Stallo (62 page)

Then it struck him that Jola might have taken off the chain. Perhaps they only wanted to smoke them out, to teach them a lesson. Yes, that must be it.

But the hatch doors would not open.

The chain rattled and a crack of watery light opened up. With all his strength he rammed his shoulder against the steel plate. He lay down and kicked wildly with his right foot, then stood up and pushed and thumped powerlessly.

‘Open!’ he screamed. ‘For God’s sake!’

Were they standing out there, grinning? Or did they mean business? Had they left already? He pounded and pounded and then sank down and leaned his head against the frozen concrete wall at the end of the tunnel. His eyes were stinging already and he knew there was nothing they could do. He heard Amina’s hand patting weakly but unceasingly against the hatch, heard her cracked voice and her coughing.

The snow fell thicker and thicker, and they drove as fast as they could, but the machine was heavy and difficult to manoeuvre. When Torbjörn revved the engine as far as it would go it began to complain and splutter, and he swore loudly.

They followed the track Randolf had made and without any difficulty found the tree where the large creature had found shelter. It was pitch dark underneath so they decided not to look there and rattled on past. Time was short and the tracks left behind by the bear would soon be snowed over. For a long way it had lumbered along the edge of the marshes, where the snow was packed down hard by the wind, but after a few kilometres the tracks veered off into the forest. It was considerably harder for them to make progress in there, but at least the snow was not falling as heavily.

Torbjörn rested one knee on the seat and tugged the handlebars hard, and they leapt forwards over the deep snow. Susso lifted her backside to counteract the jolting as best she could. Slowly but surely the old Ockelbo covered the ground. Periodically Torbjörn twisted the throttle as he steered the skis to the side, zigzagging between the overhanging birch branches and stooping fir trees.

The shadows had deepened and Susso worried about the encroaching darkness. When night fell it would be practically impossible to follow the trail.

She supported the GPS against Torbjörn’s back and tried to zoom out to see what kind of terrain lay ahead, but her fingers froze and it was hard to use the navigation buttons with her gloves on. They had driven through a hollow filled with stunted birches but now the ground sloped steadily upwards. Susso jumped off and ran beside the snowmobile as Torbjörn made his way diagonally upwards. If it continued like this, it would be faster to go on foot. But they would be able to make up for lost time on the marshes, where they could get up some speed. The only question was what the troll would do when he heard the sound of the approaching snowmobile. Attack them, probably. The squirrel had shielded her on the ice and she supposed it would shield her again. There were only two cartridges left in the revolver, and she had not forgotten what the police officer told her at the hospital: she had been lucky to bring down the bear with such a feeble old weapon. Yes, hunting down a troll like this without stopping to think was like putting your life on the line, but as she had told Gudrun with a grin when she had seen her anxious face, they could not stop now.

It was doubtful she would ever get as close again. The troll was maybe a kilometre or two ahead of them, and anyway the danger she was facing now by following the troll had to be weighed against the danger she was already facing and would continue to face until she found the people who had tried to get her in Kiruna. She unzipped the pocket on the front of her jacket to let the squirrel out. It sat on her shoulder and settled down, and she felt safe with it there.

They had juddered down a hillside and there in front of them was the wide expanse of marshland the troll had crossed. They were going fast now, trailing a cloud of snow behind them. Torbjörn lowered his head below the frosty windscreen and Susso
hid her head behind his back, feeling the squirrel’s long whiskers sticking into her cheek like nails.

The revs slowed and they glided gently down a ridge of snow to find themselves on a forest road lined with snow poles. Torbjörn drove alongside the ploughed wall of snow, craning his neck. There were no footprints on the other side and the trees were growing so tightly together it was impossible to see where one began and the other ended.

‘We’ll have to go up and look and then come down again,’ Susso said, pointing. Torbjörn nodded and swung the snow-mobile round.

They went so slowly that the exhaust fumes caught up with them. Torbjörn stood looking for tracks, while Susso read the GPS screen. Giertsbäcken and Giertsjaure. Gångstig. Jippmotje. Further on there should be a church. She thought that was odd because they seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. The squirrel clawed around on her shoulder and then hopped down onto the road. It sat still for a moment or two and then darted forwards, only to stop again. Then it carried on a few metres before running up the wall of snow and vanishing in among the trees.

‘He’s off,’ said Torbjörn.

Susso nodded.

Further on there was a sign. It was covered in snow but the blue paint was visible. That meant they were approaching a village.

‘There are a few houses here,’ Susso said, studying the GPS map. ‘And a church.’

‘Shall we go up there then,’ Torbjörn yelled over his shoulder, ‘and find out if anyone’s seen anything?’

‘Seen anything?’ she said. ‘That could very easily be the place he’s run off to.’

Torbjörn sat down in his seat. Then he turned the handlebars and began carefully swinging the snowmobile round.

‘What shall we do then?’

There was no need for Susso to answer. The squirrel had run out into the road a few hundred metres away, and when they drove in its direction it scrambled up a ridge of snow and raced backwards and forwards. Susso climbed off, and a few metres in among the trees she found deep holes in the snow.

Pulling together they managed to get the old machine to the side of the road and then waded into the forest on foot. Branches tore at their jackets, and here and there sharp sticks protruded from the snow, trying to stab them. They caused slabs of snow to slip from the heavily laden spruce trees and it soon became such an effort to move that neither of them had the energy to speak. They stopped frequently. The squirrel was ahead of them the whole time. They had been trudging for about half an hour when Torbjörn’s mobile started ringing. It was Gudrun, wanting to know how it was going and where they were. Susso told her they were close to a hill called Varåive, and Torbjörn repeated the name several times.

‘It’s almost impossible to get lost with one of these,’ Susso said, holding up the GPS. Then she added, as an afterthought: ‘As long as the battery’s charged, of course.’

‘How much is left?’

‘More than half.’

Torbjörn glanced at his mobile.

‘Mine’s almost run out. I should have charged it before we left.’

They were both worn out and neither of them felt like struggling on straight away so they stood where they were, surrounded by towering spruce trees wrapped in utter silence. Susso’s legs
were very cold. She looked up at the treetops and the sky, where the lower layer of clouds was constantly moving. It was rapidly getting darker and she thought it had felt better when they were sitting on the snowmobile. Now the giant could emerge from anywhere and they would have no chance to get away.

The squirrel seemed eager. It had hopped down into the snow and was leaping from one of the bear’s deep footprints to another as if to show them which way to go.

Susso scratched herself with the GPS, the solid antenna against her cheek.

‘Okay, we get it,’ she said. ‘But you’ll have to wait for us. We can’t run in the tracks like you can.’

But the squirrel did not seem to realise that they understood. Torbjörn inserted some snus, clicked the tin closed and looked at the little animal in amusement. It was embroidering the snow with its impatient circling.

They trudged on with the squirrel in front, at times so far ahead it was out of sight. Sometimes it ran into the trees, seldom visible, but branches dipped and snow came crashing down. They heard it rustling inside a fir tree, and as they strode past it chattered. It seemed to be excited. Susso waited for it to come up to her, but when there was no sign of it she walked under the tree and looked up among the branches. She could see the squirrel sitting upright with its claws embedded in the trunk. Then she almost lost her balance.

High up in the shadowy gloom hovered a pale, gaunt face.

‘Torbjörn,’ she said softly.

‘What is it?’

‘Come and see.’

The snow crunched as he bent over to get under the tree.

He jerked back when he saw it, but he said nothing.

‘Isn’t that him?’ Susso said.

Torbjörn nodded, the hard bulge of snus disfiguring his lip.

It was a man’s head, wedged in the fork of two branches. The blood on his shredded neck was almost black. His mouth was gaping open and his teeth and tongue were grey. One of his eyes was staring, the other was out of sight behind the branch. But it was still possible to recognise him. It was the man with the axe. The man Torbjörn had wrestled to the ground and punched on the jaw in Holmajärvi.

‘Oh shit. What’s he doing here?’ Torbjörn said.

It was not intended as a question.

Susso removed the backpack. She opened the top section, pulled out the plastic bag and unfolded it. She took out the revolver, tugged off her glove with her teeth, released the cylinder and checked that the cartridges were in the right place.

‘Fuck it, we’ve got to call the cops now,’ Torbjörn said, striding up to her. He was frowning and wiping the snot from under his nose. His voice was tense and she thought he looked like his father. It was a resemblance she had never noticed before.

Susso pushed in the cylinder with a click and put her glove back on.

‘All we have to do is give them the GPS coordinates,’ he went on. ‘They’ll be here immediately. It’s murder! He’s been murdered!’

‘What, you think a human has done this?’ she said, nodding towards the tree. ‘Ripped off his head and climbed up into a tree with it?’

Torbjörn stared intently at her, and even the squirrel had come out onto a swaying branch.

‘We’ve got to phone.’

‘Then we’ll never get them. And you know it.’

She started walking. The squirrel was already ten metres ahead of her.

*

They made their way down a slope and crossed a small lake. The bear’s tracks had divided the frozen surface in two. Susso slipped a few times and dropped the revolver in the snow. She brushed some of it off with her glove, blowing the rest away. She asked Torbjörn if he thought the mechanism had frozen, but he did not answer. His eyes were fixed on the GPS, which is why he almost collided with Susso when she stopped.

‘Can you smell it?’

‘What?’ he said, pulling his hat straight.

‘I can smell smoke.’

He sniffed and then nodded.

‘Yes. And that’s some fire.’

They raised their eyes and soon saw the smoke drifting over the treetops in thick black billowing clouds. They walked faster, almost running. They were on a hill and down below, between the trees, they saw the fire.

The whole place was going up in flames.

Susso noticed the squirrel had huddled down and its whiskers were trembling. Its head was jerking up and down repeatedly and it was hard to tell whether it was afraid or excited. Torbjörn had phoned Gudrun to tell her where they were, and for a moment they stood there staring at the fire filling the sky with driving clouds that looked as if they were illuminated from within.

*

They walked closer and soon a facade of fibre cement slabs appeared between the trees. It was covered in black scorch marks.
There was the sound of explosions and crackling, tongues of fire shot up and Susso heard a window shatter into pieces. Flakes of soot floated down, dotting the snowdrifts with black.

Then suddenly the squirrel, which had been riding on Susso’s shoulder, leapt down. Susso did not want to lose sight of it, so she ran after the bushy tail as it wove through the trees. It was not easy to see it in the strange atmosphere created by the powerful, glowing flames unfurling in the smoky night-time darkness. Wading through the snow she broke through the trees, hearing Torbjörn behind her. He was yelling at her to stop.

The squirrel sat in the snow, and there was a fox too, watching her. Its ears were erect, its breast white. Her first thought was to scare it away in case it went for the squirrel. But then she realised it was not a normal fox. When she came closer it trotted off in a semicircle, and the squirrel moved in the opposite direction.

And then she heard it.

A sound like someone banging. Under the ground.