Free Mythology 101 by Jody Lynn Nye Page A

nose in the thick warm air: concrete dust, moldering paper and library paste.
    A humming white line of light grew down from the ceiling and stopped noisily at the floor. Steel doors clashed open, and Marcy appeared out of the book elevator clutching her green notebook. She felt around her head for the nearest bookshelf and started forward, guiding herself with her free hand. The elevator closed behind her, cutting off the light. The confident tap of her shoes on the concrete floor passed Keith and went on down the row. He prayed that he could follow her without bringing down Dewey decimal system numbers .3440 to .785 on top of himself on the way. He sank catlike to all fours. Maybe he could crawl after her. Maybe not. It always looked easier when babies did it. He struggled along the floor, trying not to make any noise.
    There was a fair amount of dust on the floor his movements stirred up, which he promised his twitching nose he would sneeze at later. His knees informed him that he was too old for this manner of locomotion. His ears informed him that he was doing a pretty good job of shadowing without making noise or being noticed. Marcy was keeping a slow pace ahead of him. A sudden light gleamed in her hand. Keith’s heart jumped. If she had a flashlight she wasn’t using until the last moment, Keith was going to have to do some fancy explaining. Certainly he was at a disadvantage: what could he say? “Hi, doll. Of all the library stacks, in all the universities, she walks into mine. Oh, what am I doing on the floor? I dropped my next line.”
    She stopped. Keith could see at last that the light she held came from a key. It shone faintly green against the keyhole of a low door behind the last row of bookshelves. Probably one of those key lights. A miniature flashlight would be vital down here, but the sure way she had found the door spoke of long familiarity. The door opened inward, and Marcy disappeared into a sudden riot of light and noise. It boomed shut behind her.
    “Nuts,” he said to himself. “Now what do I do?”
    On hands and knees, he crawled carefully over to the door and felt over its surface for the keyhole. He found a polished square with a slot and put his eye to it. He could see nothing. It was as black as the room he was in. They, whoever they were, must have blocked it to keep light from leaking out and betraying the presence of the room on the other side. And what was that room? Keith didn’t know of any further excavation or construction in Gillington Library. The perimeter of the stacks stopped where he was standing, or rather kneeling, right now. This must be really top secret.
    He could feel the bass hum of conversation vibrating the door under his fingertips. Leaning close, he set his ear gently on the rough wood and closed his eyes to concentrate. Several people were talking, though their words were no more distinguishable than if they had been speaking under water. One tenor voice, its tone proving its owner to be seething with irritation, overpowered the others, and then went on alone somewhat more calmly.
    Definitely the faculty advisor, Keith decided. But for what subject? Or purpose? There was something about this situation which made his imaginary whiskers bristle out. Why meet in the sub-sub-basement of the library, when at this hour three-fourths of the classrooms on campus were empty? And what about that key Marcy had? Its green light was unlike that of either phosphorus or any LEDs he’d ever seen. Must be some really neat mechanism. He was intrigued. Something very interesting was going on here. His thin nose twitched with curiosity.
    And dust, Keith discovered in a panic. He was going to sneeze. His eyes watered as he pinched his nose to hold back the explosion. He rocked back on his heels until the impulse passed, and then hunkered down once more against the door. The room on the other side of the wall had fallen silent. Keith blinked in the dark with surprise. No voices, not