“It’s so empty down here,” Holden concluded aloud, as he peeked around the newly-constructed shelves. “You’d think it’d be filled with readers.”

“No. Not anymore. One of the men we recruited from the neighborhood was a science teacher and he told us that the moisture we create with our breath isn’t good for the books. It makes foxes or foxing or something on the paper. It’s mold. So we try to have no more than two people down here at a time.”

“Let me guess…”

“That’s right,” she admitted, spinning in place beneath one of the many new light fixtures. “I’m a Librarian again.”

Holden looked admiringly at her for a while without speaking, pleased and impressed with the woman she had become. “You look good, Marion.”