Fire (46 page)

Her flat is definitely the source. She pushes the door handle down, but the door is locked. She finds the keys, unlocks it with shaking hands.

She steps inside the hall. The music is so loud it makes her ears hurt. She stumbles on an empty bottle, picks up the stench of alcohol. Walks into the living room.

The sofa cover has been slashed all over and cream-coloured stuffing bulges from the tears. All her pictures have been torn down, scrunched up, ripped to pieces. The lamps have been knocked over but are still on. Bathed in their blood-red light, Erik stands in front of the broken windows. He has a baseball bat in his hands.

Erik.

Splinters of glass glitter all over his black sweater. He looks straight at her.

You fucking cunt
.

The hatred in his thought paralyses her. And transforms her fury into fear.

Now, two guys, no, three, are entering from the bedroom and the kitchen. Kevin stares emptily at her. He seems almost in shock. Robin and Rickard pull balaclavas down over their faces, but she has seen them already and they know it. Their panic-stricken thoughts rush into her head.

Fuck it, where did she come from?

It’s fucked up. We’re in deep shit now.

Got to deal with it … deal with it …

We should’ve kept the balaclavas on, I should’ve stood guard, why don’t they ever listen to me …

Erik’s grip on the baseball bat tightens and he smiles at her. Kevin’s terror is almost as palpable as Linnéa’s own.

No, no, no, he’s totally lost it, he’s sick …

Rickard screams something, but Erik pulls the balaclava down over his face and starts walking towards her and her paralysis won’t lift, she stands there as if frozen stiff even though panic is burning inside her body. She meets Robin’s eyes and registers that he is making up his mind, that he will side with Erik.

We’ve no choice. We’ve no fucking choice.

Erik raises the baseball bat and at last, at last the world starts to turn. And she can control her body.

Linnéa runs from the flat, slams the door behind her and turns the key in the lock before she starts down the stairs. Opening the lock from inside the flat takes a special twist. It might gain her a few extra seconds.

She runs downstairs two steps at a time, holding her hand close to the handrail, terrified of slipping.

The music roars in the stairwell and her own footsteps echo against the concrete, she can’t hear if someone is closing in. But suddenly Erik’s thought is there.

That bitch won’t get away!

Third floor. Second. First. Any time now, a kick in the back or a push between the shoulder blades, a crash as the baseball bat slams into her skull.

The thought fills her with such dread that she takes half the last flight in one long leap and when the soles of her boots slap loudly against the green concrete floor, she stumbles and drops her bag.

… I’ll kill you, you fucking slag, you cunt, I’ll fucking kill you …

She throws herself against the street door. A rush of cool night air. She runs into the mist. Now she can hear their steps behind her. The adrenalin is like petrol flowing through her veins and she runs faster than ever before in her life.

Robin thinks the whole thing has gone completely off the rails and he’ll never do anything Erik says ever again, he’ll never … He is afraid now, afraid of what will happen if they don’t catch her, afraid of what will happen if they do.

Erik has stopped thinking altogether. He is hunting, that’s all.

Linnéa runs into Storvall Park, crossing the damp lawns in the hope that the mist will hide her. Robin is somewhere off-course behind her, on her right, Erik somewhere on her left.

She leaves the park and carries on running down the abandoned Engelsfors streets.

‘Fucking … twat,’ Erik pants behind her and his voice sounds close, far too close.

‘Help!’

She screams with lungs that have little air left.

No one responds. Engelsfors is a silent creature, indifferently observing passing events. And her mobile is inside the bag she dropped in the stairwell.

She screams again. Wordlessly this time. She sees the light from a TV screen in a flat but no one comes to the window when she cries out and she must keep running, running.

Anna-Karin’s house isn’t far from here, but Robin could simply cut her off before she gets there. And even if she does reach the front door … what if it’s locked?

No alternative, only running. Straight ahead.

A taste of blood in her mouth.

Linnéa runs.

Anna-Karin is sitting on the bed in her room. She senses the soft bulk of the mattress, the tightness of the stretched elastic in the waistband of her pyjama bottoms, but she is seeing through the eyes of the fox. Hidden in the mist, they have dared to sneak up close to the illuminated facade of the manor house.

Several cars are parked on the gravelled area in front of the house. Over the last few days, a steady stream of strangers has been arriving. Anna-Karin wishes she could see what’s going on in there, behind the closed shutters.

She senses, too, how alert the fox is to the voles. They are pottering around by the overgrown shrubbery and his wish to hunt them is so strong it feels like her own.

Later
, she promises him.
Later.

Obediently, the fox stays put.

The doors open and Viktor comes out on the front steps. He walks down and across the driveway. Kicks at the gravel. Stops, and bends to inspect one of his shoes.

And suddenly straightens up again, as if he has heard something not even the fox’s sensitive ears could pick up. Viktor shuts his eyes and seems to pull himself together before going back inside, shutting the door behind him.

All is quiet again.

Anna-Karin allows the fox to pad away towards the bushes to chase his supper.

Linnéa feels that a heart attack is a certainty. Her heart cannot possibly keep beating at this rate for very much longer. She presses herself against the bridge support, covers her mouth with both hands and tries to breathe as quietly as she can although her body is screaming for oxygen.

The only sound is the faint slapping of canal water. She can no longer hear Erik and Robin’s thoughts and has no
strength left to try to tune them in. All her energy is going into staying upright.

Above her head, the green-painted metal of the bridge swoops over the canal. Across the water, the lights of the manor house are gleaming through the mist.

Perhaps she should try to get there. Seek protection in the enemy camp.

Canal Bridge is illuminated, but the mist is growing denser. She must risk it. Linnéa’s whole body is shaking now. She is afraid of fainting. If they find her here, she hasn’t a hope.

She looks around one last time and concentrates on listening into the darkness. Then she allows herself a few deep breaths and starts clambering up the slope. Thin branches scratch her face as she makes her way through the bushes. The ground is wet and slippery under her ankle boots. It smells of damp earth.

Linnéa’s arms are trembling with the strain as she hauls herself up the last bit. She straightens up on shaky legs, stands bent forward in the poison-yellow light of the street lamps. Then she runs out on the bridge, into the bright light.

She knows that she has reached the top of the arch when the slight rise flattens out. Halfway. She must make it. Must.

Caught! She’s so fucking caught!

Linnéa stops abruptly when she hears the thought in her head. She turns and sees through the mist the outline of a guy walking towards her. Holding a baseball bat.

So fucking caught!

She turns again and sees another shape materialising out of the haze on the other side of the bridge. Robin. She can hear his breathing in the distance, but he isn’t running any more. He is walking, as calmly as Erik. They aren’t bothered now, certain that she can’t get away from them.

Their staring eyes gleam from the eye-holes in their balaclavas. The fuckers. The cowardly fuckers. She won’t show them how afraid she is.

‘Hi there, Linnéa,’ Erik says.

‘Fuck off,’ she says.

He laughs a little, lets the baseball bat drag on the ground as he walks. It rattles heavily against the tarmac, jumps and bounces over the uneven bits.

‘This wasn’t the idea from the start,’ he says. ‘You weren’t supposed to come home that early. We thought whores like you worked all night. But it’s fine by us. This is even
better
.’ They stop and stand on either side of her. Linnéa tries to run across the bridge. But Robin gets hold of her. Grabbing both her arms, he drags her towards Erik who waits calmly by the railing of the bridge.

‘Fuck’s sake, Linnéa, you’re so boring,’ he says. ‘I thought you’d like a good time.’

Linnéa yells when Erik tugs at her fringe. The pain makes her eyes fill with tears. He bends her neck back and looks into her eyes.

‘Aren’t you frightened?’

‘No,’ she says.

She doesn’t want to scream, but when he pulls her hair again the pain is too sharp. Suddenly, she hears Robin’s thoughts perfectly clearly.

Let this be over, just let it stop, let it stop …

‘Robin, please let me go,’ Linnéa whispers hoarsely. ‘Let go of me, please, Robin …’

She hates herself for pleading and begging. But Robin hesitates. Erik sees it, too.

He raises the baseball bat.

‘Jump in,’ he says and nods his head towards the railing of the bridge.

A white flash of lightning cuts through Anna-Karin’s dream and she sits up in bed.

She is with the fox again. He is running along the canal with all his attention focused on the bridge. Three human shapes are standing on the top of the bridge, strongly lit but still unrecognisable in the mist. The fox’s ears record their voices.

‘Jump,’ one of them says and Anna-Karin instantly recognises Erik’s voice. ‘Or we’ll throw you in.’

‘Come on, I mean, seriously,’ says another voice.

Robin’s.

‘
Come on, I mean, seriously
,’ Erik imitates him. ‘Be a man, you wimp. You hate this slag as much as I do.’

‘Let me go, Robin, please, Robin,’ Linnéa begs.

Linnéa.

Anna-Karin leaps out of bed. Police. Make an emergency call. Must stop this. She gets hold of her mobile but holds back in mid-movement. What if they trace the call? How can she explain that she can see what is happening so far away? Perhaps they won’t believe a word she says?

‘You heard me. Jump,’ Erik says. ‘I thought all you psychos wanted to kill yourselves anyway. Here’s your chance.’

He swings some heavy object through the air and Linnéa screams.

Anna-Karin pulls on a pair of jeans under her pyjama top and runs into the hall, pushes her feet into a pair of worn trainers, while Erik pulls Linnéa out of Robin’s grip and presses her up against the railing.

‘Someone should fuck you first but we don’t fancy catching Aids.’

Anna-Karin can’t see what he does, but Linnéa screams again.

‘I’ll jump. I’ll do it.’

‘Fuck’s sake, Erik …’ Robin says.

Help her, Robin, Anna-Karin thinks. Why don’t you help her!

She runs out on the square. The lights are on in the Positive Engelsfors place, but she can’t see anyone inside. The telephone box is just around the corner. She grabs the receiver.

Part of her is not there, but watching by the canal. She has to blink several times before she can see the buttons well enough to dial.

Linnéa is sobbing, but she swings one leg across the railing and sits astride it.

‘Please …’

Linnéa’s eyes are fixed on Robin, but he looks the other way.

‘Just do it,’ he says hoarsely.

‘That’s right. Just do it, Linnéa,’ Erik says.

Linnéa swings her other leg over the railing. Now she stands on the very edge of the bridge, holding on to the railing.

A female voice says, ‘Emergency Services’ in the receiver and Anna-Karin nearly shouts the words.

‘You must send someone to Canal Bridge in Engelsfors! Erik Forslund and Robin Zetterqvist … they’re trying to kill Linnéa Wallin!’

Linnéa looks down at the black water. If she survives the fall, the cold will get her anyway. She looks up at Erik and Robin. She hates them and hates the thought that these two are her last sight in life. Still, she forces herself to meet their eyes.

And then she jumps.

She falls. Falls and falls, hoping that Elias will be there for her on the other side.

Her only regret is that she never told Vanessa what she feels for her.

Why did that scare me so much? she thinks.

When Linnéa finally hits the water, the cold is such a shock that it knocks out all thought. And then she disappears under the surface, into the dark, silent depths.

Vanessa is dreaming and she knows it. But still the dream feels utterly real.

She is trying to find Linnéa’s block of flats, but wanders lost along streets she doesn’t recognise. She tries to phone Linnéa, or one of the other Chosen Ones. Even Wille. But all the numbers are wiped off her mobile list and she can’t remember a single one.

And something makes the ground shake.

As if some force deep underneath is trying to find a way up. Crushing layers of rock, breaking through the tarmac.

Vanessa wakes. Her mobile is vibrating on the floor beside her bed. She reaches out for it.

‘Hello,’ she says, her voice thick with sleep.

‘Something has happened,’ Anna-Karin says.

Vanessa can see the blue lights through the mist. They are blinking silently near Canal Bridge. People are milling around everywhere. All in uniform. Firefighters. Police. Paramedics. Beams from powerful torches slice through the dark along the banks and a large searchlight on the bridge is scanning the water.

Vanessa speeds up her run when she spots Minoo and Anna-Karin on the footpath.

‘Where is she?’ she asks as soon as she comes within speaking distance.

‘We don’t know,’ Anna-Karin replies quietly.

Minoo only shakes her head.

‘I’ve tried to pick up her energy,’ Anna-Karin continues. ‘But I can’t … locate her.’