Page 454 - The Book Thief

something to hold.

When it stopped, they were all crowded onto the right-hand wall of the truck,
their faces wedged against the filthy uniform next to them. Questions of health
were passed around until one of the men, Eddie Alma, started shouting, Get this
bastard off me! He said it three times, fast. He was staring into Reinhold Zuckers
blinkless eyes.

THE DAMAGE, ESSEN
Six men burned by cigarettes.
Two broken hands.
Several broken fingers.
A broken leg for Hans Hubermann.
A broken neck for Reinhold
Zucker, snapped almost in line
with his earlobes.

They dragged each other out until only the corpse was left in the truck.

The driver, Helmut Brohmann, was sitting on the ground, scratching his head.
The tire, he explained, it just blew. Some of the men sat with him and echoed

that it wasnt his fault. Others walked around smoking, asking each other if they
thought their injuries were bad enough to be relieved of duty. Another small
group gathered at the back of the truck and viewed the body.

Over by a tree, a thin strip of intense pain was still opening in Hans Hubermanns
leg. It should have been me, he said.

What? the sergeant called over from the truck.

He was sitting in my seat.

Helmut Brohmann regained his senses and climbed back into the drivers
compartment. Sideways, he tried to start the engine, but there was no kicking it

over. Another truck was sent for, as was an ambulance. The ambulance didnt