The librarian nodded, then looked to the nearest shelf. “Now. You must go. Quickly. So we need to choose. A book.”
“No, I—can’t really take one. We have to swim to get back. It’ll get wet.”
The librarian clucked his tongue, his eyes still on the books’ spines.
“All of these books. Will be at the bottom of the sea. Very soon. And you cannot leave a library. Without a book. Ah. Here. This one.”
The old man pulled a book off the shelf. It was thick and bound in soft black leather.
“Moby-Dick. The story of a madman. Lost at sea. He dies in a storm. The hero is the only one who lives.” The librarian handed the book to Jonathan and squinted up sideways at him. “I don’t think. That is what will happen here. No. You will save them, Jonathan. Now go. To the lighthouse.”
Jonathan breathed quickly through his nose.
“Are you sure—”
“Oh. Yes. Go.”
Jonathan looked into the librarian’s eyes.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Mmm.”
Jonathan turned to go.
“Wait. There is one thing. You could do. For me.”
“What?”
The librarian reached up and plucked the monstrous rat from his shoulder. He pressed his lips for a long moment into the rodent’s neck, then held him out with two hands toward Jonathan.
“Take Ninety-Nine. With you. You could save him. Like the others.”
Jonathan gulped. The rat looked at him with curious, shiny eyes. He didn’t hiss or snarl.
Jonathan handed Moby-Dick to Colin and reached out reluctantly to take the offered animal. Ninety-Nine was surprisingly soft. And predictably heavy.
The rat sniffed for a second at Jonathan’s hands, then scrambled gently up to perch on his shoulder.
The librarian watched. His eyes were wet and glowing.
“Yes,” he said. “You can save him. And maybe. When you’re home. Find him a wife.”
Jonathan nodded.
“Sure. A nice big wife.”
“Yes. That’s right. Now. Off you go. Take a candle. I won’t. Be needing them.”
Colin grabbed a candle from atop the closest bookshelf and the two boys ran out into the corridor. Jonathan looked back once to see the librarian standing in the doorway with the door wide open. He was lit from behind by a few flickering candles, his hair whipped about by the wind. Rats were swarming through the open door by his feet, seeking the light and relative dryness of the library. Several of them had no tails. The old man made no move to stop them. He wouldn’t die alone.
Jonathan followed the light of Colin’s candle through the hallways. The water was above their ankles. They arrived panting at the stairs that led down past the Hatch. The water was much higher now than it had been when Jonathan came before. It was rising and falling and swirling, lapping at the very top step. It would be a longer swim this time. And now he had a rat.
“What do we do?”
“We swim, Colin. That’s how I got through. Just a quick dip, down and then up again. No big deal.”
“What about the candle?”
“Don’t worry about it. There’s a lit lantern on the other side. Just take a deep breath.”
Jonathan handed Ninety-Nine over before Colin could think to push it away. He dropped Moby-Dick with a splash at his feet.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Jonathan said. He tucked his shirt into his pants tightly, then unbuttoned the top two buttons. Taking the rat back from Colin, he slid him into his shirt against his bare skin. He rebuttoned his shirt. The rat scratched and writhed against his body, squeaking and squirming.
“Come on. Before he chews through my stomach.”
Without thinking Jonathan dove headfirst, pushing off the top step as hard as he could to rocket himself through the water. As soon as the cold water hit them, Ninety-Nine went crazy. He tore and fought and twisted. Jonathan gritted his teeth and swam as hard as he could, pawing and kicking at the black water. He didn’t slow down when an upwelling of water pressed him against the ceiling. He didn’t slow when the rat’s teeth sank into his skin. He didn’t slow when he saw, through the salty murk, the glow of lantern light up ahead. He didn’t slow until his feet found the far stairs and his head broke into air and he stepped up out of the water.
He climbed a few steps up. Ninety-Nine was shaking and coughing inside his shirt. He struggled weakly against the wet fabric. Jonathan unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the bedraggled rat out. Ninety-Nine coughed up some water and then slowly crawled back up to Jonathan’s shoulder, his body shaking. Jonathan gave him a reassuring scratch.
Colin’s head popped up into the stairwell, gasping for air. Jonathan helped him up the slippery stairs, pulling the lantern from the hook.
They stood panting, eyes on the dark water they’d emerged from.
“Well,” Colin gasped. “That wathn’t tho—”
His words were cut off by a wrenching, grating crack from below the water’s surface. A great rush of huge bubbles rose to the surface, and with a sickening whoosh, the water began to rise more quickly. So quickly they could see it climbing and racing up the stairs in a rapid, steady surge.