they left the city behind, and nat turner kept his foot on the gas as they sped down the dark highway.
there were no lights on the highway, or any other cars, and no signs for speed limits or so many miles to somewhere or for exits.
“where are we going?” barry finally asked.
“you’ll find out,” nat said . but he didn’t say it in a mean way.
“just wait,” robert e lee added in a kindly voice.
“i have to get up in the morning,” said barry. “i have to go to the library.”
“we are going to the library now,” said nat.
barry did not know what to say to that, so he said nothing.
finally barry saw a building up ahead. it was long and low and brightly lit, like a “roadhouse” you saw in the movies, but he did not think there were any roadhouses in real life.
as they got closer, he saw that the signs were just bright lights, without words.
“is that the library?” barry asked.
“yes it is,” said robert e lee.
“does it have books about world religions?” barry asked.
“i don’t see why not,” robert e lee answered.
nat turner pulled the car into the huge parking lot of the library/roadhouse. there were no other cars in the lot, but the building, seen up close, was even more brightly lit than it had seemed from the road.
nat got out of the car and headed toward the building. barry followed him.
barry looked back, and robert e lee had gotten out of the back seat and was leaning against the car.
“i think i’ll stay out here and have a smoke,” robert e lee told barry. “i’ll follow you fellows later.”
barry nodded, and then turned and hurried after nat.
inside the building indeed seemed to be both a library and a “roadhouse”. there was a desk right inside the door, and a large woman wearing a low cut black dress and a red flower in her hair sat behind it. barry thought the desk looked like it belonged to a library, but the woman looked like a “hostess” in a “roadhouse” in an old movie on television at three in the morning.
behind the desk and to the right of it were tall, dimly lit shelves of books. the area to the left of the desk, behind a glass wall and glass door, seemed to be the “roadhouse,” a lot of round tables covered with white tablecloths, with a bar and a bandstand barely visible in the gloom of the background.
both sides seemed deserted. at least, barry did not see any people or movement.
“can i help ypu?” the “hostess” asked nat and barry.
nat took off his wide brimmed black hat and answered, “yes, ma’am, i would like a scotch and soda and a book about how to mix martinis. and this young fellow is looking for books about the religions of the world.”
the hostess fixed her dark eyes on barry. “Is that true? is what he says true? you are looking for books about world religions?”
”yes, ma’am.”
“how strange,” the hostess replied. she nodded over her shoulder. “straight back, all the way back.”
barry hesitated. “will there be anybody back there to help me?”
“maybe.” the hostess turned her attention to nat. “if you want a drink, go through the door. go through the door, if you please, don’t try to walk through the wall.”
“i would never do that, ma’am,” nat smiled. “what about my book on mixing martinis?”
“i will have it for you when you leave.”
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