Page 155 - The Book Thief

THE STRUGGLER, CONTINUED

We move forward now, to a cold night struggle. Well let the book thief catch up
later.

It was November 3, and the floor of the train held on to his feet. In front of him,
he read from the copy of Mein Kampf. His savior. Sweat was swimming out of
his hands. Fingermarks clutched the book.

BOOK THIEF PRODUCTIONS
OFFICIALLY PRESENTS
Mein Kampf
(My Struggle)

by
Adolf Hitler

Behind Max Vandenburg, the city of Stuttgart opened its arms in mockery.

He was not welcome there, and he tried not to look back as the stale bread
disintegrated in his stomach. A few times, he shifted again and watched the
lights become only a handful and then disappear altogether.

Look proud, he advised himself. You cannot look afraid. Read the book. Smile
at it. Its a great bookthe greatest book youve ever read. Ignore that woman on the
other side. Shes asleep now anyway. Come on, Max, youre only a few hours
away.

As it had turned out, the promised return visit in the room of darkness didnt take
days; it had taken a week and a half. Then another week till the next, and
another, until he lost all sense of the passing of days and hours. He was relocated
once more, to another small storage room, where there was more light, more
visits, and more food. Time, however, was running out.