The Librarian and The Book Thief by Brian Yansky

Author:Brian Yansky [Yansky, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-31T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

I stood on the library porch and looked up the mountain. I could see the stream rushing down it and hear its bubbling sound nearby. I could not see the top of the mountain, but somewhere up there was, if he was telling the truth, was Tonga’s temple. Was the book really up there? What did Tonga really want from Karl?

Olive walked up to the front porch, “Rip is still asleep, and the cook is angry because he needs his nap before the dinner crowd starts coming in. You’re going to have to either wake him or carry him to his house.”

“Did you see that god that looked like a monk walking down the street? He thinks we have a hotel in town.”

“I didn’t see him,” she said.

“You walked right by him.”

“You coming?”

“Sure,” I said.

We went back to the café. On the way, I saw it right there in the middle of town between Gail’s Clothing and the bar, a hotel.

“The Apple Hotel,” I said.

“What about it?”

“That hotel wasn’t there yesterday.”

“I suppose not,” she said.

“You suppose not?”

“I didn’t notice,” she said. “I did notice Rip asleep in the kitchen and the cook banging pans on purpose.”

“How long has it been there?”

“I can’t say how long.”

“But you see it?”

“Sure.”

“It wasn’t there yesterday.”

“Probably not,” she said.

“Normally,” I pointed out, “hotels don’t come and go.”

“I can’t really remember what it was like off the mountain. You’ll see. It becomes harder to remember the longer you’re here.”

“Take my word for it. They don’t come and go.”

“All right,” she said.

It was a nice-looking building. Two-stories. Elegant front. Gargoyles along the gutters and one stone gargoyle crawling up the side, carrying a head without a body. He actually was crawling, so I froze and grabbed Olive’s arm.

“Do you see—”

When he got to the top, he reversed himself and climbed back down. I realized he was not alive, which was a relief. Sort of. I let go of her arm.

“Rough afternoon?”

“Yes,” I said. This was feeling like the day that never ended.

We went into the café, which was empty except for two old men drinking coffee in a booth. It was just after four, according to the big round clock on the wall behind the cash register. We walked into the kitchen and to the little back room where the cook liked to nap. I leaned in over the cot and tapped the back of Rip’s hand and spoke in my suggestive voice and told him to wake up and he listened. His eyes opened.

“What happened?” he said.

“The librarian hypnotized you,” Olive said.

“I don’t believe in hypnosis,” Rip said.

“You said that before,” I said.

“Well, I don’t.”

“You dropped like a—” I turned to Olive.

“Duck shot out of the sky,” she said.

“That’s a bit more violent than I was thinking,” I said.

“You weren’t thinking. That’s why you gave me that look.”

“Still.”

“Now you’re going to hold that against me?”

“No,” I said. “I just—”

“You could have said sack of potatoes,” Rip said.

Olive glared at him.

I helped him up into a sitting position.

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