Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
So you set it free.
They did set me free. But then they called me back. They put me in the library and they didn’t even let me read the books.
I put the truck in gear and drive down to the gas station. It’s open, but there’s a new sign on the door informing customers that the pumps are empty.
That’s wonderful. The whole idea of escape is dubious now because I have less than a quarter of a tank in my truck. When I got in yesterday, I wasn’t in the mood to gas up. I didn’t think I’d need it. So according to my digital gas gauge I can go sixty-seven miles.
Someone who lives in the city would figure this would get them to another gas station. But I’m really not sure it would. There was nothing around this town from the direction I came in.
But it doesn’t even matter because I’m not running. Not yet. I’ve given myself one day.
Inside the gas station there are exactly two products on the healthcare shelf. Visine and migraine-strength Excedrin. I buy the aspirin.
But there’s no cold medicine. And he needs something for that cough. I get back in my truck and slowly troll the downtown. Maybe I missed a store last night? I mean, where the hell do these people get groceries?
That’s when I spy the church and a sign directing people to the back where the food pantry is. I don’t have anything to lose at this point. If there’s no medicine at the food pantry, I might have to go knocking door to door because a doctor’s office is yet another thing this town doesn’t have.
I park the truck in the back and go inside. There is no one here to greet me but there is a shelf in the corner with stacks of medicine on it. I walk over there and start checking it out. There is at least one of pretty much every cold medicine you can think of. And to the left of this corner shelf, down a narrow hallway, is something else. A whole set of shelves filled with herbs in jars.
I’m curious. I’m a witch, after all, even if I don’t practice the ancient rites. The library had all kinds of herbs in a special section that I wasn’t really allowed to browse. There was no door on that section of the library, but there was a huge, two-story-tall brass gate with plenty of ancient-looking bulky locks. I never did get in there, but I could see everything just fine. Jars, and jars, and jars. All the way up to the ceiling. I could even read the labels of the ones closest to the gate, but I never saw anyone go in there and actually use anything.
But those little glimpses of the hallway jars make these jars feel familiar to me.
“Can I help you?”
I startle at the voice behind me, whirling around. “Oh, my God.” I put my hand over my heart. “You scared the shhhhh—crap out of me.”
She’s obviously connected to the church. She just has ‘church’ written all over her, from the pulled-back hair right down to the apron covering the front of her light-blue dress. Hell, all she needs is a bonnet.
Her smile is bright and wide. Also… well-practiced. Almost… charismatic.
I don’t know her, so I’m not sure why I get this impression, but there it is.
“Sorry.” She’s smiling as she says this. “I was in the kitchen cooking and I heard the door chime.”
I didn’t hear a door chime.
It’s like she reads my mind because she says, “It only sounds in the back.”
“Oh. OK, well…” I look down at the medicine in my hand, then hold it up. “My… friend is sick. I think he needs this. Is it OK if I take it? I can pay you.”
“Oh, no. You take whatever you want, sweetie. It’s all free. No matter who you are or what you need it for.”
Sweetie? She barely looks old enough to drink. “Well, thank you. This town is really lacking in shopping options.”
“Yes. That’s why the pantry is so important.”
“Well, let me make a donation, at least.”
But she puts up a hand. “It’s really not necessary. We are always fully funded.”
“Oh.” That’s weird, right? Aren’t food pantries always bitching and moaning about how they are low on everything?
“You were looking at these.” She pans her hand to the jars of herbs. “Can I help you find something?”
“Well.” I look down at the Mucinex in my hand. “This should probably do it, right? It always works for me.”
“Depends on your friend’s symptoms.”
“He’s hot. Like burning up. I got some Excedrin from the gas station—”
But she’s already reaching for a jar on the shelf. “Here. This is what you need for that.”
The jar is filled with shriveled-up black things and a lot of ground-up leaves. I look up at the girl. “What is it?”