The Dreaming: Old Shalon (Book 4)

2.2. Bad News

"I was up on 33rd and Cambie, helping Crystal.... But I came here first thing this morning. I tried to come here as fast as I could."

I took a deep breath and rubbed my face with both hands, feeling like I could maybe rub this feeling away. Holy shit, I thought to myself. This is big. This is really big. "So, what did you say to him – you said you'd do it?"

"Yeah, I said I'd do it."

"And did you bring him books?"

He got excited, "Yes, I spent the evening..." he stopped, embarrassed at being caught in his own lie.

The little bugger. But I couldn't really blame him.

"Go on, go on, never mind. What did you give him?"

"Well, first I gave him a bunch of old rotting paperbacks that Crystal was using to start fires with."

"And... what did he think of them?" I was a bit skeptical that a bunch of paperbacks were what this man was looking for.

"He said it was great, and he took 'em from me right away. He had this... machine thing. It was like nothing I ever saw. It..." he got up to show me the dimensions, "it was like this big and it had a handle sticking out and a giant box on top of it, and underneath weren't any wheels – weren't nothing. Thing was just floating there, and it moved light as a feather. He could move it around with one hand."

He modeled the way the man had pulled the device behind him.

"Yeah, that's called a Hauly," I replied. They must have power in New Van. This just kept getting bigger. "So, go back to your conversation. Tell me about this deal you made with him."

"Well, okay, so he said he's also a book collector and he's on a special mission from some taskforce..."

"What do you mean, taskforce?"

"It had some really long fancy name." He stopped to think. "Something like the 'Cultural Preservation Taskforce' or something like that. And he's on a mission to save human culture from being destroyed."

This just kept getting weirder. I nodded for him to continue.

"He said he's willing to pay me to help him and I asked him what I had to do, and he said I just need to find books for him. And I asked him what kind of books, and he said, any – all – any that were in danger of being destroyed. And he kept going on and on about his taskforce and his mission and how important it was to save our culture from being destroyed. I kept thinking, what culture. I didn't know what he meant, he was using big fancy words that I've never hear before."

"Then what – how'd you agree to work for him?"

"Well, I asked what he would pay me with and he said he could give me food or clothing, or medicines, whatever I needed. And I told him I'd do it."

"And then what?"

"Then he shook my hand – like proper. I never shook anyone's hand before." He reached down and rubbed his right hand, as if the energy of the handshake was still there. "It felt really weird -- really cool." 

He noticed I was watching him closely and clammed up. After a moment he gave his best attempt to change the subject. "And then he gave me this backpack." He leaned and reached under the table and brought out a bag I hadn't noticed before. 

He put his bag on the table and opened a zipper on the side. It made a sound that I hadn't heard in a long time. A fresh, strong zipper sound – I knew immediately that the bag was of high quality. 

He reached inside and pulled out a phone or some kind of walkie-talkie. He turned it around, examining it and I realised he was about to do something with it, turn it on or something.