IMMOLATION: CHAPTER 41

Books adorned the shelves in the small shop but gaps pocked the once crammed shelves. Where it had once resembled a maze it now had more in common with a picked at meal. A television set was on in the back and the muffled voice of a news reporter played through the otherwise silent store. Mike and Melanie lounged behind the counter listening to the news as they suffered through the summer heat in a dull mood.

Chimes sounded and the front door opened. An elderly woman stood in the entryway, a sad expression on her face and an empty handbag clutched to her chest.

“Oh, not you too,” She bemoaned with her wispy voice.

“Afternoon Mrs. Pence,” Mike replied with a forced smile.

“I've been to all my favorite book shops today looking for a collection of Shakespeare's sonnets,” Mrs Pence complained, “They all look like this and not a one of them has a decent Shakespeare section.”

“I'm hurt, Mrs. Pence,” Mike said, to which Mrs. Pence withdrew a step.

“Why I didn't mean to speak ill of your shelves,” Mrs. Pence replied while she caressed the nearest shelf with a wrinkled, leathery hand.

“It's not that,” Mike said and he waved for Mrs. Pence to come properly into the store.

“Then what is it, dear?” She asked when she'd reached the counter.

“It's the fact that you've admitted to going to other book stores before mine,” Mike stated and he lifted a copy of Shakespeare's sonnets from off the desk behind him, “When I am clearly the best of the lot. Last copy,” He added as he laid the book down on the counter.

“You are a deary,” Mrs. Pence grinned, showing off her lack of teeth before shifting her gaze to Melanie. “You're lucky to have him.”

Melanie patted Mike on the back. “Yup,” She said, “I always insist on my man having a copy of Shakespeare's sonnets on hand.”

“Well that's rather fickle of you,” Mrs. Pence chided kindly, “From the looks of it, your man only has a few moments left before he fails in that category.”

The three of them laughed and Mrs. Pence paid for her book.

“Have a nice day, you two,” Mrs. Pence called over her shoulder before she left, “And hang in there.”

The door shut.

“...highs in the upper nineties for the next few days,” The weatherman on the television was saying as the oppression of the empty book store reasserted itself.

“Well,” Melanie said with as much cheer as she could manage, “At least we're not alone.”

“Somehow I find the TV weatherman to be poor company,” Mike said.

“I was talking about the other book stores,” Melanie corrected him. “It's just nice to know we're not the only ones having a hard time right now.”

Mike stroked his desk, tracing with his finger the sun bleached patch of wood that outlined where Shakespeare's sonnets use to lay.

“I think it's just depressing,” he said.

Mike slumped back into his chair with a sigh and he shut his eyes. A heavy weariness Melanie had never seen in him before seemed to settle onto him. Melanie, unwilling to watch him give up, climbed out of her chair and into Mike's lap. She curled up and around him, taking his arms and making him hold her while she in turn held him. Mike sighed again, but this time the weight and the sorrow were gone.

“We'll make it through,” Melanie said.

“It costs money to ship more books,” Mike said, “And I need to sell more books to make that money, but people only want what's popular or collectable and as long as shipping costs are as high as they are I can't afford to get those books.”

“It'll pass,” Melanie said and she ran her fingers through Mikes hair, bringing a smile to his face. “And we'll make it through.”

“Well—

“We bring you this breaking news,” The news anchor interrupted, “As reports have begun to pour in about attacks on oil refineries the world over.”

Mike sat up ridged and nearly toppled Melanie right out of his lap.

“In just a matter of minutes,” The news anchor continued, “Over a hundred refineries have been attacked. Each one was stormed by groups of armed men who, within moments, overran security and began blowing up sections of the refineries with what appear to be homemade explosives.”

A fresh sheet of paper was handed to the reporter who quickly scanned its contents.

“As it stands at this moment,” The reporter stated, “One hundred sixty eight refineries have been destroyed, fifty three damaged, and a further eighteen are still under attack. The president will be issuing a statement on these recent events in a moment where we anticipate to hear of plans to finally release the nations oil reserves after months of already record high fuel prices.”

Melanie and Mike shared a look and then stared out across the shop and its gaps on the shelves.

“My fellow Americans,” The president's voice began without any introduction, “Today is a grave day for us and for that of the world. As these nameless people have waged their war against our very way of life. We believe that today's actions are connected to those of the nuclear power plant disasters that we saw earlier this year. And just like those events, we will face today's challenges with courage and determination. We will not bow to the will those who would use fear and murder to push their agenda.

“I know that there are many of you who are suffering at this time, who have been suffering, because of these recent events. And I wish with all my heart that there was more that could be done. As it is, our nation has fuel reserves sufficient that if we were to release them in full today they would restore full capacity to our people.

“Yes!” Mike shouted and punched his fist into the air.

“For a time,” The president went on. “But that time would not last, and we would run ourselves dry long before the damage done this day could be healed.”

Mike sank back into his chair as he braced for the bad news.

“It has therefore been decided that the reserves will be rationed out, hopefully preventing the costs of fuel from rising much more than they already have. This, I believe, though not an easy course, is the best course for us as a people and as a nation.

“To those of you who are at this time suffering because of these difficult times, you are in my thoughts, you are not forgotten, and we will all rise from today's attacks.”

Mike pointed the remote toward the back and turned the television off. Melanie held even tighter to Mike and together they listened to the silence that pervaded in the once bustling shop.

*     *     *

And so more trouble comes. So what do you think of the state of the book store? Does it make sense, all of Mike's troubles? Thoughts on Mrs. Pence?