And then my life will not have been in vain.
Recorded and signed on this day by
Sigrid Kristina Augusta von Bärensten
52
Simon was on his way to ViaTerra to meet Jacob. The brisk evening chill worked its way under his clothing. A thin mist, typical of Fog Island, blanketed the landscape.
Another email had arrived from Sofia’s account. A picture of Paris, with a cathedral in the background. After some googling, he had understood that it was the Sacré-Cœur. View from our hotel was all it said. He wondered how many hotels had a view of this particular landmark. Whether they could be traced somehow. But it seemed ridiculous, because after all he knew she wasn’t really there. And now Simon wondered where this would all lead. Whether it would end with an email that reported Sofia had vanished. Or, even worse, that there had been an accident. That she had thrown herself into the Seine and couldn’t be rescued. His thoughts were running away with him – he couldn’t stop them.
He hoped it would be dark before he got to the manor. It was easier to sneak in undetected that way.
The last rays of the sun were lighting up the sentry box when he arrived, making it glow in the twilight. Two guards were inside; he could see their shadows. The sound of a motorcycle came from within the walls. Extra surveillance. So something was up. Now he assumed that Jacob wouldn’t show, but still he snuck around to the back of the property, opened the gate, and slipped in.
He could no longer hear the motorcycle. No Jacob. He waited for a while and was just about to leave when there was a rustling sound behind him, and there stood Jacob.
‘I’ve made up my mind,’ he said straightaway. ‘In a week, I’m going to escape. There are some things I need to take care of before then, but I’m not going to chicken out this time.’
Simon’s heart gave a leap.
‘Awesome! You won’t regret it. Why are there so many guards around today?’
Jacob glanced anxiously towards the courtyard.
‘I don’t actually know.’
‘I’ve got the feeling Oswald is up to something fishy,’ Simon continued.
Jacob, who was otherwise a good and attentive listener, sometimes zoned out and stared off at nothing – and he was doing so now.
‘Did you hear me?’
‘Sure, I was just so surprised, because I have the very same feeling. That something’s up.’
‘Well, have you noticed anything?’
‘Yes – I mean, it’s something about mould.’
‘What?’
‘In the cellar. No one is allowed down there anymore. Or even in the vicinity.’
At that moment they heard the motorcycle again, and it seemed to be heading in their direction. There was no time for Simon to interrogate Jacob. He had the eerie feeling that they were about to be discovered, that they would be like deer in the headlights.
‘Find out what’s in the cellar,’ he whispered. ‘See you tomorrow morning at six.’
He hurried through the gate. The motorcycle was practically on top of them. He heard Jacob lie down on the ground, the rustle of last year’s leaves crunching beneath him, and he hoped they wouldn’t find him. He dashed through the woods for a while before daring to return to the road. He felt shaken. It couldn’t be a coincidence, what Jacob had told him, and he shuddered to think what it might mean.
Jacob heard the motorcycle getting closer and pressed himself to the ground. He tried to think of a plausible explanation for being there. He could say he was looking for a sheep that had run off. But why would anyone lie on the ground to do that?
The motorcycle stopped. Then came the sound of the kickstand flipping down and the static hiss of the walkie-talkie – like cackling geese.
‘What’s going on over there?’
‘There’s no one here. You must have been seeing things.’
‘Then forget it. We’ve been called to a meeting.’
‘Oh, shit. I’ll be right there.’
Jacob took a roundabout path back to the barn. At the door he ran into an angry Corinne.
‘Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’
‘I was out checking on the pastures to see if we can let the animals out.’
‘How the hell can you tell in the dark?’
‘It took a little longer than I expected. What do you want?’
‘Assembly after dinner in the dining hall. Franz wants to talk to the whole staff,’ she said, marching away, still angry. Jacob would have liked to sneak over to the cellar window, but assembly meant that the courtyard would soon be full of staff members. He would have to postpone his spying. He hoped this wouldn’t turn into one of those times they all had to work through the night.
A bunch of staff came out of the annexes, heading for the dining hall. Jacob joined them. Lina from the kitchen spotted him and gave him a friendly smile.
‘Hi, Jacob, do you know what this is all about?’
‘No, but I’m sure it’s a sequel to the mould story.’
Lina didn’t respond, just rolled her eyes. Jacob had always thought she was cute. He wondered if she, too, had had enough. If perhaps she was ready to get out.
As they passed the cellar window, Jacob noticed a light on down there.
Oswald was already stationed in the dining hall. They quickly sat down in the back row. Oswald looked annoyed, but not insanely angry as he sometimes did.
‘We’re going to deal with the mould day after tomorrow,’ he said. ‘A company will be coming to fix it, and I want you all out of the way. You will finish the work around the pond that you never completed. At eight you will gather here and march out to the woods. And none of you is to go anywhere near the cellar until then. It’s bad enough I’ve had to be down there, inhaling that crap. If I have to remind you about what needs doing, it’s getting everything ready for guests. Everything still looks like shit.’
Corinne stood beside him, nodding after each sentence. She was already looking wan and tired.
Erik raised his hand. How does he have the guts? Jacob wondered. Erik was still in disgrace, still digging his ditch, which was starting to resemble a moat.
‘Sir, I’m sorry for bringing this up, but I thought I heard sounds from the cellar. Some sort of howling, like an animal.’
Oswald’s dark eyes looked down at Erik, full of an indifference that verged on disdain. But then something unexpected happened. Oswald began to laugh. It started as a soft chuckle, but it grew into a shrill guffaw that prompted the entire staff to join in. Jacob’s arms broke out in gooseflesh.
‘It’s probably that evil old countess haunting the place,’ Oswald said at last, which unleashed another round of laughter among the staff.
Oswald silenced them with a raised hand.
‘Seriously, though, Erik, it’s not out of the question that some animal got caught down there, the way you’ve all been neglecting this place. The entire cellar will be inspected the day after tomorrow, and then we’ll find out what kind of crap is down there. Or maybe you heard the babies, over at Elvira’s. Who knows. Any more questions?’
It was dead silent.
‘Okay then, you know what to do.’
Jacob was on tenterhooks all night. The minutes crawled by, and he kept gazing towards the manor to see if it was the right time to sneak over to the cellar window. But there always seemed to be someone around, so he decided to wait until everyone had gone to bed. At last he heard the muffled voices of the staff as they walked across the grounds to the dorms. Soon – once the windows of the manor went dark – he would gather his courage.
The lights were still on at Elvira’s when he set off, but the rest of the manor was dark and still. Jacob wondered if Oswald was with Elvira. What would he say if Oswald caught him sneaking around at night? There would be no believable lie. It simply could not happen. The sentry box was illuminated, and he saw two guards there. One was leaning back in his chair – asleep, probably – while the other was on the phone
. Everything seemed quiet and calm. A sense of desertedness, emptiness, seemed to emanate from the courtyard, so he set off for the house. Just as he passed Elvira’s place, a dark shape appeared before him. His heart leapt into his throat and he stopped short. But then the moon peered out from behind a cloud, shedding a faint light on the yard, and he saw it was Elvira.
‘Jesus Christ, you scared me almost to death,’ he whispered.
Elvira was standing right in front of him. Her skin was ghostly pale in the moonlight, and her eyes were wide open. At first he thought she was frightened too, but then he realized her cheeks were stained with tears.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.
‘Nothing. I saw you coming. I just wanted… Fuck, it’s so lonely in my cottage. I have no one to talk to but Franz.’ Her tears were flowing now. There was no sound, no sobbing or sniffling, only a river of tears. ‘I feel so abandoned, Jacob. I don’t know if I can stand it much longer.’
He placed a hand on her arm, felt the thin fabric, and realized she was standing there in nothing but her nightgown.
‘I’d be happy to come in and chat for a while sometime, if you want me to.’
‘Franz would never allow it. But can’t you tell me what’s going on at ViaTerra? Quick, before the guards see us? I have no idea what you’re all up to.’
‘Oh, pretty much the same old stuff. Right now it’s all about the mould smell in the cellar. Franz is furious, as you may have noticed.’
Elvira’s face took on an expression of mild surprise.
‘Weird. I was in the cellar a few weeks ago. Franz asked me to clean it. It was a real pigsty down there. But I didn’t notice any mould.’
Jacob’s heart beat faster.
Elvira shook her head. ‘Nope, I don’t think the cellar’s ever been in better shape. It’s so claustrophobic in the cottage, so it was nice to have something to do. I scrubbed the bathroom like crazy, but when I was about to start on the walls Franz told me to stop and go back to the babies.’ She grabbed Jacob’s hand. ‘I have to go, so no one sees us. Maybe you can drop by sometime when Franz is gone. Like, sneak in. And look, you’re not going to mention that I was outside, are you?’
‘Of course not. Take care of yourself, now.’
She vanished as quickly as she’d appeared. Jacob hurried to the manor house, walking along the walls until his foot struck the cellar window. There was a bang and at first he was afraid he’d broken the pane, but when he bent down he saw it was undamaged. There was a padlock on the window.
He crouched down and shaded his eyes so he could see in.
Someone was lying on a bed down there, their face turned away. The thin body seemed familiar somehow, but it was the hair that Jacob recognized. It was spread around her face like a dark sea, full of rippling waves.
Jacob only knew one person with hair like that.
53
As she finished reading, the room vanished around her. She lost herself in the text and didn’t notice that darkness was falling until she had to strain her eyes to make out the elaborate cursive. She underwent a metamorphosis and became Sigrid von Bärensten. Suffering alongside her. Becoming furious with her at times. She so fervently wanted everything to turn out okay. She reached the last chapter, when Sigrid gazed out the window to see Fredrik, Franz, or whoever the fuck he was.
All at once she knew why Oswald had given her the book. And there was something more. The final page was dotted with what looked like grey soot. She wondered if the old lady had been so muddled that she had dirtied the book herself, or whether it was in fact the final trace of Amelia von Bärensten on that page. The woman they said haunted the island.
She sat motionless for several minutes, staring straight ahead, returning to herself and her breath and the situation she was in, in an entirely new way. Like a small section of a long string of miserable events that could only end in tragedy. She thought of the little boy with a clothespin on his penis and felt a pang of empathy, but quickly returned to her conviction that Oswald had always been evil, that his soul was an inky black lump through and through. He probably thought the family history would plunge her into a state of permanent hopelessness.
Something Sigrid had written had etched itself into Sofia’s memory. She flicked back through and found the text.
Perhaps another woman will someday read this. Perhaps she will be in a similar situation. So I want to say it’s important to be shrewd. I could have gone out on the property to pick some poisonous plant and then mixed it in his liqueur. Perhaps I could have tucked a burr under his horse’s saddle. And now I’m sure you’re saying ‘Oh no, that would be dreadful!’ But life isn’t always pleasant. And when you don’t speak up, there are consequences.
She ran her finger across the words. She wished she could underline them, but she didn’t have a pen. Instead she dog-eared the page. The idea that shrewdness was vital – and here she had been anything but shrewd. For the first time since she’d been brought back to ViaTerra, she felt herself smile. She knew what Oswald got off on: her sassy attitude. In the office, all it had taken was for her to get really upset and he had pressed himself against her back, his erection the size of a baseball bat. Yet she kept battling him. And that was not being shrewd. Not at all.
Suddenly she became aware that he was standing in the doorway and watching her.
‘She was my grandmother,’ he said. ‘A real ninny. And I suppose now you’re thinking I spend all my time wringing my hands about what my pathetic dad did to me. But I don’t. He got what he deserved. That goddamn idiot crawled over to the window when I burned down the house. Then he transformed into a charred corpse before my very eyes. The only thing I regret is not chopping his dick off with a bolt cutter.’
He approached the bed. She tried to suppress a stream of unpleasant images, to look unmoved although what she wanted most of all was to put the book aside and throw up.
‘Do you understand what this book is proof of?’ he asked.
‘How much you and your forefathers hate women?’
‘Don’t take everything so personally. I don’t only hate women. All of humanity is full of brainless morons. Don’t you understand why I gave you the book?’
‘No, not really.’
‘Then you’re dumber than I thought. You can’t comfort people and save the world from destruction at the same time. Most people are so stupid and pathetic that they deserve to drown in their own blood. Lucky they have me as a lifeline. That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about.’
‘I see. Well, that sounds interesting.’ She bit her tongue at the cynical undertone.
‘It’s not interesting at all. It’s simply what’s necessary for you to understand what I’m thinking. What I really want is for you to decide what role you’re going to play in this story. Because I’m going to pick it up where that old bitch left off. It’s going to be a masterpiece of strength, power, and rehabilitation. And now you get to decide your own fate. Within reason. Won’t that be fun?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Chill out, Sofia. People like you have to make everything so damn complicated. Do you know what ViaTerra stands for?’
‘Yes, it’s Latin, it means “the way of the earth”.’
‘True, but really it’s just a cheap Spanish wine. It sounds good, though, doesn’t it? You have to give people what they want. That makes them more receptive to what’s important. The rest is all just trivia.’
‘So you saw a bottle of wine and thought, that sounds like a good name for a cult! Seriously?’
‘Something along those lines. Seems there’s no limit to your sarcasm today. Did the old bitch’s sob story put you in a bad mood? ViaTerra is not a cult. What do I have to say to get that through to that bird-brain of yours?’
There was that deep, quiet, hoarse voice. The one that warned of an outburst hovering just below the surface. She knew the tone all too well; she felt a passing flutter in her stomach. If she pressed the wrong button, he would explode.
Oswald sat down on the edge of the bed. He was wearing jeans and a white shirt, and he smelled like he had just showered. His hair was still damp. He took her hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb. She buried the urge to pull away and stared down at the knobbly blanket.
‘I’m about to tell you why you got what you deserved yesterday. Listen carefully.’
He leaned over her, gripping both of her wrists and holding them down on the bed.
I could kick him in the nuts right now, she thought. Just pull my leg back really fast and give him a hell of a kick. But she knew that was a stupid idea; it would only lead to her being raped again.
‘Haven’t you figured out what ViaTerra is all about? The theses and all.’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘Okay, but I’m going to tell you anyway. I am the founder of ViaTerra. ViaTerra is the only hope for humanity. I sat behind lock and key for a year and a half. For no reason whatsoever. Because of your big mouth. Did you really think you would get away with it? Don’t you understand why you have to be punished?’
He pulled her arms over her head until she was all stretched out on the bed before him.
‘Answer me!’
‘Sure, I get it. The theses are important. For humanity.’
‘I don’t know what’s worse, your backtalk or your stupidity. They’re not important – they are life itself.’
‘I understand.’
She forced herself to relax and lie motionless beneath him.
‘You will answer properly when I speak to you. You can go back to your boring, pointless, average-Swede life, but it won’t change a damn thing. Because you think of me constantly, don’t you?’
‘Maybe.’
‘What the hell kind of answer is that?’
He shook her until the base of the bed creaked. His eyes were wild. She had to do something, say something, because he was at the breaking point. But if she tried to come up with something quickly it would be all wrong, and how could any words check the crazy look in his eyes? All at once, she knew what she had to do.
Shadow of Fog Island Page 31