Юхан Теорин - Echoes From the Dead

But Ljunger didn’t move. And Gerlof knew why; if Ljunger came down onto the shore, his shoes would leave deep prints behind. Not even the rain would get rid of them.

The cell phone was in Gerlof’s trouser pocket, not particularly well hidden, but Ljunger had to figure out how he was going to get hold of it.

“You’re tough, Gerlof” was all the hotel owner said, straightening up. “But I see you’ve fallen and hurt yourself.”

Gerlof didn’t seem to have a voice anymore, because when he opened his mouth, no sound emerged. His lips felt frozen stiff.

“ ‘Most peaceable are the dead,’ ” said Ljunger calmly, looming above him. “ ‘Death is harsh but honorable, so sing hey and ho...’ That’s Dan Andersson, in case you didn’t know. I love his songs, and Evert Taube’s old songs about the sea and sailors, too. It was actually Vera Kant who got me listening to them. She had lots of old records.”

“She had land and money,” whispered Gerlof into the sand.

“What?”

“Vera’s land. Her money... That’s all this is about.”

Ljunger shook his head. “It’s about a lot of things,” he said. “Land and money and revenge and big dreams... and love for Öland too, as I said. I love this island.”

Gerlof watched him reach into his jacket pocket and take out a pair of leather gloves.

“I think it’s time for you to go to sleep now, Gerlof,” Ljunger said. “And when you’ve done that, I’ll find my phone. You shouldn’t have taken it.”

Gerlof was tired of listening to Ljunger. Talking and talking. The hotel owner stood up there on the grassy ledge talking and talking, refusing to leave him in peace, just as a faint rushing noise had begun to make itself heard in the darkness.

“Time to say thank you and good night,” said Ljunger. “I think we’ll—”

He suddenly fell silent and turned his head.

The rushing sound could be heard higher and higher above the shore, like roaring water; it was as if the wind out over the sea was increasing to storm force.

The noise was swiftly becoming a roaring gale that ripped at Gerlof’s thin clothes.

He could also see that the figure up above who was Ljunger had turned his face up to the sky in silent amazement.

Gerlof looked up. A shadow swept over him.

An enormous body with blinking eyes was hovering above the shore. Its upper half was dark and its lower half was pale; it was making a constant clattering noise.

Ljunger was no longer standing there watching over him. He was gone, he’d run away — like a troll who has been discovered and unmasked, he was running away along the gravel track with long, desperate strides.

Gerlof stared. The roar increased. Huge blades clattered round, round. The fat, ungainly body dipped forward, slipped in over the meadow, and began to descend.

The helicopter landed carefully, and Gerlof closed his eyes.

He felt neither joy nor relief; he felt nothing. His brain was still waiting for the ship of death to come and take him out to sea. But it didn’t come. He opened his eyes again.

The clattering of the rotor blades died away, and the door opened. Two men wearing helmets clambered out, stooping. They were wearing uniforms like gray overalls; they were pilots or flying policemen, and they were moving quickly across the grass toward Gerlof.

One of them had a thermal blanket under his arm, and the other was carrying a white bag. Gerlof began to understand why they had come, and breathed out.

The helicopter was there for him. He was going to live.

“There he is!”

Julia had shouted loudly, and Lennart braked so quickly that the car skidded. But it stopped almost immediately, slewed across the road. They were just south of the turning down to Stenvik.

“Where?” said Lennart.

Julia pointed through the windshield. “I can see him. Out there... on the field. He’s lying there!”

Lennart leaned forward. Then he put his foot down and swung the wheel around. “There’s a track here... I’ll drive down.” The car spun around sharply on the wet road.

But when they pulled onto the little gravel track, Julia could see she was wrong. It wasn’t a body. It was...

Lennart slammed the car to a stop and Julia scrabbled for the door. But her crutches made her slow, and he got there first.

He bent down and picked up the object from the little ditch by the track.

“It’s just a coat,” he said, holding it up so she could see it. “A coat someone’s thrown away.”

Julia came forward and looked at it. “It’s Dad’s,” she said.

“Are you sure?” asked Lennart. “It looks like a—”

“Look in the inside pocket.”

Lennart opened the coat and burrowed in the pocket. He took out a wallet and opened it.

“Should have brought a flashlight...” he muttered, trying to hold up the wallet in the car’s headlights.

“It’s Gerlof’s,” said Julia. “I recognize it.”

Lennart pulled out a worn-looking driver’s license and nodded. “Yes. It’s his.”

Then he looked around.

“Gerlof!” he shouted. “Gerlof!”

But the wind and the sound of the car engine drowned out his cry.

“I don’t recognize this track,” he said. “I think it goes down to the shore. We’d better take the car and have a look.”

At the police car, he spoke briefly into the radio mike.

Julia followed him.

“The helicopter knows where we are now,” Lennart told her.

He put the car into first gear and began to crawl forward, peering out through the smeared windshield.

“I’ll turn the lights off,” he said, “then we’ll be able to see better.”

The track in front of them was abruptly, impenetrably dark, but when Julia’s eyes had become accustomed to it, she could see the alvar on both sides. Every new shadow that appeared out there looked like an old man swaying upright in the grass, but each shadow turned out to be only a juniper bush.

Suddenly Lennart pointed up at the sky.

“There it is!” he exclaimed. “Thank God.”

Julia stared up at a pair of rapidly flashing red-and-white lights moving across the sky. She realized it was the helicopter, just as the police radio crackled into life again.

“I think they’ve found something,” Lennart said. “Down by the water.”

He increased his speed, swung around a bend — and a second later the entire car was suddenly illuminated by a dazzling white light. It was another car.

“Shit!” yelled Lennart beside Julia.

He stamped on the brakes, but it was too late. The car racing toward them around the bend did not slow.

“Hang on!”

Julia gritted her teeth and grabbed hold of the dashboard, bracing for the inevitable crash.

The impact flung her forward, but the seat belt held her as she watched the car hood crumple like paper.

The seat belt held, but the blow to her ribs was agonizingly painful.

Silence. A few seconds of silent immobility followed the crash.

Julia could hear Lennart breathing out behind the wheel, and swearing quietly.

Then he switched on the lights again. Only one of them appeared to be working now; it illuminated the shiny car that had slammed into them.

Lennart reached over to the glove compartment. It had flown open, and now he took out his gun holster.

“Are you okay, Julia?”

She blinked. “Yes... yes. I think so.”

“You stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

Lennart opened the driver’s door, letting in the cold. Julia hesitated. Then she opened her own door. But she stayed in the car. Pain raced through her body, bringing tears to her eyes.

Almost simultaneously the door of the other car opened. A tall, broad-shouldered man stumbled out.