crate and replaced it then I leaned against the shelf a few feet down, under one of the dim lights and looked inside the book. Wondering why someone wanted to check out such an obscure title. What a mistake that was. After flipping through some pages, I found the Lieutenant was one of the many men assigned to ordnance disposal after the London Blitz.
After the war, he and his three-man team located and either exploded, diffused, or moved unexploded German bombs from the nightly bombing runs which had terrorized the city. I had gone back to the beginning of the book and was on chapter three before I realized I fell into the lure of reading a fascinating piece of history that not many people even thought about. There were so many books about the war, but not many about the cleanup afterwards. And that was about the man's thankless task.
Grrr... it was well past closing. I'd have to get down to make sure everyone was out of the reading nooks. Not like they could get into any rooms except the bathrooms, and the main door was locked all the time anyway.
I sighed, knowing I'd be reading the rest of this book when it was returned. That's the danger, peril, hazard, risk, jeopardy, of being a bibliophile like myself. Must consume weeeerrrrddddzzzz! I chuckled at myself and made my way to the Cross Row and stopped when I swear I heard someone cough down at the far end of the row.
It was almost pitch black down there as most of the lights in the far corner were burned out. But I could see a flicker. I started walking down to the end and looked down, noticing a well-worn trail in the dust. Was Tasha still working? I had to remember to ask Harold what her function was here. I knew she didn't pull requests like me.
I headed to the end and turned into the last aisle. There was a blanket draped across the space about half way down and I saw the flickering of candle light and I could smell the sulfur of matches. Then I froze and looked around. The way things were double stacked by the shelves, to make more room beyond the blanket. This was the most secluded corner of the labyrinth. The candles. I looked up and the bulbs weren't burned out back here, someone had unscrewed them.
This had all the familiar markers of... My mind drifted back to New York, like a flashback. I inhaled sharply, not savoring the memories, this was someone's home.
I could see a person's shadow flickering on the blanket in the candle light. I knocked on a crate next to the blanket and called out, “Knock knock. Anybody home?”
There was a quick movement and the candle went out. It was almost pitch black back there without the candle light. I called out again, “Tasha, is that you in there? It's alright.” I was met by silence. I said, “Really, it's okay. I'm coming in.”
I lit up the screen on my cell. It cast an almost eerie whitish blue light on everything, making harsh shadows. I reached out and pulled the blanket aside enough to stick my head into the space and held the cell high to illuminate the area the best I could. I saw the stacks of snack foods and bottles of water on a shelf and the plastic bag she was using to for trash to keep the area clean.
Then clothes and other belongings, stacked in a row on another shelf, to give some semblance of order and structure to an otherwise chaotic life. I stared at the sleeping bag and blankets rolled up like a pillow on the floor in the far corner. I thought of Vanessa keeping me warm, wrapped up in blankets like that on the floor of the office in the abandoned mechanic shop we had spent over a year in. I knew a nest when I saw one. She had been here for months by the looks of how much she had accumulated.
Then I turned my cell toward the other corner and Tasha was standing there looking down, her hands in her armpits. She hissed low, “Get out of here.” Then it changed to a plead. “Please don't call anyone. I'll leave
After the war, he and his three-man team located and either exploded, diffused, or moved unexploded German bombs from the nightly bombing runs which had terrorized the city. I had gone back to the beginning of the book and was on chapter three before I realized I fell into the lure of reading a fascinating piece of history that not many people even thought about. There were so many books about the war, but not many about the cleanup afterwards. And that was about the man's thankless task.
Grrr... it was well past closing. I'd have to get down to make sure everyone was out of the reading nooks. Not like they could get into any rooms except the bathrooms, and the main door was locked all the time anyway.
I sighed, knowing I'd be reading the rest of this book when it was returned. That's the danger, peril, hazard, risk, jeopardy, of being a bibliophile like myself. Must consume weeeerrrrddddzzzz! I chuckled at myself and made my way to the Cross Row and stopped when I swear I heard someone cough down at the far end of the row.
It was almost pitch black down there as most of the lights in the far corner were burned out. But I could see a flicker. I started walking down to the end and looked down, noticing a well-worn trail in the dust. Was Tasha still working? I had to remember to ask Harold what her function was here. I knew she didn't pull requests like me.
I headed to the end and turned into the last aisle. There was a blanket draped across the space about half way down and I saw the flickering of candle light and I could smell the sulfur of matches. Then I froze and looked around. The way things were double stacked by the shelves, to make more room beyond the blanket. This was the most secluded corner of the labyrinth. The candles. I looked up and the bulbs weren't burned out back here, someone had unscrewed them.
This had all the familiar markers of... My mind drifted back to New York, like a flashback. I inhaled sharply, not savoring the memories, this was someone's home.
I could see a person's shadow flickering on the blanket in the candle light. I knocked on a crate next to the blanket and called out, “Knock knock. Anybody home?”
There was a quick movement and the candle went out. It was almost pitch black back there without the candle light. I called out again, “Tasha, is that you in there? It's alright.” I was met by silence. I said, “Really, it's okay. I'm coming in.”
I lit up the screen on my cell. It cast an almost eerie whitish blue light on everything, making harsh shadows. I reached out and pulled the blanket aside enough to stick my head into the space and held the cell high to illuminate the area the best I could. I saw the stacks of snack foods and bottles of water on a shelf and the plastic bag she was using to for trash to keep the area clean.
Then clothes and other belongings, stacked in a row on another shelf, to give some semblance of order and structure to an otherwise chaotic life. I stared at the sleeping bag and blankets rolled up like a pillow on the floor in the far corner. I thought of Vanessa keeping me warm, wrapped up in blankets like that on the floor of the office in the abandoned mechanic shop we had spent over a year in. I knew a nest when I saw one. She had been here for months by the looks of how much she had accumulated.
Then I turned my cell toward the other corner and Tasha was standing there looking down, her hands in her armpits. She hissed low, “Get out of here.” Then it changed to a plead. “Please don't call anyone. I'll leave
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