John Lindqvist - Let The Right One In aka Let Me In

"No. But if you could… roll him out while he's still sleeping."

The nurse looked at Lacke as if to determine if it was even physically possible, then smiled, shook her head and said: "I think this will be alright. We'll take your temperature orally, so you don't have to feel…"

"It's not that. Couldn't you just… do what I'm asking?"

The nurse cast a glance at her watch.

"You'll have to excuse me, but I have other patients and I-"

Virginia snapped, as loud as she dared:

"Please!"

The nurse took half a step back. She had clearly been informed of Virginia's actions during the night. Her eyes quickly went to the bindings holding Virginia's arms. She appeared to be reassured by what she saw, went back up to the bed. Now she talked to Virginia as if she was weak in the head.

"You see… I need… we need, in order to be able to help you get better again, just a little…"

Virginia closed her eyes, sighed, gave up. Then she said: "Would you be so kind as to open the blinds?"

The nurse nodded and walked over to the window. Virginia took the opportunity to kick off the blanket, exposing her body. Held her breath. Kept her eyes tightly shut.

It was over. Now she wanted to turn off. The same function she had been resisting all morning she now consciously tried to let forth. But she

couldn't. Instead she experienced that thing that you heard about: seeing your life pass before you like a strip of film in fast forward.

The bird I had in the cardboard box… the smell of freshly mangled sheets in the laundry room… my mother leaning over the cinnamon bun crumbs… my father… the smoke from his pipe… Per… the cottage… Len and I, the big mushroom we found that summer… Ted with mashed blueberries on his cheek… Lacke, his back… Lacke…

A clattering noise as the blinds were raised, and she was sucked down into a sea of fire.

Oskar's mom had woken him up at ten past seven, the usual. He had climbed out of bed and had breakfast, as usual. He had put his clothes on and then hugged his mom good-bye at half past seven, as usual.

He felt like normal.

Filled with anxiety, dread, sure. But even that wasn't unusual when he was heading back to school after the weekend.

He packed his geography book, the atlas, and the photocopy he had not finished. Was ready at twenty-five minutes to eight. Didn't need to leave for fifteen minutes. Should he sit down and do that worksheet anyway? No. Didn't have the energy.

He sat down at his desk, stared at the wall.

This must mean he wasn't infected? Or was there an incubation period? No. That old man… that had only taken a few hours.

I'm not infected.

He should be happy, relieved. But he wasn't. The phone rang.

Eli! Something has happened to…

He shot up from the table, out into the hall, yanked up the telephone receiver.

"HithisisOskar!"

"Oh… hello there."

Dad. It was only Dad.

"Hi."

"Well, so… you're at home."

"About to leave for school."

"Right, in that case I won't… Is your mother home?"

"No, she's left for work."

"I see, I thought as much."

Oskar got it. That was why he was calling at this strange time: because he knew Mom wasn't home. His dad cleared his throat.

"So I was thinking… about what happened Saturday night. It was a bit… unfortunate."

"Yes."

"Yes. Did you tell your mother about… what happened?"

"What do you think?"

There was silence on the other end. The static crackle from one hundred kilometers of telephone lines. Crows sitting on them, shivering, while people's conversations darted past under their feet. His dad cleared his throat again.

"You know, I asked about those ice skates and it worked out. You can have them."

"I have to go now."

"Yes, of course. Hope you… have a good day at school."

"OK. Bye."

Oskar put the receiver down, picked up his bag and left for school.

He felt nothing.

Five minutes left until the lesson started and quite a few members of the class were standing in the corridor outside the classroom. Oskar hesitated for a moment, then tossed his bag onto his shoulder and walked toward the door. All eyes turned toward him.

Running the gauntlet. Gang attack.

Yes, he had feared the worst. Everyone knew what had happened to Jonny on Thursday, of course, and even though he couldn't pick Jonny's face out of the crowd it was Micke's version they had heard on Friday. And Micke was there, with his idiot grin pasted on his face, like usual.

Instead of slowing down, preparing to escape in some way, he lengthened his stride, walking quickly toward the classroom. He was empty inside. He didn't care what happened anymore. It wasn't important.

And sure enough: a miracle occurred. The sea parted.

The group assembled outside the door broke up, created room for Oskar to get to the door. He had not expected anything else actually. If it was because of some strength emanating or because he was a stinking pariah who had to be avoided; it didn't matter.

He was different now. They sensed it, and slunk back.

Oskar walked into the classroom without looking to either side, sat down at his desk. He heard murmuring from the corridor and after a few minutes they streamed back in. Johan gave him the thumbs up when he walked past. Oskar shrugged.

Then the teacher came in and five minutes after the lesson started, Jonny arrived. Oskar had expected him to have some kind of bandage over his ear, but there wasn't anything. The ear was, however, dark red, swollen, and didn't look like it belonged to his body.

Jonny took his seat. He didn't look at Oskar, didn't look at anyone.

He is ashamed.

Yes, that must be it. Oskar turned his head to look at Jonny, who pulled a photo album out of his backpack and slipped it into his desk. And he saw that Jonny's cheeks had turned bright red, matching his ear. Oskar thought about poking his tongue out at him, but decided against it.

Too childish.

Tommy started school at quarter to nine on Mondays so at eight o'clock Staffan got up and had a quick cup of coffee before he went down to have his man-to-man talk with the boy.

Yvonne had already left for work; Staffan himself was supposed to report for duty at nine in Judarn in order to continue a search of the forest, an undertaking he sensed would be fruitless.

Well, it would feel good to be outside and it looked like the weather was going to be decent. He rinsed the coffee cup out under the tap, deliberated for a moment, then went and put on his uniform. Had considered going down to see Tommy in his normal clothes, talk to him like a normal person, so to speak. But, strictly speaking, this was a police matter, vandalism, and anyway, the uniform imbued him with a shell of authority

that he, although he didn't think he lacked in his everyday person, nonetheless… well.

And anyway it was practical to be ready for work since he was heading off to work after this. So Staffan pulled on his work clothes, the winter jacket, checked in the mirror to see the impression he made and found it pleasing. Then he took the cellar key that Yvonne had put out for him on the kitchen table, walked out, closed the door, checked the lock (work habit) and walked down the stairs, unlocked the door to the cellar. And speaking of work…

There was something wrong with this door. No resistance when he turned the key, the door could simply be opened. He crouched down and checked the mechanism. Aha. A wad of paper.

A classic trick of burglars: make up some excuse to visit a place you wanted to rob, tamper with the lock, and then hope the owner wouldn't notice it when they left.