The Book Thief(30)

Above her, the sky was completing its routine of darkening, but far away, over the mountains shoulder, there was a dull trace of light.



Pass auf, Kind, a uniform said to her at one point. Look out, child, as he shoveled some more ash onto a cart.



Closer to the town hall, under a light, some shadows stood and talked, most likely exulting in the success of the fire. From Liesels position, their voices were only sounds. Not words at all.



For a few minutes, she watched the men shoveling up the pile, at first making it smaller at the sides to allow more of it to collapse. They came back and forth from a truck, and after three return trips, when the heap was reduced near the bottom, a small section of living material slipped from inside the ash.





THE MATERIAL

Half a red flag, two posters advertising a Jewish poet,

three books, and a wooden sign with something written

on it in Hebrew





Perhaps they were damp. Perhaps the fire didnt burn long enough to fully reach the depth where they sat. Whatever the reason, they were huddled among the ashes, shaken. Survivors.



Three books. Liesel spoke softly and she looked at the backs of the men.



Come on, said one of them. Hurry up, will you, Im starving.



They moved toward the truck.



The threesome of books poked their noses out.



Liesel moved in.



The heat was still strong enough to warm her when she stood at the foot of the ash heap. When she reached her hand in, she was bitten, but on the second attempt, she made sure she was fast enough. She latched onto the closest of the books. It was hot, but it was also wet, burned only at the edges, but otherwise unhurt.



It was blue.



The cover felt like it was woven with hundreds of tightly drawn strings and clamped down. Red letters were pressed into those fibers. The only word Liesel had time to read was Shoulder. There wasnt enough time for the rest, and there was a problem. The smoke.



Smoke lifted from the cover as she juggled it and hurried away. Her head was pulled down, and the sick beauty of nerves proved more ghastly with each stride. There were fourteen steps till the voice.



It propped itself up behind her.



Hey!



That was when she nearly ran back and tossed the book onto the mound, but she was unable. The only movement at her disposal was the act of turning.



There are some things here that didnt burn! It was one of the cleanup men. He was not facing the girl, but rather, the people standing by the town hall.



Well, burn them again! came the reply. And watch them burn!



I think theyre wet!



Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, do I have to do everything myself? The sound of footsteps passed by. It was the mayor, wearing a black coat over his Nazi uniform. He didnt notice the girl who stood absolutely still only a short distance away.





A REALIZATION

A statue of the book thief stood in the courtyard. . . .

Its very rare, dont you think, for a statue to appear

before its subject has become famous.





She sank.



The thrill of being ignored!



The book felt cool enough now to slip inside her uniform. At first, it was nice and warm against her chest. As she began walking, though, it began to heat up again.



By the time she made it back to Papa and Wolfgang Edel, the book was starting to burn her. It seemed to be igniting.



Both men looked at her.



She smiled.



Immediately, when the smile shrank from her lips, she could feel something else. Or more to the point, someone else. There was no mistaking the watched feeling. It was all over her, and it was confirmed when she dared to face the shadows over at the town hall. To the side of the collection of silhouettes, another one stood, a few meters removed, and Liesel realized two things.





A FEW SMALL PIECES

OF RECOGNITION





The shadows identity and



The fact that it had seen everything



The shadows hands were in its coat pockets.



It had fluffy hair.



If it had a face, the expression on it would have been one of injury.



Gottverdammt, Liesel said, only loud enough for herself. Goddamn it.



Are we ready to go?



In the previous moments of stupendous danger, Papa had said goodbye to Wolfgang Edel and was ready to accompany Liesel home.



Ready, she answered.



They began to leave the scene of the crime, and the book was well and truly burning her now. The Shoulder Shrug had applied itself to her rib cage.



As they walked past the precarious town hall shadows, the book thief winced.



Whats wrong? Papa asked.



Nothing.



Quite a few things, however, were most definitely wrong:



Smoke was rising out of Liesels collar.



A necklace of sweat had formed around her throat.