CZM Book Club: The Barrow Will Send What it May, Chapter Six

further in. And also it's probably in the title. It might even be why you clicked on it. I don't know. We're reading The Barrow Will Send what it May Chapter six, which is the second book in the Danielle Kaine series, which I started reading on book club because book Club started with me reading the first book in the series, called The Lamble Slaughter of the Lion a year and a half ago or whenever it was. And now the third book, which is called The Immortal Choir Holds Every Voice,

is about to come out. The pre orders are available now, and so I thought that you all should get to hear the second book for free. So I started reading it to you. I'm still reading it to you. And then after that, I'm really excited about what comes after that. But you don't get to know yet, but I get to know, and so I get to have a nice thing and you don't until later. I'm going to do the thing where I read you the last couple paragraphs of what we read last week, just so that you

know what happened in case or whatever. Here they are. Half an hour later, the library door opened and shut, and several pairs of feet trumped up the stairs. Hey, Thursday shouted, we're back. More shuffling of feet as someone presumably Thursday, walked through the whole of the apartment. At last, he opened the door to the room we were in. Where's Vacilla's dun dund dum. That's the cliffhanger. But you don't have to wait anymore, because you already waited. Chapter six.

Son of a Shit, Thursday roared, running down the stairs to search the library below. Gertrude stood in the living room staring at Heather. A weak smile sat on the older woman's lips, and fear and sadness were fighting for control of her eyes. He killed her, She asked, running a finger along Heather's cheek. We really had to do something with the body. I never would have guessed I'd ever be too busy to deal with a dead body

of a new friend. But there we were, scrambling to keep everyone else still alive while a corpse grew cold on the table. How long till it started to rot? Sort of? I answered, he definitely killed me, though, Asola walked into the room, and he killed two of my friends to bring you back. I'm sorry, she said, I didn't know. I couldn't get a good read on whether or not she was lying. What's your story? I asked, for real, what happened to you? I died of cancer.

I remember dying. It was peaceful, a sharp end of pain, like falling asleep, but simpler, better. I was in the hospital in Billings and there were flowers everywhere, and he was next to me, holding my hand. He was crying. We never had children, him and me. I never wanted them. Just for a second, I wished I'd had kids, someone else for him to love. He's never been good at not having someone to love, and I worried about him.

I wanted to tell him it was fine. I wanted to tell him I was going to a better place, that he could still love me or love someone else too, and that i'd see him again. But I didn't say anything. It was all too complicated. I didn't know how to say it. I just let myself die. I nodded. Then I woke up in our bed here in town. I died with snow out the window. I woke up to the sound of summer birds. Six months had gone by. He he told me what he'd done, A bit of it,

only part of it, I'm guessing. He told me he'd brought me back to be with him. He told me he couldn't live without me. And you left him, I asked. I didn't say anything at all. For a whole day, I laid in bed thinking about everything. He was respectful. He noticed I wasn't feeling right, and he slept on a cot next to our bed. He only left my side to bring me food and water. He just sat there reading books while I laid there thinking it over. There are so many sides to every person. After I

stayed up through the night. When the sun rose up again, I looked at him, and the first words I said were till death dew. We part. Then I told him it's not right what he did. I told him the dead or supposed to stay dead, and what he'd done wasn't right by God. I'd always known and loved God more than my husband did, and my husband had always loved me more than he'd loved God. So I moved out, simple as that. That was the last thing I'd ever

wanted to think about any of it. Then your friends show up tonight, tell me he's liable to kill me. Part of me thinks he'd be right to do it. Most of me, though, is just damn scared. Vulture put his arm around Gertrude, and she hugged him. I decided I believed her, not completely, But you don't need to believe someone completely to choose to believe them enough that you can act on their way, much like I believe in the goods and services that support this very podcast,

my favorite, and we're back. One of the books is missing Doomsday, said Crouch, next to the stack of books on the floor, small one, gold spine, black cover. It's where I learned about witches fire. She looked up toward the window where she'd been sitting earlier. Fucking gun is gone. Too, getting fucking sick of people stealing my gun. Vascillis went to the gift shop. I bet, I said, he's trying to get into the basement, trying to get the book

without waiting for us. I thought that through for another moment. He wants the book because he's going to try and resurrect Heather. I bet he'll kill mister Miller to do it. He seemed to Doomsday said, but I didn't realize he was both desperate and stupid. Men will do anything if they think it's in the best interest of some woman they love. Gertrude said, whether or not the woman agrees. Thursday rushed back up the stairs, slamming open the apartment door.

He's not in the library. I checked everywhere. He probably went after Sebastian, I said, okay, Thursday said Vulture, Brinn Danielle, we'll go after him. Doom, you stay here guard these two. The town was just starting to rise as we tore down the main road on bikes, and people came out of stores on the main strip to stand on the boardwalk and stare. Crows and Magpie sat on the power lines watching us too. We hit the one traffic light on a red and waited. Though there were no cars

coming in any direction. Thursday pulled up beside me. I feel like it's high noon or something, he laughed. I heard shouting up ahead and ran the light. Vasillis and Sebastian stood in the shadow of the Tyrannosaur, not ten feet distant from each other, weapons leveled. Vasillis held Doomsday's pistol in a one handed amateur grip. Sebastian held a bolt action hunting rifle shouldered sis men Brenn said, shaking

her head. She dropped her bike on the street and flicked open her baton, walking toward the pear, Hey, I shouted. If the two exchanged fire, it wouldn't work out well for either of them. Vasillis didn't know what he was doing, but he had a semi automatic pistol and likely a full magazine. Sebastian and probably brought down an animal or two in his day, but a bolt action rifle ain't the tool for the job of close combat. They both turned to look at me. Who in God's name are

you people, Sebastian asked, I'm Danielle. I said, I knew what he meant, but I didn't feel like answering his implicit question. I caught this man trying to break into my place of business. I have every legal right to shoot him if he doesn't leave the property. You don't care about law, I said, I don't care about law. I care about what I can get away with, and that includes shooting your face tattooed freak of a librarian. Friend. You don't want that. I don't even know what I

want anymore. All the fuss had attracted some onlookers. We are at the very end of town, but a few people had already filtered over. None of them looked particularly friendly toward us in their shoes. I wouldn't be either. He's stalling, Brenna whispered into my ear, waiting for a crowd. We should bring him down now. No, come on, I said back. I don't want Vicilis to die. I'm sick of seeing people die. We'll talk our way through this.

Sebastian had a small backpack thrown over one shoulder. Vascillas kept eyeing it, and Sebastian kept moving his body unconsciously to keep it as far from his assailant as possible. The book was in there. It was a hunch, nothing to gamble, alife on. I approached, raising my hands over my head. Stay back, Sebastian said, his voice was cracked

with worry and exhaustion. For all the world, he could have just been someone's dad if things had played out the slightest bit differently, he'd have just lived his life reading thrillers and watching TV and hunting, and none of this would have happened. Just want to talk this through, I said, We're at an impasse. Let's find a way past it. I don't see the impasse. I've got the upper hand. You attack us, we'll kill you. We attack you, you kill one of us, and likely at least some

of us end up in jail. You included you'll end up in jail in either scenario, he said. Do you think people with face tattoos are the kind of people who are afraid of ending up in prison? I asked, I stepped closer. I approached from his right side, which was convenient because it's the harder direction for a right handed shooter to swing a rifle. I wasn't near enough to reach his gun even if I lunged, but I was getting close. You think you can scare women who

spent their lives hitchhiking alone. You think a man who raises the dead would be afraid of a bunch of fucking punk kids, No, Brent said, standing shoulder to shoulder with me. You're right. You're not afraid of us. You're a different kind of coward. You're afraid of being alone. You didn't resurrect your wife for her. You did it for you. Take one step closer and I'll shoot at least two of you. See, I said, what was I telling you? Impasse? I looked over my shoulder. Thursday and

Vulture were there with the bikes. Thursday had his hand in his hoodie pocket, Culture at his phone. A serious crowd was gathering, maybe ten people already, with another dozen on their way. They stayed clear of the line of fire between the two armed men, but were getting awfully close to the rest of us. A few of them were open carrying pistols at their waists. Interpersonal crime is so much more annoying to commit in open carry states.

At the back of the crowd, leaning against the glass front of a lawyer's office, a man with black sunglasses and a black suit sipped coffee, his blonde hair in a tight bun. Next to him a freckled woman with her hair in a sixties bob dressed identically to the man ate a doughnut. They weren't part of the crowd. They were just watching fucking magic Feds. Hipster magic Feds. You need any help, mister Miller, A young voice shouted, why, Yes,

I need these products and services. He shouted back, because he too, all sides of a conflict really could do a lot with products and services, just like you can. And we're back. These punks broke into my shop, he answered. I scared them off because they're chicken shit, but they got me out numbered out here. Fuck this, I took another step forward. Sebastian started to swing the gun around to face me. Long barrel, terrible for close range. I

pushed in closer, knocking the barrel aside. Used my bad arm to do it, which I shouldn't have, the stitched up wound in my shoulder, complained. Got my knife out of my pocket and open in one motion, brought it up. He flinched hard, closing his eyes, dropping the rifle to points slack at the ground while he covered his throat. I cut the strap of his backpack down at the bottom where the strap is thinnest and the farthest away from meat, and snatched it. I stomped the barrel of

his rifle and disarmed him. Too many armed strangers around to kill him then and there, bucking run. Brynn shouted, We ran. Vacillis came with us. Thursday at the front, put his knot in substantial mass to bear, and plowed through our audience before they had time to react. We got off the main street first thing, and Vacillis took us through an alley. Brynn overturned a dumpster in our path to slow down our pursuers ahead of us. Thursday shouted.

Four men at the mouth of the alley barred our path. We grabbed a second dumpster and pushed it ahead of us on its castor wheels. I pushed with my one arm, the other hurt like hell. I might have ripped the stitches. A shot rang out the ping against the steel side of the dumpster, almost as loud as the report itself. Couldn't have been a long gun, or it would have

gone through and probably into someone I cared about. All five of us were packed tight behind our moving shield, and I found that strange clarity I've only ever known in riots. The world had always, it seemed, been against me and my friends. These, though, were moments of me and my friends against the world. I know that's bullshit on a bunch of different levels. Hell, the people shooting at us right now weren't even our enemies. I wouldn't shoot back even if I could, but our collective power

felt like its own magic. Just then, in the early morning, in some small town in Montana, we'd picked up speed and shouted our wordless power. We hit the street as I'd guessed. The men trying to stop us moved out of the way of the couple hundred pounds of steel barreling toward them. They were still armed, though, and we were in the open in the street, the library twenty feet way. Another shot rang out, but it wasn't from our assailants. Thursday had his gun out. He'd fired at

the ground by their feet. They bolted, taking cover behind cars. They'd be returning fire any second. We sprinted for the library, Thursday covering us, firing shots to keep our attackers behind cover. Doomsday met us with the door open, and I dove through. Bangs everywhere, loud ones and tinny ones and ones that just went poof more than bang, and just way too much gunfire everywhere. Thursday was pinned down behind the dumpster. Bacillias drew his pistol aloft, but Doomsday snatched it out

of his hand and stepped aside, firing calmly. I don't think she was aiming to keep those guys pinned down. I think she was aiming for the guys themselves. They ducked. Thursday ran zigzag. A shot shattered the glass of a window not a meter in front of him, but he got in through the door, and Doomsday slammed it shut. The firing stopped. I fucking hate gunfights. Dun, dun, dune. I guess that's not really a cliff Well, it's a cliffhanger. You don't know what's gonna happen in chapter seven or

chapter eight, which is the number of chapters. There's eight chapters, and you're six of them through. But they've made it through. They've got the backpack that might have the book, and they're back in the library and they're safe for now, and everyone's dead and dying and everything's complicated, and I guess without Robert here. I should probably just talk about the book a little bit.

even say what kind of gun it is. I'll be lucky if I don't call it a clip instead of a magazine at some point. And these things probably don't really matter to the average reader at all, but it's just funny to think about. I don't know, I like this story. I'm glad to read it to you. I feel like I should have more clever things to say about it, because it's a book club and I'm supposed to talk about the books, but I wrote this one,

so it's complicated. This chapter is kind of where the theme of the book that I was really going for sort of starts to come into its own, which is around the first book is really about, like the concept of power right, And this idea of like summoning a demon to stop people from taking power over other people, and how that actually becomes exerting a sort of power in and of itself and things like this, And this one is probably fairly transparent, but it is much more

intentionally around feminism and around the kind of things that people do for love, and in particular like heterosexual couple blah blah blah blah blah, patriarchy, etc. You know, this idea like, oh, you didn't bring her back for her, you brought her back for you, you know. And I don't think it's like an entirely cynical take. It's a slightly cynical take, obviously, you know. But I think that that was the primary theme I was just trying to get across with this book. And it's not really up

to me to say whether or not I succeeded. But there's going to be more about all of that next week, when you can hear the next chapter. Okay, bye everyone.