A Note to the Reader  After a pleasant hour in the park “Shooting the Sun,” Jack and Ed return to the shop, where Jack makes a startling discovery in the back room—a discovery that takes both men on a journey back in time.

 
Our story continues…

 
Chapter Eleven

 
Jack Van Dorn’s eyes swept along the shelves. He couldn’t find the book he was looking for. Not that he’d thought it would be easy. He’d left his new reading glasses in his apartment, for one thing. There wasn’t much light in the back room, either. Just a couple of naked bulbs in ceiling fixtures. And the temporary bookshelves they’d put up to hold the overflow stock blocked most of what little light the bulbs gave off. Still, Jack had to admit he was in luck. One bulb was only a few feet away, and the narrow aisle between the bookshelves opened out on the other.

Anyway, he figured he had all the light he needed. He’d be damned if he’d give up now. He knew the book was there somewhere. Hell, he’d put it on the overflow shelf himself, and only a week ago at that! Slaughterhouse Five. He’d sold the last copy off the front shop shelves just that afternoon, not long after he and Ed had come back from the park. Some kind of war-story, the man who’d bought it had said. Written by a guy named Vonnegut…. Sounded kind of interesting, in fact. Jack thought he might read it himself before he took it out to the shop.

But where the hell was it? When they’d unpacked the boxes from the last library book sale and put the books on these shelves, he’d arranged all the fiction in alphabetical order by author. He didn’t need to ask anyone if that was how it should be done. He’d just done it. It made sense. That was the way fiction was shelved in the shop, after all. And it certainly made it easier to locate replacements for stock as it was sold.

He slapped his forehead. How could he be so dumb! Alphabetic order. Vonnegut. Ought to be right at the end. He sidestepped down the aisle, scanning the shelves at eye level as he went. He reached the last bookcase. Must be on the top shelf, he thought. He cocked his head back. It was hard enough to read the spines, even with the bulb right overhead. Despite himself, he wished that he’d remembered to bring his new glasses with him.

“Let’s see, now,” he muttered to himself. “Van Vechten. Nope…. Vidal. Gettin’ close…. Vonnegut!” Jack let out a whoop of triumph.

God, there were a lot of ‘em by that guy Vonnegut, though. Jack didn’t recollect there being so many. The guy must be mighty busy. Still, Jack was sure that he’d seen Slaughterhouse Five. You don’t forget a title like that. Yep. There it was. Jack reached up to grab it.

With a loud “Pop!” the bulb overhead blew out, plunging Jack into darkness just as his hand closed on the book. He tugged. It came free. But so did something else. Something heavy. It hit the floor hard, right at Jack’s feet. Made a hell of a racket, too. And, whatever it was, it sounded like it had burst open.

His eyes blinking, still dazzled by the final, explosive flare from the now-dark bulb, Jack squatted down and felt around him. There it was! Some sort of cardboard file box. Bigger than a book. “Must ‘a been jammed in right at the end of the shelf,” Jack muttered to himself. “Empty now, though. Wouldn’t ya know it!”

Good thing he was starting to get his eyesight back. And it was also lucky that the remaining bulb gave him just enough light to see by. He put Slaughterhouse Five down and started gathering up the contents of the cardboard file. The first thing he came to was a cigar box, the lid held down with a couple of rubber bands. There was stuff in it, too. It rattled when he picked it up. Then he found something else—something long and heavy, he thought, wrapped in what felt like an old t-shirt. It, too, was secured with a couple of ties. And there was a big envelope, stuffed full of papers. That was all. At least it was all he could find.

Suddenly it got even darker. A figure stepped between Jack and the remaining bulb…. Read more…

 

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Hooked? A new chapter in our serial adventure novel, Trip of a Lifetime, will appear every Sunday. If you’ve missed a chapter, or if you’re coming aboard for the first time and want to catch up, just use the hot-linked title to go to the archives.

 
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A REMINDER This is a work of fiction. All the characters are figments of the imaginations. It’s NOT a paddling guide. If you’re planning a trip on the Albany River—or any other body of water, come to that—consult the most recent edition of a good guidebook and be sure you’re thoroughly familiar with all applicable regulations. While maps of Ontario show some of the waterways mentioned here, the places depicted in our story exist only in our minds—and in yours.