Karin Fossum - He Who Fears The Wolf

"But I shouted at him. I shouted, 'Hey, you up there!' And good God, what a fright I gave him! He shoved against the wall out of sheer fright, and the ladder made a big arc, and he fell backwards."

"Holy shit!"

"He slammed on to the stone. I stood there staring at his crushed skull. His legs kept twitching for a while, until he lay still. I hid behind a headstone. Then the minister came running, and I heard him shouting and wailing."

"And so they said it was your fault?"

"It was my fault."

"How on earth does anyone get to be so incredibly unlucky?" Morgan said. "Were you born on Friday the 13th?"

"Afterwards they came and got me from home."

"What did you tell them?"

"Nothing. Nestor told me to keep my mouth shut."

"Nestor?" Morgan rubbed his eyes. "How you've managed to get yourself mixed up in so much misery is more than I can comprehend. I thought I was unlucky. But what about the old woman they found yesterday. Was that an accident too? Just tell me what happened."

Errki turned to face him. "As I said. Things just happen."

"That's a rather glib response, don't you think? The police are going to interrogate you. You need to work out what you're going to say."

"I'm a wave," Errki said dramatically. "I break only once."

"Then I think that's what you should tell them. And you'll land right back in the asylum."

He wiped his brow. "My nose aches," he complained.

Errki shrugged. "You could fix your nose with your own willpower if you'd just make the effort."

"Is that right?"

"You have to scare off the infection using all the powers you possess. You have to heal yourself."

"I'm not a fucking Chinaman. I don't believe in that kind of stuff."

"That's why you're sick."

"Can't you do it for me?" he said sarcastically. "Besides, I'm not in any shape to exert myself. My bones are like jelly."

"You have to do it yourself."

"I thought as much, but thanks for the thought," he said despondently. "You know, I once saw a man on TV who could break glass just by thinking about it. It was really impressive. But it's all just a stunt."

"Breaking glass with your mind isn't very impressive," Errki said. "I can do that too. Glass is under constant tension; it's easy."

"Wow, listen to him! How come you don't travel around giving performances?"

"Don't feel like it."

"And who taught you this?"

"The magician. In Central Park."

"It's good you have a sense of humour. We're going to need it."

"Do you know what he could do?" Errki asked. "He could stretch out the skin on his hands until it burst."

"So give me a demonstration. But don't break the whisky bottle."

"There isn't any glass here," Errki said. "All the windows are already broken."

"I suppose someone was here before you and did the job."

"But there are still some big pieces left in that window over there," Errki said, pointing.

"OK, then break them," Morgan said, full of anticipation. He was enjoying himself, although at the same time he had a feeling that something might go badly wrong.

Errki got up unsteadily from the sofa. He stared at the window and sank down to the floor, bent his head and shut his eyes. Morgan looked at him with a mixture of glee and sadness. He stared at the piece of glass in the upper right corner of the window frame. The sun shone through, making it light up. Not a sound came from Errki, he sat like a statue. Morgan wondered hazily if he ought to make a decision about what they were going to do next. But the heat and the whisky had drained him of energy, and it was so nice just to sit still and doze. Life hadn't turned out quite the way he'd expected. It hadn't for Errki either. He looked ridiculous sitting there on the floor, a rock-hard knot of stubborn willpower. Morgan was struck by how thin he was, as fragile as an insect. And now he was going to perform a magic trick for him. It was almost painful to imagine how disappointed he'd be when nothing happened. He wondered what he would say to console him. Maybe put the blame on the whisky, say that it had sapped him of his strength.

Then the glass broke. It didn't split apart with a little tinkling sound, just for fun. It shattered with a bang, and glass rained down in the room. Morgan jumped, feeling his heart jolt with fear. Errki was still sitting on the floor. Then he raised his head and looked around. He looked sleepy, at first. But then he looked surprised.

"Something's not right," he said, and made for the door.

"Something's not right? How the hell did you do that?" Morgan looked stunned. "Where are you going?"

"Outside," Errki replied. "Outside to check on something."

Kannick lowered his bow. He was standing approximately 25 metres away, looking at the empty window. What he'd hit was no great feat, but it was still a challenge to aim for the transparent, shimmering glass, and the arrow had made a great sound as it struck. In his mind he had just skewered the eyeball of General Crook. He went closer and stared at the house, which was empty and abandoned and looked dilapidated in the afternoon sun. He knew that he would find the arrow inside, sticking out of a wall. He looked around for another target because he had one arrow left in his quiver. It was getting late but he wasn't worried about the unpleasantness that awaited him back at Guttebakken. He knew exactly what would happen and had been through it many times before, so it didn't scare him. It was all so pitifully predictable. Grown-ups had so little imagination. Margunn might find somewhere else to hide the key to the cabinet. Chances are it wouldn't be any worse than that. Besides, she would be glad that he'd found the missing arrows, since she knew that he was worried about them. He would discover her new hiding place. And that would be all.

He stared at the old house, at the grey wood, the flat stone steps in front of the door, and the empty windows. He had been inside many times, had been through all the cupboards, had even slept on the old sofa in the living room. He stared at the door. There were several black spots in the wood, and he decided to choose one of them.

He was Chief Geronimo. The door was a Mexican soldier, and the dark spot was his heart. The enemy. They were the ones who had raped and killed the tribe's women and children. He hated them from the depths of his warrior soul!

This time he wanted to shoot from a kneeling position, the way the chief used to shoot. It was a big challenge. He went down on one knee and pulled out the next arrow from the quiver. This one had yellow and red feathers. He put the arrow into the bow and straightened his back. Through the sight he made sure the bow was level. He looked at the dark spots and chose the one in the middle of the door, a little to the left of where the door handle had been. Then he drew, felt the plate slide under his chin and the string of the bow move into place just above the tip of his nose.

Long live the Apaches!

Just the slightest adjustment and he had the spot in his sight. Vaguely he noticed that something was happening. The door opened and a black shape appeared in the entrance. But his brain had already given the command; his grip loosened and he wanted to lower the bow, but he couldn't stop the arrow from releasing. It flew from the string at a speed of close to 100 metres per second.

There was not a sound as it struck. Errki stood on the steps and gave only a tiny start of surprise. Kannick saw the yellow arrow sticking out of his black trousers. Errki looked astonished, but said not a word. Hesitantly he moved his hand to pull it out. Then he caught sight of Kannick. The fat boy.

He recognised the ragged trousers and the bulging body. Now he understood what he'd had in the case he had been clutching as he'd raced down the path with madness in his eyes. A bow. The boy lowered it now. It gleamed red in the sunlight, and the arrow the boy had just shot was sticking out of Errki's right thigh. It didn't hurt. He gripped the arrow close to his trousers and clenched his teeth. It slid out, quite easily. He felt at once something give way, a tight clamp that let go. The boy turned and ran.