Nine, Ten ... Never Sleep Again (17 page)

Sune woke up
late
in the afternoon and the doctor told me we could
see him. Tobias had arrived and I had been reading to him for a long time to
make sure he wasn't too scared.

"Daddy's going to be fine," I kept
reassuring him.

Sune was very pale and could hardly look at us
when we walked in. Tobias pulled free from my hand and stormed to him. He threw
himself on top of him.

"Tobias! Be careful," I yelled.

Sune tried to smile, but was in too much pain.

"Hi buddy," he said hoarsely and put
his arm around Tobias' back.

"Daddy. Daddy. I missed you so much. They
say you were sick, what happened to you?"

Sune cleared his throat. "Well, I'll tell
you all about it another day. When I'm feeling better, okay buddy?"

"Okay Daddy."

Sune closed his eyes for a few seconds. I hated
to see him in pain like this. "How do you feel?" I asked.

"Like crap," he said. His eyes met
mine, then he tried to smile. I walked closer and grabbed his hand.

"I'm so sorry," I said. "I'm so,
so sorry."

"Well, you didn't do this to me, so I don't
see why you should be sorry?" he said, trying hard to smile.

I felt so confused. Maybe it was just my
hormones, but my emotions were going berserk. I was wondering if I should tell
him, just blurt it out, but stopped myself. What if the child wasn't his? What
if it was Peter's? That would only make things worse between us, it would kill
him to know I was going to have a child with someone else.

"I'll be fine," Sune said.

I leaned over and kissed his forehead while a
tear escaped the corner of my eye. "I was so scared I'd lose you," I
whispered.

"Nah. You won't get rid of me that easily.
Huh buddy?" He said, addressed to Tobias. "I'm like the weed in the
yard."

I chuckled and studied his pale face. There were
so many things I wanted to say to him and so many things I wanted to ask him,
but I could tell he was exhausted.

"You need your rest," I said and
kissed his forehead again. "I'll take Tobias down to the cafeteria and get
him something to eat. What do you say, buddy? Maybe they'll have some ice cream
for dessert?"

Tobias jumped down from the bed. As we were
about to walk out of the room, he stopped and looked at his dad. "Will you
be alright while we're gone, Daddy?"

Sune forced a smile, but he was already halfway
asleep.

"He'll be fine," I said and grabbed
Tobias' hand in mine.

Tobias didn't eat much of the food I bought for
us and neither did I. Even the ice cream didn't taste right. Tobias kept
turning his spoon in it.

"Better eat it before it melts," I
said.

"He will be alright, won't he?" He
suddenly asked.

"Yes, sweetie. He will. I know he will.
These doctors are really skilled. They know how to take good care of your
daddy. Don't you worry about that. I was thinking you might want to go with me
back to the island tonight and maybe sleep in Julie's room with her?"

Tobias' eyes grew big and wide. "Really? We
could do that?"

"We most certainly could and we will,"
I said and finished my soda. "Julie is going to be so excited to see you
again. She has missed you a lot."

"And I've missed her. But what about dad?
Will he be alright all alone?" Tobias asked.

"He is going to be just fine. He needs a
lot of sleep and tomorrow he'll be feeling much better. Just you wait and
see."

Henrik Fenger
asked for
another beer. The bartender took his glass
and poured him one.

"And a whiskey," he said.

The bartender nodded, then gave him his drinks.
Henrik looked at the foam on the beer and felt a pinch of sadness in his heart.
He had no idea where to go. He couldn't go home to Roskilde since he was
certain his wife wouldn't have anything to do with him and, frankly, he didn't
want to go back anymore. Everything had changed the last couple of days. He had
changed and there was no turning back anymore. Killing the two girls had left
him excited, but not quite as satisfied as he wanted. He didn't understand what
it was that was missing. He had gotten his revenge like he wanted, but still it
left him unfulfilled somehow.

What was it that was missing
?
He wondered while gulping down the third whiskey since he entered the bar on
the corner of the building where he had killed Barbara Rasmussen only a few
hours earlier.

It dawned on him when he put the glass down and
moved on to the beer. He wanted to keep the buzz going all day. That was his
plan so far. But he realized that he didn't feel as satisfied as he wanted to
because he didn't feel like he had gotten the real bad guys. Killing the girls
was fine, since they were both accomplices, but he knew now that there was no
way they could have been alone on this. They had to have someone helping them,
arranging it, maybe even planning it for them. Henrik sensed there had to be
some kind of brains behind this, a leader somewhere behind all these attacks on
innocent men. Some big fat woman who hated men and all they stood for.

Probably a dyke. A big fat
ugly lesbo whom no man would ever touch.

Henrik turned the tall, slim beer glass between
his fingers, wondering how he should get to the bottom of this, how he should
find this fat leader who was pulling the strings on these girls and making them
attack men, poisoning beautiful women into hating men.

Henrik lifted the glass and drank when he felt
like he was being watched. He turned his head slowly and looked to his right
side where a man was sitting in one of the booths. The man was grinning from
ear to ear and very obviously staring at Henrik.

Henrik turned his head away and ordered another
round of beer and whiskey, not paying any more attention to the strange man.
These kinds of places often attracted some weirdos, especially at this hour of
day. Henrik figured he was probably like a stray dog. If you ignore it, it'll
go away.

The bartender gave Henrik a new round and he was
about to drink the whiskey when a voice interrupted him. He turned his head
with an annoyed sigh and saw the man from the booth was now sitting next to him
at the bar.

"How was it?" The man asked.

Henrik shook his head. The man seemed even
weirder up close. Couldn't he see Henrik wanted to be alone? "How was
what?"

The man grinned again, then leaned closer.
Henrik didn't want him this close and tried to lean in the other direction.

"The kill," the man whispered.

Henrik stared at the man.
Who the hell does he think he is, talking to me like
that?

"What are you talking about old man? I'm
trying to enjoy a drink here. I'm really not looking for company."

As if he hadn't heard what Henrik said, the man
leaned even closer. Then he sniffed Henrik. "I can still smell the scent
of adrenalin on your skin. It's still fresh. How long has it been? A couple of
hours since you killed her?"

"You're insane, do you know that?"
Henrik said and drank from his whiskey, trying to ignore the strange man next
to him.

"In that case, that makes two of us, then.
We have a lot in common you and I. Who was she?"

"Who was who?" Henrik was getting
really annoyed with this man and wondered if he should just get up and leave.

"The girl you killed."

Henrik almost choked on his whiskey. He looked
at the man who was still grinning widely. "How do you know it was a
girl?"

The man shrugged. "Just a lucky guess. Most
men start out killing girls because they're an easier prey. I still kill only
girls, but that's because I get a kick out of the power I posses over them. It
never gets old."

Henrik looked in the direction of the bartender
to make sure he couldn't hear what they were talking about, then lowered his
voice even further. "How did you know?"

"I can smell it from far away. I can always
spot a killer in a crowd. Especially one who is new to it and has just killed.
It's written all over your face. Takes one to know one."

"So you … you're?"

"You got it. I spotted you from far away
once you walked in here. I could see it in the look in your eyes, the way you
moved, your hands were still shaking from the thrill."

"Well this girl had it coming. I was doing
it for someone else, someone who couldn't defend himself, since the girl had
killed him."

"Ah a hero, are we?" The man's voice
became shrill.

"I don't know what I am," Henrik said.

"But I know," the man said. His voice
whistled when he spoke. "You're a killer. Just like me."

"I'm nothing like you. I seek revenge. It's
different."

"Oh the motive might be different, but you
enjoyed it, didn't you? You liked to see the fear in their eyes, didn't you?
That makes you no different than me. Besides you want to kill again. I can
tell."

Henrik growled. Who was this strange man?

"You're new to it, I get it," the man
continued. "You still tell yourself that you do it for a noble cause. But,
take it from someone who has been in this for many years, you are not going to
stop here. You're hooked. I see it in your eyes. You will be looking for that
same feeling you felt when you did your first kill for the rest of your life.
You will be longing for it at night. You'll wander the streets at night seeking
for it, lusting to feel it again. Believe me. I know about these things. If you
stick with me I might teach you a thing or two."

Henrik looked at the man again now with a new
set of eyes. Not because he suddenly liked the guy or because he really felt a
kinship with him. No, but because he suddenly realized the man was right.
Henrik had enjoyed killing the two girls and he did want to kill more. He wanted
to kill all the women who were a part of this feminist group taking men's
internal organs. He wanted to find the leader, the freaking dyke behind it all.
And now he realized this strange man might be able to help him.

Henrik reached out his hand. "Henrik
Fenger," he said.

The man shook his head. "No, No. Rule
number one. You never give anyone your real name. Especially not someone like
me. You come up with a name. Like me, I'm Karl Persson, how do you do?" He
said and shook Henrik's hand.

"Make up a name, huh? Like what?"
Henrik asked.

"My name belongs to a famous artist, a
painter who is known worldwide for painting some very gruesome and vulgar
pictures … some of them even have strong cannibalistic motives. I chose him
because I see myself as an artist. Even if my art is never for anyone else to
see or understand."

"I see," Henrik said. "So I could
be like Dali or da Vinci?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you like."

Henrik nodded and finished his whiskey. "So
tell me, are there more of your kind out there?"

It started just
as
summer hit the country. At first it was nothing but
a small insignificant cough, but then Valdemar lost his appetite.

In the beginning, Anna wasn't too worried since
the boy never had eaten much and he didn't seem to grow much either. He was a
handsome boy even if he was short and skinny, but suddenly, he started losing
weight and that worried his mother.

One day he came down the stairs for breakfast as
usual and his pants just slid right off him while he was walking. Anna almost
dropped the pan with the scrambled eggs.

"What's going on with you lately?" she
asked and helped pull up his pants before she served his breakfast.

Valdemar shrugged. He put his fork into the egg
but only to push it around on the plate. Anna looked at him with worried eyes.
Even his face had gotten skinnier.

"I think we should go and see doctor
Kristensen," Anna said, as she ate her food.

"Do we have to?" Valdemar said.

"I think we need to. You're not eating and
you're coughing a lot. Maybe you have a light pneumonia or something. You don't
seem to have a fever, but still, there is something going on. What do I know?
You'll have to stay home from school today."

Valdemar smiled from ear to ear. Anna shook her
head. "That doesn't mean you're not doing the work they did today. When we
get back you'll call someone from your class and make sure you get all the work
done that you missed today."

"Still a day off to me," Valdemar
said. "It takes me ten minutes to do a day's school work. You know
that."

Anna chuckled. "That's true."

"Plus, I'll have time to work on my
game," Valdemar said.

"Game? What kind of game?"

"I’ve started developing a new computer
game. It's pretty neat, if I say so myself. It's this world of blocks where you
build your own house, or castle if you like and animals and stuff."

Anna smiled again. He always had something going
on, the boy.
He is not sick. He seems fine.
Maybe he just needs a day off.

"I call it Mindskill," he said,
smiling even wider than before.

"Sounds really great, honey," Anna
said without really listening. Her head was filled with worried thoughts.
"I'll call the doctor right away and schedule an appointment."

A week later, Anna was called into the doctor's
office again. Doctor Kristensen was sitting behind his desk looking like he was
the one who needed a vacation, Anna thought.

"Valdemar is not well, Mrs. Kragh," he
said.

"What do you mean, he's not well? He is
doing much better now. The cough is getting better and yesterday he ate almost
an entire burger. I think he is definitely improving."

"He might be, but not for long," the
doctor said. "He'll soon start to go downhill fast."

Anna's heart stopped. "What do you mean go
downhill?"

"Your son has Cystic Fibrosis. I don't know
why we haven't caught this earlier, but he hasn't shown any symptoms up until
now. I mean we both knew he wasn't growing much, but I figured it would kick in
eventually."

"Cystic Fibrosis? What is that
exactly?" Anna asked with a shivering voice.

"It's a lung disease. Actually a disease of
the mucus and sweat glands. It affects mostly your lungs, pancreas, liver,
intestines, sinuses and sex organs. It causes your mucus to be thick and
sticky. The mucus clogs the lungs, causing breathing problems and making it
easy for bacteria to grow. This can lead to problems such as repeated lung
infections and lung damage."

"But what does this mean? How bad is
it?"

Doctor Kristensen exhaled. "It's bad. In
Valdemar's case, the disease has developed faster than usual. His lungs are
heavily affected by this and I'm not sure how long he has left."

"How long he has left? What are you saying
doctor? Is he … will he … die?"

The doctor exhaled deeply. "If he doesn't
have a lung transplant within the next six months, I'm afraid so. Usually the
patients might live till they're in their thirties, but not the way it is
progressing in Valdemar. I'm sorry Mrs. Kragh."

"A lung transplant?" Anna asked.
"How does that work?

"Well, we will get him on a list right
away, but lungs are not that easy to get. A lot of people are waiting for them
right now, so the list is long and the donors few."

"What about me? Can I give him my
lung?" Anna asked.

"You could. But not alone. Living lung
donation requires two donors. One person giving one lobe, or a portion of their
left lung, and the other giving a lobe of their right lung. The two lobes are
transplanted into a single recipient. The donors' lungs must be the appropriate
size and volume."

"So if I could find a second donor, we
could save him?"

"Well there is always a risk of him
rejecting the transplant, but it is the only thing that would be able to save
him, yes. But you'd have to find one fast since Valdemar will only get weaker
as the days pass by and he will need all his strength to be able to fight
possible infections associated with the transplant."

Anna's mind was spinning with thoughts as she
wondered who could make a possible donor for Valdemar.

"What about the father?" Doctor
Kristensen asked. "Would he be willing?"