John Lindqvist - Handling The Undead

So why the fence?

She heaved her backpack over, grateful that her favourite sneakers had fallen apart and she'd worn her boots; their narrow points fit perfectly into the wide links and she was over in ten seconds. She crouched down on the other side-pointlessly, since she stood out like a swan on a telephone wire-and eventually concluded that her break-in didn't seem to have triggered any activity. She wrestled her pack back on and walked toward the buildings.

Koholma 12.30

Mahler had been prepared for the situation they now found themselves in. The boat at the dock was bailed out and fuelled up. He laid Elias down, stepped into the boat and took the bags and the cooler Anna held out to him.

'Life jackets,' Anna said. 'We don't have time.'

Mahler saw the vests hanging on the hooks in the shed, saw also that Elias had outgrown his.

'He's lighter now,' Anna said.

Mahler shook his head and stowed the bags. Together they made a bed for Elias on the floor with a blanket and Anna cast off while Mahler tried to start the engine. It was an antique twenty horsepower Penta and as Mahler pulled the cord he wondered if there were any statistics on exactly how many heart attacks troublesome outboard motors had caused through the ages.

… don't av… ight… ack… elker

After eight futile attempts he had to take a break. He sat in the stern and rested his arms on his knees.

'Anna? Did you just say, "You don't have the right knack, Mr Melker?'"

'No,' Anna said. 'But I was thinking it.'

'Ah.'

Mahler looked at Elias. His shrivelled face was unmoving, the half-closed black eyes staring at the sky. During their walk down to the dock Mahler had felt very clearly what he had earlier only guessed: that Elias was lighter, much lighter since that night four days ago when he had risen from his grave.

There was no time to think. How long would it take before Aronsson called, before someone came? He rubbed his eyes; a faint headache was starting.

'Take it easy,' Anna said. 'I'm sure it'll take at least half an hour.'

'Can you please stop,' Mahler said.

'Stop what?'

'Stop… being in my head. I get it. You don't have to prove it.'

Anna said nothing as she crawled down from the bench and sat down on the blanket next to Elias. The sweat ran into Mahler's eyes, stinging. He turned to the motor and jerked so forcefully on the rope that he thought it would snap. Instead the engine roared into life. He eased the choke, put it in drive and they glided off.

Anna sat with her cheek lightly resting against Elias' head. Her lips were moving. Mahler brushed the sweat out of his eyes and felt there was a secret here he was not privy to. He had read about the telepathic phenomena with regard to the reliving but he couldn't read Anna. Why not, when his own consciousness was an open book to her?

The wind, as promised by the shipping forecast, was weak to moderate. The waves clucked against the plastic hull as they zoomed out of the sound. Occasional breakers could be seen out in the bay.

'Where are we headed?' Anna shouted.

Mahler did not reply, simply thinking Labbsle.ir Island in defiance.

Anna nodded. Mahler turned the throttle up full.

It wasn't until they reached the Finland ferry route and Mahler had checked that there were no ferries around that he realised he had forgotten to bring the map. He closed his eyes and visualised their course.

Fejan… Sundsledr… Remmargrundet…

As long as they could follow the ferry route there were no problems. And he seemed to remember that the radio mast on Manskar would be right ahead of them until it was time to turn south. Then it got harder. The waters around Harnnskar were treacherous and lined with reefs.

He glanced at Anna and received an inscrutable look in return. She knew that they did not have the map and were in danger of getting lost. Probably she also saw the outline of the map he was trying to sketch inside his head. It was unpleasant, like being watched through a two-way mirror. He didn't like the fact that she could read his thoughts. He didn't like the fact that she could read that he didn't like the fact that she could read his thoughts. He didn't like the fact that…

Stop it!

That's just how it is. For an instant when he had started the motor he had heard her. Why only then? What had he done in that moment that had led to…

He looked up and felt his heart lurch. He did not recognise their surroundings. The islands gliding past were nondescript, unfamiliar. A couple of seconds after he thought this, Anna sat up and looked over the railing. Mahler's gaze roved across the blurring landmasses with growing panic. Nothing. Just islands. It was like waking up in an unfamiliar room where you'd passed out drunk: complete disorientation, the feeling of being in another world.

Anna pointed across the port railing and shouted, 'Is that Botveskar?'

Mahler squinted through the sun glitter, saw the white dot at the very tip of the island. Botveskar? In that case the dot straight ahead was Rankarogrund and… yes. The map fell into place. He veered east and within a minute he was back in the main passage again. He looked at Anna, thought thank you . Anna nodded and returned to Elias.

After travelling in silence for a quarter of an hour they drew close to Remmargrund. Mahler was looking south, trying to find the inlet where they should turn in, when he heard a sound through the roar of the motor.

A deep, bassy thumping sound. He looked around but there was no sign of the ferry he was expecting to see.

Foumfoumfoum.

Was it in his head? The sound was completely different from the whining that had shot through him in the kitchen. He turned back again and this time he managed to glimpse the source of the sound: a helicopter. The instant he formed the mental picture helicopter, Anna sank to the floor and pulled the blanket over Elias.

Mahler tried to sift through various courses of action and found there was only one: sit still and do nothing. They were alone in a little boat out at sea. It was not possible to hide or defend themselves in any way. The helicopter-a military helicopter, he now saw-was almost overhead and movie images began to flash through his head: a thumb on the trigger, rockets, cascades of water, the boat shattering, the three of them flying metres up into the air, perhaps catching a glimpse of the earth from another perspective before everything went black.

Sweden , he thought. Sweden . That sort of thing doesn't happen here.

The helicopter passed them and Mahler tensed, expecting a voice in a megaphone, Turn off the engine or something, but the helicopter continued, turning abruptly southward and becoming smaller and smaller. Mahler laughed with relief as he simultaneously cursed himself.

The islands. Freedom. Indeed. And less than a nautical mile from the outermost part of the archipelago which housed the large military base at Hamnskar. But did that matter?

Where do you hide the letter that mustn't be found? In the waste basket, of course.

Perhaps it would be an advantage.

He kept his gaze trained on the shrinking helicopter and then spotted the inlet, swerved and followed in the tracks of the enemy.

The water level was so low that many of the most hazardous reefs stuck up above the surface, or appeared as greenish patches over which the waves broke differently. To his amazement, he remembered the way quite well. After another twenty minutes at half-speed they were there.

His biggest concern was that there would be people in the cottage. Mahler didn't think it was likely at this time of year, but he couldn't be certain. He throttled back, gliding through the narrow sound between the islands at a couple of knots. No boat was tied to the dock and that was more or less cast-iron proof that no one was there.