The Package Kills
One morning the reference librarian found a body by the book drop. Older gentleman slumped over like he got real tired after a marathon and just crumpled. Sometimes running a long life can do that.
The paramedics took him away on a stretcher. The children's librarian thought she would get to see one of those black bags, but they just loaded him up and slipped a white sheet over his pale form. Later we found out it was a heart attack.
The next day the reference librarian found a package right where the body had lain. Little brown paper wrapped box. He tried to lift it, but the damn thing was heavy. He got a hand truck, jammed it under and wrenched, but the little block would not move.
When the children's librarian heard, she called the police. Told them that a box was outside and that it had no address and that she thought it was a bomb. She had heard about package bombs on some television show. The show with all those police officers.
Two officers came down and looked at it. Some guys wearing big bulky bomb suits and face shields came in a van. They prodded at it for a while. At one point the children's librarian saw a blow torch, but the reference librarian told her maybe blink once in a while.
In the end, they all shrugged. It would not move. It would not be cut or opened. They recommended blowing it up.
All the librarians were for that plan. They evacuated the library and closed the parking lot. One woman would not leave, so they left her checking her Facebook in the computer lab.
The bomb unit moved the book drop. They had to unbolt it from the concrete, but once that was done it was placed a safe distance away. They found an old copy of Alan Moore's Lost Girls under it.
Then they put this big metal box over it and bolted that down. The reference librarian watched from across the street. The children's librarian watched from the distance the police said she had to be. All the other library staff left for the day because they had things to do.
The explosion was anticlimactic. Just a horrific thump and some smoke. The bomb unit stood around waiting. The children's librarian cursed.
When the metal box was removed, everyone crowded close. Even the reference librarian.
Nothing remained. No brown paper. No package.
The officers left shrugging.
The children's librarian cursed more when she realized they had not put the book drop back.