John Lindqvist - Handling The Undead

Should I light a candle? No, then it will be like a wake.

'Elias? Elias?'

No reply. With trembling hands, Mahler drew up the very last water from the glass into the syringe, brought it to Elias' lips. Perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him now that it was so dark, but Elias did not only swallow, Mahler even thought he moved his lips a little in order to take in the syringe.

He had no time to reflect on this because the front door opened at the bottom of the stairs and he walked out into the hall in order to meet Anna. Ten seconds during which his thoughts whirled, then the doorbell rang. He breathed in and opened.

Anna was only dressed in a T-shirt and panties. No shoes.

'Where is he? Where is he?'

She forced her way into the apartment but he got hold of her, restrained her. 'Anna…listen to me for a moment… Anna…'

She squirmed in his grip, cried, 'Elias!' and tried to free herself. With all the strength he could muster he shouted:

'ANNA! HE IS DEAD!'

Anna stopped struggling, stared at him in confusion. Her eyelids

twitched and her lips quivered.

'Dead? But… but… you said… they said… '

'Can you just listen to me for one second?'

Anna suddenly went limp, would have fallen down in a heap on the floor if Mahler had not caught her and set her down in the chair next to the phone. Her head turned from side to side as if by an invisible power. Mahler placed himself in front of her, blocking the way between her and the bedroom, leaned down and took her hand in his.

'Anna. Listen to me. He lives… but he is dead.'

Anna shook her head, pressed her hands to her temples.

'I don't understand I don't understand what you are saying I don't…'

He took her head between his hands, twisting it with some force to meet his eyes.

'He has been in the ground for a month. He doesn't look like he did before. Not at all. He looks… pretty awful.'

'But how can he… he must…'

'Anna, I don't know. No one knows anything. He doesn't speak.

He doesn't move. It is Elias, and he is alive. But he is very changed. He is… as if dead. Maybe there is something that can be done, but… '

'I want to see him.'

Mahler nodded. 'Yes, of course you do. But you have to prepare yourself for… try to prepare yourself for… '

For what? How can one prepare oneself for something like this?

Mahler took a step back. Anna remained seated.

'Where is he?'

'In the bedroom.'

Anna pressed her lips together, leaning forward a little so she could see the bedroom door. She had collected herself. Now she seemed afraid instead. Fumbling with her hand in the direction of the door, she asked, 'Is he… broken?' Her eyes looked at Mahler, pleading. He shook his head.

'No. But he has… dried up. He is… blackened.'

Anna clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

'Was it you who… '

'Yes.'

She nodded, said flatly, 'They were wondering,' and stood up, walking toward the bedroom. Mahler followed, half a step behind. In his thoughts he went through the contents of the medicine drawer, if he had anything tranquilising in case Anna… No. He had nothing like that. Only his words, his hands. Whatever help they might be.

She did not collapse. She did not scream. She quietly approached the bed and looked at what was lying there. Sat down on the bed. After sitting there for a minute looking without saying anything, she asked, 'Would you please go out for a while?'

Mahler backed out and shut the door on them. Stood outside, listening. After a while he heard something that sounded like an injured animal. A drawn-out, monotone whimper. He bit his knuckles, but did not open the door.

Anna came out after five minutes. Her eyes were red, but she was calm. She closed the door gently behind her. Now Mahler was the one getting nervous. He had not expected this. Anna walked out and sat down on the couch. Mahler followed, sitting down next to her and taking her hand.

'How is it?'

Anna stared at the dark television screen. Her gaze was without expression. She said, 'It isn't Elias.'

Mahler did not answer. A pain that started in his heart region radiated out along his shoulder, the arm. He leaned back against the cushions, trying to will his heart to be still, stop fluttering. His face was contorted in a grimace of pain when a hot hand gripped his heart, squeezed and…let go. His heart took up its usual rhythm. Anna had not noticed anything. She said, 'Elias doesn't exist any longer.'

'Anna… I,' Mahler panted.

Anna nodded at her own statement, adding, 'Elias is dead.'

'Anna, I'm… sure that it is… '

'You misunderstand me. I know that it is Elias' body. But Elias no longer exists.'

Mahler did not know what to say. The pain in his arm subsided, leaving behind a peace, the calm after a successful battle. He closed his eyes, said, 'What do you want to do?'

'Take care of him, of course. But Elias is gone. He lives in our memories. That's where he should be. Nowhere else.'

Mahler nodded, said, 'Yes… '

Meant nothing by it.

Solna 08.45

The taxi driver had spent the night transporting patients from Danderyd and was talking about how stupid people were. Scared of the dead in the way they'd be scared of ghosts, when that was not the problem. The problem was bacteria.

Take a dead dog in a well. After three days the water is so toxic that you'd be risking your life to drink it. Or take the war in Rwanda: tens of thousands dead, sure, but that in itself wasn't the great tragedy. It was water. Corpses had been tossed into the rivers and then even more had died from lack of drinking water, or from drinking what was there.

The bacteria the corpses brought with them. There was the real danger.

David noted that the driver had a box of tissues attached to the control panel under the meter. He did not know if what the man was saying was true, but the very fact that he believed it…

He stopped listening when the man started to talk about the meteorite from Mars that had landed four years ago. The guy was clearly obsessed, and David paid no attention to the rigmarole about secret test results that had been concealed from the public.

Were they planning to perform an autopsy on her? Had they already done it?

When they arrived at the Karolina Institute campus the driver asked for a more specific address, and David said, 'The Medical Examiner's Department.'

The driver looked at him. 'Do you work there, or what?'

'No.'

'Lucky for you.'

'Why?'

The driver shook his head and said in the tone of one confiding a secret, 'Let me put it this way… they're a fairly cuckoo lot, some of them.' When David stepped out of the car outside a mundanelooking brick building, the driver looked at him and said, 'Good luck' before driving away.

David went up to the reception and explained his business. The receptionist, who did not appear to have the least idea what he was talking about, made various calls and eventually found the right person. She asked David to have a seat and wait.

The waiting room consisted of a couple of vinyl-covered chairs.

These surroundings conjured up a feeling of anxiety in him and just as he was about to get up and wait in the parking lot, someone came through the glass doors that led to the inner region.

Without having thought about it, David had expected a giant of a man in a blood-spattered apron. But it was a woman who came toward him. A small woman in her fifties with short, greying hair, and blue eyes behind enormous glasses. No blood on the white coat. She stretched out her hand.

'Hello. Elisabeth Simonsson.'

David took her hand. Her grip was firm and dry. 'David. I… Eva Zetterberg is my wife.'