Five

We went into another room, where I saw row upon row of metal shelves filled with old, dusty books.

The librarian took one of the books and leafed through it quickly.

“You’ll need to do this with every one of these books before you box them up,” he told me. “You never know what might be hidden between the pages. Don’t waste time reading them, though. They’re so out-of-date, and some are downright dangerous.

“I dread to think what kinds of ideas they might give you. One should never underestimate the bad influence certain books can have on young minds.”

He then blew on the spine of the book, raising a cloud of dust that made me sneeze.

“I should have thought to give you a mask. I’ll bring you one at lunchtime. I hope I won’t forget.”

He gave me a look from the corner of his eye that made me think he was mocking me. “Don’t forget you have to leaf through those books very thoroughly. Did you bring a lunch, by the way?”

I shook my head.

“Never mind. There are some sandwiches in the vending machines in the cafeteria. I’ll treat you to one when I come back for you at noon sharp.”

I must have reminded myself of his words dozens of times over the hours that followed. If he was planning to lock me up in this basement forever, why would he have said anything about treating me to a sandwich and giving me a mask to protect me from the dust? Was he really so calculating he thought he could lull me into a false sense of security?

He showed me where the empty boxes were and where to put them when they were full, then made his way to the freight elevator. I remember hearing the doors creak shut before the room was plunged into silence, save for the buzzing of the fluorescent lights.

I returned to the book room as quickly as I could, daring to give the giant bat from Sri Lanka a brief glance as I passed by. I couldn’t help but feel it was following me with its emerald eyes, and that sent shivers down my spine.

I figured I’d get straight to work and get the job done as quickly as possible. I had never been claustrophobic, but the atmosphere down there really gave me the creeps.

I started in the religious-books section, and in less than an hour I managed to fill five boxes with Latin pamphlets, prayer books and biographies of saints. I could have done twice as many if the librarian hadn’t insisted that I leaf through all the books.

The only things I found hidden in there were holy pictures and dried flowers, and I didn’t think those could be very valuable. What did he think I would find? Old love letters? Bank notes from Sri Lanka?

Once I’d finished the religious books, I took stock of what I still had left to do. If I kept going at this pace, I figured I’d finish it all in a day. Obviously I wouldn’t make as much money as I’d expected, but I wouldn’t have to spend as much time in this dusty basement. It didn’t take long for me to make a decision. I didn’t care about the money. I just wanted to get out of there as soon as I could.

I got back to work, tackling the medical books next. Little by little, though, my determination to get the job done started to falter. I soon found myself getting sucked into some huge nineteenth-century textbooks. Some of them went into terrifying detail about mental illnesses and hypnosis. Others were manuals about phrenology, a pseudoscience that claimed to reveal things about a person’s character based on the shape of their skull. The pictures of criminals’ faces in those looked pretty scary.

Worse still, some of the books were about rare diseases that left patients with shocking deformities and disorders like elephantiasis and fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva, also known as “stone man disease.”

I knew I wasn’t supposed to waste time looking at those images, but some dark force was compelling me to stare at them, as if they had the power to hypnotize me.

Behind another stack of books about some less disturbing topics, I discovered dozens of textbooks about taxidermy and embalming. The illustrations were only in black and white, but they were so realistic I could have trained myself to be an under­taker with them.

The more I looked at those pictures, the drier my throat felt, almost like I couldn’t produce enough saliva. I suspected it had something to do with the dust, and I hoped Mr. Leclerc wouldn’t forget to bring that mask. I was kicking myself for not bringing a bottle of water with me.

One of the textbooks was all about embalming monkeys. I leafed through the book and found some old photos of primates I’d never seen before. I figured they might be species that were now extinct. Some of them looked disturbingly similar to humans.

Curiously, I also came across some photos tucked between the pages of the book. They were pictures of students, and reminded me of the ones I’d seen in the corridor upstairs. Names were written on the backs of the photos. Sure enough, I was looking at Tancred, Hormidas and Alphege, among others. Why were these photos in this book like bookmarks?

I was so fascinated by the books and pictures that I lost all sense of time. When the rumbling in my stomach tempted me to look at my phone, I saw that twelve o’clock had come and gone. It was now two thirty in the afternoon.

Why hadn’t the librarian come back for me like he’d promised?

Maybe he was expecting me to go meet him upstairs instead? Yes, that must be it, I told myself. There had just been a misunderstanding.

I went over to the elevator. But there was no way I could use it. There was no button to press. There was a lock in the metal frame around the doors, but I didn’t have the key.

I had never been happier to have a cell phone. I had no desire to search for the school’s phone number and go through a menu of useless options, so I called my parents instead. I knew they’d be home.

I dialed the number, but there was no signal. I figured the basement must be too far underground or the walls must be too thick. Obviously I wouldn’t be able to connect to the internet, either, but I still tried a few times.

That was when I really started to feel scared.