John Lindqvist - Handling The Undead

David shook his head. His head turned back and forth on the pillow and he said, 'You can't go.'

Eva's mouth smiled, but her eyes were sad.

'We'll see each other again,' she said. 'It will take a few years, that's all. Don't be afraid.'

He shook off his blankets, held his arms out to the bedroom ceiling, he reached out his arms for her on the lawn and a piercing cry came between them.

The lawn, the canal, the boat, the light and Eva were sucked up, shrinking to a single point and he opened his eyes. He was lying in Magnus' bed with his arms outstretched. From his right he heard a whining sound almost loud enough to deafen him; he was not permitted to look in that direction. A white caterpillar lay curled up on his stomach.

The scent of cheap perfume filled the room and he knew it, he recognised it. He saw a hint of pink out of the corner of his eye. His head was locked, he could not turn it to see his own image of Death, the woman in the grocery store. A hand reached into his field of vision. Colourful bracelets hung from the wrist and at the tips of the fingers there were hooks.

No! No!

His hands flew out, cupped over the caterpillar. The hooks halted, some ten centimetres from his hand. They were not permitted to touch him, he was a living. The caterpillar wriggled, tickling the palm of his hand and through the skin of his hand, in through the flesh and into his bones, there came a plea:

Let me go.

David shook his head, he tried to shake his head. He wanted to jump out of his bed with the caterpillar cupped in his hands, escape the house, get away from the Earth, the very world where things must be this way. But he was paralysed with fear as Death stood by his bedside. And he refused to let go.

The caterpillar swelled under his hand. The hooks slowly pulled back out of sight. The plea grew weaker, Eva's voice faded away, layer upon layer of darkness was coming between her and the part of him that could hear her. Only a whisper:

If you love me… . let me go. …

David let out a sob and lifted his hands. 'I love you.'

The caterpillar on his stomach was swollen now, pink. It looked sick. Dying.

What have I done, what have I. …

The hooks were there again, the hook on the index finger drilled into the caterpillar, lifted it up and David's mouth shaped around a scream but before it came something happened.

Where the hook had entered the caterpillar, a crack opened. The hand lingered before his eyes, as if to show him what was happening now. The crack widened and he saw that the caterpillar was not a caterpillar but a pupa. A head was emerging from the crack, no bigger than the head of a pin.

The butterfly made its way out of the pupa and the dry shell fell away, dissolving. It sat motionless on the hook for a moment, as if to dry its wings or display itself, then it lifted, flying upward. David followed it with his eyes and saw it disappear through the ceiling.

When he looked down again the hand with the hooks was gone and the whining noise had abated. He stared up at the ceiling, toward the point where the butterfly had disappeared.

Disappeared.

Magnus moved next to him. In his sleep he said, 'Mummy… ' David got up out of bed, careful not to wake Magnus. He closed the door behind him so he wouldn't hear. Then he lay down on the kitchen floor and cried until the tears dried up and he was empty. The world was empty again.

I believe.

There is a place where happiness exists. A place, and a time.

The Heath 22.35

Flora had changed her mind.

She found it natural, now, that the body must require a soul even for a simple act like standing up. Even more remarkable, the soul required a body. What remained here of Eva was something that could be burned, or buried like so much rubbish.

Why are we born? What is the point?

That was the great mystery and of this Flora knew nothing. It was not included in the science of Death. Flora remained kneeling for a couple of minutes beside the vacated body and heard the whole area in uproar around her.

1 can't go on…

It was absurd. This morning she had been smoking and chatting with Maja as usual, now she was supposed to be saving souls…

Saving?

She didn't know anything about it. The only thing she knew about the Place they were going was that it was a place you couldn't know anything about unless you were there. And that there was Another Place, about which nothing could be said, ever.

Why her? Why Elvy? Nana…

It was at least twenty minutes since she had called Elvy. She might already be standing at the gates. Even though Flora was afraid to go out, she ran down the stairs. All at once she felt like a little girl again. Nana would tell her, Nana would know what had to be done.

But I am the one who knows…

Life would never be the same after this.

The courtyard was deserted. No. The man without legs, the one she had encountered on the stairs, had got no further than the main entrance and was still dragging himself along by the arms. All around her there was calm, but the clamour inside her head was indescribable. An insane cacophony of cries, prayers, anger, pleas for help, howls of hatred.

She ran over to the man, crouched down and put her hand on his back, sent her knowledge into him, but the man resisted. He did not want to leave his wreck of a body. Instead he turned around and struck out at her hand, tried to grab her, baring his teeth.

Come on, you idiot. Don't you get it…

Impotent rage bubbled up inside her; she jumped back as the man's wrath and bitterness clicked in with her own, each feeding the other's. She measured a kick at his face but managed to control herself; she left him there.

She reached the other side of the courtyard entrance and stopped abruptly.

All of the dead had left their yards and were moving toward the fence. The field was boiling with people. The gates were wide open and a number of police SWAT teams had already driven in, more arriving as she watched. Police officers jumped out with weapons drawn. The dead were trying to move toward the gates but were being held at bay by the police. As yet no shots had been fired but it was only a matter of time. There was maybe one police officer for thirty dead.

Have to…

Flora ran toward the seething mass. When the legless man had turned to her and bared his teeth she had seen something inside him. Hunger. He had used up his own flesh and needed more to sustain his non-existence. It was possible he would have let himself starve to death if he had not been met by this anger from the outside, driving him to satisfy himself. Now he was crawling as fast as he could toward the source of the anger.

Flora reached a young police officer surrounded by the dead and threw herself forward-a second after she felt his consciousness give way-to avoid the gunfire he was pumping into the bodies around her.

He might as well have been using a cap gun. The effect was the same even if the bangs were louder. There were small tugs at the flesh of the dead as the bullets hit, but they didn't miss a step. Within a couple of seconds the policeman had disappeared in a mass of thin arms, legs, blue clothes.

Now there were shots from several directions. Flora reached the gates and ran past a SWAT unit where a policewoman in the front seat was shouting something about back-up into her radio. Flora ran on down the road and after a hundred metres saw Elvy hurrying along the muddy path.

The pistol shots were now distant, muffled cracks as if there was a New Year's Eve party somewhere far behind her. She caught up with her grandmother, took her hand and said, 'Come.'