Lang's Labyrinth by K. Kibbee

Author:K. Kibbee [Kibbee, K]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Incorgnito Publishing Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“He gave me this,” Herb explained as he passed Anne a yellowed slip of paper. “He said if I ever found any of the books, I ought to bring them to that address.”

The scrap was smooth and almost transparent, as though it had been over-handled to the point of ruin. Anne strained to read the print on its face, which had dulled to a ghost of its original form. “Four-fifteen Ludlow Road in Burlington? That right?” she asked.

Herb nodded mechanically, but his attention did not shift from the paper, where it had been fixed ever since he handed it to her. A faint swill of smoke built in his eyes, but when Anne stuffed the scrap in her pocket, it dissipated, and his clarity returned. “So—you two really going to go there?” he asked.

Walter replied, “darn tootin’,” for the both of them, countering Herb’s grim expression with a jolly one of his own. “We’re gonna get this guy, Sarge,” he assured the beleaguered old man, piggybacking his pledge with a sharp nod, during which the men locked eyes.

Herb replicated his friend’s gesture, saying not a word, and his eyes again grew glassy as the two men shook hands and parted ways. He waved from the store’s open doorway as the motley crew piled into the van, and as they drove out of sight, Anne was certain she saw him wipe away a tear. “Poor old guy,” Anne mewed as he shrunk to the size of a pea in the side mirror.

“Who? Sarge?” Walter asked, glancing in the rear-view and then arching his eyebrows. “Ah no, don’t let him fool you. That old scudder’s tough as nails.”

“Still. Can’t help but feel sorry for the guy.”

Walter muttered something gruff and then gave Anne a cutting pair of side-eyes before asking, “Don’t you have some phone calls to make?”

“Oh, yeah,” Anne recalled, diverting her eyes from the mirror and the remaining spec of Herb stuck there. She fished in her pack until the list she’d assembled in the coffee shop earlier that day surfaced and then asked Walter to, “Keep an eye out for a payphone,” which serendipitously sprung up just a few blocks down the road. A long day of travel and reminiscing with Walter’s old Sargent had consumed much of the daylight hours, and as Anne shuffled into the phone booth and pulled out her list, she found it difficult to decipher her own writing in the dimness. She selected the boldest and most legible of the numbers and reached for the handset, but recoiled in disgust when she encountered a brown mystery substance there. After barking, “Seriously?” and wiping a hand on her jeans, Anne set her upturned nose towards the handset and pulled her jacket sleeve over her hand before taking it up a second time. Following the cold drop of a few coins from Walter’s ashtray into the phone and a few pokes of the keypad, the receiver began ringing into her ear. It continued on ringing a dozen or more times before she gave up and went on to the next distinguishable number.

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