The library sits atop a battleground of old dead things whose bones were covered first by lava, then by sand and water, and finally by a building where people complain about Dan Brown.

"But what I don't get is why he keeps doing all the religious stuff," Brenda said while standing at the circulation desk.

Freddy the page stood behind a cart, his hands gripped tight. He stared forward, his eyes wide and dry.

Brenda said, "I mean, he did write that one book about digital something. But I didn't like it. All he writes is religious stuff."

Freddy moaned.

"You okay?"

Freddy moaned again.

Brenda came around the desk. She waved a hand in front of Freddy's face. He stared past her hand, past the cart, past the front doors. Out and out Freddy's gaze went into infinity. She found a single DVD on the cart.

"You ain't okay," Brenda said.

Not many went to the basement. Not many should. But that's where the library kept the computer lab and the DVD collection.

Brenda tapped the reference baseball bat against the shelving, saying, "Come on out."

A small form leapt into the aisle. The being's skin was jaundice yellow with eyes that were all pupils, dark and large. The creature's hair resembled twisted pine knots. When it smiled, the skin around its mouth broke and flaked like old paint.

Brenda hit the creature in the head with the baseball bat. It fell, bouncing off a DVD shelf and growling. Brenda hit it again and again until it stopped moving. No blood seeped onto the floor or splattered onto the shelves. The creature had none.

Brenda heard a thump from upstairs. Freddy falling. She sighed. The creature's body faded away.

Brenda put the bat on her shoulder, mumbling, "I just don't get why he doesn't do something else. Like what if some symbols in the desert mean aliens? Dammit, Dan Brown, I believed in you."