Boxes and Bombs

Previously, in Part 3: Once Upon a Barn

Part 4

Dear Diary,

I didn’t sleep well last night.

Okay, okay, you got me—I don’t sleep well on any night.

Yeah. But last night was the worst.

I should have stayed here yesterday, even if it was early enough to go out. I don’t know what made me think I was ready for the library.

I wasn’t thinking; that’s what it was. I’ve been so upset. I forgot it was the same library my mother used to take me to every Saturday when I was a kid.

You wanna know the craziest part? I still have my old library card tucked behind my driver’s license.

Yeah. I drove over there thinking I’d just whip that old card out and check out a book, like the place was going to be open for business as usual.

Jesus. I’m such a fruitcake.

It was late afternoon when I got there. The sun was shining. Birds were singing. Squirrels were leaping from limb to limb in the trees. And you know what? From that perspective, things looked okie-dokie.

But…

There were a lot of cars in the lot and on the street, and that gave me a bad feeling. You know what I mean, the old heebie-jeebies I’m always battling.

The front door was propped open, just like in the old days. But, instead of experiencing a welcome feeling—you know, also like in the old days—I broke into a cold sweat.

There were no lights on inside, and it looked really dark in there.

From the road where I drove in, the building is long, like the bottom of a letter “L”. It’s the front of library, and the side and back really do form an “L” shape. The parking lot is on the outside, and in between the inside right angles, there is a courtyard with tables and benches shaded by trees. Flowers and bushes grow there; it’s the perfect place for a nice conversation or a reading break during a lunch hour.

I was really bothered by the fact that I couldn’t see the courtyard from the street.

Instead of turning off the car and getting out, I drove into the lot and around the building to the back.

I don’t remember ever using the back door myself, but I know the librarians used it. They had offices back there, where they did paperwork and planning.

There were cars in the lot back there, too.

Shit, shit, shit.

Am I really going in there?

As I made a final right turn, I got the first glimpse of the fencing that enclosed the courtyard. A few feet later and I could see the inside outer walls of the building.

Well… I could see what was left of them.

Most of that “L” line was collapsed brick and concrete; jutting rebar, bent and mutilated; and charred remains of drywall.

The courtyard was littered with bodies.

There was little doubt there’d be more inside, underneath…everything.

I slammed the car into park, threw the door open and leaned out to expel the contents of my stomach.

The smell of vomit mixed with that of putrefaction made my gut clench in despair, and I heaved again, almost falling out the door and into my own mess.

That would have been the perfect end to my visit.

“Shelby,” I whispered, “you do not need to know about wheat harvesting today!”

I slammed the door shut and drove away, taking care to back up and avoid the mess on that side of the library.

But then, damn my hide, once I’d gone a few blocks I was compelled to turn around and go back.

Here’s the thing, oh diary pal of mine: I really have NOT been thinking.

But it hit me, finally. And I had to be sure. I had to look.

I drove back to the library, carefully examining each car on the street and in the lot. Just in case.

And then, for some stupid reason, I was again compelled to get out of my car and walk to the front entrance.

I needed to close the damned door.

The welcoming propped-open door of the past now resembled a hungry mouth, ready to swallow you down once it lured you inside.

I was shaking all over by the time I reached the entrance and kicked the little doorstop away so the door could swing shut.

As I turned away, sure I would vomit again, I noticed the package that had been behind the door. It was a box, about twelve inches square and wrapped in brown paper.

I couldn’t see a mailing label, and there was no writing on the paper that I could see. I thought briefly about checking it out, and then dismissed the idea out of hand—goodness only knows what might be inside. It might have been a box of books. It might have been coffee or chocolate.

But no—what my mind conjured up immediately was, “It’s a bomb. It’s a fucking bomb.”

Screw that happy crappy. There have been enough bombs already.

I ran back to the car, jumped in and boogied back here.

I couldn’t stop thinking:

I got off work at three. I rode the elevator down to the lowest level of the parking garage. I barely made it to my car before things started coming down.

Three-ten, maybe three-fifteen on a Friday afternoon.

Always assuming that things happened here at roughly the same time—where would Mom and Aaron have been?

Perhaps, my little college ruled friend, you can understand and appreciate why I haven’t allowed these thoughts to cross my mind up until now.

The answer is horrifying.

Mom would have been queued up in a line of cars at the school, waiting for Aaron to come out at the end of his day.

Yeah. That dashed ice-water all over the last of my hopes.

As I was driving away from the site the fisrt time, it had occurred to me that they might have gone to the library after school—that was what prompted my parking lot search.

Her car wasn’t there.

Then I started doing the math, as they say:

Three-ten. Maybe three-fifteen.

Parents and grandparents, all in a line, waiting for the bell to ring and the children to begin pouring out the doors like water from a fountain.

Aaron, backpack on his back and a smile on his face, running to Mom's car.

"Hi, honey! How was your day?"

"Great! We got to—”

Ka-BLAM!

Holy fuck!

No wonder I didn’t sleep. I just lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling and letting my tears roll down my face and into my ears.

Not that I could see the ceiling. With the power out all over, it is freaking dark at night. Darker than dark.

I’m going to have to go to the school.

I haven’t been avoiding it. Not consciously. It was more like I—

I what?

— I forgot to remember it was even there.

I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I can go back into Mom’s neighborhood and make my way to the Elementary school I picked out because I believed it would be safer for my son.

I am a terrible mother. I should have quit the damn job when they gave me those stupid hours. I didn’t want Aaron on the subway and bus lines alone every day—that’s why he was living an hour away from me. I wanted him to be safe!

I could have worked at the supermarket. But I wanted to make more money.

I’m a horrible, greedy woman. Money—shit!

Was it worth it, Shelby?

I should have been with him. I should have been with both of them!

I should quit crying all over you—the ink is running.

Ah, God. I don’t want to go look. I’m so scared. What if the car is there? What if they are there?

What if they’re not?

What am I going to do?

Aaron!!

Coming Soon in Part 5: School Days

Shelby's trials and tribulations continue. You can find the the rest of the series here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

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