“That would be… the library”
“Where else? The downtown library, to be exact. We’ll have to be very careful infiltrating that place.”
I cocked my head. “I’ve been there before. Last I checked, it wasn’t too hard to get in.”
“We don’t have to just get in,” Grand Smedry said. “We have to infiltrate.”
“And the difference is…?”
“One requires far more sneaking.” Grandpa Smedry seemed quite delighted by the prospect.
“Ah,” I said. “Right, then. Are we going to need any… I don’t know, special equipment for this? Or, perhaps, some more help?”
“Ah. A very wise idea, lad,” Grandpa Smedry said.
And the car suddenly jerked, turning onto a larger street. Cars passed on either side, whizzing off to their separate destinations, Grandpa Smedry’s little black automobile puttering along happily in the center lane. Grandpa gave the wheel a few good twists, and we rode in silence.
I kept glancing at the steering wheel, trying to sort out exactly what mechanism was controlling the vehicle. In my world, vehicles don’t drive themselves, and men like Grandpa Smedry are generally kept in small padded rooms with lots of crayons.
Eventually (partially to keep myself from going mad from frustration) I decided to try conversation again. “So,” I said, “why do you think that man tried to kill me?”
“Because the Librarians got what they wanted from you, lad,” Grandpa Smedry said. “They have the sands, which we all knew would make their way to you eventually. Now that they have your inheritance, you’re no longer an asset to them. In fact, you’re a threat! They were right to be afraid of your Talent.”
“My Talent?”
“Breaking things. All Smedrys have a Talent, my boy. It’s part of our lineage.”
“So… you have one of these Talent things?” I asked.
“Of course I do, lad!” Grandpa Smedry said. “I’m a Smedry, after all.”
“What is it?”
Grandpa smiled modestly. “Well, I don’t like to brag, but it’s quite a powerful Talent indeed.”
I raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“You see,” Grandpa Smedry said, “I have the ability to arrive late to things.”
“Ah,” I said. “Of course.”
“I know, I know. I don’t deserve such power, but I try to make good use of it.”
“You are completely nuts, you know.” It’s always best to be blunt with people.
“Thank you!” Grandpa Smedry said as the car began to slow. The vehicle pulled up to the pumps at a small gas station. I didn’t recognize the brand – the sign hanging above the ridiculously high prices simply depicted the image of an upside-down teddy bear.
Our doors swung open on their own. Grandpa hopped out of his seat and rushed over to meet the station attendant, who was approaching to fill up the tank.
I frowned, still sitting in the car. The attendant was dressed in a pair of dirty overalls and no shirt. He was chewing on the end of a piece of straw, as one might see a farmer doing in old Hushlander movies, and he had on a large straw hat.
Grandpa Smedry approached the man with an exaggerated look of nonchalance. “Hello, good sir,” Grandpa Smedry said, glancing around. “I’d like a Philip, please.”
“Of course, good sir,” the attendant said, tipping his hat and accepting a couple of bills from Grandpa Smedry. The attendant approached the car, nodding to me, then took out one of the gasoline hoses and held it up against the side of the car, whistling pleasantly to himself.
“Come, Alcatraz!” Grandpa Smedry said, walking up to the gas station’s store. “There isn’t time!”
Finally, I just shook my head and climbed out of the car. Grandpa Smedry went inside, the screen door slamming behind him. I walked up, pulled open the screen door – threw the door handle over my shoulder as it broke off – then stepped inside after Grandpa Smedry.