I Am Behind You (44 page)

They ran an advertising campaign with big colourful posters, customers got free potatoes when they bought other things, and in the end they dropped the price to fifty öre a kilo. They still didn't manage to shift all the potatoes, which is where the relevance comes in. Saturation. Everything has a saturation point, when the pain receptors switch off, fear becomes ordinary, and no one wants potatoes, even if they're free. Enough is enough.

That's how Stefan feels right now. The bodies he can see through the window are horrible, but he merely registers this as he would register a seagull flying across the sky. He picks up the gun and discovers that the butt and other parts look as if they have been attacked by woodworm, crumbling away when he touches them.

The metal is largely intact, apart from certain areas which are corroded and discoloured. He pumps the slide backwards and forwards a couple of times; he thinks the gun should still work.

He hears the dog barking, and looks over at Carina, who is still sitting on the sofa with her eyebrows raised. For a moment he thinks her eyes are wide with fear, but then he sees that her lips are twitching as if she is trying not to laugh. She feels the same as he does.

‘It's too much, isn't it?' he says.

‘Mmm,' Carina says with a nod.

‘It'll be the same with the herring.'

‘The herring?'

‘Yes, there'll be too much. Too much herring.'

Emil looks anxiously from Stefan to Carina.

‘Stop it!' he says, pointing at the window with a trembling finger. ‘Stop talking like that! They're dangerous!'

‘Sorry, sweetheart,' Stefan says, running a hand over his face; tears have sprung to his eyes without his even noticing. ‘It's just that…we're
alive
!'

‘And what if they get in? Do you think we'll be alive then? Mummy! Stop laughing!'

*

Children are dependent on their parents. Not only for food, a roof over their heads and love, but also as a touchstone when it comes to interpreting the world, both intellectually and emotionally. As Emil looks crossly from his mother to his father, and they carry on laughing, it just happens somehow; eventually he starts laughing too.

He really ought to carry on being terrified, because the zombies are trying to get in, but with Mummy and Daddy laughing like that it all seems a bit silly and kind of pretend. Pretend zombies pretending to try to get in! And after all, that's how it is. Almost.

Once when Emil was at his friend Sebbe's house, Sebbe's older brother was watching a zombie film, and the two younger boys
sneaked a look. The zombies were super horrible—rotten and fast and strong, and the people didn't stand a chance.

The zombies outside the caravan aren't like that at all. Admittedly they look horrible, but they're just scratching and tapping, like a cat that wants to come in even though it's not allowed. It's actually quite funny, but Emil's chest still hurts when he laughs, because their screams are so awful. It's like laughing at someone who's broken their leg. Emil stops laughing and shuffles over to the window on his knees.

The zombies are moving away from the caravan, and Emil is so pleased that he can't help smiling, in spite of the dreadful screams. He looks up and his eyes narrow. He saw what the rain did to his father's back, and to the things in the kitchen. So how come the four white figures, who now only
almost
look like stormtroopers, are still standing in exactly the same spot as when the rain started? Surely they should have melted away completely?

The rain has left the window pane pitted and buckled, and Emil moves his head until he finds a point where he can see more clearly. He is thinking about stormtroopers; what do they actually look like underneath their armour? Will we ever find out?

He finds a spot, no bigger than a five-kronor piece, where the window is the same as it was before the rain. He can't close just one eye, so he covers his left eye with his hand and peers out, as if he is looking through a peep hole.

The zombies are heading towards the stormtroopers, and Emil feels as if he is watching a film, a bit like when he and Sebbe peeped through the gap in the doorway.
Zombies versus Stormtroopers!

But it doesn't look as if there is going to be a fight. The stormtroopers simply lean forward, as if they are bowing to the zombies. Emil laughs out loud, because everything is just too weird and silly even to be a film, and if it weren't for the fact that Mummy and Daddy can see
more or less
the same things as him, he could easily believe that he's made it all up.

What are they doing?

Emil presses his eye so close to the glass that the picture becomes
blurred. He blinks a couple of times, then looks again. Four zombies have climbed onto the backs of the four stormtroopers, and suddenly it's not fun any more because the zombies aren't zombies, they're vampires. All four have sunk their teeth into the necks of the stormtroopers carrying them, and it is obvious from the movement of their bodies, from the jerking and shuddering, that they are drinking.

Emil looks past the horrible sight and sees Molly, staring out of the window of her caravan. She knew it was going to turn out like this. That creatures wanting blood would come. So why does she look so scared?

3. Beyond

Gradually everyone emerges to watch the drama in the middle of the camp. They stand outside their caravans, arms hanging by their sides, observing what is going on at the crossroads. Some see the same thing, others see something completely different. There is a feeling that
something should be done
, but no one does anything.

One by one the burnt creatures climb up onto the backs of the white figures and drink their blood. The white figures allow this to happen. They allow it to happen as they stare at the people, and the people feel that
something should be done
, but no one does anything.

It is not unlike a ritual, but there is no need to go that far. It is an agreement. Something that has to happen, and is therefore in order. Perhaps that is why no one does anything. They are standing outside an event in which they have no part. Not any longer. Not yet.

The lustre of the white figures' skin grows dull and disappears, the stormtroopers' armour begins to look worn, their bodies stooping. Jimmy Stewart ages rapidly, the travelling salesmen appear to have spent decades on the road, and when the last of the burnt creatures clambers down, the tigers seem to be dying. The screaming has abated as the creatures leave the white figures and head back across the field, following the same tracks that brought them into the camp.

The white figures in their various manifestations remain where they are for a minute or so, until they have the strength to straighten their bent bodies. They gaze at the people for one last time with their dull, black eyes, then they begin to stagger along the tracks leading out into the field.

The people stand there with their arms hanging by their sides, watching them go. It is over. For this time.

*

‘What was that?'

Olof watches the burnt creatures as they head off into the distance, while Lennart focuses on the four travelling salesmen, who look as
if they will soon be at the end of their travels, dragging themselves along their eternal road.

‘I don't know,' Lennart says. ‘It almost felt as if it was…meant to be. Like when a mink kills a chicken with a single bite.'

‘Well, yes, but then chickens don't just stand there waiting to be bitten.'

‘That's often exactly what they do.'

They don't look at one another during this exchange. That kiss is still burning on their lips. If it hadn't been for the rain, death falling from the sky, it would never have happened. Never in a million years. Now the rain has passed, and things are very awkward.

Just over three years after Ingela and Agnetha had shot through, Lennart and Olof got drunk one night. Neither of them was much of a drinker, but the children were with their mothers, it was Saturday, there was plenty of schnapps, and they were having such a good time playing old albums on Olof's record player. They both had a glass or two more than usual.

When it was time for Lennart to go home, Olof said he was welcome to stay so that he didn't end up in a ditch. By this time Lennart was so far gone that he simply fell into the bed Olof used to share with Ingela; he didn't even bother getting undressed.

Olof stood there for a little while contemplating his sleeping friend and hanging on to the bed head for support, because the floor was moving up and down like the deck of a ship caught in a violent storm. He would go and lie down on Ante's bed as soon as he had sorted out his balance. But Ante's room was ten metres away, and there was space in the bed right there in front of him. Without further thought he took three steps and crashed down on the bed next to Lennart and immediately fell asleep. When he woke up it was gone nine o'clock.

Both Lennart and Olof's bodies were used to waking up at five to see to the cows. Olof in particular had found it difficult to sleep since Ingela disappeared; he would often wake two or three times during the night, and sometimes he couldn't get back to sleep.

Therefore, his first thought when he woke up and saw the clock was:
Oh my God! The cows!
His second thought was:
I've slept really well.
Then a sour, fluffy wave came surging through his skull, bringing with it his third thought:
I'm never going to touch another drop.

He would get up in a minute, get on with the day, but first of all he gave himself a little time to think about how he was feeling. In spite of the hangover there was a kind of peace in his body, the peace that comes from being fully rested. He turned over and looked at Lennart's broad back. The movement woke Lennart, who peered at him in confusion.

‘What are you doing here?'

‘It just turned out that way,' Olof said.

‘What time is it?'

‘Nine o'clock.'

‘You're kidding me!'

‘Nope.'

Lennart made a move to get up, then fell back on the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

‘I might have had a bit too much to drink last night,' he said.

‘Yep.'

‘We need to see to the cows.'

‘I know. Did you sleep well?'

Lennart rubbed his eyes, blinked a couple of times, then shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. ‘Like a baby,' he said. ‘I never sleep that well these days.'

‘Same here. Strange.'

‘Very strange.'

They looked at one another. Smiled shyly. Shook their heads. Then they got up and tackled the day. That evening they had just a couple of drinks and discussed the matter. In spite of their respective hangovers, both of them had experienced an unusually high level of energy during the day. With cautious hints, half-questions and a great deal of circumlocution, they finally agreed that they might possibly sleep better if they shared a bed.

It would be a couple of days before Ante and Gunilla returned, so Lennart and Olof decided to try it once more, with less alcohol involved this time. The same thing happened again, in spite of the fact that they both slept fully dressed. A whole night's wonderful sleep.

After another day filled with energy, they met up in the evening for a serious talk.

‘I mean, this isn't a long-term solution,' Lennart began.

‘No, I expect you're right.'

‘What will the kids think?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You know what I mean. Two men sleeping together. It's just not possible.'

‘No,' Olof said, thinking how reassuring it felt to hear another person's breathing when you were just about to fall asleep, to know that there was no risk of being overwhelmed by the sense of being all alone in the world. ‘Then again, why not?'

‘You know that just as well as I do.'

‘No, I don't. But then perhaps I don't know much at all.'

Lennart's eyes narrowed as he looked at Olof, who was sitting opposite him at the kitchen table, hands neatly resting one on top of the other.

‘Can I ask you something?' Lennart said.

‘Ask away.'

Lennart shuffled, rubbed his chin. ‘The thing is, I'm not…I mean I'm not the kind of person who judges others, each to their own, but….have you got any…
tendencies
in that direction?'

Olof began to say, ‘I don't know what you…' but Lennart slammed his hand down on the table and interrupted him.

‘For fuck's sake, Olof! Don't make this any more difficult than it already is! You know exactly what I'm talking about.'

Olof sighed. ‘Right, yes. No, I don't have any
tendencies
. As far as I'm aware, never have had.'

‘Okay. Okay. Good. Just so we know where we stand. Because
I haven't either. None at all. As I said, it's not that I have anything against those who are that way inclined, but…'

‘But?'

Lennart glared at Olof. ‘To be honest, I think you're being really difficult. To deal with. As far as this is concerned.'

‘Sleep on your own then,' Olof snapped. ‘Lie there tossing and turning, or sit up and wait for the dawn. Like I do.'

There was a long silence, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room, the rasp of fingernails on stubble, and a faint rustling as they both shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Eventually Lennart spoke: ‘But what about the kids?'

‘They'll understand. They will.'

When Ante and Gunilla got back and were told about the new arrangement, they had quite a lot of questions. However, these questions mainly concerned what was going to happen to their rooms and where they were all going to live. Lennart's house was bigger, and there was a guest room that was hardly ever used, so that was to be Ante's new room. He had no complaints, because it was much nicer than his old one.