Let the Old Dreams Die (49 page)

Kalle asked, ‘Is it…over?’ and Flora nodded.

Without looking, Kalle gestured towards the beds. ‘Was that… death, that thing?’

‘Yes. Or…your version of it. What did you see?’

‘I don’t know. Something tall. Thin.’

Kalle got up. He was still taking care not to look in the direction of the beds. Instead he gazed down at Flora, who seemed transparent, fragile, as if she might break if you touched her. He stared deep into her eyes, searching for a clue. There was nothing to be found, so he asked, ‘Who are you?’

The corners of her mouth twitched. ‘No one special.’

She pressed herself against him, her cheek resting on his chest. He placed his hand on her head and she was an ordinary, exhausted girl. He put his arms around her, but couldn’t help thinking that something alien, something…godlike was working inside that head, which was just an ordinary head that almost fitted into his hand.

I’ve had a responsibility bestowed upon me.

He bent down and kissed her sweaty brow.

When they came out of the room, the doctor was staring at them. Flora went over and untied the gag. As if the words had been penned in, just waiting to leap out, he started straightaway, ‘What have you done! What have you done, you fucking lunatics!’

Flora did something Kalle had never expected. She slapped the doctor across the face. Hard. His mouth snapped shut. Flora hit him again. She placed her mouth close to his ear.

‘Listen to Dr Mengele. Who the fuck is the lunatic around here? Do you realise what you’re doing?’

Kalle just stood there open-mouthed. He had never seen Flora like this, wouldn’t have believed she had it in her. But she was angry
now, more than angry. Furious. The doctor turned his head towards the inner room; he too was trembling with rage.

‘You’ve killed them. You’ve destroyed everything I—’

Flora hit him across the mouth with the palm of her hand, as if to block up the source of something disgusting. His lip split open and blood trickled down the doctor’s chin. Kalle touched Flora’s arm. She shook off his hand and bent over the doctor; a hint of fear showed in his eyes.

‘You’re the one who’s killing them.’

‘They’re already—’

Flora raised her hand to deliver another blow, and the doctor didn’t finish what he had been intending to say.

‘I want to know…’ said Flora. ‘I want to know why you’re doing this.’

The doctor’s mouth had begun to swell, and when he tried a scornful grimace he looked more like a tragic clown.

‘Because I’m so horribly evil. Why the fuck do you think? To contribute to research. To find a way of conquering death. To help humanity. I realise you two think you’re the heroes around here, but—’

This time Flora simply moved her hand, and he shut up.

‘I know all that,’ she said. ‘What I want to know is what you’re trying to achieve by cutting them up. On a purely practical level.’

‘That’s what I’m telling you. Think about all the people who die before their time, quite unnecessarily…’

Flora sighed and turned to Kalle. ‘You can hit him much harder than I can. Want to have a go?’

Kalle looked dubiously at Flora. She winked. He nodded and walked over to the bed; he rolled up his right sleeve and opened and closed his fist a couple of times. The doctor followed his movements with wide-open eyes. As Flora had hoped, the threat was enough. The doctor said, ‘I’m investigating the minimum conditions necessary for life.’

‘Which means?’

‘Which means that…we haven’t found anything at a cellular level, so now I’m investigating exactly how much one can…remove without life ceasing to exist. Which parts have a life of their own, which parts the body can’t do without.’

‘And how many of you are working on this?’

‘Three, normally.’

‘And the others will be here tomorrow?’

‘Yes, but this is a total bloody disaster for our—’

‘Good,’ said Flora. ‘In that case they’ll be able to untie you.’

She took Kalle’s arm and pulled him towards the door, the doctor protesting vociferously behind them. As they closed the door he started to scream. It wasn’t particularly audible through the thick concrete walls, and the thought field was almost gone now the reliving had left the building. He would probably have to stay there until the morning.

They drove out of the compound. At the gates the guard asked if Kalle had found what he was looking for. Kalle said he had, and they parted with a mutual goodnight.

At half past three in the morning they were sitting in Kalle’s kitchen. Kalle had drunk three beers, Flora one. There were so many questions to ask that his brain refused to work at all. After the third beer a pleasant warmth began to spread through his body at last.

‘There’s going to be trouble,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ said Flora. ‘Tomorrow.’ She looked at the kitchen clock. ‘I’m supposed to be at work in two hours. I think I might just take the day off.’

‘Making sandwiches?’

‘Making sandwiches.’

Something resembling a laugh emerged from Kalle’s mouth,
sounding more like a weary gasp. ‘First this, and then…you have to stand there making sandwiches. Ups and downs…’

Flora nodded. ‘And this is just the beginning.’

‘What’s just the beginning?’

‘What we did tonight. There are several hundred left.’

Kalle rubbed his eyes. ‘How are we going to…’ He threw his hands wide, let them drop. ‘Tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow.’

They went to bed and made love slowly, tenderly as if through sleep. When it was over and they were satisfied, sinking down towards genuine sleep, Kalle was still unable to take the final step. Flora was lying with her head resting on his chest. He stroked her ear with his finger and asked, ‘Aren’t you scared?’

Flora’s voice was thick, heavy with sleep. ‘Of what?’

‘…death?’

She didn’t speak for a few seconds, then eventually she replied, ‘She’s not dangerous. She just…does what she has to do.’

‘She?’

‘Yes…’

While Kalle thought about that, Flora’s breathing grew deeper and more regular. He didn’t want to wake her with more questions, so he lay there gazing up into the darkness until his eyes closed of their own accord and he fell asleep.

It felt as if he had only just dozed off when he was woken by the doorbell. It was a quarter past seven in the morning. He lay there staring up at the ceiling, his brain confused with sleep. In the silence between two rings of the bell he could hear a fly struggling to reach the light outside the window.

Fly. Light. Morning.

There was the sour taste of stale beer in his mouth as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled on his dressing gown. He
went to the door and opened it without a single conscious thought. Only when he saw his father standing outside did the events of the previous night start to come back to him.

They stood there looking at one another for a while. Kalle was incapable of digging anything to say out of his sleep-befuddled brain, and judging by his father’s expression he too was lost for words. After a few seconds Sture came to life and pushed past Kalle into the apartment.

Kalle rubbed his face hard and yawned. ‘Yes?’

His father, who had made it as far as the living room, swung around and looked at him as if that was the most inappropriate thing he could possibly have said.

‘
Yes
? Is that all you’ve got to say?’

‘Noooo…’ Another yawn forced its way out. It was as if he could stand here with his mouth open for ages, just yawning, yawning until this was over.

His father caught sight of the open bedroom door. He walked in and positioned himself at the end of the bed, pointing at Flora, who was still asleep.

‘Is that her? Your…partner in all this?’

Kalle didn’t like the idea of his father being anywhere near Flora, particularly when she was asleep.

‘Listen,’ he said. ‘We’ll talk about this later. I’d like you to leave now.’

Sture was taken aback for a moment. He couldn’t believe what his son had just said. His chin dropped and then he said, with a hint of fear in his voice, ‘You don’t know anything.’

Kalle scratched his chest. ‘No. So we’ve heard.’

Suddenly Sture grabbed hold of the bed and shook it furiously. He yelled at Flora, ‘Wake up! Wake up!’

Kalle grabbed Sture by the shoulder and shoved him away from the bed. ‘Who the hell do you think you are?’

Sture knocked his hand away, and Kalle couldn’t help being impressed by the old man’s stubbornness. Kalle could easily have picked him up with one hand and thrown him out. Through the window, for example.

Flora sat up in bed and Sture brushed the shoulder of his jacket as if he had got something dirty on it. Kalle said, ‘Say what you have to say and get out.’

Flora’s eyes were puffy. She looked from one to the other and asked Kalle, ‘Your father?’

Sture leaned against the foot of the bed. He glared at Flora, who wrapped the sheet around her.

‘Yes. Unfortunately. Young lady, are you aware of the extent to which you have destroyed your future? How much trouble you’re both going to be in?’ Neither Flora nor Kalle spoke. Sture went on, ‘Illegal entry into a protected area, unauthorised interference, physical abuse, possibly also manslaughter.’

Flora looked at Sture. For a long time. Then she asked, ‘Are the police involved?’

‘No. Not
yet
.’

‘So when will they be involved?’

Sture snorted, and something akin to a laugh escaped from him. He looked at Kalle, then at Flora. Then back at Kalle.

‘Nice company you keep.’

‘Yes. Have you got anything important to say, or are you just going to…keep banging on?’

Sture fell silent. His eyes widened. At first Kalle thought it was surprise once again at the incomprehensibility of their actions, but then he heard the sound Sture had picked up. There was someone in the hallway. Someone was heading towards the bedroom. Sture grabbed hold of Kalle’s arm as if he were about to say something important, but before he had time to speak the visitor was in the room.

At a passing glance, Kalle would have taken the stranger for yet another suit. He was certainly wearing a suit, and a very loud tie. But the body was wrong. The first impression was that the man was fat, because a well-filled belly stretched the shirt tight, with the tie resting on it rather than hanging. However, the legs and arms were spindly, the face small and narrow, almost emaciated. A famine victim in a suit.

The eyes didn’t fit either. Instead of the shiny, wide-open gaze of the starving, this man had small eyes that were so deep-set they looked as if they were burrowing into his skull.

The man folded his thin hands together, rested them on his stomach and gazed around.

‘I see the entire family is gathered.’

His voice was high, like a young girl’s. Kalle couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s face. He had a magnetic quality, and Kalle had to make an enormous effort not to move closer to him.

The man’s eyes rested on Kalle’s father.

‘How are you, Sture? Well, I hope?’

It was rare for someone to call Sture by his first name. It was Professor Liljewall or Father or Professor. Kalle tore his eyes away from the man and glanced at his father. Sture had shrunk, and was rubbing his hands together in an almost comical fashion.

Flora wriggled back towards the bed head. The man noticed the movement, strode forward and sat down beside her on the bed.

‘And you’re here too.’

Flora pulled the sheet more tightly around her to form a barrier between herself and the man’s body, his stomach. Something within Kalle told him he ought to intervene, but it was impossible to move. Flora whispered, ‘You can’t do anything to me.’

The man nodded pensively. ‘No. That’s true. But the number of willing bodies. At my disposal. Would surprise you.’

The man got to his feet. His movements were surprisingly supple,
as if his belly weighed nothing. When he came and stood next to Kalle, that dark pull was palpable. It was like standing somewhere high up, looking down. The urge to take that step.

‘I realise this may be difficult to grasp. But your actions. Are threatening great human values. We are on the verge. Of a breakthrough. And I will admit. That it is difficult to foresee the consequences. But in the long run. I am convinced. That this will lead to greater happiness.’ The man turned to Sture. ‘Isn’t that right?’

Sture nodded. ‘Yes. Absolutely.’

Kalle stared at the man’s face. The mouth seemed to move entirely without the help of the facial muscles. As Kalle watched, a fly landed on the man’s cheek. The man didn’t notice, he simply carried on talking. The mouth moved and the fly, drawn by the same pull that Kalle felt, crawled inside without the man even pausing. The fly didn’t return, but the words kept on coming:

‘I also realise. That my direct involvement. May seem counterproductive. That it may serve only to strengthen your conviction. That you are doing the right thing. Is that correct?’

Both Flora and Kalle nodded, almost without moving their heads. There was an aura of immobility around the man that spread outwards, affected others. He went on, ‘I have however discovered that logical arguments. Have no influence on your…what I might call ideological point of view. And my experience tells me. That when faced with a case like this. Fear is the only remaining means of exerting pressure. Fear almost always conquers logic.’ The man turned to Sture and waved his thin hand in Kalle’s direction. ‘Sture, you may now punish your son.’

Sture licked his lips. ‘I don’t quite understand…’

‘He has been disobedient, and you must do your duty as a father. Punish him.’ Kalle was still incapable of any movement. The man looked him over as if seeking out his most vulnerable spot, then pointed: ‘Break his nose.’

Sture shook his head. ‘I can’t.’

‘I understand. You’re not used to it.’ The man walked over to the bedside table and picked up a solid glass cube that usually contained a candle and handed it to Sture. ‘There.’

Sture weighed the cube in his hand and looked at Kalle. If this was about fear, then Sture was the one most at risk. His lower lip was trembling and he was frantically licking his lips. Kalle wasn’t experiencing a feeling of calmness; it was more like indifference bordering on apathy. He couldn’t understand how he was still on his feet.