Restock

At sunrise, Lloyd took hold of the cooler and carried it across the enormous backyard down to the corner of the property. Struggling to exit through the hidden gate, Lloyd set the cooler down and opened the little door of the free library that he and Marvis had set up in a corner of the land unfenced and unblessed with fancy rigmarole. Lloyd whistled to find it empty, but it was impeccably neat and he was grateful for that. Opening the cooler, he hung one of the rejected blood drive bags on a little hook in the cabinet (gloves on for protection, of course); he continued until all 24 of the hooks were restocked again. "No sense wasting it," Lloyd whispered, feeling a pride in community service that had made his 32 years as a fireman more of a vocation than a job. "Helluva thing, though." His task completed, he re-entered the yard and began the process of saltwashing the gate and strengthening the hawthorn barrier, leaving it to Mavis to come down later and retrace the holy water crosses. "Helluva thing," Lloyd said again, removing his gloves and tossing them into the biohazard trash can out by the shed.