The Library

ACT II First Story

"Do you believe her?" Jen whispered to Ted, eyeing the young woman with the gaze of a skeptic. She'd been a ranger for fifteen years, and during this time she'd heard her share of tall tales, although, she had to admit, not one that could hold a candle to this gals'.

Really? That was the best lie the woman could come up with? That she got lost in the desert and spent an untold number of years living with a mysterious philosopher colony?

Even as feral as she looked, with matted hair and dressed in dubious rags, there was no way their rescue had spent more than a week in any place lacking the trappings of civilization: she didn't look malnourished, had no signs of physical trauma and, honestly, she didn't look old enough to have spent many years anywhere, not to mention the wilderness.

Jen was so irritated by these entitled attention seeking brats who tried to make themselves look interesting by putting their lives, and through her professional obligations, hers, in harm's way.

She was of half a mind to show this airhead what real hardship looked like, since goodness knows, she'd had her share.

This unfortunate youth's predicament was nothing an actual job and a decent attire couldn't fix, that's for sure.

She looked at her wilderness rescue again. What kind of irresponsible nut goes out into the desert in that outfit? No boots, no sleeves, no hat. She would have been dead within a week if she weren't lying through her teeth.

The thought the young woman, who was sniffling sheepishly, wrapped in a space blanket, barely managing to nibble on her sandwich between sobs, may have escaped from a mental institution somewhere nearby softened her ire, but the girl didn't seem incoherent enough to validate that possibility.

'It takes all sorts,' Jen thought. What did she know about mental illness, even if she religiously attended the periodic training seminars offered at the station? Maybe the girl was the kind of crazy one didn't get at first glance. What did they call them, histrionics, pathological liars? Because she was certain any word that came out of that girl's mouth was a lie, the only question was if the latter was aware of it or not.

Kindness won in the end and she approached her charge, who was now sitting in the back of the rescue vehicle with her legs hanging out, staring into the distance with a forlorn expression.

"What's your name, hon?"

"Gwen."

"Gwen what?"

The girl looked at her with genuine panic.

"You don't remember?" Jen asked.

Gwen shook her head in dismay.

'Drama queen,' Jen thought. 'You'd do anything to get attention, wouldn't you?'

She continued, taming down the tone of her voice so she wouldn't sound too harsh.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Oh, I remember everything," Gwen smiled, and the light in her eyes was so out of sync with her disheveled appearance, it made the lady ranger a little unsure of her judgment.

She didn't like feeling like that; she was very self-assured, especially after the school of hard knocks had taught her the damsel in distress routine does nothing for a lonely woman, other than draw all the jackals from miles around to feast on her weakness.

'Maybe she really is off, poor thing,' she thought. How on earth did she make it here alive? They were deep in the middle of nowhere, in a place that even for a trained ranger like her, who drove to it with provisions, blankets and means of communication, felt alien and dangerous.