Karen Sue Walker 

Bernice’s sensible shoes led her straight to the library’s information desk. By the time Susan saw her coming, it was too late to hide. 

Susan showed Bernice the online card catalog. Again. “You just type in what you’re looking for. How easy is that?” 

“I miss the little cards in the long wooden drawers. They smelled like…” Bernice closed her eyes as if conjuring a memory. 

“Dust,” Susan said. “They smelled like dust.” 

Bernice typed, “How to survive a zombie apocalypse.” She squinted at the screen. “That doesn’t look helpful at all.” 

Against her better judgment, Susan asked, “Just what are you looking for?” 

“National Geographic had some excellent tips for surviving a zombie apocalypse, but they only scratched the surface. What are young people going to do without their technology? How will they obtain food without their phones?” 

“National Geographic?”  

“They don’t even know how to read a map. I’m not sure they’d recognize a real flashlight.” Susan hung her head. “If the zombies come, what will they do?” 

“The zombies?” 

“No, the young people.” 

Susan commandeered the computer. “Maybe you should worry about yourself.” 

“Me?” Bernice lifted one eyebrow. “I have a propane stove and I’m a very good cook.”  

Picking up a stubby pencil, Susan scribbled call numbers for a dozen non-fiction survival books.  

“I have a pencil sharpener,” Bernice said. 

“Good for you,” Susan replied. “We have those, too.” 

“You have electric ones. If the power goes out, you can’t even sharpen your pencils.”