Excerpts From Nonexistent Books

“What have I got this afternoon?” Dr. Turnbolt asked Peters.

“Well, we have a harpy at 9, but the hygienists are handling her. You’ll just need to look in at the end.”

“Good. If she eats another one of them, though, she’s out of here. I don’t care how good her insurance is. Who’s next?”

Peters tapped on his tablet. “Troll is in at 10, says it’s a soft emergency. Thinks she cracked a tooth on a Welshman’s skull.”

“As my aunt Florence will tell you, they do have awfully hard heads,” Dr. Turnbolt said. “Have Geena get started mixing up something we can use to make a cap. Don’t skimp on the tungsten.”

Making a note, Peters continued. “At 11 we have an elf in for his 50-year checkup. Looks like he was last seen by your predecessor, Dr. Levers, in 1972. Charts should be right there on your desk.”

Dr. Turnbolt picked up the chart and flipped through it. “Looks like we were keeping an eye on a soft spot on 47 and he has a filling on 48 that will probably need to be replaced, as it was made by a blacksmith in 1683.”

“Should I have Geena mix something up for that as well?”

“Yes, but remind her that we can’t use base metals for an elf. It has to be gold or silver. Okay, who is after lunch?”

Peters scrolled on his tablet. “An orc at 1 for a filing, again we can let the hygienist handle that and you can check it, I think.”

“Filing into points, or filing them flat to comply with an orc code?”

“Yes,” Peters said. “He wants the front ones flat and the back ones pointy.”

“Fair enough. Anyone at 2?”

“Not yet, I kept it open because of your 3:30 with Rustwyrm the Imperious. You can use the extra time to get there or we can squeeze something in if you want.”

“Not that old dragon again,” Turnbolt sighed. “What is it this time, another lamb stuck in his tooth? Or am I melting down some of his horde to make another grill?”

“No idea. But he’s paying quadruple out-of-pocket, so it hardly matters.”

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Deadlier than a blank page
A pile of things I want
Another of things I need
Both undone, both to do

It is within my power
To do them all, today
With time to spare
And less stress

And yet I delay
Until it is dark
Keys tapping
Desperately
As the day
Slowly
Ebbs

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1. Do not call in orders ahead of time or have them sent by a doctor; bring your prescription slip and force the pharmacists to make your medicine on the spot.
2. Idle by the window for at least 90 seconds after receiving a prescription to test the resolve of others in line.
3. No cars are allowed in line if there is not already a line; the line must be either absent or wrap around the building.
4. It is not only permitted but encouraged to circle the building like a hungry shark waiting for the line to shrink.
5. Pedestrians cannot use the drive-thru window due to liability concerns even on Sundays when the walk-up counter is closed.
6. Pedestrians crossing the line of traffic, on the other hand, is mandatory for entrance to the building.

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“You’re not the mayor,” Ruby said.

Margrave folded her hands over the mayoral desk and smiled. “What makes you say that, my dear?”

“You didn’t run, you didn’t illegally stay in office after you lost, and you’re not even a citizen of the town.”

“Such hurtful things,” said Margrave. “But borne from ignorance rather than malice. The town charter says that whoever wins the election should be mayor. Should is not must; that’s just basic first-grade English. So the city council has elected me to serve as Acting Mayor to let poor Linda have a break from all the stress, spend more time with her dogs.”

“Someone needs to stop you,” Ruby replied. “You’re a pied piper, coming in from outside and leading the town to its doom.”

“I’d be better at handling spoilt children if that were so,” said Margrave. “If I must be stopped, well…” her voice dropped a note, lip curling. “Why don’t you just try?”

Ruby, fists clenched, stood there facing the mayoral desk.

“Oh, go on,” Margrave said, reverting to her smooth, polished tone. She picked up the receiver to the desk phone. “I have a direct line to Deerton PD right here. Shall I call them before, or after you try to stop me?”

Shaking with rage, Ruby shook her head. “I saw what you got them to do before,” she said. “I know what that would mean.”

“What I got them to do? Child. Please. What I gave them was hardly even a nudge; the rest was all there already.” Margrave leaned forward. “And you’re wrong. I’m as much a native as you are; I’ve seen more of this city than you could even conceive of.”

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“1647 votes cast out of 2891 eligible voters, and I’ve lost by 99,” Linda said glumly, staring at her screen. “I can’t believe it.”

Margrave walked over, her heels clacking loudly on City Hall’s wood floor. “I can’t believe it either,” she said. “Frankly, I’m suspicious.”

“What do you mean?” Linda said. “The numbers are right there.”

“Lies, damn lies, and statistics,” Margrave replied. “You’re doing a bang-up job, Mayor Soderquist. I’ve done my research, and your administration has done more for Deerton than any other since the war.”

“Yeah,” Linda sighed, wistfully. “It’ll be hard to let it go, but I suppose it means spending more time with the dogs.”

“Or letting the town go to the dogs. Think about it, Mayor Soderquist: you’ve done a magnificent job despite all the challenges, all the chaos and disorder and agitators, and you lose by exactly 99 votes?”

“The number does seem awfully round,” Linda said, squinting at the screen.

“And where did this number come from? A voting machine? Who’s to say it couldn’t have been tampered with, or that the old ladies working the polls didn’t let people vote illegally.”

“Do you think we should have an investigation?” Linda asked. “Maybe we can get the cheaters thrown out. If they cheated, that is.”

“There’s no doubt in my mind, Mayor Soderquist,” said Margrave, who perched on the edge of the mayoral desk. “You can’t let them assume power, not when these important questions are still hanging over the process. With the power of the mayoral office, they could cement themselves in power despite, as you said, cheating their way into it.”

“What should I do, then?” Linda said. “Does the town charter say anything?”

“It says that the mayor should be elected by a free and fair election, and that the mayor should step down the day after the results are counted if defeated.” Margrave smiled. “Should. Not must; should.”

“I’ll stay in office until I can investigate these irregularities,” Linda said. “There’s too much important stuff going on to have any questions, yeah?”

“An excellent decision, Mayor Soderquist,” Margrave said.

“Won’t the state election folks have a problem with that, though? They might not have all the facts like we do.”

“All they’ll care about is whether you have the same letter next to your name as they do,” Margrave said. “You just leave them to me.”

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“Deerton has never needed a library,” Margrave said, her hands folded. “Did you know that maintaining the library in Cascadia costs each taxpayer $265.53 per year? That’s a 73 cent per day tax burden that people around here don’t need to worry about.”

“73 cents per day?” Karl said. “We should have gotten rid of it years ago.”

“Where are you getting hose figures from?” said Gil, quietly. “I want to see the tax records.”

“You’ll have to take that up with the city solicitor’s office,” Margrave continued. “Besides, if people in Deerton want books, Amazon is right there for them with two-day shipping and low prices. Kids with no pocket money use the school library, which your taxes are already paying for. It just makes sense.”

“And people with no money to spend on books?” Ann said.

“They can borrow them from their friends, of course,” Margrave smiled. “Who needs a building and paid book-wranglers to keep track of that? Our people are smart, let’s give them a little credit.”

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The other members of the Deerton City Council were gathered for the meeting. On the right side of Linda, there was Karl Obendorfer, owner of the Rifle Rack bar, who wore the same ball cap he always did, matching it with a blazer for the occasion. Ann Muncie, the general manager (or, as she liked to say, “general manger” because all were welcome) of the Baptist Church, was to Karl’s right. Though not the preacher, no preacher had ever lasted more than two years at the church, so she was as good as.

On Linda’s left, the other two council members were filing in. John Watterman, the owner of TubeTron, was in his usual suit and tie; he instinctively wrinkled his nose on seeing Karl’s outfit. Gilbert Sanderson brought up the rear; a teacher at Deerton High, Linda could never remember what subject he taught, only that he’d been elected as a single-issue candidate to help pass the school bond issue. When that had failed, he had largely become a gadfly, raising issues the others had an unspoken agreement not to broach. Linda shuddered at the three-hour discussion that had emerged from Gil asking to rename Slashing Creek. That shocking name, inherited from an old logging camp or “slashing,” was the only thing besides the Roundhouse Festival that brought any tourists to Deerton.

Linded looked over at Mr. Margrave, who was hovering nearby with papers and taking notes. The other councilmembers didn’t react to her presence; she might have been Jane for all they seemed to care.

“Looks like we’re all here, so let’s come to order,” Linda said. “Now, you should all have an agenda-”

“I want to know why the warehouse was demolished,” Gil said.

“New business comes at the end, Gil,” Linda said. “You know that.” As the council’s most prolific generator of new business, she certainly hoped that he did, anyhow.

“It was demolished without permits, notifications, bids, or contracts,” Gil continued, as if the mayor hadn’t said a word. “I went out there today and it’s just a grassy field. Like there was never a building there in the first place.”

“I can field that one, Mayor Soderquist, if you like,” said Margrave.

“Oh, uh, by all means,” Linda said, relieved to not have another knock-down drag-out fight with Gil over something that had already happened.

“The proper permits were filed and bids taken through a new state apparatus designed to discourage corruption and waste,” Margrave said. “The contract went to a scrapping company upstate, which works very efficiently. You might have heard of their work disassembling the bridge upstate in Omaniwak. They re-sod the area afterwards to prevent heavy metal pollutants from leeching into groundwater.”

“I’d like very much to see the paperwork on that,” Gil said. “It didn’t look like any sod had been put down, it was like a mowed field.”

“Come on now, Gil, I’ve seen some sod jobs that look natural as all get-out the next day,” John Watterman said. He should know, with what was by Linda’s estimation the second-nicest lawn in the city.

“Also, who cares?” said Karl. “Miss, did the City of Deerton pay for the demolition of that warehouse?”

“No it did not,” Margrave said.

“Well there you go. Eyesore removed, for free, and they even planted grass,” Karl said. “You get that paperwork, Gil, you should write them a thank-you card.”

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Hickenlooper stood by the chain-link fence, a gloved hand hooked around the wire. “I love watching airplanes, you know? Never had the eyesight to be a pilot, but I sure do love watching them fly.”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “I know.”

“I had the urge to come out here just now to watch planes take off,” the officer continued. “It’s the strangest thing.”

“Is it though?” Ruby said, thinking back to the old landing strip and terminal before they’d faded away.

“It’s almost like there used to be one here, one I used to visit all the time, and it’s calling me back,” said Hickenlooper. “That’s dumb, of course. Airports don’t just disappear. There’d be some trace, you know?”

Ruby didn’t say anything, just watched the policeman as he lingered sadly at the fence.

“I guess what I’m saying is, this would be a really good place for an airport,” Hickenlooper said at length. “That’s all.”

“Yeah, it would be,” Ruby said. She began to move out of the pool of light formed by the squad car headlamps. “Have a good evening, Officer Hickenlooper.”

“Ruby.” Hickenlooper had turned away from the fence and was looking directly at her. “The mayor has a standing order for your arrest. You and your little friends.”

“Are you going to arrest me, Officer Hickenlooper?” Ruby said. “You really think what they say is true? You taught me in D.A.R.E. class in fourth grade, the one where the fire broke out. You know.”

There might have been an ember of recognition in Hickenlooper’s eyes, the memory of a smile. Then his face was chipped granite, and he was looking into the distance again. “I go on duty in fifteen minutes,” he said. “That’s all the warning you’re going to get.”

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The airstrip had been built in the 70s, when towns all over the state had been gambling that civil aviation was the future of transportation and flying cars were just around the corner. There was even a miniature terminal building and tower, shockingly large and well-built for such a tiny town. It had been such a tax burden that the city had sold it to a local company, TubeTron, for $1 in the 80s. It mostly handled cargo planes sending out weird-shaped custom pipe fittings, but a fair number of amateur pilots used it all the same, since TubeTron kept it open for general aviation as long as folks paid gate and fuel fees.

And given the sort of folks that flew, those fees were chump change.

“You see that out there?” Hickenlooper said to his partner, Faltermeyer. “That there’s an original Doctor Destroyer, Model 35 Beechcraft Bonanza. Cheap as a junior prom date, and just as likely to mess you up if you don’t handle her right.”

“It’s literally just an airplane, like any other,” Faltermeyer whined.

“Forked-tail is distinctive,” Hickenlooper said. “And you’ll note that this pull-off is directly next to Old Highway 313, right near where people like to speed. This is an official Deerton Police Department speed trap.”

“Then how come I’m watching cars and you’re watching planes?” Faltermeyer cried.

“Because you like cars. You’re a car man. ’57 Chevy in the garage and all that. Trust me, the moment one of these planes breaks the speed limit, I will be right there to let them know.”

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Like every member of the Deerton City Council, Linda Soderquist had a day job. When she wasn’t in the mayor’s office, she was running her business: the gas station with an integrated Subway restaurant out by New 313. Visible from the highway, it was a mecca to travelers headed north who needed an acceptably clean restroom and a sub that bore a passing resemblance to what was on the menu, since both were being maintained by cheap high school students earning $4 an hour since they could theoretically be tipped. The station was Linda’s pride and joy, and overseeing it was the closest thing in Deerton to printing money.

Overseeing it from a distance and by phone, that is. That place reeked.

Linda was checking the official city email account when an unfamiliar woman wearing a low-key business casual skirt and heels entered, carrying a manila folder. “Your notes for this evening’s meeting, Mayor Soderquist.”

“Oh. Thank you, Jane,” Linda said taking the folder absently. Then she looked up at the messenger. Jane was a blonde, or at least dyed an approximation of the shade into her beaten locks. This woman was a brunette. “Where’s Jane?”

“Oh, Jane had a family emergency, didn’t you see the email?” the woman said. “I’m her temporary replacement, from the agency.”

“Oh yes, of course,” Linda said, embarrassed to have been caught out for only skimming official mail. “The agency, yes. I suppose I’d better get city payroll on the phone, Mrs…?”

“Ms. Margrave,” the woman said with a light smile. “That won’t be necessary. The agency will take care of everything, and poor Jane needs the money more than I do.”

“Ah, wonderful,” Linda said. “What’s on tonight’s agenda?”

“Some modifications to the town charter to bring it into compliance with federal regulations, a vote on the library bond measure, and a discussion of the final preparations for Tuesday’s election.”

“Oh good,” Linda said, relieved. “You know, if it weren’t for Jane–she’s the only permanent employee here at city hall, you know!–I would be completely lost!”

“Don’t I know it,” Margrave said. “I can only succeed, never replace.”

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