Chapter 16: The Path to the Library and the Wait in the Shadows
It was almost 11:00 AM on that Thursday, and the sun was already warming the streets. Joey walked towards the city center, the two cereal bars in his jacket pocket feeling like they weighed a ton, each one a symbol of his fragile, newfound resolve.
Each step was a small battle against the voice in his head, the one that echoed his social phobia, telling him to return to the safety of his room, to the familiarity of his solitude where his security wasn't threatened.
But the image of Lyra, hungry and scared—a clear instance of someone oppressed and in need—was a powerful counterpoint, fueling his protective instincts.
The streets were moderately busy; people were doing their weekend shopping, families strolled, the sound of conversations and occasional traffic filled the air.
To any casual observer, Joey was just another young man walking through the city, perhaps a little downcast, his gaze often lowered, perhaps a little too hurried.
No one could guess the extraordinary nature of the mission he had set for himself, a mission he preferred to keep entirely to himself.
"Just leave the cereal bars somewhere discreet near the library," he repeated to himself, like a mantra.
This mental rehearsal was a coping mechanism, an attempt to manage the anxiety that came with taking decisions alone.
"She doesn't have to see me. I don't have to talk to anyone." The anonymity was crucial for him to even attempt this.
As he approached the square where Léo had been earlier and where Lyra had found the apple, Joey slowed his pace.
He looked around, his tendency to worry kicking in, searching for her, but didn't see her in the small wooded square.
His heart sank a little. Had she left? Was she safe?
Lyra, after eating the apple, had felt a pressing need to find a safer, more secluded place than a park bench.
The brief exposure at the market and in the square had left her exhausted.
With her elven instincts guiding her, she found a discreet entrance at the back of an old cinema that seemed to have been closed for years, adjacent to the library.
The interior was dark, dusty, and silent – perfect. There, she could rest a bit and try to process the whirlwind of information and sensations from this alien world.
Kael, the Tracker, from his vantage point on a nearby rooftop, noticed Joey's approach. He had also seen Lyra take refuge in the abandoned cinema moments before.
The determination on the young human's face as he headed towards the library area was noteworthy.
Kael watched, curious to see what Joey would do.
His orders were to observe and, if necessary, intervene discreetly, but the situation was becoming too complex for hasty interventions. There were multiple "displaced" beings with apparently diverse origins and intentions.
Joey reached the side of the library under renovation, the same place where he had found Lyra a few days ago.
The alley was deserted in the morning light.
The symbols on the wall seemed less threatening in the daylight but still exuded an aura of mystery that his reflective mind pondered. He looked for a place to leave the cereal bars – perhaps in the same recess where Lyra had hidden, a place that now felt significant to him.
Meanwhile, Pip, in her hideout, was making small progress. Her portal locator was partially functional, but the lack of a stable power source prevented her from getting a clear reading or attempting an activation.
She needed something like a dilithium crystal or a flux capacitor, but all she saw around her were copper wires and primitive chemical batteries.
In the detention center, Zylar was beginning to lose patience. After another session of repetitive questions, he demanded access to communication equipment or, at the very least, tools that would allow him to explain his knowledge practically.
His captors, however, remained impassive, treating him more like a dangerous curiosity than a scientist from an advanced civilization.
Joey finally found a small, sheltered gap near a boarded-up window of the library.
With trembling hands—a constant reminder of the effort it took to push past his anxiety—he placed the two cereal bars there.
He felt a mixture of relief at having completed his self-imposed task and a strange sadness.
He was helping, yes, and that act of giving felt more comfortable than receiving, but so distantly, so anonymously. It was the most his courage allowed at the moment, a fact that his inner critic might later seize upon, despite the clear progress he was making.
As he turned to leave the alley, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over him, he came face to face with Léo.
"Joey? What are you doing here?" Léo asked, his eyes wide with surprise, a bag of freshly bought pancakes in one hand. He had decided to pass by there on his way home, driven by curiosity about the "elf."
Joey froze, his heart pounding. All his efforts at anonymity, at avoiding explanations, were suddenly at risk.
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