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 Contents
Off Limits
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Epilogue

Dear Reader
Acknowledgements
Keep in touch!
About Jerica MacMillan
Other Titles on Amazon
 Off Limits
Jerica MacMillan

Copyright © 2021 by Jerica MacMillan

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be
reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express
written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places,

events and incidents are either the products of the author’s
imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
 CHAPTER ONE

Ellie

My flip-flops slap my heels as I march down the sidewalk to my

brother’s house. I know he won’t be thrilled to see me, but that’s
just too freakin’ bad. It’s late. I’m tired. The library just closed, and I
have nowhere else to go.
The perfect end to the perfect evening.
Fortunately, he only lives about a half mile from campus, and
even though walking alone at just after midnight on a weekend
might be questionable from a safety perspective, wandering campus
alone would definitely be worse. And while I could probably call my
brother and have him come get me, that would give him the
opportunity to argue with me about my choice of destination—
namely, his house. Surprise is definitely the better tactic.
And let’s not discuss why I’ve spent most of my Friday night—the
Friday of the first week of school, no less—in the library. We’ll ignore
that right now. We’ll also ignore the reality of Cal’s reaction when I
show up knocking on his door in the middle of the night. Not that
I’m worried he’s asleep already. He won’t be. He and his roommate
will probably be up playing video games. At least that’s what I
assume they do on the weekends, especially during the football
season when there are rules about parties and alcohol consumption.
And when recovering from the grueling start-of-season practice
schedule. That’s what he did in high school, anyway, and I haven’t
noticed any marked changes in his interests since then.
 I managed to avoid him most of my freshman year—both at his
insistence and for my own sense of self-preservation—and I’m as
irritated as he will be that this is the inauspicious start of my
sophomore year.
To distract myself from Cal’s likely reaction at seeing me, I start
making a list of phrases that never end well.
First up is the infamous, How bad can it be? Plus its cousin, How
hard can it be? Everyone knows those lead nowhere good.
Next is, Hold my beer. Often uttered by drunken idiots
immediately prior to undertaking something spectacularly idiotic.
And my newest entry to the list? Let me know if you need the
room. I made the mistake of saying this to my roommate last week,
and she’s taking advantage of the offer already. Which is fine, or it
would be, if she only needed it for a few hours like I thought. But
the few hours I expected appear to be stretching into all night.
Technically, it’s not supposed to be all night. It’s just until she
tells me it’s safe to return. But after five hours, I still haven’t gotten
the all clear.
Autumn is … lovely, but a little eccentric. And tonight she tells me
she’s doing some kind of ritual to manifest the right energy for the
year. She mentioned it having to be tonight because of the moon
phase and chakra alignment or something that I didn’t quite follow. I
think she might’ve also mentioned needing a guy? But I might’ve
misunderstood that part. When she gets excited, she starts talking
fast and doesn’t quite realize that not everyone grew up meditating
naked under the full moon and reading tarot cards.
I met Autumn during freshman orientation last year, and thought
she was fun, but we really hit it off when she wandered past my
room and caught me changing the weekly quote on the whiteboard
on my door. I started fancy lettering in high school while doodling in
the margins of my notes. I’d pick an important word and embellish
it. Eventually I branched out into calligraphy and various other forms
of hand lettering. Doing it on a white board isn’t quite the same as
on paper, but it was a fun way to make my room unique. She loved
it, told me how she’d go out of her way to walk past my room just to
see what new thing I’d put up but she hadn’t realized it was me.
And we’ve been friends ever since. Anyone who gushes over my art
is good people in my book. She’s open and bubbly and pulls me out
of my shell in ways I didn’t know I needed before meeting her. I’ve
spent my entire life living in the shadow of my parents’ expectations.
Autumn doesn’t seem to have any such constraints, and part of me
hopes that by living together, some of her adventurous spirit will rub
off on me. But being forced to stand up for myself to my brother the
first weekend of school isn’t exactly what I had in mind …
Turning into my brother’s walkway, I sigh with relief that I’m
finally here, pleased that the porch light is on and there’s a light
glowing through the closed curtains of the front window. It’s a cute
little red brick house with a tidy front yard. That must be Simon’s
doing, because I know Cal only does yard work when forced to. Or
maybe Simon forces Cal to help. That thought makes me smile.
Two steps up and I’m in the sheltered alcove that houses their
door. Steeling myself for Cal’s irritation, I raise my hand and knock
firmly on the oak door. The sound of footsteps on creaky floorboards
precedes the door opening, and I’m face to face with a chest. A
solid, heavily muscled, naked chest. Perfectly rounded pecs dusted
with dark hair and tipped with flat, dusky nipples a few shades
darker than his tan skin fill my vision. His flat belly flexes under my
gaze, muscles standing out in sharp relief under the porch light,
more hair surrounding his belly button and dipping below the
waistband of the gray sweats hanging off his narrow hips.
Swallowing hard and licking my lips, I don’t allow my gaze to dip
farther south, knowing there’ll be thick thighs below the soft fabric.
This isn’t my first encounter with Simon, and I might have Googled
him to find pics of him in his football uniform after I first met him,
but it is my first encounter with his naked chest. I thought he was
mouthwatering fully clothed, but I was in no way prepared for this.
I force myself to drag my gaze to Simon’s face. Not that it’s any
less droolworthy than his chest. Square jaw covered in thick scruff,
high cheekbones, full lips just shy of being pouty, a straight nose,
dark eyes, and thick, level brows. His hair’s longer on top than the
last time I saw it, but he has the sides trimmed close.
This guy. Damn.
 The first time I met him, I immediately developed a crush, which
I know would annoy Cal to no end. And while I love nothing more
than to torture my brother—and let’s face it, he started it when we
were little kids by constantly bossing me around and picking on me
—somehow visibly drooling over his friend seems a step too far. So I
do my best to rein it in and be normal. Or at least as normal as
possible. As I’m sure Cal would love to say, I’m anything but normal.
God, and the last time I saw him, I actually hugged him. Like a
moron. I’d come over so Cal could drive us home for Christmas last
year, and before I left, I hugged Simon goodbye. I don’t even know
why. It just seemed like the thing to do. I’d been hugging my friends
goodbye all morning and the day before, and then I’d gotten to Cal’s
place and Simon was there and we were leaving him behind, so I
hugged him. And then Cal berated me for it for the first thirty
minutes of the drive to Oregon, and then off and on the rest of the
break. In fact, he brought it up again before he headed back to
Spokane when practices started up a few weeks ago. Heat flares in
my cheeks at the memory.
Simon crosses his gigantic arms over his gorgeous chest I’m
definitely not ogling—nope, because I’m looking at his face. It’s not
my fault my peripheral vision is in perfect working order. His biceps
and shoulders bunch and flex with the movement, and I can’t help it
if my gaze dips to take it in. He’s moving. My eyes are drawn to
movement. And beauty. And …
His brows draw together over chocolate brown eyes as he tips his
head back to survey me. “Ellie? What are you doing here?”
“Oh, uh, well,” I stammer like I’m a moron who’s never been
asked a question, never seen a hot guy, and never seen a hot guy
without a shirt on. For the record, I’ve seen both those things before
and managed not to stammer when asked a question.
Sighing, I rub my forehead, the closest thing I can come to
slapping myself in the face and covering my face in mortification at
the same time. “Sorry, Simon. I know Cal will be pissed I’m here, but
my roommate’s—”
Simon steps back and gestures me in with a jerk of his head.
 Tentatively, I step inside the door, standing in the long hallway
that leads to the back of the house. Peering into the living room, I’m
surprised when I don’t find Cal on the couch. “Where’s Cal?” I ask,
turning to face Simon and pretend I’m not distracted by his bare
chest.
Simon shrugs those massive shoulders. “Out. Have a seat.” And
with that, he disappears down the hall.
I lean to the side as far as I can to peer after him without
actually following him, because that would make me a creeper, and
I’m not. But I am mystified, especially since he’s said maybe five
words to me. What’s he doing?
With a shrug, I settle into a corner of the couch, because he said
to have a seat, so I guess he’s okay with me hanging out, even if
Cal’s not here.
He reappears a moment later, and much to my disappointment,
has a gray Marycliff football T-shirt now covering that glorious chest.
The couch creaks as Simon settles his large frame as far away
from me as possible. I dart glances at him out of the corner of my
eye as he picks up the remote and presses play on the paused show.
“Oh!” I sit up a little straighter and tuck my feet under me as the
first episode of Cobra Kai comes to life. “This is a great show. Are
you just watching it for the first time?”
The look he throws my way seems tinged with amusement, even
though his answer is characteristically brief and could be interpreted
as annoyance. “Yes. Shh.”
I make a show of zipping my lips as I settle back into my seat.
Maybe this night isn’t shaping up so bad after all. Watching a great
show with a hot guy at his house? Yes, please.
And for at least a little while, I’ll pretend that he isn’t my
brother’s friend and this isn’t my brother’s house and that Simon
might actually talk to me and think me pretty and clever and funny.
So basically, pretend that I actually have more than a snowflake’s
chance in hell of landing Simon.
I’m not stupid. I know he’d never go for me. He’s a senior. He’s a
football player. He’s my brother’s best friend.
And I’m the annoying little sister.
 I know how life works. But for a few minutes, I’m just going to
let myself believe in possibilities.
That’s what Autumn’s whole point for tonight was, after all.
Manifesting what you want for the semester. And what I want is to
have some fun. And ideally I’d like that fun to be with someone who
looks like Simon. So even if I’m not chanting naked in the moonlight,
I soaked up some moonlight on the walk over here, which according
to Autumn is important somehow, so I’ll take that energy and direct
it toward what I want.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and put my desires out
into the universe. Fun with a hot guy.
Sounds like a great plan to me.
 CHAPTER TWO

Simon

Ellie’s been here for almost two hours, and I’m starting to fade.
There’s still no sign of Cal, despite me texting him right after Ellie
got here to let him know his sister showed up out of the blue.
When someone knocked on the door at midnight, at first I
wondered if Cal had managed to lock himself out. But he’d probably
bang on the door like a wannabe commando, and the knock seemed
more tentative. Then I wondered if it was maybe a hopeful booty
call. Between Cal’s reputation for providing anyone who wants it a
night of fun and the smaller section of girls who think that banging
me is some kind of walk on the wild side, it was a definite possibility.
Since I’m quiet, tend to limit my time at parties, and don’t flirt with
every woman in sight, apparently getting with me is seen as some
kind of challenge or adrenaline rush. And while I’m not above
helping myself to those offering, tonight I wasn’t in the mood. So I’d
opened the door prepared to gently turn away whatever chick had
shown up on my doorstep.
But then I came face to face with Cal’s little sister, her big dark
eyes blinking up at me with those impossibly long lashes, and my
intention to send whoever it was off to the party in search of
interested football players dried up in my mouth. I’d only met her
twice before, since Cal does his best to keep her away. I honestly
can’t say why, so having her on my doorstep in the middle of the
night was extra surprising. After doing a thorough visual examination
to make sure she wasn’t obviously injured—during which I took in
her pink cheeks, the tantalizing glimpse of cleavage peeking out of
her scoop neck tank top, and the lean expanse of leg showing under
her short denim shorts that covered an ass made for grabbing—I’d
glanced around behind her, looking for a car. No car. She must’ve
walked. But why?
Then she mentioned trouble with her roommate, and I
understand that all too well. Cal’s not so bad, but it helps that we
have a house and separate rooms. With my parents covering my
rent—my football scholarship and loans cover the rest—I’m able to
rent a house as long as I’m willing to have a roommate. Sometimes I
think living alone would be nice, but even a one bedroom would cost
more than my half of the rent here. But in the dorms, there’s no
escaping a bad roommate. Not quickly or easily, anyway. I don’t
know if her roommate locked her out for a booty call or is just
making her life miserable, but if she needs a quiet place to hang for
a while, what’s the harm in letting her watch TV with me?
It’s not quite the quiet night in I’d planned—she has her brother’s
habit of making comments during the show. But somehow her gasps
of surprise or pointed observations about the differences in the
portrayal of the characters in the show versus the old movies don’t
bother me. She’s entertaining and insightful, and when she tosses a
smile my way or looks over to see my reaction to something, it fills
my chest with a warm, gooey sensation I have no business feeling
around Cal’s little sister.
But damn if I want it to stop.
It’s getting late, though, and a glance at Ellie shows that she’s
fading too. She lets out a jaw popping yawn and stretches her arms
above her head. I quickly avert my gaze, trying to ignore the way
she arches her back and presses her tits toward the ceiling, the way
her shirt rides up, revealing a tantalizing strip of skin, the way her
shorts barely cover her ass, giving me an even clearer view of the
soft skin of her thigh. A thigh that would feel perfect wrapped
around my waist.
I yank my eyes back to the TV. I shouldn’t be thinking anything
like that about Cal’s little sister. He’d fucking kill me if he knew I was
getting a semi just from sharing a couch with her.
She settles back in, scooching around so she’s lying against the
arm of the couch, her legs still curled up so she’s nowhere near
touching me. The soft waves of her hair frame around her face—she
undid her ponytail a while ago, making herself comfortable.
Watching her pull out the band and shake out her hair had the floral
smell of her shampoo wafting over to me, and for a brief second, I
wanted to be the one to scrape my fingernails along her scalp and
shake out her hair. Her hair is medium brown, much darker than her
brother’s. He’s something of a golden god, all blond hair and tan
skin. Ellie has the same skin, though it’s a shade lighter, or maybe
that’s a trick because of the contrast with her hair that has more of a
reddish tint under the lamplight that I’ve never noticed before. Her
phone appears from somewhere, and her perfect bow shaped lips
purse as she studies the screen, the glow illuminating her face from
below. Combined with the light from the lamp on her end of the
couch, she looks almost angelic, but an angel of consternation with
her delicate brows pulling together.
“Bad news?” I ask.
She twists so she can look at me, letting loose another big yawn
and giving me a sleepy smile. “No. No news at all.” She sighs, and
her eyes drift closed for longer than a normal blink, but they open
again, mostly, and focus on me. “Sorry to drop in on your alone time
tonight.” She waves a hand. “My roommate said she’d let me know
when she was done. I thought I’d be out of your hair by now.”
I shrug and fight the urge to reach over and touch her leg. “No
problem. You didn’t interrupt anything exciting.”
Her brow furrows, and she looks me over, though this look
doesn’t feel as much like ogling as some of the other times I’ve
caught her staring and she turned away with a blush painting her
cheeks. “Why are you home alone, anyway? You never did say
where Cal is.”
“He’s at a party or something.”
That has her brows lifting. “And why didn’t you go? A big football
stud like you? Surely you’re welcome at any party you want to go
to.”
 I can’t help chuckling at her characterization of me as a stud, and
I’m rewarded with another sweet sleepy smile. “Not in the mood.” I
shrug again. “Too many people, too much noise. And anyway, we’ve
got a new coach who came over from Iowa. He’s a real stickler for
everyone following the conduct rules. Since this is his first head
coaching job, he’ll have to prove himself, which means coming down
hard on any conduct violations. Parties mean more opportunities to
fuck up. No, thanks.”
Her eyes are sharper and less glazed with sleep when I chance
another glance and catch her studying me. Ellie’s not particularly shy
about looking at me, but this feels like she’s peering inside me,
weighing me to see if I measure up. To what, I’m not sure. But
somehow I care very much about the answer.
I hold my breath, waiting for her verdict.
“You’re a good guy, Simon,” she says softly. Then another yawn
shows off her tonsils.
“Thanks.” A wave of pleasure at her judgment washes through
me. I’ve been called a lot of things by girls over the years—hot,
huge, grumpy, withdrawn—but rarely do girls care much for what
kind of guy I am. They care if they can get me into bed, and once
there, if I can get them off. At least lately. Sure, I’ve had girlfriends
before, but the last couple of years I’ve been focused on football and
school, making sure I’m at the top of my game, working to help the
school change divisions and give myself the best shot at an NFL
Combines invitation, which will get me to the draft.
Even though Ellie’s done her fair share of ogling—not that I have
any room to judge, since I’m guilty of the same thing—it seems like
she sees me as more than just a hot, grumpy offensive lineman. A
lopsided grin claims my face at the way she’s snuggling into the arm
of the couch. She’s too cute for her own good. “You’re about to pass
out on my couch.”
She waves a hand. “I plead the fifth.”
Without a word, I stand and head to my bedroom to pull out the
extra blanket I use in the winter. Old houses get drafty when it gets
below freezing. By the time I get back to the living room, Ellie’s
breathing has deepened and slowed, and when I step as softly as
possible in front of her, trying to skip the board that creaks the
loudest, I see that she’s fully asleep, her hands tucked under her
face, those perfect bow lips parted ever so slightly. She looks like
one of the princesses in the stories I read to my little sisters when I
was in high school, just waiting for Prince Charming to come in and
kiss her to break the spell and restore her to her family and
kingdom.
Too bad I’m no Prince Charming. According to everyone around
me, I’m the opposite of charming—quiet, standoffish, too reclusive.
Most people think I’m pissed half the time. One of my friends’ ex-
girlfriends always told me I have resting bitch face.
Clearly not a Prince Charming candidate.
And it’s not like Ellie’s a princess in need of rescuing anyway.
Despite her showing up seeking sanctuary tonight, I get the feeling
that she’d be the kind of princess to befriend the dragon and rescue
herself, no knight in shining armor required.
Besides, I remind myself for the millionth time tonight, she’s Cal’s
little sister. I know how he feels about his friends sniffing after her.
Apparently that was an issue in high school, not that she actually
dated any of his friends, but they’d joke about hitting on her just to
get a rise out of Cal. Which, I mean, it’s not exactly difficult to get
him riled up, especially where Ellie’s concerned, so I can see why
they’d choose that option to press his buttons. But I wouldn’t do
that to him. I don’t get pleasure out of watching people get
themselves all spun up about something.
I drape the blanket over Ellie and turn off the lights and the TV
before heading back to my own room. I shoot off one more text to
Cal to let him know that Ellie’s crashing on the couch and to be quiet
when he comes home.

***

“Dude. Simon. Wake the fuck up, man.”

I blink a few times, trying to orient myself to reality and away
from the vivid dream of Ellie sitting on my lap on the couch. Naked.
Grinding on me.
 Cal.
Cal’s in my room glaring at me expectantly as I blink a few more
times. I grunt in response. The fucker. He woke me up just as she
was lining me up to sink inside her.
I bite back a groan, because I have a giant hard on from the
most vivid sex dream I’ve had in ages. And it was about his little
sister. But damn if I’m not pissed I didn’t get to finish it.
I’ve been living like a monk for months as it is. Between spending
the summer entertaining my little sisters while our parents were at
work and then football practice starting with the new head coach,
who brought along a new offensive line coach, I haven’t exactly had
lots of time or energy to go out and pick up chicks to relieve any
tension. Which I only do when I’m in dire straits anyway. Which is
apparently now. I’ve reached that point.
Sighing, I realize I need to take Cal up on his frequent offers to
be my wingman, if for no other reason than so I stop fantasizing
about his sister.
Sitting up, I scrub my hands over my face and reach for my
phone to check the time. It’s seven in the morning. No wonder I’m
still so fucking tired.
“What the fuck, man? Why are you waking me up so damn early?
We don’t have to be at the arena for hours. I need sleep.” I eyeball
him still wearing the clothes he went out in last night. “You do too,
for that matter. Are you just getting home?”
He rolls his eyes. “I crashed at Jackson’s house. He was the DD,
and even though I felt okay, he wouldn’t let me drive home since I’d
been drinking.” He rolls his eyes again at our teammate’s mother
hen routine. Good for Jackson, though. I’d have done the same in
his shoes. “But what the fuck is my sister doing on our couch?”
The thought of Ellie on our couch has my dick going steel-pole
hard again, which is really inconvenient since Cal’s in my fucking
room. I ignore my body’s response and give my roommate a flat
stare. “Dude. I texted you like three times. Her roommate had a
booty call and never gave her the all clear to come home. She
stayed in the library till it closed, then trekked over here. What
would you like me to have done? Slam the door in her face? Pretend
I’m not home? Kick her out when I went to bed?” I bite my tongue
on a few more options, like inviting her into my room or giving her
Cal’s room, because I know that would cause an explosion that
would likely wake Ellie up. The walls in our house are on the thin
side.
Cal narrows his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he sucks in a deep
breath. “Obviously not. But why did she come here? Doesn’t she
have friends she can crash with instead?”
I shrug and lie back down, rolling over to show my disinterest in
continuing this conversation. “I dunno, man. Ask her that after she
wakes up. I’m too fucking tired to have this conversation. Go ’way.
You can bitch at me some more in a few hours, okay?”
I keep my eyes closed while Cal huffs and grumbles, but after a
moment I’m rewarded with the sound of my door opening and
closing quietly and his footsteps heading down the hall. Opening my
eyes, I listen to make sure he’s heading for his room and not the
living room, because I’ll be damned if he’s going to kick his sister out
at seven in the morning to do the walk of shame back to campus.
Especially since she didn’t even do anything to merit a walk of
shame. But stumbling back to the dorm early on a Saturday morning
in yesterday’s clothes? Everyone will totally think that.
Of course thinking about Ellie doing a walk of shame home from
my house combined with my vivid dream doesn’t do anything to
ease the throbbing in my dick. And there’s absolutely no way I’m
going to be able to go back to sleep like this. And it’s a game day, so
I need my rest.
Sighing with relief as I push my boxers down and out of the way,
I palm my cock and close my eyes, reliving that dream, taking it past
where I was interrupted all the way to its foregone conclusion.
Maybe it’s wrong, but I don’t fucking care right now. The fantasy
of sliding inside of Ellie’s tight heat is too tantalizing. Too tempting.
And maybe the fact that I know I shouldn’t want her makes it all the
more appealing.
I’m so keyed up already that it doesn’t take long—or much work
on the part of my imagination—for me to finish. Grabbing a few
tissues off my nightstand, I clean myself up before rolling over,
satisfied enough to go back to sleep.
But yeah, I’m going to have to let Cal be my wingman soon.
Fantasizing about his sister is far too close to the line.
 CHAPTER THREE

Ellie

I trudge back to campus a little after ten, my flip-flops once again

slapping against the soles of my feet, only this time there are birds
chirping and the sun is shining. Too brightly, if you ask me. I don’t
have my sunglasses because I left my room late enough in the
evening that I didn’t need them last night. My mouth feels sticky and
my neck sore from lying weird on the couch all night. And I still
haven’t gotten a text from Autumn, so I have no idea what I’m
walking home to, but I no longer care. It’s been well over twelve
hours, so if she’s not done yet with her sex sacrifice to the moon or
whatever, that’s just too damn bad, because I’m coming home.
Cal woke me up by barking my name, tossing me a protein bar,
and telling me to get out. Such a sweet and caring big brother. What
would I do without him?
I mean, I guess at least he didn’t wake me up whenever he
finally got home. I vaguely heard him tromping through the house at
one point, but I didn’t open my eyes to figure out what time it was,
so I really have no idea.
I didn’t see Simon before I left, so I didn’t get to tell him thanks
for letting me watch TV with him and crash on the couch. And I
don’t have his number, so I can’t text him, and given Cal’s aversion
to me being involved in his life at all, I doubt he’d pass the message
on for me. Or appreciate me showing up again out of the blue. But
that might be too bad for him. Simon was more than nice to me and
didn’t seem to object to my presence at all.
Silent Simon. He might not’ve been thrilled to find me on his
doorstep at midnight, but it’s hard to tell what he thought about me
being there considering how little he speaks. He didn’t kick me out,
anyway. At the very least that merits a thank you. Possibly baked
goods of some kind, though I’ll have to go with something store-
bought since I have no desire to try my hand at baking in the dorm
kitchen.
With a sigh, I turn into the courtyard in front of the sophomore
dorms, swipe my card to unlock the door, and head up the two
flights of stairs to my room. Do I knock on my own suite door to let
Autumn know I’m coming in? Or just walk in?
Fuck it. I live here. I have a right to be here. I’m just walking in,
and she can deal with the consequences.
But when I’m face-to-face with our actual door, I give a courtesy
knock as I’m unlocking the deadbolt. I just can’t help myself.
Politeness and propriety have been drilled into me since I was a
baby.
Pushing open the door, I pull my key from the lock and brace
myself for … I’m not sure what. Nothing seems out of the ordinary,
though. Autumn’s collection of contraband candles sits on the low
table where she keeps them. The TV’s off in our shared sitting area,
the throw blanket neatly folded over the back of our threadbare
couch, the pillows fluffed in the corners.
Huh. This isn’t quite what I was expecting to walk in on. If
anything, our shared area is cleaner than normal—not exactly the
scene of leftover debauchery and chaos I’d kind of anticipated.
Autumn’s door opens, and she comes out, rubbing her eyes and
yawning, her lavender hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun,
one hand clutching the neck of her silky green robe covered in a
subtle floral motif, though the sash at her waist is tied, so her hand
isn’t the only thing keeping it closed. But knowing Autumn, she
doesn’t have anything on underneath, and she’s keeping the neck
closed so as to avoid flashing me. Not that she actually cares about
preserving her modesty. Our first morning here she walked out in
nothing but a thong and started making tea like it was the most
normal thing in the world. Only when she saw me turning bright red,
my mouth gaping open, did she widen her eyes and say, “Clothes in
the common area?” At my nod, she went into her room and
reappeared in the robe, and she’s been careful not to flash me like
that again.
And that’s how we established our first and only rule of living
together. So far.
In a moment, we’ll have another one. No more all night long
rituals or orgies or whatever she got up to in here last night.
“Hey, Ellie,” she mumbles sleepily, then a sly smile takes over as
she looks me up and down. “I take it you had some fun last night?”
My eyes almost bug out of my head. “I did not. I stayed in the
library until it closed and ended up butting in on my brother’s
roommate and falling asleep on their couch.”
Her brow furrows. “Why’d you do that?”
“You never texted me it was okay to come home!” My hands are
clenched at my side to avoid waving them around like a crazy
person, but I can’t keep the anger and frustration out of my voice.
We’ve been friends for a year, but we’re brand new to living
together. This isn’t a very auspicious start for the year, though, I
have to say. And the next time she asks to get the room all to
herself, I’m insisting on midnight as an end time, regardless of what
she’s doing.
She blinks at me a few times, a frown pulling at her mouth. “Yes,
I did.”
“No.” I cross my arms and shake my head, one hip cocking to the
side. “You didn’t.”
Turning, she disappears into her room and reappears with her
phone in hand.
Her eyes widen and the hand holding her robe closed goes to her
face as she looks up at me, her troubled expression morphing into
one of surprised horror. “Ellie! I’m so sorry! I typed out the text, but
it didn’t send! Look!” She thrusts the phone toward my face,
showing me the text in question.
 All done! Thanks so much for letting me have the room
for a few hours. <blowing a kiss emoji>
She pulls the phone back to her. “I swear I hit send. I was tired,
though, and I guess my thumb missed the button or something.”
She raises her eyes to mine, pleading and pained. “I’m so sorry,
Ellie. You have to believe me. I’d never keep you out all night like
that on purpose. You’re so sweet to wait for so long. I’m surprised
you didn’t just come home when the library closed. I wouldn’t have
blamed you one bit.”
The knot of anger in my chest starts to loosen, her genuine
apology for the mistake going a long way to making me feel better. I
shrug, moving to the couch and plopping down, setting my tote bag
next to me. I send her a pointed look. “Next time, that’s what I’ll be
doing. It’s cool if you need privacy for your rituals or whatever, but
there will be definite end times scheduled in the future.”
“That’s totally fair. I should’ve told you I’d be done by midnight
anyway.” She sits next to me, adjusting her robe to cover her legs,
her hand holding the neck closed again. “I’m really, really sorry, Ellie.
I promise this will never happen again. Let me take you to breakfast
to make up for it. We can go to that bakery with the cinnamon rolls
and the coffee. My treat.”
The last of my frustration over last night slips away, appeased by
offers of carbs and caffeine. “Deal.”
A sunny smile takes over Autumn’s face. “Perfect. I’ll drive. Let
me just put some clothes on, and we can go. Unless you want to
shower first?”
“Yeah, a quick shower would be good. I don’t even want to know
how much boy sweat is in that couch. I should wash it off.” Not to
mention that I slept in these clothes.
Autumn laughs. “Good point. Go shower. I’ll get ready too.”

***

Autumn glances at me as she drives us to The Pastry Corner, our

favorite bakery in Millwood. “I’m surprised you ended up at your
brother’s house. How come you didn’t try to stay with Dani and
Piper? Or Sheena?”
“I dunno. I guess I figured they’d all be out somewhere.”
One eyebrow raises as she turns to face me while we wait at a
stoplight. “Seriously? Dani’s not exactly a party animal. I’d be
surprised if she wasn’t home.”
With a sigh, I give in and tell the truth. “I didn’t want to be the
pathetic puppy dog begging for a place to stay on our first Friday
night on campus. And I’d also have to admit that I was hanging out
in the library before that and broadcast to the world the sad state of
my social life.”
Autumn snorts as the light turns green. “Please. Dani wouldn’t
care. She’d think it was great you were getting a jump on your
homework.”
“Right. I know Dani’s not exactly a party girl type, but she’s
friends with the football team. She probably was hanging out with
them somewhere. I don’t know Piper well enough to say what she
may or may not have been up to, but if she was home and Dani
wasn’t, I wouldn’t feel comfortable asking to stay with them, and
then it would just be awkward, because she’d tell me Dani’s not
there, and I’d be like oh, okay, see you around then. And you know
Sheena was out having fun somewhere. She texted us and invited us
along.”
“See?” Autumn insists as she pulls into the small parking lot. “You
could’ve texted her, found out where she was, and gone and joined
in the fun.”
My brow furrows as I unbuckle my seatbelt and climb out of the
car. “Why do you care?”
She shrugs and pulls open the door to the bakery, the bell on the
handle jingling as she gestures me inside. “I’m just trying to figure
out why you went to Cal’s. From what you’ve told me, and from
what I witnessed last year, he doesn’t exactly want you around.”
Sighing, I get in line and study the menu board on the wall. Not
that there’s any question about what I’m getting. Autumn and I
always get the cinnamon rolls when we come for breakfast. They’re
huge and covered in frosting and they’ll warm them up for you,
elevating something delicious into truly divine.
But I do like to see what they’re doing with their chalkboard
lettering. It’s almost always the same style, but sometimes the little
drawings or flourishes inspire me to try something new with my own
lettering.
“You’re right,” I say quietly, keeping my gaze on the menu. “He
doesn’t really want me around. But I decided to take my chances
with him. I wasn’t in the mood to tag along with Sheena, if she even
answered anyway. For all I knew, she’d already found someone to
hook up with for the night, and my company would’ve been
unwelcome.”
Autumn hums but doesn’t respond, because it’s our turn at the
counter. After we’ve placed our orders—warm cinnamon rolls and
two coffees—we take our number and find a table by the window.
She sets her phone face down on the table and folds her hands
in her lap, her brown eyes examining me, her brow puckered with
concern. “I just want you to be happy this year, you know? Have
fun. Decide what you want out of college. Out of life.”
I squirm a little at her insightful and piercing comments, looking
out the window. “And why would going to Cal’s house stop me from
doing that?”
She sighs. “He’s … well, he doesn’t always bring out the best in
you.”
Shrugging, I return her gaze again. “He wasn’t home anyway. I
spent two hours watching TV with his roommate, Simon.”
When her eyes widen this time, it’s accompanied by a grin
stretching across her face. “Oh yeah? He’s the big one, right? What
position does he play again?”
Chuckling, my grin matches hers. “Yeah. He’s huge. He plays left
tackle, so he’s the one who protects the quarterback the most.”
Autumn makes an appreciative noise, her lids falling to half mast
as she looks over my shoulder, her gaze abstract. “Yeah, I know who
you’re talking about. All those muscles? He’d be great for a couple of
rituals I’d like to do.”
 I don’t know a whole lot about the kinds of rituals Autumn’s
talking about, but from her expression, I’m guessing they’re of the
clothing optional variety.
She gives herself a little shake and refocuses on me. “Is he nicer
than your brother?”
Laughing, I nod. “Much.”
“Autumn,” calls a baritone voice from the counter.
Perking up at the sound of her name, she leans in as she
mutters, “Speaking of men I’d like to perform some rituals with …”
and she bounces her eyebrows before sashaying across the bakery
to collect our food.
I can’t help chuckling at her audacity. I don’t know what it’s like
to have that kind of confidence with the opposite sex. I’ve always
been the kind to hang back and wait for someone to express interest
in me. Could I ever muster up the courage to approach a guy like
Autumn is doing? Even if I did, I’m not sure I could pull it off half so
well as she does.
She’s magnetic, and watching her flirt with the barista with the
black hair pulled back in a man bun and thick-framed black glasses
perched on his nose is a lesson in and of itself. Resting my chin on
my hand, I watch her, trying to figure out what the secret is.
Autumn’s all smiles as she talks to him, projecting every ounce
the sexy temptress that she is when she wants to be. And of course,
he responds, his face lighting up under her attention. Before handing
over one of the cups of coffee, he pulls out a Sharpie and writes
something on it next to Autumn’s name. Ten bucks says it’s his
number.
Yeah, if I tried to come off like a sexy temptress, I’d just look like
an idiot and all I’d get is laughter, not a phone number.
Autumn comes back with a cafeteria style tray, her hips swaying
more than normal, sets our drinks and plates on the table, then
swishes back to the counter to return the tray in the appropriate
place. Casting one last smile at the barista, she returns to our table
and settles in, her flirty shine gone now that she’s back with me.
“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”
 She looks up, her lips closing around a bite of cinnamon roll.
“Hmm?”
I gesture toward the counter with my coffee cup, swallowing the
rich, creamy, caramel-tinged goodness. “That. The flirting. He gave
you his number, didn’t he?”
She shrugs. “Yeah. So?”
Shaking my head, I pick up my own fork and poke at the outer
layer of my cinnamon roll. “So the way you just turn on the charm
for him and turn it back off when you’re back here with me. The way
you’re so confident and he just hands over his number within
seconds of laying eyes on you.”
Her brows pull together, her face troubled. “It’s not an act, Ellie.
It’s not like I manipulated him. I just told him how much we love
coming here and that I think he’s cute and asked for his number. I’m
not putting on a show or anything.”
“No, I know,” I protest. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying I
could never just go up to some random guy and say, ‘Hi. I think
you’re cute. Can I have your number?’”
She gives me a closed mouth grin. “And why not?”
I splutter and look all around. “Because normal people don’t just
do that. And anyway, you have this, like, magnetic field that you turn
on when you want to and everyone just gives in.”
Her smile turns almost sly. “Well, it doesn’t always work that
easily. Not everyone’s that receptive. But I could show you how to
do it too, if you wanted. The confidence. The glamour. It’s a skill.
You just have to learn it.”
My eyes narrow at that assertion. “A skill.”
She nods, unperturbed by my doubt. “Think about it. In the
meantime, tell me more about your night with Simon. Did you get
his number?”
I snort. “No. And Cal would kill me if I ever asked.”
Another shrug. “Who cares? Cal’s not the boss of you, no matter
what he likes to think.” She points at me with her fork. “You’re your
own woman, Ellie. You’re an adult. You can have relationships with
anyone you like.”
 Sipping my coffee, I contemplate her words. Could I have some
kind of relationship with Simon? I mean … I wouldn’t be upset by
that. Still, though, he is my brother’s friend, which has the potential
to make things messy. I shake my head. “You have a point, but that
doesn’t erase the reality that sleeping with my brother’s best friend
is kind of a shitty thing to do.”
Her face turns serious as she concedes that point. “That’s true.
Okay, fine. We can keep Simon to the realms of fantasy, because a
big guy like that …” She shakes her head, her gaze going abstract
again as she picks up her coffee cup. “Well, let’s just say that’s a
very nice fantasy.”
I can’t help but giggle, and she joins in. Conversation shifts to
our respective class loads and what we’re looking forward to or
dreading this semester. As we’re finishing up, I look over at the
display case showcasing the various baked goods on offer, trying to
decide what would make a good thank you gift for Simon.
“You still hungry?” Autumn asks in surprise. “You just ate a
cinnamon roll the size of your head.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “No, I’m stuffed. I’m thinking of
getting something for Simon to say thanks for letting me drop in on
him last night. Cal hustled me out the door before Simon was up and
around, so I didn’t get to thank him this morning.”
Autumn gives me a long, searching look, then stands, plate and
cup in hand. “Let’s go see what they have.”
 CHAPTER FOUR

Simon

Another night at home alone. Cal’s out with a few other guys from
the offensive line, celebrating today’s win. I should be out with
them, especially after this morning, but …
I’m just not really in the mood. I went out with them for a little
while, hitting the sports bar not too far from campus that we
frequent. But after one beer, I bailed.
I jacked up my shoulder in the third quarter, which made a good
excuse to leave early. I’m under orders to take it easy and alternate
ice and heat every twenty minutes while I’m home for the rest of the
weekend. And we all know that the sooner you get on that, the
better it works, so no one gave me too much shit for rubbing the
offending shoulder, paying my tab, and heading home.
But now I’m restless. Bored. The house seems too empty, even
though I’ve spent plenty of time on my own over the summer.
And if I’m honest, it’s not really Cal’s company I’m missing. If I
were, I would’ve stayed out.
No.
Having Ellie here last night was … unexpectedly pleasant. She’s
funny. Sweet and pretty in an unpretentious, unassuming way, and
even though she didn’t hide how much she was checking me out
when I answered the door shirtless, she didn’t throw herself at me
or do anything to make the situation awkward. And I usually get
annoyed when people talk during shows and movies, but her
observations made me laugh and think by turns. Her conflicting
emotions about the story arcs for the different characters made me
do more than just passively observe the show unfolding on the
screen in front of me and engage with it more deeply.
It was fun.
Watching the show without her tonight doesn’t hold the same
magic.
I’m getting up to put the ice pack back in the freezer when
there’s a knock on the front door.
Frowning, I yell, “Coming!” as I close the freezer door and head
down the hall, wondering who the hell it could be this time. To my
surprise, Ellie’s on the other side, a square white bakery box held in
front of her like an offering and a sunny smile stretching her glossy
pink lips wide.
“Hi!” she says brightly. “Cal kicked me out before I saw you this
morning, so I got some cookies for you as a belated thank you.” She
thrusts the box at me, her eyes lingering on my bare chest as she
waits for me to accept the box.
“You got me cookies?” Slowly, my hands come up and lift the box
out of hers, and I can’t help noticing how small and delicate her
hands are compared to mine. Because of course they are. Compared
to me, she’s tiny.
“Yup!” she chirps, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
She has it loose tonight, and it falls in a sleek curtain just past her
shoulders. “I figured since I didn’t get to at least say thank you in
person or make you breakfast this morning, I’d drop by with these.
But, um, well, I’m sure Cal doesn’t want me hanging around. I’m not
fishing for an invite inside or anything. Just dropping off cookies.”
She gestures at the box in my hands, as though I might not realize
which cookies she’s referring to. “Anyway. Thanks again.” She gives
a little wave. “See you around.”
She’s stepping backwards, half turned to navigate the stairs back
down, when the impulse to stop her becomes too overwhelming.
“Wait.”
She stops and turns back to me, one hand on the banister, one
foot in mid air, poised to take the first step down. “I got a bunch of
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 LEGEND:
(A) = H₂O Content, (%)
(B) = Accel. Chloropicrin Service Time, (Min.)
(C) = Chloropicrin
(D) = Phosgene
(E) = Hydrocyanic Acid
(F) = Arsine
(G) = Cyanogen Chloride
(H) = Trichloromethylchloroformate
(I) = Chlorine

Service Time, Minutes

Standard Conditions
(B)
No. Charcoal Nation (A)
(G) (H) (I)
(C) (D) (E) (F)

Poor U. S. A.
1 0 10 120175 20 18 55 50 270
cocoanut
Medium U. S. A.
2 0 30 350260 25 25 65 65 370
cocoanut
Good U. S. A.
3 0 60 620310 27 30 75 70 420
cocoanut
Same as U. S. A.
4 No. 2 but 12 18 320330 35 16 35 95
wet
No. 2 U. S. A.
5 0 35 400700 70 400 70 190 510
impregnated
6 Wood French 0 2.5 25 75 9 0 1 20
7 Wood British 0 6 70 90 18 4 5 30
8 Peach stone British 0 16 190135 30 25 65 60
Treated German
9 0 42 230105 20 20 22 25
wood
No. 9 German
10 30 9 90320 16 1110 120
impregnated

Standard Conditions of Tests

Mesh of absorbent 8-14
 Depth of absorbent layer 10 cm.
Rate of flow per sq. cm. per min. 500 cc.
Concentration of toxic gas 0.1 per cent
Relative humidity 50 per cent
Temperature 20°
Results expressed in minutes to the 99 per cent efficiency points.
Results corrected to uniform concentrations and size of particles.

Soda-Lime
Charcoal is not a satisfactory all-round absorbent because it has too little capacity
for certain highly volatile acid gases, such as phosgene and hydrocyanic acid, and
because oxidizing agents are needed for certain gases. To overcome these
deficiencies the use of an alkali oxidizing agent in combination with the charcoal has
been found advisable. The material actually used for this purpose has been granules of
soda-lime containing sodium permanganate. Its principal function may be said to be to
act as a reservoir of large capacity for the permanent fixation of the more volatile acid
and oxidizable gases.
The development of a satisfactory soda-lime was a difficult problem. The principal
requirements follow: Its activity is not of vital importance, as the charcoal is able to take
up gas with extreme rapidity and then later give it off more slowly to the soda-lime.
Absorptive capacity is of the greatest importance, since the soda-lime is relied upon to
hold in chemical combination a very large amount of toxic gas. Both chemical stability
and mechanical strength are difficult to attain. The latter had never been solved until
the war made some solution absolutely imperative.

Composition of Regular Army Soda-Lime

The exact composition of the army soda-lime has undergone considerable
modification from time to time as it has been found desirable to change the raw
materials or the method of manufacture. A rough average formula which will serve to
bring out the interrelation between the different constituents is as follows:

Composition of Wet Mix

Per Cent
Hydrated lime 45
Cement 14
Kieselguhr 6
Sodium hydroxide 1
 Water 33
After Drying
Moisture content 8
After Spraying
Moisture content 13 (approx.)
Sodium permanganate content 3 (approx.)
Within limits, the method of manufacture is more important than the composition or
other variables, and has been the subject of a great deal of research work even on
apparently minor details. The process finally adopted consists essentially in making a
plastic mass of lime, cement, kieselguhr, caustic soda, and water, spreading in slabs
on wire-bottomed trays, allowing to set for 2 or 3 days under carefully controlled
conditions, drying, grinding, and screening to 8-14 mesh, and finally spraying with a
strong solution of sodium permanganate with a specially designed spray nozzle. The
spraying process is a recent development, most of the soda-lime having been made by
putting the sodium permanganate into the original wet mix. Many difficulties had to be
overcome in developing the spraying process, but it eventually gave a better final
product, and resulted in a large saving of permanganate which was formerly lost during
drying, in fines, etc.

Function of Different Components

Lime. The hydrated lime furnishes the backbone of the absorptive properties of the
soda-lime. It constitutes over 50 per cent of the finished dry granule and is responsible
in a chemical sense for practically all the gas absorption.
Cement. Cement furnishes a degree of hardness adequate to withstand service
conditions. It interferes somewhat with the absorptive properties of the soda-lime and it
is an open question whether the gain in hardness produced by its use is valuable
enough to compensate for the decreased absorption which results.
Kieselguhr. The loss in absorptive capacity due to the presence of cement is in
part counterbalanced by the simultaneous introduction of a relatively small weight
though considerable bulk, of kieselguhr. In some cases, there seems to be a reaction
between the lime and the kieselguhr, which results in some increase in hardness.
Sodium Hydroxide. Sodium hydroxide has two primary functions in the soda-lime
granule. In the first place, a small amount serves to give the granule considerable more
activity. The second function is to maintain roughly the proper moisture content. This
water content (roughly 13-14 per cent after spraying) is very important, in order that the
maximum gas absorption may be secured.
Sodium Permanganate. The function of the sodium permanganate is to oxidize
certain gases, such as arsine,[30] and to act as an assurance of protection against
possible new gases. The purity of the sodium permanganate solution used was found
to be one of the most important factors in making stable soda-lime. It was, therefore,
necessary to work out special methods for its manufacture. Two such methods were
developed, and successfully put into operation.
Careful selection of other material is also necessary, and this phase of the work
contributed greatly to the final development of the form of soda-lime.
 CHAPTER XIV
TESTING ABSORBENTS AND GAS MASKS

One of the first necessities in the development of absorbents and

gas masks was a method of testing them and comparing their
deficiencies. While the ultimate test of the value of an absorbent,
canister or facepiece is, of course, the actual man test of the
complete mask, the time consumed in these tests is so great that
more rapid tests were devised for the control of these factors and the
man test used as a check of the purely mechanical methods.

Testing of Absorbents[31]
Absorbents should be tested for moisture, hardness, uniformity of
sample and efficiency against various gases.
Moisture is simply determined by drying for two hours at 150°.
The loss in weight is called moisture.
The hardness or resistance to abrasion is determined by shaking
a 50-gram sample with steel ball bearings for 30 minutes on a Ro-
tap shaking machine. The material is then screened and the
hardness number is determined by multiplying the weight of
absorbent remaining on the screen by two.
The efficiency of an absorbent against various gases depends
upon a variety of factors. Because of this, it is necessary to select
standard conditions for the test. These were chosen as follows:
The absorbent under test is filled into a sample tube of specified
diameter (2 cm.) to a depth of 10 cm. by the standard method for
filling tubes, and a standard concentration (usually 1,000 or 10,000
p.p.m. by volume) of the gas in air of definite (50 per cent) humidity
is passed through the absorbent at a rate of 500 cc. per sq. cm. per
min. The concentration of the entering gas is determined by analysis.
The length of time is noted from the instant the gas-air mixture is
started through the absorbent to the time the gas or some toxic or
irritating reaction product of the gas begins to come through the
absorbent, as determined by some qualitative test. Quantitative
samples of the outflowing gas are then taken at known intervals and
from the amount of gas found in the sample the per cent efficiency of
the absorbent at the corresponding time is calculated.

p.p.m. entering gas - p.p.m.

Per cent ×
effluent gas
efficiency = 100.
p.p.m. entering gas
These efficiencies are plotted against the minutes elapsed from
the beginning of the test to the middle of the sampling period
corresponding to that efficiency point. A smooth curve is drawn
through these points and the efficiency of the absorbent is reported
as so many minutes to the 100, 99, 95, 90, 80, etc., per cent
efficiency points.
The apparatus used in carrying out this test is shown in Fig. 74.
Descriptive details may be found in the article by Fieldner in The
Journal of Industrial and Engineering Chemistry for June, 1919. With
modifications for high and low boiling materials, the apparatus is
adapted to such a variety of gases as chlorine, phosgene, carbon
dioxide, sulfur dioxide, hydrocyanic acid, benzyl bromide,
chloropicrin, superpalite, etc.
As the quality of the charcoal increased, the so-called standard
test required so long a period that an accelerated test was devised.
In this the rate was increased to 1,000 cc. per minute, the relative
humidity of the gas-air mixture was decreased to zero, and the
concentration was about 7,000 p.p.m. The rate is obtained by using
a tube with an internal diameter of 1.41 cm. instead of 2.0 cm.

Canisters
 After an absorbent has been developed to a given point, and is
considered of sufficient value to be used in a canister, the materials
are assembled as described in Chapter XII. While the final test is the
actual use of the canister, machine tests have been devised which
give valuable information regarding the value of the absorbent in the
canister and the method of filling.

Fig. 74.—Standard Two-tube Apparatus for Testing

Absorbents,
Showing Arrangement for Gases Stored in Cylinders.
 The first test must be that for leakage. The canister must show no
signs of leaking when submitted to an air pressure of 15 inches of
mercury (about half of the normal atmospheric pressure).
The second factor tested is the resistance to air flow. This is
determined at a flow of 85 liters per minute and should not exceed 3
inches. The latest canister design has a much lower resistance (from
2 to 2½ inches).
The third test is the efficiency of the canister against various
gases. For routine work, phosgene, chloropicrin and hydrocyanic
acid are used against the standard mixture of charcoal and soda-
lime: Chloropicrin is usually used against straight charcoal fillings,
while phosgene and hydrocyanic acid are used against soda-lime.

Fig. 75.—Apparatus for Testing Canisters Against

Chloropicrin.
 Different types of apparatus are required for these gases. They
are very complicated, as may be seen from the sketch in Fig. 75,
and yet a man very quickly learns the procedure necessary to carry
out a test of this kind. The gas is passed through the canister under
given conditions, until at the end of the apparatus a test paper or
solution indicates that the gas is no longer absorbed but is passing
through unchanged. This point is called the “break point,” and the
time required to reach this point is known as the life of the canister.
This time is also the time to 100 per cent efficiency. Other points,
such as 99, 95, 90 and 80 per cent efficiency are determined. These
are used in comparing canisters.
The canister tests were of two general classes: continuous and
intermittent. In the first the air-gas mixture was drawn through
continuously until the break point was reached. The results obtained
in this way, however, did not give the time measure of the value of a
canister in actual use. The intermittent test differs only in that the
flow of air-gas mixture is intermittent, corresponding to regular
breathing. Special valves were adapted to this work.
Canisters must also be tested as to the protection they offer
against smoke. These methods are discussed in Chapter XVIII.

Man Tests
The final test of the canister is always carried out by means of the
so-called “man test.” Special man-test laboratories were built at
Washington, Philadelphia and Long Island. These are so constructed
that, if necessary, a man may enter the chamber containing the gas
and thus test the efficiency of the completed gas mask. In most
cases, however, the canister is placed inside or outside the gas-
chamber and the men breathe through the canister, detecting the
break point by throat and lung irritation.
The following brief description of the man test laboratory at the
American University will give a good idea of the plan and procedure.
[32]
 The man test laboratory is a one-story building, 56 ft. in length
and 25 ft. in width. The main part is occupied by three gas
chambers, laboratory tables, and various devices for putting up and
controlling gas concentrations in the chambers. A small part at one
end is used as an office and storeroom.
Good ventilation is of great importance in a laboratory of this
nature. This is secured by means of a 6 ft. fan connected to suitable
ducts. The fan is mounted on a heavy framework outside and at one
end of the building. The fan is driven at a speed of about 250 r.p.m.
by a 10 h.p. motor. The main duct is 33 in. square, extending to all
parts of the building. A connection is also made to a small hood used
when making chemical analyses.
The gases, fumes, etc., drawn out by the fan, are forced up and
out of a stack 30 in. in diameter, extending upward 55 ft. above the
ground level.
The main features of each of the three gas chambers are
identical. Auxiliary pieces of apparatus are used with each chamber,
the type of apparatus being determined by the characteristics of the
gas employed.
 Fig. 76.—Man Test Laboratory,
American University.

Each chamber is 10 ft. long, 8 ft. wide and 8½ ft. high, having,
therefore, a capacity of 680 cu. ft. or 19,257 liters. The floor is
concrete, and the walls and ceiling are constructed on a framework
of 2 × 4 in. scantling, finished on the outside with wainscoting and on
the inside with two layers of Upson board (laid with the joints lapped)
covered with a ½ in. layer of special cement plaster laid upon
expanded metal lath. The interior finish is completed by two coats of
acid-proof white paint. The single entrance to the chamber is from
outside the laboratory, and is closed by two doors, with a 36 × 40 in.
lock between them. These doors are solid, of 3-ply construction, 2½
in. thick, with refrigerator handles, which may be operated from
either inside or outside the chamber. The door jambs are lined with ³/
₁₆ in. heavy rubber tubing to secure a tight seal.
 At the end of the chamber opposite the doors, a pane of ¼ in.
wire plate glass, 36 × 48 in., is set into the wall, and additional
illumination may be secured by 2 headlights, 12 in. square, set into
the ceiling of the chamber and of the air-lock, respectively, and
provided with 200 watt Mazda lamps and Holophane reflectors.
Openings into the chamber, five in number, are spaced across this
end beneath the window and 9 in. above the table top.
Fans are installed for keeping the concentration uniform.

Fig. 77.—Details of Canister Holder.

Various devices have been installed for attaching the canister to

be tested (Fig. 77). This arrangement allows the canister to be
changed at will without any necessity for disturbing the concentration
of gas by entering the chamber.
Arrangements for removing the gas from the chamber consist of
a small “bleeder” which allows a continuous escape of small
amounts and a large blower for rapidly exhausting the entire
contents of the chamber.
Other general features of the equipment deal with the
determination of the physical condition surrounding the tests, often a
matter of considerable importance. The temperature of the gas
inside the chamber is easily ascertained by means of a thermometer
suspended inside the window in such a position as to be read from
the outside. The relative humidity of the mixture of air and gas in the
chamber is determined by means of a somewhat modified Regnault
dew point apparatus mounted on the built-in table.

Pressure Drop and Leak Detecting

Apparatus
Another piece of apparatus consists of a combined pressure drop
machine and leak tester (Fig. 78) for measuring the resistance of
canisters and testing them for faulty construction. This is mounted on
a small table, with the motor and air pump installed on a shelf
underneath. The resistance, or pressure drop, of canisters is
measured by the flow meter A and the water manometer B. Air is
drawn through the canister and the flow meter A at the rate of 85
liters per min., the flow being adjusted by the needle valve. The
pressure drop across the canister is read on the water manometer B,
one end of which is connected to the suction line, the other open to
the air. The reading is generally made in inches, correction being
made for the resistance of the connecting hose and the apparatus
itself.
Canisters are tested for leaks by the apparatus shown at D in Fig.
78. The canister is clamped down tightly by wing nuts against a
piece of heavy ¼-in. sheet rubber large enough to cover completely
the bottom of the canister and prevent any inflow of air through the
valve. Suction is then applied, and a leak is indicated by a steady
flow of air bubbles through the liquid in the gas-washing cylinder E. A
second gas-washing cylinder, empty, is inserted in the line between
E and the canister as a trap for any liquid drawn back when the
suction is shut off. If a leak is shown, it can be located by applying air
pressure to the canister and then immersing it in water.

Fig. 78.—Apparatus for Determining Pressure Drop

and for Detecting Leaks in Canisters.

Methods of Conducting Tests

Three general methods of conducting man tests are followed:
(1) Canisters are placed in the brackets outside the chamber or
fastened to the wall tubes within the chamber. The subjects of the
test remain outside the chamber, and the facepieces of the masks
are connected directly to the canisters, in the first case, and to the
wall tubes connecting with the canisters, in the second case. The
concentration is established and the time noted. Then the men put
on the masks and breathe until they can detect the gas coming
through the canisters. Reading matter is provided for the men during
the test period. When gas is detected, the time is again noted and
the time required for the gas to penetrate the canister is reported as
the “time to break down” or “service time” of the canister. Ten
canisters are tested at one time, and the average of the results for
the 10 canisters is taken for that type of canister. Much less accurate
results are obtained when the final figure is based on a small number
of canisters. This is largely due to the various breathing rates and
sensitiveness of different men.
(2) The canisters are placed as in (1), but it is only necessary to
know if they will give perfect protection for a given length of time.
The procedure is the same as in (1), except that the test is arbitrarily
stopped at the end of the indicated time, and the number of canisters
and the service times of the same noted.
(3) When the canisters are of such a type that they cannot be
properly tested as in (1), or when it is desired to test the penetrability
of the facepiece, the men wear the complete mask and enter the
chamber. They remain until gas penetrates the canister or the
facepiece, as the case may be, or until it is determined that the
desired degree of protection is afforded. The service time is
computed as in (1).
(4) Maximum-breathing-rate tests are made either by men in the
chamber or by the men outside, in which they do vigorous work on a
bicycle ergometer. In this test the average man will run his breathing
rate up to 60 or 70 liters per min.
The concentration of the gas is followed throughout the test by
aspirating samples and analyzing them.
Type of Masks Used. In the future the 1919 model will be used
for all tests. In general, during the War, the following procedure held,
although variations occurred in special cases:
When men entered a gas-chamber, the full facepiece was, of
course, required. The type of facepiece was determined by the
nature of the gas. If the gas was most easily detected by odor or eye
irritation, a modified Tissot mask was used. If it was most easily
detected by throat irritation, a mouth-breathing mask was employed.
When men were outside the chamber, the choice was made in
the same manner, except in the case of detection of the gas by
throat irritation. In this case the mouthpiece was attached to two or
three lengths of breathing tubes and a separate noseclip was used.
The facepiece was not needed and the men were much more
comfortable without it.
Disinfection of Masks. Mouthpieces are disinfected after use by
first holding them under a stream of running water and brushing out
thoroughly with a test tube brush; then the latter is dipped into a 2
per cent solution of lysol, and the inner parts of the mouthpiece are
brushed out well; finally the mouthpiece and exhaling valve are
dipped bodily into the lysol solution and allowed to dry without
rinsing. Tissot masks are wiped out with a cloth moistened in alcohol,
followed by another cloth moistened in 2 per cent lysol solution. The
flexible tubes are given periodic rinsings with 95 per cent alcohol.
Applicability of Man Tests. Man tests are applicable to all gases
which can be detected by the subject of the test before he breathes
a dangerous amount.
The man test laboratory described above provides facilities for
obtaining information concerning the efficiency of canisters,
facepieces, etc., within very short periods of time, without waiting for
the construction of special apparatus required for machine tests. To
get satisfactory results from machine tests, a delicate qualitative
chemical test for the gas is essential. Man tests can be made when
such a qualitative test is not known. Further, man tests can be made
with higher concentrations of some gases than is practicable with
machines. Evolution of excessive amounts of moisture when high
concentrations of some gases are used causes much more trouble
with machine tests than with man tests.
On the other hand, man tests are adversely affected by the
varying sensitiveness and lung capacities of the men, and the
humidity of the air-gas mixture is not subject to as exact control as is
the case with machine tests.

Field Tests
It will be observed that all of the above tests are concerned only
with the efficiency of the absorbent and its packing in the canister.
No attempt was made to determine the comfort and general “feel” of
the mask. For this purpose field tests were devised, covering periods
from two to five hours. The first test was a five-hour continuous
wearing test. It was assumed that any mask which could be worn for
five hours without developing any marked features of discomfort
could, if the occasion demanded it, be worn for a much longer period
of time. A typical test follows:
8:00 to Instruction and adjustment of gas
8:30 mask.
Gas-chamber tests
8:30 to Games involving mental and physical
9:30 activity
9:30 to Cross-country hike with suitable
11:30 periods of rest
11:30 to Tests of vision
12:00
12:00 to Games to test mental condition of
12:30 subjects
12:30 to Gas-chamber fit test
1:00
 Fig. 79.—Hemispherical Vision Chart.

Vision was tested by means of a hemispherical chart (Fig. 79).

This chart was 6 ft. in diameter and was constructed of heavy paper
laid over a wire frame. A hinged head rest was provided for holding
the subject’s head firmly in position with the center directly between
the eyes. The subject wearing the mask took up his position, and
with one eye closed at a time, indicated how far along the meridian
of longitude he could see with the other eye. The observer sketched
in the limit of vision by outlining the perimeter of the roughly circular
field allowed by each eyepiece. The intersection of the two fields
gave the extent of binocular vision possible with the mask.
 Various other tests were also used, in order that the extent and
nature of the vision could be accurately determined.
Aside from the problems of comfort, protection, vision and other
important features of gas mask efficiency, the question arose as to
whether certain designs of masks or canisters were mechanically
able to withstand the rough treatment they were certain to receive in
actual field service. A test was, therefore, developed to simulate
such service as transportation of masks from base depots to the
front, carrying of supplies and munitions by men wearing masks in
the “alert” position, exposure to rain and mud, hasty adjustment of
masks during gas alarms and typical mistreatment of masks by the
soldiers.
All these tests were of great value in the development of a good
gas mask.
 CHAPTER XV
OTHER DEFENSIVE MEASURES

Protective Clothing
Protective clothing was an additional feature of the general
program of protection. As far as factory protection is concerned, the
use of protective garments was more or less of a temporary
expedient and they were abandoned as fast as automatic machinery
and standard practice made their use less necessary. It is likewise a
question regarding their value at the front. It is very certain that the
garments developed needed to be made lighter and more
comfortable to be of much value to the fighting unit.
The first development of protective clothing was along the lines of
factory protection. The large number of casualties in connection with
the manufacture of mustard gas made it imperative that the workmen
be protected not only from splashes of the liquid mustard gas, but
also from its vapors. The first suit developed provided protection to
the entire body. The ordinary clothing materials and even rubberized
fabrics offered little protection but it was found that certain oilcloths
were practically impermeable to mustard gas. The suit was a single
garment, buttoning in the back, with no openings in the front, no
pockets and with tie-strings at wrists and ankles. The head was
protected by means of an aluminium helmet, supported by means of
a head band resting on the head like a cap and slung from the inside
of the helmet; this permitted slight head motions independent of the
helmet. In order to provide cooling and ventilating and pure air
breathing, the suit was inflated by pumping a considerable volume of
air into the suit through a flexible hose long enough to permit
considerable freedom of movement.