Authors: Johan Theorin
The Asylum (29 page)
I remember you, remember you, remember you
.
I am still waiting to escape from the zoo
.
But you can see me in there
,
I have marked out my nest
.
Come out of the forest and see
.
A reply. A reply from Rami. It has to be. Jan puts down the piece of paper; his hand is shaking. Through the window he can see the lights of the hospital, but he suppresses the urge to go straight out into the night to search for Rami’s room.
40
‘KEITH MOON MEETS
Topper Headon!’ Rettig shouts. ‘That’s exactly what it sounds like when you play, Jan!’
Jan nods and plays one last roll. He has been sitting behind the drum kit for almost an hour, and the music has made him forget the letters from the hospital.
And now Rettig has paid him a compliment, which is kind; Jan isn’t sure whether to pass on the bad news about the Dell. But eventually he decides to tell him. When only he and Rettig are left in the rehearsal room, he casually says, ‘By the way, the pre-school is going to be closed at night.’
Rettig carries on packing away the instruments. ‘From when?’
‘Soon … next week. All the children have foster families now.’
‘OK, thanks for letting me know.’
‘But you realize what this means?’ says Jan.
‘What?’
‘That none of the staff will be there at night … So it looks as if we’ll have to stop playing postman.’
But Rettig shakes his head. ‘Just think about it, Jan.’
‘Think about what?’
‘About the fact that the Dell will be closed at night … What does it mean when something is closed?’
Jan gets up and puts down the drumsticks. He has been hard at it, and he has blisters on his fingers. ‘It means no one can get in,’ he says. ‘When something is closed, the doors are locked.’
‘Absolutely,’ says Rettig, ‘but you’ll still have a set of keys, won’t you?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘And the most important thing is that the place will be
empty
… There won’t be anybody there at night, will there?’
‘Maybe not.’
‘And if someone has a key to a place that’s closed, they can just go in and do whatever they want, can’t they?’
‘I suppose so,’ says Jan. ‘As long as they don’t have some kind of surveillance.’
‘There’s no surveillance at night. I’m in charge then, remember.’ Rettig closes his guitar case and goes on: ‘But we can take a break from the deliveries if you think it’s a good idea. We’re running a major security exercise at St Patricia’s in a couple of weeks, and things usually get a bit tense up there until everything falls into place.’
Jan is thinking about everything that has happened over the past few weeks. About the strange noises in the corridors. ‘The hospital basement,’ he says. ‘Is it completely empty at night?’
‘Why do you ask?’
Jan hesitates. He doesn’t want to give anything away. ‘Dr Högsmed mentioned something about the corridors in the basement when he was showing me around,’ he says. ‘He said it was unpleasant down there.’
‘Högsmed’s the boss, but he knows nothing,’ Rettig replies. ‘He’s hardly ever been down to the basement.’
‘But is there anyone else down there?’
Rettig nods. ‘The communal areas are down there … The patients from the open wards are allowed to spend time down there without supervision. There’s a swimming pool and a small chapel and a bowling alley – a bit of everything, really.’
Jan looks at him. ‘The open wards … so those patients aren’t dangerous?’
‘Not usually,’ Rettig replies. ‘But sometimes they get ideas, and then you have to be on your guard.’
Jan knows he has to be on his guard, all the time. But Rami
feels
so close now, and he wants to ask Rettig one last question: ‘And if you happened to find me down there, would you sound the alarm?’
The question doesn’t go down well with Rettig. ‘You’d never get in, Jan … And why on earth would you want to get into St Patricia’s? Do you really want to know what an asylum looks like on the inside?’
‘No, no,’ Jan says quickly. ‘I was just wondering, if I did get into the hospital, would you give me away?’
‘We’re mates.’ Rettig shakes his head. ‘You don’t grass on your mates. So I wouldn’t do anything … I’d leave you alone.’ He looks at Jan. ‘But I wouldn’t be able to help you either, if someone else found you. I’d deny the whole thing, just like in that American TV series.’
Jan can’t ask for anything more. ‘OK. I’ll just have to improvise.’
‘Everybody improvises up there at night,’ Rettig says.
‘What do you mean?’
Rettig shrugs his shoulders. ‘The days are well organized at St Patricia’s; we have good, solid routines. But the nights aren’t quite as peaceful. Anything can happen then.’ He grins at Jan and adds, ‘Especially when there’s a full moon.’
Jan doesn’t ask any more questions. He moves away from the drum kit; he didn’t perform particularly well tonight, whatever Rettig thinks. He’s not really a team player.
That night Jan dreams about Alice Rami again; but it’s a horrible dream. He is walking beside her along a road, and he ought to feel good – but when he looks down, the creature running along and panting between them is no ordinary dog. In fact, it isn’t a dog at all.
It’s a growling, snarling wild animal, a yellowish-brown cross between a lynx and a dragon.
‘Come along, Rössel!’ Rami calls as she jogs off down the road.
The creature grins scornfully at Jan and races after her.
Jan is left alone in the darkness.
Lynx
It was time for the madness to end, Jan realized.
When he left the nursery he had definitely decided: he was going to let William go. Let him go
now
. The planned forty-six hours in the bunker would be only twenty-four.
He turned off and headed up into the forest, striding purposefully along.
The track had been trampled by hundreds of boots over the past two days; it had been widened and was easy to walk along. Jan was able to move faster, and when he got into the forest he could see how the undergrowth had been flattened. It wasn’t dark yet; it was only quarter past three. But there was no sign of anyone, and he couldn’t hear the helicopter.
He carried on into the ravine, quickly went through the old gate, and slowed down only when he had almost reached the slope leading up to the bunker. He had to be careful here.
The small metal door was just as well hidden as before, and when Jan moved the branches aside he saw that it was still firmly closed.
He let out a long breath. Time to assume the role of the innocent classroom assistant who goes into the forest and happens to do what no one dares hope for any longer: he finds the missing child. By pure chance.
He put his mouth close to the door and shouted, loud and clear, ‘Hello? Anyone there?’
He waited, but there was no response.
Jan could have carried on shouting, but after waiting for a few more seconds he pulled open the door. ‘Hello?’ he said again.
There was no response this time either.
Jan wasn’t worried yet, just puzzled. He bent down and stuck his head inside the dark bunker. ‘Hello?’
It was messier in there this time. The blankets lay in a heap by the wall, and there were many more empty sandwich packs, drink cartons and sweet wrappers strewn around. Roboman was also lying on the floor, but he was broken. His head was cracked and his right arm was missing.
But there was no sign of William.
Jan crawled inside. ‘William?’
He shouldn’t really call out the boy’s name, but he was worried now. The boy wasn’t in there, and yet there was nowhere he could have gone.
Eventually he caught sight of the red bucket. The toilet bucket. It was standing right by the back wall, but it was upside down. Why?
Jan looked up at the wall and saw one of the long, narrow gaps that let in air – but it had somehow become slightly bigger. Someone had poked away the earth, branches and old leaves, and managed to clear the opening so that it was now between twenty and thirty centimetres deep. Not big enough for an adult, but big enough for a five-year-old.
William had found a way out. He had probably tried to take Roboman with him, but had dropped the toy on the floor.
Jan tried to remain calm. He knew what he had to do, and set to work. He spread the blankets out on the floor and gathered up everything he had brought into the bunker: the food and drink, the toys and the plastic bucket. Then he bundled everything up in the blankets and dragged them outside. He had now removed all traces of himself from the bunker. The old mattress was still there, but couldn’t be linked to him.
He quickly carried the bundles down to level ground, took exactly one hundred and twenty paces away from the bunker and
hid
the lot under a dense fir. He would fetch it later, when he had found William.
Jan looked around. It was twilight now, but nothing was moving in the forest.
Where should he start?
41
JAN GOES TO
work earlier on the Sunday; he wants to get to the hospital before the sun goes down. It is shining like a big yellow ball in a dark-blue sky this afternoon. Autumn days can be so fresh and clear sometimes.
The sunshine is perfect, because after the reply from Rami, he wants to see the hospital in daylight.
I have marked out my nest
, the letter had told him.
Come out of the forest and see
.
The forest is at the back of St Patricia’s, so Jan has to make a detour. This is not without risk – he must keep out of range of the cameras and alarm systems. But the slope leading down to the brook that runs alongside the fence is thick with undergrowth and dense fir trees, and he is able to remain hidden in the shadows.
He stops between two firs and gazes over the fence at the rows of windows. From the edge of the forest he spots something new on the stone façade: something is fluttering in the wind up there.
A white flag. It looks as if it has been made from a torn sheet or a handkerchief, and it is hanging down from one of the windows.
Now he understands what the squirrel meant when she said she had marked out her nest.
Jan counts silently, circling the window with the flag in his mind’s eye, as if the façade were a map:
fourth floor, seventh window from the right
. He must remember that position.
There is no sign of anyone behind the glass; the room is in darkness, but Rami has shown him exactly where she lives.
All he has to do now is get there – but the only way is through the basement.
Before tea Leo and Mira are playing doctors. Their cuddly toys are poorly, and the children are going to make them better. Jan helps them to sort out the little beds, then he has to lie down and be a patient too.
After they have eaten they go outside for a while. Leo and Mira want to play on the swings, but Jan is somehow detached from their activities. He gives them both a push, then glances over at the fence. It is dusk now, and the floodlights have come on, shining on wet leaves and the sharp points of the barbed wire.
Fifteen years have passed, but Jan hopes that Rami will still be there. His Rami, that is. The Rami who was in the room next door to him in the Unit for a while. The girl who let him in and was the first person who seemed to think he was worth talking to. No, not
seemed
to think – she actually liked spending time with Jan. And the fact that she left him and ran away like a squirrel – well, that was because of something else altogether.
It is late by the time the children fall asleep – just before nine.
Jan should be able to relax now, but it is impossible. Leo had trouble getting to sleep, and shouted for Jan several times. Jan’s nerves are already at breaking point, and tonight he has a long journey ahead of him. Long and uncertain – even if he knows his goal.
Fourth floor, seventh window from the right
.
At quarter past eleven he checks on Mira and Leo one last time, then heads down the stairs to the basement with the Angel clipped to his belt. There isn’t a sound; the children have been fast asleep for more than two hours now.
He opens the door into the safe room; the door at the far end is still unlocked. He walks into the darkness.
He is back in the hospital basement, but he is better prepared
this
time. The Angel has new batteries, and the little beam sweeps across the old tiled walls. He knows where he is, but he is still unable to relax. Last time Hanna was upstairs listening in, but tonight he is all alone.
He sets off, with Legén’s primitive map in his hand: the arrows should help him find his way.
To make sure he doesn’t get lost, he has something else in his pocket: white paper. Before he left he sat in the kitchen and tore up several sheets of paper into tiny pieces. As he walks along he drops them one by one, a couple of metres apart.
Marking out his escape route.
He eventually reaches the grubby tiled rooms, and tucks the Angel underneath his jumper so that the light won’t show too much, just in case any patients are wandering around down here. He is getting close to the laundry now, and even though Legén maintained it was closed on Sundays, he doesn’t want to advertise his presence.
He looks up at the ceiling. Thick, snake-like electric cables are intertwined up there. And somewhere above him are the rooms where the patients live. About a hundred, Högsmed had said. And he is hoping that one of them, on the fourth floor, is Alice Rami.
He has reached the laundry. The door is closed. And locked? He reaches out and pushes down the handle. The door is stiff, but it opens.
The last time he was here there was a light on, but now the room is in darkness. It is like a black cave, apart from the odd light on the electricity meter and the washing machines, glowing like the red eyes of animals lurking in the gloom. Fans are whirring softly in the background; the air is warm and heavy.
Jan steps inside, still clutching his map.
He is looking for a wide door, but doesn’t want to switch on the light. Or rather he does want to, but dare not. He gropes his way forward, past rows of padlocked metal cupboards and a table littered with dirty coffee cups. Then he is in a smaller room with no lights at all, and he has no choice but to use the Angel.