‘My fucking computer is out of battery and I left my power cord on the plane. Can I borrow yours? I need to send a few work emails.’
‘Sure, it’s on the sofa in the living room.’
It was quiet for a long time, aside from the tapping of his fingers on the keyboard. She felt like there was grit under her eyelids. Her chin dropped to her chest. The water had gone cold, so she dragged herself out of the bathtub and wrapped herself in a towel, sending up a silent prayer that he wouldn’t want to have sex – she was so tired. She found him in the kitchen, where he was pouring two glasses of wine.
‘Drink this – you’ll sleep like a log. I’m going to sleep too, but I have to take care of a few things first. Then we’ll have the whole day here together tomorrow.’
The wine was bold and spicy. She drank half the glass but found herself feeling slightly nauseated. Back in the bedroom, she crawled under the covers, feeling dizzy and weak. Just before she fell asleep, she thought it felt like she’d been there before.
Little by little, she woke up. Her head felt heavy and it was hard to open her eyes.
Tonight I’m going home, she thought, but her joy was immediately clouded by a violent wave of nausea. Her limbs wouldn’t obey when she tried to stretch them out; her muscles weren’t getting the messages sent by her brain. Her body seemed to be paralysed. She couldn’t feel a thing from her neck down.
Then she heard Mattias’s voice. Quiet, whispering. And then another, deeper voice.
There was someone else in the apartment.
42
Jacob had learned to gauge the mood at ViaTerra, and right now he could tell something was up. He stood at the barn door, watching the courtyard, sure that today was the day.
Oswald had sent the entire staff to the pond north of the manor house. They had been instructed to clear out brush around it because, in Oswald’s words, it looked horrific. Everyone but the guard at the gate would take part. Besides, it was good for your health to spend a whole day outdoors, Oswald had said. But he wasn’t fooling Jacob. Oswald cared as much about his staff’s health as he did about the forest – which was to say, not at all.
Oswald’s interest in the staff had cooled just a few weeks after his return. He’d shouted at them that they were completely useless and that they could just do whatever the hell they wanted, because he no longer had time for them. That was always when the staff seemed to suffer the most – when he turned his back on them. They had nothing to hold onto. All the air went out of them, and they wandered around the property like drones, disheartened and full of despair.
The trigger for Oswald’s outburst had been such a minor thing. Erik, who worked in the ethics unit, had forgotten to call Oswald ‘sir’ during an assembly. Oswald had asked him, ‘Who do you think your boss is?’ When Erik’s response was ‘Bosse,’ Oswald unleashed a tirade of insults before stalking into the manor house and slamming the door. The staff just stood there, at a loss, but then Oswald had returned.
‘If you don’t understand who your leader is after all these years, you might as well go home to mommy and daddy and flip burgers at McDonald’s.’
‘Sir, I’m sorry, I just meant who my immediate boss is,’ Erik said.
This enraged Oswald all the more, so he threw up his hands and left them again. This time he didn’t come back.
Soon Erik was digging a deep ditch by the wall. And when Bosse ran away, the staff’s situation got even worse. Somehow, Bosse’s escape was their fault. But Jacob didn’t feel guilty in the least. His hesitation had evaporated as soon as he’d made contact with Simon. He knew that he, too, would run away one day. Hopefully he would manage to avoid Oswald’s piercing looks until then, and stay out of trouble so he wouldn’t be under watch around the clock.
Elvira wasn’t on the property that day. She’d been sent to the mainland so her aunt could meet the babies. She seemed to have made out well: full-time nannies to care for the children, the same top-notch food as Oswald ate. Jacob had also heard that she was given a sizable sum of money each month. Rumours spread quickly through the small group, and many people were envious of her. But not Jacob. He noticed that Oswald visited the little cottage sometimes, and in those moments he had no desire to trade places with Elvira. None at all.
Jacob had wormed his way out of working by the pond with the excuse that a cow might calve at any moment, although in fact he knew it would be at least a week. Oswald certainly didn’t want to have to deal with a cow in labour, so Jacob was allowed to stay behind. He had decided to use this time to make up for his negligence of the animals – mucking stalls and putting down fresh straw, that sort of thing – but now and then he peered out the barn door.
It was at one of those moments he saw the car rolling through the main gate. A black car with tinted windows. It crept across the courtyard like a predator on the hunt and stopped in front of the manor house.
Two men got out of the car: Benny and a dark-haired guy he’d never seen before. And then Oswald came out to the front steps, harried and annoyed. He snapped at Benny, who backed up a few steps and stared down at the gravel.
The day was overcast, and a drizzle fell from the sky like a light dusting. Spring seemed to have stopped in its tracks the past few days. The island was swept in a thick, grey blanket that wouldn’t lift. Oswald was already wet with rain, and he shook his head in irritation. His voice floated over to Jacob.
‘For Christ’s sake! Hurry up!’
The men opened the back door of the car and pulled out a tarp-wrapped object. It seemed heavy; they struggled to get a grip on it to lift it. Jacob’s first thought was that it must be some new machine for Oswald’s gym, which had just been expanded.
Oswald held the door as the men carried the large bundle inside. They must have been in there for ten minutes. Jacob lingered until they came back out. The strange man hopped in the car as Benny went over to the guard booth and opened the gate. The car vanished into the mist.
Jacob looked at his watch. Quarter past one. He was hungry and decided to go to the kitchen and search for something edible. He knew the staff had taken sandwiches to the forest and hoped there were some leftovers. As he crossed the courtyard he thought about what was under that sheet. Oswald was usually proud of his new gadgets and never squandered the opportunity to say that only he was allowed to use them. But this time he had sent everyone away, and that piqued Jacob’s curiosity.
The lights were on in the kitchen – the staff must have left in a hurry, because there were still utensils and bits of food all over the counters. Jacob made a few sandwiches and stuffed them in his coat pocket. He was just about to turn out the lights when he realized he was thirsty, so he went to the fridge and took out a bottle of water, which he put in his other pocket. He hoped no one would notice he’d been there.
Out in the courtyard it had stopped raining; the mist was dissipating and seemed to float up into the sky. Jacob stopped at the greenhouse, which had been neglected ever since Simon left ViaTerra. A couple of withered, dried-up plants were all that was left inside. They had never found a replacement for Simon. There had been such a ruckus when Oswald realized they could no longer serve local, organic produce.
Just as Jacob was standing outside the greenhouse, he heard a scream. Half-stifled, muffled by the thick walls of the manor house – but still so loud that Jacob went stiff. One drawn-out scream, and then another, which died out and was followed by a creepy silence. It was so quiet that Jacob could hear a single bird chirping on the other side of the wall.
43
The sight of Oswald made Simon go weak at the knees. He wasn’t afraid of him, but he was immediately reminded of the claustrophobia he had experienced in the cult. Besides, Oswald looked out of place standing there in his expensive clothes with the fields and greenhouses behind him. Like a fashion spread with the wrong backdrop. He was tanned, too, and Simon was disgusted to realize that he’d already made use of his tanning bed.
‘Hi there, Simon, it�
�s been awhile.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘Look, I don’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to know if you’ve seen Bosse. He’s out on a lark or something, and we’re worried about him.’
‘Bosse? No, I sure haven’t.’
Oswald fixed his eyes on Simon, who stared back. Simon didn’t feel guilty in the least – in fact, he got a kick out of lying to Oswald.
‘Okay, then.’
Oswald glanced around Simon’s cottage.
‘I see you’re doing well for yourself here. But things can always change.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Who knows. Maybe I’ll buy the pension. I’ve been considering investing in property here on the island. After all, you’ve won prizes and all that. Then you would work for me again. Like in the good old days.’
Was this bastard threatening him?
‘I don’t think Inga is interested in selling.’
‘What if she doesn’t have any choice? Shit, I’m just kidding around, Simon. Don’t look so freaked out. I’m sure you understand how worried I am about Bosse. He’s been a little confused recently. If he does contact you, just tell him not to worry. All he has to do is call me right away, and we’ll work it all out.’
Oswald held out a business card and Simon took it automatically.
‘Was there anything else?’
‘No, you can get back to whatever it is you do around here,’ he said, turning around to gaze out at the fields and the greenhouses. He nodded to himself.
It occurred to Simon that Oswald wasn’t only there because of Bosse. He was in urgent need of a gardener. So Simon had become interesting again. The thought made him feel vaguely ill.
He watched as Oswald got back in his car and drove off, then became aware of the little card in his hand. Well, now I’ve got his mobile number, he thought. That might come in handy someday.
He called to Bosse, who looked seriously shaken as he came out of the bathroom. A few minutes later, they were on their way to the mainland, where Bosse would take the train to the farm in Småland.
On the ferry, Bosse was silent, hardly responding when spoken to. His face had gone eerily pale.
‘There’s no one from ViaTerra here,’ Simon said. ‘I took a tour of the ferry and checked. As soon as we’re off the ferry we’ll drive straight to the train station.’
‘It’s not that,’ Bosse mumbled. ‘But… hearing his voice. He actually sounded worried. Now I feel like a coward for running away. Like I’m betraying them.’
‘Listen, he’s not worried about you at all. He’s just afraid that you won’t keep quiet about all the crap that happens at ViaTerra. You know that, right?’
‘Yeah, maybe. I suppose it’s hard to understand, but he helped me when no one else cared. It’s complicated.’
Simon sighed.
‘It’s up to you. Should we go back?’
‘No, definitely not. It’s just… I can’t go back to ViaTerra, and I also can’t leave. It’s like there’s no way out. No matter what I do, everything will go to shit.’
Bosse shook his upper body as if he were trying to get something off him. Then he turned to Simon and gave a hoarse laugh that was immediately absorbed into the fog around the boat.
‘Of course I’m still going to your parents’ farm, Simon. It’s just, these sick thoughts keep popping up. Thanks for helping me.’
But none of this sounded like it came from the heart. Oswald’s mere presence had really rattled Bosse. Simon was starting to feel anxious, but he figured that as soon as Bosse settled into his job at the farm everything would be better.
The silence in the car grew awkward. Simon turned on the radio and tried to focus on the road and the news, but just then the broadcasters started to talk about Anna-Maria Callini’s death. Again. Something about how the cause of death had been determined as a broken neck. Bosse let out a moan of horror.
‘Didn’t Franz tell you all that Anna-Maria Callini is dead?’ Simon asked.
Bosse shook his head, bewildered.
‘Oh. Well, she is. She ran off the road on his motorcycle.’
They talked about it for a while, and then Bosse sank back into his ruminations.
The train station was busy, full of people moving in every direction. Simon thought perhaps Bosse would like it – the warmth of other humans. But instead he seemed to stick out, as if he didn’t belong there. He kept looking around, nervously chewing on his lower lip.
The train was half an hour late.
‘I’ll wait,’ Simon said.
‘No, fuck it. I can manage on my own. I’ll just sit here on a bench and think for a while. Thank you, Simon, for all you’ve done for me. I’ll pay you back someday.’
‘Don’t even mention it. And do not under any circumstances let my mother save your soul.’
Bosse laughed.
‘Who knows? That stuff about God’s Way doesn’t really sound all bad.’
‘Oh, Mom promised to leave you alone. And then there’s Dad – he’s a little odd, but he’ll protect you. He’s guaranteed to get out the shotgun if any Oswald clones show up there.’
They embraced awkwardly. Bosse was so skinny that Simon could feel his ribs through his clothes. He smelled like Simon’s shampoo and the synthetic fabric of his new jacket, as if he hadn’t quite found his own scent yet.
Bosse held up the phone Simon had given him.
‘Are you sure you want to give me this?’
‘Of course, so you can call me and we can chat. But it doesn’t have a monthly contract, just a pay-as-you-go card. So you’ll have to add funds when it runs out.’
‘What about you, though? It’s your number.’
‘I’ll get a new one. I don’t have that many friends.’
Bosse gave him a hesitant smile. It was like he couldn’t tear his eyes from Simon.
‘Well, talk to you later, then.’
Just as Simon was about to turn at the end of the platform, he glanced back. Bosse had stood up and was wandering along the track with his back to Simon, getting smaller and smaller until he was no more than a blurry dot in Simon’s vision.
The bad feeling he had was overwhelming as he got behind the wheel, but he started the car anyway and drove out of the parking lot.
By the time he turned onto the road, his uneasiness had grown so strong that one hand was trembling slightly. The thought that had been chafing deep down was now so urgent that he almost lost control of the car; he had to slow down and park on the side of the road. At first he couldn’t figure out what was happening to him, why he was full of an anguish so powerful it had taken over his body. Never before had he felt this way. Or had he? An image flickered through his mind. Bosse’s eyes. All at once Simon knew what Bosse hadn’t managed to hide under that forced smile. That look was so familiar that Simon was tossed four years back in time as his stomach turned inside out and the world around him began to spin. The look in Daniel’s eyes, and Bosse’s – they were identical.
He managed to collect himself enough to start the car, make a U-turn, and speed back to the station. He was hardly aware of the other cars, or the fact that he was driving too fast; he was hardly aware of himself. He only knew he had to hurry. There wasn’t much time.
When he couldn’t find a parking spot he left the car in a handicapped slot, threw open the door without closing it, and left his keys behind. He ran, bumping into people. Here and there someone cursed angrily, but Simon didn’t hear them; he just pushed on. He stopped at the platform where Bosse’s train was supposed to be, his eyes searching frantically for Bosse, but the dot had vanished. So he set off down the platform, along the tracks. He knew, he had never been so sure of something. The suitcases he ran into fell to the concrete with heavy thuds; he pushed people out of the way. Straining his eyes, he finally spotted a shadow by the tracks, far in the distance. The voice on the loudspeaker announced an approaching train. Bosse’s train.
‘No!’ Simon shouted. But t
he shadow didn’t seem to react. Simon was no longer running – he was floating, hurtling forward like an arrow, as the sound of the train grew louder. The shadow had become a body. A figure at the edge of the tracks. Its back straight, stiff as a board. Simon shouted again, louder now. He pushed off from the asphalt and dived the last little bit. Aiming for the thighs, grabbing hold of them, pulling backwards. His head struck the platform with a bang, and Bosse’s body landed on top of him.
The gust of air from the train swept over them. The racket of the wheels on the rails was so loud that it drowned out Bosse’s cry of despair. They lay like that for a moment, Simon panting and Bosse howling like a child. But Simon had a firm grip around Bosse’s chest and he wasn’t about to let go.
Some of the people on the platform sprang into action. People ran towards them. The train squealed and whined as it slowed down. Simon rolled away from Bosse and sat up. But before he could open his mouth, he heard Bosse’s piteous voice.
‘He called me, that bastard. That fucker called me.’
44
What happened next made Simon stop thinking of himself as more or less a coward. By some miracle, he managed to convince the other passengers on the platform that Bosse had epilepsy, and that he’d called Simon to say he was about to have a seizure and couldn’t control his body. Suspicious eyes filled instead with compassion and understanding. Simon gathered Bosse’s things, took him by the arm, and led him from the station to the car. They didn’t say a word, but Bosse was sobbing and hyperventilating.
The car door was open and the keys were still there. After a lengthy silence, Simon said, ‘Tell me about the phone call.’
‘I don’t really want to die,’ Bosse said instead. ‘I just stood there staring at the tracks and listening to the train coming, like it was actually tugging at me, and Franz’s voice was echoing in my head like thunder, my head was about to explode, and I had no choice. I had to jump.’
Shadow of Fog Island Page 24