Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
What does O want with the hospital staff dormitory? Surely, they aren’t planning to blow something up. It had been a crazy weekend with Brad being killed, and I’m probably just being paranoid. I decide to let O study the original building plans rather than print a copy because it would be impossible to explain away that much paper missing. The ladies upstairs are always really uptight about office supplies being used, and nobody ever comes to look at building plans. That’s either because nobody would ever think to find them at the library or they’re all the way down here in the basement.
Once I secure the building plans O asked for, I get back to work on my real job of archiving past issues of newspapers, magazine, and books that have gone out of circulation. I have a stack of news magazines from the previous year that need filing and a stack of magazines next to it.
On the top of the magazines is an issue from May of last year. I thumb through it, even though I read it at the time it was published. I read everything that comes through the doors of the library. Nothing comes in here without my knowing about it.
The cover story is a feature on one of the indigenous families who were relocated when the Regime built the city walls. The magazine had been following this family throughout the decades and the article describes how the family had pulled themselves up by their bootstraps to be successful. I know through my written contacts with O that the whole article is a lie.
The people outside the wall have been left to their own devices, more or less. The twice-monthly bags of flour, rice and bottled water rations cause more riots than they actually help. Some basic first-aid supplies for emergencies are sometimes dropped, but that’s really about it.
I know the truth though. That the real help comes through the tunnels. That’s where the Insurgence gets their information. I know because they call me The Librarian. I’m one of the people helping pass intel and anything else they might need. As much as I can without getting caught or risking their own safety.
As I go about my work preserving the binding and the pages, something bothers me. Every single one of these magazines is a hollow shell of misinformation. They’re all fabricated to make it seem like The Regime is the one saving us all. Our true history is being lost every year, and I can’t be the only person on the planet who might care about facts.
My anger grows so intense I can’t stand it any longer. I take out a red marker and write in the margins of the magazine that these stories aren’t real, and I cross out portions of an article that are outright lies. I correct the falsehoods that the Regime has used to brainwash us. A Regime that provided me with a posh and pampered life.
My family was able to send me through school to earn my library science degree. I never went hungry and never wore second-hand clothes. I never once worried about whether I should drink the water or if my family would be arrested for something they did. Part of the anger fueling my scribblings is anger at myself. My work with O is my way of giving back in some small way what the elites have stolen from those on the outside.
“You’ve got some serious red pen action going on here. Are you sure you’re not an editor?” The deep voice rolls over me, and I snap my head up.
I’m shocked when I see exactly what I pictured and so much more standing in front of me. He’s got dark hair, a dark shadow of a beard, with piercing blue eyes. They’re so light they’re almost clear blue, and I feel like they’re looking right through me.
He’s bigger than I imagined, with broad shoulders and a flat stomach his T-shirt clings to. He pushes away from the doorframe, and he somehow grows bigger the closer he comes. My mouth is dry and my palms are sweating as he smiles at me and flashes a dimple in his cheek.
“You must be Naomi,” he says, leaning down on my desk and staring straight into my soul.
“Shit,” I whisper as I lick my lips and try to remember to breathe.
Chapter Four
Ryan
Oh fuck, I’m in trouble. Her green eyes look up at me, and I watch as her tongue glides along her bottom lip and makes it wet. I wonder if she’s wet like that between her legs, and I have to lean over on her desk to hide my erection. The sight of her has knocked the wind out of me, and I’m being pulled closer and closer.
One look at her and I’m done for. She’s the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen. Every thought I’ve ever had leaves my mind, and suddenly there is only her.