John Lindqvist - Handling The Undead

It was hard to collect your thoughts, too; hard to concentrate. As soon as David thought he had understood the system, other people's confusion broke into his own-other numbers, other consciousnesses-and it was like trying to do mental arithmetic next to someone reciting random numbers. And if it wasn't numbers, searching, then it was fear, a great trepidation rumbling at the base of it all.

A drink. Alcohol. Calm.

An incredible desire for alcohol sank its claws into him and he did not know if this longing was his own, or Sture's. It was probably a mixture of the two; a conjectural mix of wine and whisky sloshed around in a conjectural mouth.

The disconcerting thing about the telepathy was not so much the fact that he could read Sture's thoughts, Magnus' thoughts, other people's thoughts, as the fact that he didn't know which thoughts were his own. Now he understood why the situation at the hospital had been untenable.

Here, the thoughts of others were mostly fainter, a background murmur of voices, images. After ten minutes of aimless wandering he started to identify his own consciousness in the hubbub. But when the reliving had been closer together it must have been almost impossible, all the 'I' and 'me' flowing in and out of each other like watercolours.

'Dad, I'm tired,' Magnus said. 'Where is it?'

They were standing in a passageway between two courtyards.

People were walking in and out of buildings, most of them appeared to have found the right place. Sture was looking at the numbers nailed to the

wall, wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. 'Idiots,' he said. 'They needn't have bothered with the numbers. Ouch!'

Sture made a fist and raised it to his chest, stopping.

'Should I take him?' David asked.

'Yes.'

Sture looked around and opened his jacket. There was a large hole in his shirt above his heart. Balthazar was writhing inside the pocket, trying to get out. David took the rabbit, now struggling wildly between their hands, and put it into his own inside pocket, where it continued to kick.

'Are we nearly there?' Magnus asked.

David crouched down.

'We'll find it soon,' he said. 'How is everything… ' he pointed at Magnus' head, 'in here?'

Magnus rubbed his forehead. 'It's like there's a lot of people talking.'

'Yes. Is it bothering you?'

'Not so much. I'm thinking about Balthazar.'

David kissed him on the head and stood up. Paused. Something had happened. The voices were muted, almost disappeared. Inside his head he saw something he could not at first identify. Tall, yellow bending stalks and a soft warmth. The warmth came from a body right up close.

Sture stood in place, gaping and turning around and around.

He is seeing the same thing, David thought. What is it?

Sture looked at David, holding his head.

'Is this… ' he said and his eyes widened in terror. David did not understand. What he was feeling was a great sense of comfort, of calm. He could feel the heartbeat of the warm body close by-rapid heartbeats, over one hundred per minute, but nonetheless comforting.

'All these thoughts,' Sture said. 'It makes you crazy… '

Now David saw what the yellow stalks were. He had not recognised them because their size was so distorted. Even though they were as thick as fingers, it was hay. He was lying in hay next to a warm body, and the hay was so large because he himself was so little.

Balthazar.

It was the rabbit's consciousness, making a backdrop to his own. The warm body with the rapid heartbeat was its mother.

Sture came over with his hand outstretched.

'I'm happy to take him again,' he said. 'I'd rather deal with that.'

'What is it?' Magnus asked. 'Come on… '

David signalled to Sture and all three of them crouched down, forming a small circle concealing them from the world. David took Balthazar out of his pocket, holding him out to Magnus.

'Here,' he said. 'Feel.'

Magnus took the rabbit, held him up against his chest and stared unseeing into space. Sture opened his jacket, sniffed his pocket and made a face. A few dark streaks of rabbit urine could be seen on the light lining of the jacket. They sat like that for half a minute, until tears slowly rose in Magnus' eyes. David leaned forward.

'What is it, buddy?'

Magnus' eyes were shiny, he looked at Balthazar and said, 'He doesn't want to be with me. He wants to be with his mum.'

David and Sture exchanged glances and Sture said, 'Yes. But he would not have been able to do that even if he had been wild. The mother drives out the young.'

'What do you mean drives out?' Magnus asked.

'So that they have to manage on their own. Balthazar was lucky he could come to you instead.'

David did not know if this was true, but it soothed Magnus a bit. He pressed Balthazar harder against his chest and spoke as if he were talking to a baby, 'Poor little Balthazar. I will be your mother.'

Incredibly, it seemed that this declaration soothed even Balthazar. He stopped struggling and rested calmly in Magnus' hands. Sture looked around. 'Probably best if I take him anyway.'

Balthazar was put back in Sture's pocket and they continued their search. They caught sight of the number they were looking for in a courtyard, quite by chance. A sign above a door: 17 A-F.

Some minutes had passed as they sat in the passageway. The atmosphere in the area had changed, and as they walked toward the entrance they could hear glass shattering, a door slamming somewhere, isolated cries. People around them were moving more rapidly, looking over their shoulders, and a sound like a swarm of gnats somewhere nearby was growing.

'What is it?' Sture asked, staring up at the sky.

'I don't know,' David said.

Magnus tilted his head, said, 'It's a big machine.'

They could not place the sound, what it was or where it was coming from but, as Magnus had said, it sounded as if a large machine had been turned on. Perhaps a computer, the high-frequency whirring of enormous fans.

They walked through the entrance.

Instead of the usual smells of cooking, sweat and dust there was only a sterile combination of hospital and disinfectant. Everything had been wiped down until it shone and there were letters pasted on the worn doors. A and B on the ground floor. They continued up stairs slick with cleaning fluids.

Magnus moved like a sleepwalker, putting both feet on each step. David felt his fear and adjusted his own steps to match. On the landing between the two floors Magnus stopped and said, 'I want Balthazar.'

Balthazar was handed over and Magnus held him tightly to his chest so that only his little nose was visible, sniffing. The last few steps up to apartment C he walked as if under water.

The doorbell did not work, but before David knocked he tried the handle and found the door was unlocked. He stepped into an empty hallway with Sture and Magnus following behind.

'Hello?'

After a couple of seconds an elderly man appeared, carrying the evening paper. He looked like a caricature of an absentminded professor: short and thin, with tufts of grey hair sticking out above his ears, glasses perched on his nose. David liked him immediately.

'Well, well,' the man said. 'Are you…' He removed his glasses and slipped them into his chest pocket as he stepped forward, his hand outstretched. 'I'm Roy Bodstrom, We were the ones who… ' he held up his index and pinky finger to his ear to indicate a telephone.

They shook hands. Magnus drew back toward the door and tried to hide Balthazar with his arms.

'Hello,' Roy said. 'What's your name?'

'Magnus,' Magnus whispered.

'Magnus, I see. What do you have there?'

Magnus shook his head and David stepped in.

'It's his birthday today and he got a rabbit that he wanted to bring along and show… Eva. She is here, isn't she?'