Bookworms
Everyone knew there was something going on down there.
It was a library- gossip flowed like water. Once you ran out of things to say about the crazy patrons, the perverts in the computer room, or the drunk guy hollering in the main hallway-it always turned to gossip.
After the Meadowlark Public Library reopened from its construction mandated shutdown, we were all gathered together for a briefing; our director told us that the CIA was using our facility and resources for research, and that any help we could give them would be greatly appreciated. It made sense at the time. Lower level 2 had our copies of government manuscripts among the bound magazine volumes and dusty tomes of the state’s history. And, even if it hadn’t, nobody was going to raise a fuss about it. That was above our pay grade. But it provided plenty of things to be heard through the grapevines.
One of the Young Adult librarians said he heard something skittering around downstairs, and he had been accompanied by a broad-chested man in a suit with the excuse that it was “for security reasons.” One of the shelvers swore she heard pops of gunfire. I don’t think they could have ever guessed what was going on in a million years.
I know what’s down there. I was one of the ones who had to sign the NDA’s.
I’m in the Fine Books department- I rebound those old tomes when their leather was cracked and covered in dry rot. I had gotten my MLIS degree with a focus in book history and cataloging, and my youth lended me a steadier hand that meant I handled more of the projects that needed a gentle touch. Our work being mostly in Lower Level 2 meant our work stations got shuffled upstairs and crammed next to the Internet Archivalists.
They told us it was an infestation. Said it was “just some bookworms and silverfish.” Nothing we hadn’t handled before, right? We just had to move some of the more rare items away from the infested areas and hide them behind the clunky glass cases. One of the researchers asked me to come downstairs with her to ask some questions about what insects look for when they eat books.
“You’re going to want to start wearing tennis shoes down here, Miss Milton.” I remember her telling me that so vividly. I wasn’t on my feet for a lot of my workday, so I was afforded the luxury of wearing some cute maroon heels I thought matched my favorite skirt nicely. The scientist- I think her name was Dr. Greene?- was dressed in some running shoes, a tight bun, scrubs and a lab coat. In the elevator’s yellowy glow I could see the tension in her face. I thought at first it was because she was some kind of pick-me girl, to be honest.
We got off on lower level two and she walked me over to a table with some books laid out.
Nothing seemed too out of place, thank God- I really hope I won’t have to reorganize everything after they leave. The floor was silent save for the hum of electricity. The overhead lights had been dimmed down to the bare essentials, leaving a cold strip of light down each aisle before it trailed off into darkness. I set my bag down on the edge of the steel table where a few books had been selected and laid out. Usually I do this with freshly washed bare hands, but she stopped me and handed me a pair of blue gloves to snap on.
“Ok, um- so it looks like this is some bookworm damage, obviously, but I think this right here might be where they’re laying the eggs. I could tell you what signs to look for if you’d like, to stop them early?” I traced my thumb along the headband of an old copy of ‘Keeper of the Bees’, where I could see some space between the spine and the pages.
“Actually, could you tell me more about what components of the book they like?” Dr. Greene asked, direct but not unkind. “We’re trying to develop a type of adhesive that’s more unappealing to them for long term book preservation.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s awesome! Yeah, I think… p-polysaccharides- I think that’s how that’s pronounced- like starches and dextrin in adhesives. But that really depends on what insect the larvae belong to. Beetle larvae like the paper and adhesive, termites and ants will eat just about anything, but moths tend to go for mold and fabrics.” I rattled the insects off, racking my brain for anything helpful. “Um…hair and skin cells, like dust, is something they’ll eat too-”
Off in what was maybe the back corner of the floor, something clattered around. Book storage usually swallowed up sound like a vacuum- I really hoped it wasn’t one of the bookshelves collapsing again. I didn’t notice how Dr. Greene went still next to me.
“Well, I think that’s all the questions I had about it- I can escort you back to Lower Level 1, I wouldn’t want to keep you.” She was packing up the books quickly, placing them back in their mylar bags and onto the shelf before locking the case.
“Uh, are you sure? I was only here for a couple minutes-”
“-you were able to answer my question, don’t worry. I’ll escort you over to the elevators.”
She looked weary, watchful- she ducked her head down a bit, trying to look between the gaps in the bookshelves.
“I really don’t want to be annoying, but I think I heard something fall back there, would you mind if I go back and make sure nothing broke?”
“I promise I’ll check it out myself and call maintenance if need be, now can we please make our way towards the stairs?”
I could hear this… shuffling noise. The drag of skin and cloth against concrete and a low chittering noise. I was about to walk over to the end of the aisle to see what the noise was, but I felt a gloved hand grab my forearm.
“Don’t! Please, just trust me, okay? We need to go.” Her voice had taken on an intensity that made me balk.
“Why? What is that?” I asked, but I relented and let her lead me down and away from the noise.
“Classified information, Miss Milton. Do you have your keypass?”
“My- no, I left it on the desk with my bag!”
“That’s alright, I’ll have security come down and grab it for you.”
We reached the elevator, the display reading it was at the top of the building in level 2. Dr. Greene jammed her thumb into the button and watched the sign, waiting for its descent. My head whipped around as I heard one of the rolling step stools scrap across the floor. I barely registered the noise before Dr. Greene's gloved hand clapped over my mouth.
“Don’t scream. It upsets them.” Dr. Greene whispered.
That’s when its hand came into view.
Long, spindly fingers slapped against the cold tile, the fingers flopping uselessly against the ground like rubber; it was using more of its palm to pull itself across the floor. The other came down with a wet smack of flesh, leaving a smear of yellowish fluid that glistened sickeningly under the fluorescents.
With a lurch, more of it came into view- a head sparsely sprinkled with hair like an afterthought, white filmy eyes and a gaping mouth. The noise I heard was it clacking its teeth together rapidly as it moved. They looked like veneers, from what I could remember, like one big row of yellowed enamel. Its spine arched up and up and up, long and grotesque, the arch of its back reaching its peak almost at my eye level. At first I thought it had clothes on, that this thing used to be human, but instead it was a dark and scaly chitin in the shape of clothes. Its spine had too many knobs along it, ribcage following the fleshy arch like a snake, ending in a blunt worm’s rear with human legs that moved… wrong. They moved like a beetle’s, splayed out and away from the body, pushing against the ground as it raised itself off the floor long enough for its body to stretch out over another yard of ground. Like…Like an inchworm.
I felt my stomach cramp with a violet gag, my legs flashing hot and cold like my body was trying to tell them to move away, but I was weak with fear. Dr. Greene’s arm around my abdomen was the only thing that kept me from falling to the ground.
After an eternity, it was finally out of sight. We both stayed frozen until the sounds of its undulating body left.
The elevator’s ding made us jump nearly out of our skins. We were clamoring inside in a flash and pressing the close button a few more times that was necessary. Dr. Greene moved her hand from my mouth, and all I could whisper was a string of “what the fuck, what the fuck, oh my god what was that-”
“That-” She sighed, her voice weary and frayed at the edges, “was a bookworm.”. I couldn’t have stopped the bark of laughter that escaped me if I tried.
“No the fuck it wasn’t.” I hissed as I wobbled back against the elevator’s wall. “What the fuck, we- we have to get out of here, we have to go!”
Dr. Greene regarded me for a moment, unclipped the radio from her belt and pressed the talk button with her gloved thumb.
“Control, we need an NDA protocol for Miss Eleanor Milton.”
.
.
.
[Thank you for reading!! I'm a long-time creepcast fan but this is my first time posting one of my stories on Reddit. Sorry for any odd formatting errors!]