Юхан Теорин - The Asylum

Then he switches on one of the Angels, the transmitter, and hangs it on a hook on the wall between Leo’s and Matilda’s beds.

Leo moves slightly and mumbles something to himself, but doesn’t wake up.

Jan creeps out of the room and switches on the other Angel, the receiver. The speaker on the front is small and round, and completely silent. When Jan holds it up to his ear, he hears nothing but a faint rushing sound. It rises and falls, like little waves gently lapping against the curve of a sandy shore. Presumably it is the children’s breathing he can hear — he hopes so.

With the Angel attached to his belt he walks around the building, making up his bed and brushing his teeth.

Of course he could always try to convince himself that he has bought the Angels to help him monitor the children when he is asleep, but at quarter to twelve he takes a key card out of the drawer in the kitchen and opens the door leading to the basement.

He switches on the light, looks down the stairs and suddenly remembers a few lines by Rami:

Jan takes one step down the stairs. He’s just going to go down and have a little look. He listens. Silence — even the Angel’s little speaker is silent.

Calmly and cautiously he walks down the stairs and into the corridor.

No cameras here . Marie-Louise said there were no CCTV cameras down in the basement. He believes her. He is invisible. Jan’s shadow glides along beneath the strip-lights, but he cannot be seen.

The brightly coloured animal pictures are still on the wall, but the one with the mice is slightly crooked. He quickly straightens it.

The lift is waiting, as if it has been summoned just for him. He stands in front of the door, thinking. What if he were to step inside, press the button and let the lift carry him upwards, straight up to the corridors of St Psycho’s?

Do they have a camera by the door of the lift up there? Maybe, maybe not. If not, he could just go up and step out, see what happens. Pretend he got lost. Or that he’s one of the patients...

But Jan doesn’t open the door. He listens to the Angel, even turns up the volume, but it remains silent. He wants to whisper a faint ‘Hello?’ into the speaker.

You can hear the child , the assistant said, but the child can’t hear you .

You can do whatever you like , thinks Jan. He walks past the lift and carries on along the corridor. He turns the corner and is faced by the second steel door, the wider one. The one that leads to the safe room.

He reaches out his hand, presses down the heavy handle — and it gives a bit. He grabs hold of it with both hands and pushes harder. Something clicks, and the heavy door is ajar: he can move it. It is stiff, but slowly it swings wide open.

The safe room inside is in total darkness. No windows.

Jan holds one arm out in front of him, cautiously feeling his way along the cold concrete wall. He takes one step into the room, still feeling his way, and eventually he finds the light switch. The strip-light on the ceiling flickers into life. He is standing at one end of a long, rectangular room, like a wide corridor — it extends some twelve or fifteen metres. This is where the patients will sit, if war comes.

Jan takes another step forward. But the next second a loud voice bounces off the bare walls.

‘ Mummy? ’

Jan gives a start. The metallic cry is coming from the speaker attached to his belt; it sounds like a little girl’s voice. Matilda, perhaps.

He holds his breath and listens. He doesn’t hear any more cries, just a soft scraping noise, but if the children are waking up he can’t stay down here.

His nerves are getting the better of him, but Jan ventures one last curious look at the safe room. It is almost completely empty, with a blue fitted carpet and white walls, but there is a mattress on the floor, along with a few pillows.

And on the left at the far end of the room Jan notices another wide door. It is also made of steel, and it is closed. Is it unlocked? He can’t tell.

Who is waiting on the other side? Alice Rami? Ivan Rössel, the serial killer?

‘ Mummy? ’ Matilda is calling out again, and Jan turns around. He quickly closes the door of the safe room and hurries back along the corridor. Right now it feels as if coming down here at all was absolutely the wrong thing to do.

Two minutes later he locks the door leading to St Patricia’s basement and goes straight to the children’s room.

Jan opens the door and listens in the darkness. All is silent once more. He tiptoes into the middle of the room and stands there for several minutes, but none of the children move. They are fast asleep. He listens to their breathing and tries to calm himself, tries to slow his own breathing to match theirs, but it is difficult.

He ought to follow their example and get some sleep. It is ten past twelve.

He will go to sleep. Otherwise the risk is that he will stay up later and later, turning the day upside down.

But he doesn’t really want to get into bed or to go to sleep. He is thinking.

It’s a mind game, which is exactly how that business with William in the forest started. Jan is thinking about how he can get into St Psycho’s, without anyone seeing him and without the children being affected.

The hour is late and as sluggish as treacle in Bill’s Bar, but his recent shift pattern at the pre-school has turned Jan into a night owl. On his mornings off he has slept until ten, then in the evenings stayed up until well after midnight. A new lifestyle for him, but in spite of the fact that he hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol, he is always tired.

The Bohemos have just finished playing after a whole hour of jamming, and Jan’s glass of alcohol-free beer is almost empty. At the next table two young men are energetically discussing self-defence.

‘What about a knife, then?’ one of them says.

‘A knife is a whole different ball game,’ says the other. ‘You can’t defend yourself if he’s got a knife.’

‘No, I know that, but...’

‘I mean, if you come at him with your fists he’ll just slash them to bits.’

The first man laughs. ‘In that case I’d better make sure I’ve got a sword!’

Jan doesn’t attempt to join in the conversation, he just finishes his beer. There is no sign of anyone he knows in here tonight; no Lilian or Hanna. No one. He has no friends, and he is ready to go home alone. And sleep. Alone.

Suddenly a shadow falls over his table. ‘Hi.’

Jan looks up. A man about his own age has stopped opposite him. A total stranger with black eyebrows and a blond ponytail.

No, come to think of it, Jan recognizes him — he’s one of the Bohemos. The lead singer. He’s taken off the leather jacket he always wears on stage, and is now dressed in a white cotton sweater with a towel looped around his neck. After a long evening under the spotlights both are drenched in sweat.

‘How’s things?’ he says.

Jan doesn’t quite know what to say, but opens his mouth anyway. ‘Fine.’

The singer sits down at the table. His voice is slightly hoarse after the gig, but it is warm and friendly. He wipes his forehead with one end of the towel. ‘We don’t know each other,’ he says. ‘I know that... but it’s cool.’

‘Absolutely,’ Jan answers uncertainly.

‘But I’ve seen you,’ the singer goes on. ‘Have you seen me?’

‘No... what exactly do you mean?’

‘I’ve seen you through the fence, when I’m doing my other job. You’ve started cycling to the pre-school now, haven’t you?’