Page 138 - The Book Thief

longed for them to knuckle the door, to open it, to drag him out, into the

unbearable light. For now, he could only sit on his suitcase couch, hands under
his chin, his elbows burning his thighs.

There was sleep, starving sleep, and the irritation of half awakeness, and the
punishment of the floor.

Ignore the itchy feet.

Dont scratch the soles.

And dont move too much.

Just leave everything as it is, at all cost. It might be time to go soon. Light like a
gun. Explosive to the eyes. It might be time to go. It might be time, so wake up.
Wake up now, Goddamn it! Wake up.

The door was opened and shut, and a figure was crouched over him. The hand
splashed at the cold waves of his clothes and the grimy currents beneath. A voice
came down, behind it.

Max, it whispered. Max, wake up.

His eyes did not do anything that shock normally describes. No snapping, no
slapping, no jolt. Those things happen when you wake from a bad dream, not
when you wake into one. No, his eyes dragged themselves open, from darkness
to dim. It was his body that reacted, shrugging upward and throwing out an arm
to grip the air.

The voice calmed him now. Sorry its taken so long. I think people have been

watching me. And the man with the identity card took longer than I thought, but
There was a pause. Its yours now. Not great quality, but hopefully good enough
to get you there if it comes to that. He crouched down and waved a hand at the
suitcase. In his other hand, he held something heavy and flat. Come onoff. Max
obeyed, standing and scratching. He could feel the tightening of his bones. The
card is in this. It was a book. You should put the map in here, too, and the
directions. And theres a keytaped to the inside cover. He clicked open the case as
quietly as he could and planted the book like a bomb. Ill be back in a few days.