John Lindqvist - Handling The Undead

'I'm planning to go out there when it opens,' Flora said.

'Where? The Heath? I'll come with you.'

'1 don't think you'll get in. Only family… '

'That's the kind of thing I'm talking about. How are you going to prove that you're family, then?'

'I don't know.'

Maja put out the cigarette by rolling it between her index finger and thumb. She stopped, cocked her head to one side and squinted at Flora.

'And what reason do you have to go there, anyway?'

'I don't know. 1 just… I have to go. Have to see what it's like.' 'You've got a thing about death, haven't you?'

'Hasn't everyone?'

Maja looked at her for a couple of seconds and then said, 'No.'

'Yes.'

'No.'

Flora shrugged. 'You have no idea what you're talking about.' Maja grinned and sent the butt flying in an arc towards a rubbish bin. Amazingly, it went in. Flora applauded and Maja put an arm around her shoulders.

'Do you know what you are?' Flora shook her head. 'No.'

'Pretentious. A little bit. I like it.'

They walked around and talked for another couple of hours. Then they parted and Flora took the subway to Tensta.

Taby Municipality 09.30

'We have to take the chance to argue our case when there are this many people gathering.'

'But will anyone listen to us?'

'I'm certain they will.'

'How will they hear us?'

'They'll have loudspeakers.'

'Do you think we'll be allowed to use them?'

'Let me put it this way: when Jesus drove the moneylenders out of the temple, do you think he asked permission? Excuse me, do you mind if I push this table over?'

The others laughed and Mattias folded his arms across his chest, pleased. Elvy was standing with her head resting against the door post, watching them in the kitchen, discussing the day's strategy. She did not take part. The last couple of days she had been feeling weak. It came from sleeplessness and the sleeplessness came from doubt.

She lay awake at night and struggled to hold on to her vision, to stop it from fading and receding into the jumble of images. Tried to understand.

Their only salvation is to come to me…

After the modest success of the first evening, the fishing for souls

had stalled. Once the first shock had died down and it appeared that society was in fact capable of handling the situation, people were less willing to come on board. Elvy had only participated that first day. On the second day she was too tired.

'What do you think, Elvy?'

Mattias' round, childlike face turned toward her. It took Elvy a couple of seconds to understand what he was asking. Seven pairs of eyes watched her. As well as Mattias, the only man among them, there was Hagar, Greta, the neighbour woman and the other woman who had come the first evening. Elvy could not remember her name. Then there were two sisters, Ingegerd and Esmeralda, who were friends with the nameless woman. They were the ones who were here for the morning meeting. Other sympathisers would join them later.

'I think… ' Elvy said. 'I think…I don't know what I think.'

Mattias frowned. Wrong answer. Elvy absentmindedly rubbed the scab on her forehead.

'You'll have to decide what you think is best and then… that's what we'll do. I think I have to go and lie down.'

Mattias caught up with her outside her bedroom door. He gently

grabbed her shoulder.

'Elvy. This is your conviction, your vision. That is what we are here for.'

'Yes, I know.'

'Don't you believe in this anymore?'

'Yes. It is just that…1 don't quite have the energy.'

Mattias put his hand on his cheek, his gaze sliding over Elvy's face. From the cut to her eyes, back to the cut.

'I believe in you. I believe you have a mission, an important one.'

Elvy nodded.

‘Yes. It’s just that…I don’t quiet know what it is’

‘Why don’t you lie down for a while. We’ll take care of this. We’re leaving in one hour Have you seen the flyers?’

'Yes.' Mattias stood there, waiting for something more. Elvy added, 'They look very good,' and went to the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Without undressing, she crawled in under the bedspread and pulled it up to her nose. Her eyes wandered around the room. Nothing was changed. She held her hands up to her eyes.

These are my hands.

She wiggled her fingers.

My fingers. They're moving.

The telephone rang in the hall. She could not be bothered to get up and answer. Someone, perhaps Esmeralda, picked up the receiver and said something.

There is nothing special about me.

Was it always like this?

The saints, the ones who had fought and died in the name of the Lord, Francis dancing eagerly before the pope, Birgitta burning with a holy fire in her cell. Did they have such doubts? Were there days when Birgitta thought she had misunderstood something, that she had made the whole thing up? Times when Francis just wanted to send his disciples away with a 'leave me in peace, I have nothing of value to say'?

There was no one to ask, they were all dead and settled into legend, their humanness long gone.

But she had seen.

Perhaps there were others who had seen, thousands through the ages. Perhaps what set the saints apart-the holy women and men-was that they held fast to what they had seen, not allowing their realisation to fade and

die, but they held on, held on and refused to let go, saw forgetfulness as a tool of the devil and held on. Maybe this was the secret.

Elvy took hold of the bedspread, squeezing it hard.

Yes, Lord. I will hold on.

She shut her eyes and tried to rest. By the time her body finally

started to relax, it was time to go.

Koholma 11.00

Elias had made progress. Great progress.

The first day he had not shown the slightest interest in the exercises from the book that Mahler tried to go through with him. Mahler had held out a shoe box and said, 'I wonder what there is in here?' and Elias had not moved, either before or after he opened the lid and showed him the little stuffed dog.

Mahler had put a brightly coloured top on Elias' night stand and set it in motion. The top spun itself out and then fell to the floor. Elias did not even follow it with his gaze. But Mahler kept going. The fact that Elias reached out for the bottle when it was brought to him indicated that he was capable of reacting, if he had a reason.

Anna did not object to the training program, but showed no enthusiasm either. She sat with Elias for hours; slept on a mattress on his floor. But she did nothing concrete, Mahler felt, to improve his condition.

It was the remote-controlled car that broke the ice. The second day Mahler put in fresh batteries and directed it into Elias' room, hoping the sight of the toy he had been so fond of would bring something in him to life. It did. As soon as the car banged into the room something happened to the way Elias held his body. Then he followed the car in its journey around the room. When Mahler brought it to a stop, Elias put his hand out for it.

Mahler did not give it to him, he let it drive around a couple more times. Then what Mahler had been hoping for happened. Slowly, slowly, as if he were wading through mud, Elias started to get up out of bed. When the car stopped, Elias halted for a moment, then continued to make his way up.

'Anna! Come take a look!'

Anna came up in time to see Elias drag his legs over the edge of the bed. She clapped her hand over her mouth, screamed and ran over to him.

'Don't stop him,' Mahler said. 'Help him.'

Anna held Elias under his arms and he got to his feet. With Anna's support he took a tentative step toward the car. Mahler drove it up a few centimetres, then back again. Elias took another step. When he was almost there and held out his hand, Mahler drove the car away, to the door.