Let the Old Dreams Die (52 page)

Kalle poured the black, oily coffee and took a swig, pulling a face at the burnt taste.

What’s going on?

The health minister had also made a statement, explaining that alternative methods of dealing with the problem were currently
under discussion. The safety of the public was the number one priority.

When Kalle had put on some fresh coffee he went to wake Flora and show her the article. She read it and shook her head.

‘This is fake.’

‘You mean nothing’s happened?’

‘No. It’s just a smoke screen. They’re up to something, and they’re trying to…I don’t know.’

‘But you don’t think it could have happened?’

‘If it had, would there have been anything in the paper? I mean, they haven’t released any information at all for the past three years. Why now, if it’s not a deliberate ploy? They’re working up to something.’

Flora’s mobile rang. Elvy had also read the article, and come to the same conclusion as Flora. When they had finished talking, Flora got out of bed. ‘We have to do something. Now.’

‘Yes. But what?’

Flora looked at the clock on the bedside table. ‘Do you think Roland will be up yet?’

‘Hardly. Why?’

‘Gran and I were talking yesterday and…we had an idea. It might not be any good, and it might not work. But we need Roland.’

Kalle waited until eight o’clock before calling him. Flora had outlined the plan and it was just as she said: it might not be any good, but it was the only thing they had at the moment.

Roland wasn’t awake yet. It had been a bit of a late night with the reporter from the gossip mag, and he needed some time for reflection. Kalle suspected that Roland just wanted to move to a place where a sleeping magazine reporter couldn’t wake up and overhear what he was saying.

Bingo. When Roland rang back ten minutes later, the background noise suggested he was out in the garden.

‘OK,’ said Roland after they’d talked for a while. ‘I’m in.’

‘To be perfectly honest,’ said Kalle, ‘I have absolutely no idea how this is supposed to work; it could easily be a complete disaster.’

‘Life’s a disaster anyway. For me, at least.’

They spent the day getting ready. Kalle had the feeling that he was packing for a very long journey, that he was saying goodbye. His hands were lighter than usual, touching things with more care. Perhaps it was the stress, but he felt a reverence for life that he hadn’t experienced for a long time now that he was standing here on the verge of taking his leave of it, if that was what it came to. Flora was inward-looking and focused, gathering her strength.

At four o’clock they parted company: Flora set off for Täby, and Kalle headed for Haninge to swap the van for the big bus. He was anxious. What they were going to do that evening wasn’t something normal people did. Criminal gangs, possibly: security van heists and so on. And their planning was usually a lot tighter, with precise knowledge of times and movements, and local factors.

Kalle didn’t even know what things looked like inside the Heath now, after what he had read in the paper. And it bothered him that he hadn’t heard a peep from either his father or their visitor. In short, they hadn’t a clue what was going on and their plan was extremely shaky, a shot in the dark. But it was all they had. Kalle couldn’t come up with anything better.

Although the bus hadn’t been used for a month, it started first time. So far so good. It wasn’t a large bus, perhaps half the size of a normal city bus, but Kalle didn’t have a bus-driver’s licence. When they’d used the bus in the past, Tropicos had brought in another driver and Kalle had just gone along as a humper.

He drove at ten kilometres below the speed limit, and was overtaken constantly on the road heading towards the E18 and Täby. The roundabouts were the worst; he kept thinking the bus was a metre
wider than it actually was, and that it had a will of its own when it was turning and responded to the steering wheel only when it was good and ready.

When he finally pulled up outside Elvy’s house and wanted to switch off the engine, his left hand was locked around the steering wheel in a grip so vice-like that he had to prise his fingers off one by one. His head was aching, but he was quite pleased with himself. He’d managed things so far.

The others were already gathered in the kitchen. Maja had expressed the opinion that the entire project was insane, and Flora had had a long conversation with her. Eventually Maja had let her go, but refused to take part herself.

Roland was wearing a Helly Hansen top and a pair of Fristads trousers that looked well worn. Elvy and Hagar, dressed for the outdoors, looked exactly like two elderly ladies setting off to forage for mushrooms. Neither Flora nor Kalle had seen any reason to wear anything different from their normal clothes.

‘Hi,’ said Kalle as he walked into the kitchen. ‘Have you got any Alvedon or anything like that?’

Elvy pointed to one of the kitchen cupboards. Kalle took out the first-aid box, found two Alvedon and swallowed them. As he was putting the box back, he saw a small glass jar containing a piece of paper, a little bit of kitchen paper with brown stains on it. He didn’t know if it was rude to ask, but they were a team now, weren’t they? He picked up the jar.

‘What’s this?’

The paper looked like a piece of old parchment. When Elvy saw the jar, she smiled and reached out to take it. She looked at the paper and sighed.

‘Well, you could say that this is why we’re sitting here. This is where it came from.’ Elvy pointed to the middle of her forehead, and Kalle now saw that what he had thought was a wrinkle was in fact
a scar, a paler line just above the skin.

‘Elvy was given a task,’ said Hagar. ‘But we misunderstood the implications somewhat.’

‘We behaved like idiots,’ Elvy corrected her.

‘Yes,’ said Hagar. ‘That too.’

‘You must forgive me, ladies,’ said Roland. ‘But I find that very hard to believe.’

Elvy went through the story briefly, explaining how the figure they now knew as Death had given Elvy the task of bringing the reliving to her, how she had believed these were ordinary, living people she had been asked to guide, and how she had got it wrong and missed her opportunity to put everything right.

‘So if it hadn’t been for my stupidity, we wouldn’t be sitting here now.’ She sighed deeply and suddenly looked very weary. Roland placed his hand on hers.

‘And we would never have got to know one another.’

Elvy gave a wry smile. She wasn’t as inclined as Hagar to swallow Roland’s gallant remarks. Hagar, on the other hand, was nodding eagerly, as if the privilege of getting to know Roland definitely compensated for missing the chance to save hundreds of lives.

‘Shall we get going?’ suggested Flora.

Roland looked out of the window. ‘I thought we were going to wait until dark.’

Flora shrugged. ‘I don’t think it makes any difference. The element of surprise is the only advantage we have. The quicker the better.’

‘Just a minute,’ said Roland, disappearing into the hallway. He came back with a bottle of champagne, which he placed on the table. He waved at it with a flourish.

‘This, my friends, is a Bollinger ’66. I daren’t say how much it’s worth. I’ve been saving it, and I thought that since this evening’s…
activities might mean I will never have the opportunity to enjoy it in the way I’d intended, I would like to share it with you.’

Elvy had no champagne flutes, so ordinary glasses were set out on the table as Roland opened the bottle with a pop and a sorrowful expression. Everyone took a glass.

‘Cheers,’ said Roland. ‘To life and love.’

Kalle hadn’t drunk champagne very often, but this was the best he had ever tasted. It hit the soft palate with a little prickle, then dissolved, evaporated in his mouth. His tongue felt slightly numb, and the alcohol went straight to his head. Flora cuddled up close to him, and it might have been the champagne making him sentimental, but Kalle had tears in his eyes; he thought this was the most beautiful moment of his whole life.

When they had finished the champagne, Roland said, ‘Kalle, I’ve been thinking. It might be best if I drive.’

‘Why?’

‘Because…’ Roland looked at Flora, then at Kalle. ‘Going for the pathos angle, which I think is appropriate under the circumstances, you’ve got more to live for than I have, that’s all.’

Kalle caught and held Flora’s gaze. Then he nodded. ‘OK.’ Twilight was falling by the time Roland pulled up on the edge of Järva field. He unhooked the microphone and announced over the bus’s PA, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we have now reached our destination. Kindly take your places. May I also take this opportunity to recommend the excellent souvenir shop situated by the entrance. Thank you. Is everyone ready?’

Elvy and Flora moved to the seats next to the door in the middle of the bus, while Kalle went forward and sat by Roland, whose hands were clamped around the steering wheel, his eyes firmly fixed on the gates a few hundred metres away.

‘Roland? Are you OK?’

Roland’s jaw was clenched, but he nodded. Kalle patted him on
the shoulder. When he turned away to go back to the others, Roland looked up at him with a pleading expression and said, ‘They won’t start shooting, will they?’

Kalle’s guess was as good as Roland’s, but he gave the answer Roland wanted to hear: ‘No,’ and went to sit next to Flora. Both Elvy and Hagar had grabbed hold of the handrail in front of them; Kalle and Flora did the same. Roland revved the engine a couple of times. Then he released the clutch.

He increased his speed as they approached the gates. Through the windscreen Kalle could see there were now four guards by the gates. At first, as the bus drew closer, they just stood there staring. A dance-band bus with palm trees and a sunset on the side was heading for the gates. When it was perhaps twenty metres away, one of the guards started waving his hands: Stop!
Stop!
Roland floored the accelerator and ducked.

The other guards reached for their submachine guns, but presumably their orders were unclear, and not a shot was fired before the bus hit the gates. There was the sound of metal snapping, the bus juddered and one of the gates was ripped off its hinges before being dragged along by the bus for several metres; eventually it flipped over and lay still.

Kalle glanced through the back window. The guards were standing in the same spot as if they were paralysed, staring after the bus. This scenario obviously hadn’t come up in their crisis training. The engine was roaring frantically, and Roland yelled, ‘Left, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Kalle yelled back. ‘Left and then straight on.’

There was a crack running all the way down the windscreen, top to bottom. The gate had been the critical element. Kalle screamed, ‘The windscreen! It’s going to—’

‘I know, I know!’

Roland was hunched over the wheel, and his thoughts flashed
through Kalle’s head:
Drive fuck drive drive…left drive.
Roland’s thoughts were the wildest and the strongest. Kalle could hear the others too, and behind them a panic-stricken murmur he was unable to identify. But Roland came through loud and clear, and in spite of the hysteria Kalle was also picking up a sense of joy. The happiness of someone who is racing towards the abyss, and doing it of his own free will: someone who has finally arrived.

After another turn they could see the community centre through the cracked windscreen. There were a number of guards gathered outside the main door. Their thoughts struck the passengers on the bus, and were exactly what they might have expected: a mixture of fear and suspicion.

This time Roland did something he had omitted to do at the gates: he sounded the horn. The noise was deafening, and the guards reacted to the oncoming danger as anyone would: they leapt out of the way.

‘Hang on tight!’ Roland shouted.

He swerved to the right so that the bus ran alongside the wall up to the entrance. The roof was perhaps three metres above the ground, and fast approaching the windscreen. This was the part they were most unsure of. Just before the roof hit the windscreen, Roland slammed on the brakes and the bus went into a skid. Roland was hurled forward over the steering wheel just as the steel roof girder smashed the glass. There was an ear-splitting crash and a shower of tiny shards of glass cascaded into the bus. The metal roof crumpled and was pushed down into the aisle. Kalle just had time to think:

This wasn’t a good idea

…before the bus hit the supporting girder on the other side of the roof and came to an abrupt halt. Kalle flew forwards and hit his chest on the handrail, knocking the breath clean out of him.

The bus was motionless, the engine turning over. A piece of metal shifted and a pile of broken glass scattered across the floor.
Outside the bus they could hear the sound of agitated voices: ‘Fucking lunatics…what the fuck…’

Kalle coughed and looked around. Both Elvy and Hagar had had the sense to curl up in the emergency brace position, and they were now straightening up. Flora, bleeding from a split lip, said, ‘I’m fine.’

‘Roland?’ Kalle shouted.

No reply. Kalle climbed over metal and broken glass to get to the driver’s seat. Roland was lying across the wheel, his back completely covered in splintered glass.

‘Roland?’

Roland twitched and raised one hand.

‘I’m OK,’ he said, and sat up straight. His face was criss-crossed with tiny, bleeding scratches. He grimaced with pain and collapsed again. ‘My ribs. I think I need to…have a little rest.’

They heard the voices of the guards: ‘Get this fucking thing moved.’

If it was possible to talk about being lucky, then they’d been lucky. A large part of the metal roof had got stuck between the steering wheel and the last supporting girder outside, and this was now preventing the guards from immediately climbing in through the hole where the windscreen had been. But it wouldn’t take them long to remove it.

Roland waved his hand. ‘I’ll be fine. You go.’ He lowered his hand and pressed a button. There was a faint hiss, and the middle doors opened. The metal screeched in protest as the guards tugged at it, and through a gap Kalle could see a furious face. He patted Roland on the back. ‘Nice driving.’