The light is dim, but it's far better than the utter darkness of before. The water's just about at his waist, too, and it feels like it's rising faster.

The bookshelf is too heavy, he decides. The books only make it worse.

"Tip it forward," he says. "Knock the books off, we should be able to drag it!"

This isn't going to work. He knows it even as he says it. They need another way out. They need any way out.