Sanctuary
By Alice Nuttall
Copyright 2010 Alice Nuttall
Cover image copyright 2013 Emily Brady
“Bookslide! All hands to the ladders! We’ve had a bookslide!”
I woke with such a jump that I nearly fell off my shelf. All around me was noise and chaos, feet thundering along the rows, thuds and clatters as the other Shelvers began to climb down, and Supervisor Thomas bellowing away through his megaphone from the doorway.
“Shelver Anna!”
I jumped again and looked down. Senior Shelver Andrea was glaring up at me. She’s even less of a morning person than I am, especially when the morning starts in the middle of the night.
“Didn’t you hear the Supervisor, girl? It’s a bookslide! Hurry up!”
“Yes, Andrea,” I swung myself down the five shelves below mine, looking as I went to make sure I didn’t tread on any stray fingers. Not that I should have worried. It looked like I was the last awake on my row.
I yawned as I trotted after Andrea, who was striding ahead, following the tide of Shelvers and Seniors that was pouring down the stairs. “Why are we all going? It’s F row’s turn to clean up after a bookslide...”
“This isn’t your average bookslide,” Andrea said grimly.
“Bigger?”
“You could say that.”
“More than one row?” I hazarded. Bookslides happen fairly often in a library of this size, and usually it’s not much more than half a row that falls, sometimes a whole one, because books are a bit like dominoes if you don’t stack them right. Don’t get me wrong, that’s still a lot of books, but not enough to warrant pulling us all off our shelves at this ungodly hour.
“Scripture,” Andrea said as we pattered down the spiral staircase that leads from Shelvers’ Attic to the top floor of the Library.
“It happened in Scripture?”
“It happened to Scripture,” Andrea snapped. “All of it. The whole floor.”
I stopped dead for a heartbeat, but Andrea yanked my arm. “Come on! You heard the supervisor, didn’t you? All hands to the ladders!”
Thunder and pain. That was all I remembered.
I stared around, not that there was much point. It was pitch black. I’d had a candle, but it must have gone out when...when...
Distant thunder, and the shelf had tipped. I remembered that. I’d scrambled backwards out of the way, but something heavy had hit the back of my head and I’d staggered.
John, my minder, had caught my arm, but it had been too late. Thunder and darkness and pain.
Now I was...where? Lying on my back in the dark and the silence.
“John?” I called. My voice came out as a croak, and my face felt strange. Damp. I lifted my hand and touched my cheek, then sniffed my fingers. I knew that smell. Blood.
There was a skittering sound, something shifting and rustling.
“John?” I tried to move.
Light exploded in the blackness, and I screamed. My leg! Angels above, my leg!
I’d never felt pain like this before. Not when I’d tripped from the pulpit and broken my arm, not with the cramps in my legs after hours at prayer, not from beatings back when I was a novice. Not even a couple of years ago, when I’d been so ill I’d nearly died.
Another noise – a voice this time, a man’s voice.
“John! John, where are you?” I reached out to either side. On my left, the same side as my bad leg, I could feel corners and paper. The books must have broken my leg as it fell. On my right...
“John!” I shook what had to be his shoulder. He must have been knocked out. “John, wake up!”
Nothing. I moved my hand up, feeling for his face. I hated the idea, but if I could slap him awake...that was his neck, the back of his head-
I froze as my fingertips sunk into something soft and wet.
I yanked my hand away and wiped it furiously on the floor, biting back another scream. It came out as a sob instead.
John wasn’t going to wake up. I was on my own.
I read a book about ants once. The Library’s a bit like one of their hills – a huge
chimney. There’s dozens of floors and levels and rows and passages, all running
around the deep, deep well of space in the centre. Which makes us Shelvers the ants, I suppose, but we don’t call ourselves that. I’m not the only one that reads the books, especially the animal books. There’s two kinds of Shelver – strong, big ones who can push the trolleys and haul piles of books, and little, wiry ones who can climb. Years ago, some of the older Shelvers picked out their favourite animals for each of those things, settling on Llamas and Lemurs. I’m one of
the Lemurs.
My best friend, Andrew, is a Llama. He was left on the Library steps a few days before me. We were shelved together as babies, and we both went to A row six years ago when we turned seven and got moved to the Attic. We’re the last two of the As from that year, as well. A couple of days later and I’d have been a Barbara or a Belinda, shelved in B row with the actual Barbara and Belinda, who I can’t stand.
Andrew’s giant even for a Llama. He’s going to be well over six foot tall when he’s finished growing. Barbara and Belinda have gone from laughing at him behind his back to whispering and giggling whenever he passes. Andrea had to move him to one of the lowest shelves so he can stretch out when he sleeps. I could see him looming over the crowd around the rail, at least a head above everyone else, and I wriggled through the crush of bodies to get to him.
“Can you see anything?” I asked when I reached him.
Andrew, who was leaning over the rail and peering down into the dark, shook his head. “Can’t hear anything, either. Must’ve settled, for the moment anyway.”
“Right!” Supervisor Thomas’ voice boomed out again. “Rows A to G, stay here to work the ladders. Rows H onwards, down the stairs – one flight per row. The doors on the Scripture level are blocked by books, we’re going to need human chains to get them out.”
“And where are we going to put the ones we’ve moved?” a voice called. I couldn’t see who was speaking – if Andrew’s more than a head above the crowd, I’m more than a head below – but I recognised Joshua’s voice. Angels above knew how he’d ever made Senior Shelver. The only thing he liked less than giving orders was taking them.
“I heard the whole floor’s gone,” Joshua carried on. “Scripture’s one of our biggest sections – we’re never going to have enough room on the other floors to store the books.”
“We need to clear the doors,” Supervisor Thomas said again, sounding irritated. “Hopefully once we’ve cleared a bit of space, we can start stacking the Scripture books without having to take them off that level. But that’s a long way down the line. I’ve been here thirty years and this is the biggest bookslide I’ve ever seen. We need to see just how bad the damage is,” He paused. I could almost see him glaring at the lot of us. “Rows H onwards, you have your orders! Get to it!”
Rustles and murmurs as the other rows headed to the staircases, leaving the rest of us by the rail. Below us, the Library waited like a dark, open mouth.
“Right,” I could see Supervisor Thomas now. He lowered the megaphone and nodded to us. “Ropes and ladders. Let’s get moving.”