Юхан Теорин - The Asylum

Rettig carries on packing away the instruments. ‘From when?’

‘Soon... next week. All the children have foster families now.’

‘OK, thanks for letting me know.’

‘But you realize what this means?’ says Jan.

‘What?’

‘That none of the staff will be there at night... So it looks as if we’ll have to stop playing postman.’

But Rettig shakes his head. ‘Just think about it, Jan.’

‘Think about what?’

‘About the fact that the Dell will be closed at night... What does it mean when something is closed?’

Jan gets up and puts down the drumsticks. He has been hard at it, and he has blisters on his fingers. ‘It means no one can get in,’ he says. ‘When something is closed, the doors are locked.’

‘Absolutely,’ says Rettig, ‘but you’ll still have a set of keys, won’t you?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘And the most important thing is that the place will be empty ... There won’t be anybody there at night, will there?’

‘Maybe not.’

‘And if someone has a key to a place that’s closed, they can just go in and do whatever they want, can’t they?’

‘I suppose so,’ says Jan. ‘As long as they don’t have some kind of surveillance.’

‘There’s no surveillance at night. I’m in charge then, remember.’ Rettig closes his guitar case and goes on: ‘But we can take a break from the deliveries if you think it’s a good idea. We’re running a major security exercise at St Patricia’s in a couple of weeks, and things usually get a bit tense up there until everything falls into place.’

Jan is thinking about everything that has happened over the past few weeks. About the strange noises in the corridors. ‘The hospital basement,’ he says. ‘Is it completely empty at night?’

‘Why do you ask?’

Jan hesitates. He doesn’t want to give anything away. ‘Dr Högsmed mentioned something about the corridors in the basement when he was showing me around,’ he says. ‘He said it was unpleasant down there.’

‘Högsmed’s the boss, but he knows nothing,’ Rettig replies. ‘He’s hardly ever been down to the basement.’

‘But is there anyone else down there?’

Rettig nods. ‘The communal areas are down there... The patients from the open wards are allowed to spend time down there without supervision. There’s a swimming pool and a small chapel and a bowling alley — a bit of everything, really.’

Jan looks at him. ‘The open wards... so those patients aren’t dangerous?’

‘Not usually,’ Rettig replies. ‘But sometimes they get ideas, and then you have to be on your guard.’

Jan knows he has to be on his guard, all the time. But Rami feels so close now, and he wants to ask Rettig one last question: ‘And if you happened to find me down there, would you sound the alarm?’

The question doesn’t go down well with Rettig. ‘You’d never get in, Jan... And why on earth would you want to get into St Patricia’s? Do you really want to know what an asylum looks like on the inside?’

‘No, no,’ Jan says quickly. ‘I was just wondering, if I did get into the hospital, would you give me away?’

‘We’re mates.’ Rettig shakes his head. ‘You don’t grass on your mates. So I wouldn’t do anything... I’d leave you alone.’ He looks at Jan. ‘But I wouldn’t be able to help you either, if someone else found you. I’d deny the whole thing, just like in that American TV series.’

Jan can’t ask for anything more. ‘OK. I’ll just have to improvise.’

‘Everybody improvises up there at night,’ Rettig says.

‘What do you mean?’

Rettig shrugs his shoulders. ‘The days are well organized at St Patricia’s; we have good, solid routines. But the nights aren’t quite as peaceful. Anything can happen then.’ He grins at Jan and adds, ‘Especially when there’s a full moon.’

Jan doesn’t ask any more questions. He moves away from the drum kit; he didn’t perform particularly well tonight, whatever Rettig thinks. He’s not really a team player.

That night Jan dreams about Alice Rami again; but it’s a horrible dream. He is walking beside her along a road, and he ought to feel good — but when he looks down, the creature running along and panting between them is no ordinary dog. In fact, it isn’t a dog at all.

It’s a growling, snarling wild animal, a yellowish-brown cross between a lynx and a dragon.

‘Come along, Rössel!’ Rami calls as she jogs off down the road.

The creature grins scornfully at Jan and races after her.

Jan is left alone in the darkness.

It was time for the madness to end, Jan realized.

When he left the nursery he had definitely decided: he was going to let William go. Let him go now . The planned forty-six hours in the bunker would be only twenty-four.

He turned off and headed up into the forest, striding purposefully along.

The track had been trampled by hundreds of boots over the past two days; it had been widened and was easy to walk along. Jan was able to move faster, and when he got into the forest he could see how the undergrowth had been flattened. It wasn’t dark yet; it was only quarter past three. But there was no sign of anyone, and he couldn’t hear the helicopter.

He carried on into the ravine, quickly went through the old gate, and slowed down only when he had almost reached the slope leading up to the bunker. He had to be careful here.

The small metal door was just as well hidden as before, and when Jan moved the branches aside he saw that it was still firmly closed.

He let out a long breath. Time to assume the role of the innocent classroom assistant who goes into the forest and happens to do what no one dares hope for any longer: he finds the missing child. By pure chance.

He put his mouth close to the door and shouted, loud and clear, ‘Hello? Anyone there?’

He waited, but there was no response.

Jan could have carried on shouting, but after waiting for a few more seconds he pulled open the door. ‘Hello?’ he said again.

There was no response this time either.

Jan wasn’t worried yet, just puzzled. He bent down and stuck his head inside the dark bunker. ‘Hello?’

It was messier in there this time. The blankets lay in a heap by the wall, and there were many more empty sandwich packs, drink cartons and sweet wrappers strewn around. Roboman was also lying on the floor, but he was broken. His head was cracked and his right arm was missing.

But there was no sign of William.

Jan crawled inside. ‘William?’

He shouldn’t really call out the boy’s name, but he was worried now. The boy wasn’t in there, and yet there was nowhere he could have gone.

Eventually he caught sight of the red bucket. The toilet bucket. It was standing right by the back wall, but it was upside down. Why?

Jan looked up at the wall and saw one of the long, narrow gaps that let in air — but it had somehow become slightly bigger. Someone had poked away the earth, branches and old leaves, and managed to clear the opening so that it was now between twenty and thirty centimetres deep. Not big enough for an adult, but big enough for a five-year-old.

William had found a way out. He had probably tried to take Roboman with him, but had dropped the toy on the floor.

Jan tried to remain calm. He knew what he had to do, and set to work. He spread the blankets out on the floor and gathered up everything he had brought into the bunker: the food and drink, the toys and the plastic bucket. Then he bundled everything up in the blankets and dragged them outside. He had now removed all traces of himself from the bunker. The old mattress was still there, but couldn’t be linked to him.