Karin Fossum - He Who Fears The Wolf

"Answer me!" Morgan said and hiccoughed.

"No," he whispered. "No-one knows."

"Not very pleasant, is it?"

Kannick bowed his head. It was worse than unpleasant, it was the beginning of the end.

"You don't have an ice-cold beer, do you?" Morgan licked his lips. As he asked the question, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a terrible thirst.

This was not what Kannick had expected. "I've got some lozenges," he mumbled.

"OK. Let's have them. I haven't got a drop of spit left."

Kannick stuck his hand in his jeans pocket and took out a box of liquorice lozenges. Morgan grabbed the box, struggled for a moment with the sticky clump of lozenges, and put three in his mouth.

"Allow me to introduce ourselves," he said, smacking his lips. "This is Errki. He's possessed by evil spirits that talk to him and harass him. My name's Morgan, and the police are after me for a little show I put on this morning. We've been killing an afternoon together." And then he added, "It's that lunatic over there who wrecked my nose. Just so you know what kind of person you are messing with."

Kannick already knew.

"So now we come to you. Who are you?"

I'm the one who wants to be called Geronimo. The pathfinder. The champion shot.

"Excuse me? What did you say?"

"Kannick."

"Do you really go by that name?"

"I do the best I can," he said, trying to catch his breath.

"Aha! The boy has a sense of humour!"

Errki had sunk down on to the floor. He had found his leather jacket and wrapped it around himself, gripping his thigh with both hands. "I've seen him before," he said in a low voice.

Morgan looked at him in surprise.

"Where?"

"At the dead woman's farm."

"What'd you say?"

Morgan turned towards Kannick. "He saw you?

Are you the boy who was playing nearby? The one they were talking about on the radio? Are you?"

Kannick lowered his eyes.

"Oh no, this is serious. Damn it all, he saw you, Errki. We've got to get rid of him!"

Kannick gave a startled little squeak, as if someone had stepped on a rubber toy. His long eyelashes fluttered with fear.

"And I heard that you've been talking to the police, right?"

Kannick didn't reply.

"Never mind. That doesn't bother Errki. He's a little strange that way. And we're actually very friendly. It's just that we're bored. We're sitting here waiting for night to come. Which reminds me, it's at night that Errki gets really crazy. His teeth start to grow and his ears get pointy. Isn't that right, Errki?"

Errki didn't answer. He was studying Kannick out of the corner of his eye. Fear was making the boy's eyes light up in his pudgy face. He was chewing hard on his lip, and all colour had left his cheeks.

"Hey," Morgan said, "you didn't bring along a lunch and a thermos, did you? We're starving to death."

"I've got some chocolate in the case. But it may well be melted by now."

Errki reacted at once. He scrambled to his feet and starting waving his hands. "Go and get that case!"

"Calm down," Morgan said. "Get it yourself. Otherwise he'll just run off. And you have to share it with me!"

Errki limped out and began searching for the case. Shambled around in the bushes, keeping one hand clamped tight on his wound. At length he found it, and further away he found the bow. He dragged everything back and flung open the case. Inside lay more arrows and some other things that he didn't recognise, and the chocolate. A Mars bar and a Snickers. His fingers shook as he picked them up and went into the house, holding a bar in each hand. Snickers and Mars, Snickers and Mars. Soft, slightly melted chocolate. One with peanuts and caramel, the other with toffee. The paper rustled. He walked across the floor, weighing them in his hands. Both were good. He liked Snickers bars, but Mars bars had always been a favourite; it was impossible to choose, and he could only have one. Morgan jumped up and grabbed the Snickers. "I'll take that one. You can have the Mars. Fatty can have a whisky in exchange."

Kannick glanced at the bottle standing on the windowsill. He'd never had anything against beer. He enjoyed getting drunk, as long as it didn't happen too fast, but he'd never cared for spirits. He shook his head. The others were busy eating his chocolate, smacking their lips like two children. In the midst of his despair he felt like laughing, but he only managed a pitiful little gasp.

"We're not going to hurt you," Errki said, giving him an odd smile as he spoke.

"That's not something we've decided yet," Morgan said, swallowing the last of the chocolate.

"He doesn't have anything we want. Except for the chocolate."

"Maybe the little dough boy here could help us," Morgan said. "It's all gone to hell, anyway. With or without Jannick."

"Kannick," said Kannick.

Morgan wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "I suppose you want to go home to mama, don't you?"

"I'd rather not."

"Is that right? Where do you want to go then?"

"To Guttebakken."

His voice had taken on a defiant tone, as if he had regained hope that they weren't going to kill him after all. The fact that they had eaten the chocolate with such evident enjoyment made them seem much more human.

"And what's that?"

"The boys' home."

Morgan snickered. "Christ, it looks like we're all cut from the same cloth. And just what have you done in your young life for you to end up there? Aside from eating too much?"

"It's a metabolic disorder," Kannick said.

"That's what my mother always said when she was at her worst. Have a shot of whisky, that should help your metabolism."

"No, thanks." He thought about Margunn, tried to picture what she was doing. How many times she would have checked the time. It would take a while before she started to worry. He had a habit of staying out for a long time. Probably she wouldn't begin wondering what had happened to him until evening. But she knew that he'd never miss supper. She'd start looking out of the window around eight o'clock, and another hour would pass before she'd send Karsten and Philip out to look for him. Anything could happen by then! It was a while until evening, a sea of time, alone with two drunk nutcases, and one of them had a gun! Desperation made him cast another glance at the whisky bottle. Morgan noticed him.

"Go ahead. No reason to hold back here."

So Kannick took a gulp. It was his only hope of escape. The first swallow created an internal explosion that started in his throat and worked its way with fierce fire down to his stomach. He gasped for air, wiping away a few tears.

"Take three or four more," Morgan said helpfully as he sat on the floor licking his fingers. "You'll feel great after a while. Tell us why you're living in a boys' home."

"How should I know?" Kannick said, sounding a little annoyed, which he instantly regretted. Maybe he had insulted Morgan.

"You have no idea why the grown-ups put you there? What an idiot you are. Do you think I blame my mother because I became a bank robber? Do you think Errki blames his mother because he's had all the furniture moved around in that brain of his?"

Kannick gave Morgan a lightning-swift glance. Bank robber?

"Just read what it says on his T-shirt. I guess he blames 'the others'."

"Am I being attacked?" Errki said simply. He was busy picking a stone out of the sole of his trainer. Then he started pulling out the laces. He was going to tie them around his thigh, which was still bleeding.

Kannick was squirming on the sofa, he needed it all to himself, he was overflowing like a pudding, and every time he moved, the springs creaked.

Morgan suddenly felt dizzy and faint. What were they doing? How long were they going to sit here? For some reason he couldn't stand the thought of being alone. He couldn't stand to think about them being caught and then each sent off somewhere different, that Errki would be separated from him, that they would never see each other again. He had no-one else. This hot, filthy room, the buzz from the whisky, Errki's pleasant, low voice, and the fat boy with the downcast eyes – he didn't want any of it to end. The very thought took his breath away. Confused, he grabbed for the bottle.