John Lindqvist - Handling The Undead

'What is it?'

The feeling of irritation was still there. It had been a lesser form of hell to run around Norrtalje in the oppressive heat, dutifully fetching and carrying. He had hoped to come home to a little peace and quiet. But now there was something new. Anna did not answer. He wanted to poke at her with his foot, but restrained himself.

'Come on, what is it?'

Anna's eyes were swollen, red. Her voice was only a whisper through layers of old tears. 'He's alive…'

'Yes. I know.' Mahler picked up the baby bottle, shook it. There was a pinch of undissolved sugar at the bottom. 'Have you given him this?'

Anna nodded mutely. 'He drank.'

'Yes, well, that's wonderful.'

'He sucked.'

'Yes.'

Mahler knew he should be more enthusiastic about this news than he could manage; his head was a daze of sleep deprivation, exhaustion and heat.

'Can you help me unload the rest?'

Anna lifted her head and looked at him. For a long time. Regarded him as if he were a creature from another planet that she was trying to understand. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and said, annoyed, 'I have frozen food that will melt if we don't…'

'I'll get it,' Anna said and stood up. 'I'll unpack. The frozen stuff.'

There was something that needed to be said at this point. Something had gone wrong. He did not have the energy to think. When Anna went to the car he locked himself in his room and lay down on the bed. Distractedly he noted that the room had been cleaned while he was gone. Only the tangles of cobwebs in the cornices betrayed the fact that no one had lived here for a while. In a daze he heard Anna come in, the rustle of paper bags as she put things away in the kitchen.

The larger bag says it all…

He wasn't sleeping, but his body sank slowly down to the point where he jerked, a click and he opened his eyes, feeling much more alert than he had all day. He lay in bed for a while, enjoying the fact that he no longer felt as if he had sand under his eyelids. Then he got up and went out into the kitchen.

Anna was sitting at the kitchen table reading one of the books he had checked out of the library.

'Hello,' he said. 'What are you reading?'

Anna showed him the cover: Autism and Play, then returned to her reading.

He hesitated for an instant, then walked into the bedroom and stopped short. Elias was lying in bed with a baby bottle that he was holding by himself. Mahler blinked, walked closer.

It was probably only his imagination, sparked by the fact that Elias was doing something that any child could do, but he thought Elias' face looked slightly… more healthy. Not as stiff and hard, not as old man-like. As if a smidgen of light and relief had spread across the dry skin.

The eyes were still closed and with the bottle in his mouth it looked mOre as if he was… savouring it. Mahler sank to his knees by the bed.

'Elias?'

No answer, not a single movement that indicated that Elias saw or heard. But his lips were moving in a barely perceptible sucking motion and his throat was swallowing. Mahler reached out his hand and gently touched the curly hair. It was soft and smooth under his hand.

Anna had put the book down and was looking out the window on the wall of pine trees and the lone, tall ash tree where the sketch of a tree house-some planks and boards-was attached between the branches. She and Elias had started to build it last summer; Mahler was not one to climb up ladders.

Mahler stopped behind her and said, 'Fantastic.'

'What? The treehouse?'

'No. The fact that he's drinking. By himself.'

'Yes.'

Mahler took a deep breath, and let it out again. Then said, 'Forgive me.'

'For what?'

'Because I…I don't know. For everything.' Anna shook her head.

'It is what it is.'

'Yes. Would you like some whisky?'

'Yes.' Mahler poured a little in two glasses, then put them on the table. He raised his to Anna and said, 'Truce? For now?'

'Truce. For now.'

When they had each swallowed a sip, they sighed at the exact same time which made both of them smile. Anna told him how she had massaged Elias' hands and fingers for a long time until they felt softer, how she had then put the bottle in his hands.

Mahler told her about Aronsson, that they had to be careful, and Anna made a terrible face, mimicking Aronsson's inquisitorial expression.

Mahler picked up the book that Anna had been reading, asked, 'What do you think?'

'It's good. But this whole… training routine that they describe, it's for…' Anna's voice faltered, 'for healthier children.' She covered her face in her hands. 'He's in such a bad way.' The air pushed out of her lungs in a convulsive exhalation.

Mahler stood up, came up next to her and held her shoulder and head against his stomach. She let him. He stroked her hair and whispered, 'It will be fine…It will be fine… just look at what happened today.' She pressed her head against him and he said, 'We have to have hope.'

Anna nodded against his stomach.

'I do. And that's what's so terribly fucking painful.'

Suddenly she jerked away, wiped her eyes and got up, said, 'Come on.'

Mahler followed her into the bedroom. They sank down onto Elias' bed next to each other. Anna said, 'Hi sweetie. Now both of us are here.' She turned to Mahler. 'Dad. Look at his face. Tell me if I'm crazy.'

Mahler looked. Whatever it was he had seen when Elias was holding the bottle was gone. His face was closed, lifeless. His heart sank. Anna turned down the sheet. Mahler saw that she had dressed him in a pair of his old pyjamas that had been left at the cottage and that only reached to his knees.

Anna placed the index and middle fingers of one hand on Elias' thigh. Then she started to walk her fingers up toward his belly while she sang:

A mouse is coming… it crawls and walks…

She walked her fingers across his hip.

It crawls and walks… and suddenly it says…

She poked Elias' bellybutton.

PEEP!

And Mahler saw. Only a suggestion, like a faint twitch. But it was there.

Elias smiled.

Taby Municipality 18.00

Hagar patted her right knee.

'We'll have rain, I think. I've felt it in this old knee all afternoon.'

Elvy leaned against the window and looked out. Yes. She didn't need a psychic knee to know something was coming. The cloud masses were close enough to block the sun arid turn the afternoon to evening. The air was loaded with static. To Elvy it could only mean one thing. She rinsed out the empty tea cups and said out loud, 'We have to go out this evening.'

Hagar nodded in agreement. She was prepared. Over the telephone Elvy had told her to wear something decent, in case it turned out that they needed to get started on their task immediately.

The dark blue silk dress with tiny stars that Hagar had chosen was perhaps a little showy for Elvy's taste, but Hagar had said it was a 'momentous occasion' and she could hardly argue with that.

Hagar had no doubts. When Elvy told her about the vision, she chuckled with delight and congratulated her. That Mary would show herself at the End of Days wasn't unexpected; that it was be Elvy to whom she'd shown herself just meant Elvy was enormously lucky, but then people you'd never heard of won millions in the lottery, so…

Truth be told, Elvy was not completely pleased with how lightly Hagar was treating the whole thing. Putting on her party frock, then making this comparison with the lottery.

The encounter with Mary had been a profound shock for Elvy, probably the biggest thing that had ever happened to her. But Hagar only looked at the wound in her forehead, clapped her hands together and said, 'How marvellous! How wonderful!' Elvy nursed a suspicion that Hagar would have reacted similarly if she said she had been abducted by aliens. It was as if Hagar was overjoyed that something was happening, regardless of what it was.