TWENTY
They enter what seems at first glance like a pretty normal home. But Dan already notices the subtle signs in the hallway. The front door, for instance, is reinforced on the inside with a heavy iron grid and has three large sliding latches. He looks up and sees a camera in the ceiling, staring down at them.
Holger kicks off his shoes in the corner before going into the kitchen. “You guys just wait in the living room,” he calls back.
Dan and Mille both look to William, and he waves them discretely into the adjacent room. Ozzy follows close to William while sniffing the air curiously.
The living room is pretty big, but it seems smaller due to all the stuff taking up every available surface. Shelves, chairs, windowsills, the couch, even the floor is crammed with all kinds of stuff, not to mention the dining table in the middle of the room, which is covered in book piles and cardboard boxes reaching almost to the ceiling. Holger has collected all kinds of things, tools, accessories, electronic devices, and objects Dan can’t even identify. There are also quite a few plates and cups strewn about, and flies are buzzing in the air. It smells like it’s been weeks since a window was opened. Holger is pretty obviously a bachelor.
But there are no apparent signs that Holger’s home should be the zombie-proof fortification William hinted at. The only form of protection Dan can see is the metal grids barring the windows and making him feel like he’s in prison. Oh, and more cameras in the ceiling.
He begins to seriously consider if he made a mistake going with William. Maybe he should have taken the chance when William offered to drop him off.
“Sorry for the mess,” Holger calls from the kitchen. “Try to find a place to sit down. Just don’t break anything.”
William clears a couple of chairs and offers Mille one of them. Dan moves a tower of books off the couch’s armrest and sits down.
Holger brings in a large pitcher of red lemonade and takes a glass from a cupboard which he fills and chucks down in one go. He burps and pours himself another glass before sitting down at the corner of the coffee table.
“You know, I always knew this day would come,” he mutters into the glass before taking another big swig—the sight of the lemonade has suddenly reminded Dan how thirsty he is, but Holger doesn’t seem intent on offering any of his guests something to drink. “It was only a matter of time.”
“Yeah, you were right all along,” William says, getting up. He takes three glasses from the cupboard and hands them to Dan and Mille, before he takes the pitcher from Holger, who barely seems to notice.
“Now I guess they wish they’d listened,” he says, staring into the floor.
William pours lemonade for the three of them, and Dan immediately gulps down the sweet, synthetic-tasting liquid. Then he licks his lips and stares longingly at the pitcher, which William hands back to Holger, who pours himself a third helping.
“Cheers,” William says, raising his glass, looking around at them with a pale smile. “To the end of the world.”
“Cheers,” Holger mutters, as though not really listening.
Dan glances at Mille, who has found her phone and is checking something on it. She sips her glass but doesn’t seem to like the taste. Ozzy is slinking around sniffing the surroundings.
“Well,” William says, going to the window. It’s not easy getting a clear view, because the curtain is hanging down on one side, and the other is blocked by more books. “This is like the beginning of a disaster movie. Four people and a dog hobbled together in a fight for survival. Now all we need is the zombies.”
Dan can tell William is trying to make a joke out of it, but he doesn’t really feel like laughing.
“Excuse me,” Mille says. William turns to her, and Dan can see how Mille strains to talk calmly. “I’m glad you helped me. I think you saved my life.”
“I think so too,” William says, neither shame nor pride in his voice.
“But,” Mille goes on, “I really don’t see how we’re anymore safe out here than at our own homes. Is it just because we’re outside town or what? Because if the whole world is going to end, like you say it is, then the zombies will probably come out here too at some point. And if I had to choose, I think I’d rather be somewhere I know.”
“It’s not just because we’re outside town,” William says, finding his cigarettes. “Okay if I smoke in here, Holger?”
“Please don’t. It’s unhealthy.”
“I know,” William sighs, putting the pack back into his pocket. “But why stop now?”
“Then how are we more protected out here?” Mille exclaims, throwing out her arms. “As far as I can tell, this is just a regular house with barred windows.” She glances at Holger. “No offense. It’s nice of you to … let us stay here.” Those last words sound like they don’t want to come out.
Holger avoids her gaze and says nothing.
William empties his glass, wipes his mouth and gets up. “What do you say we show them the place, Holger?”
Holger looks around at them uncertainly, then he nods and gets to his feet. “Follow me. We’ll take the entrance in the bedroom.”
“The entrance?” Mille repeats, but since neither William nor Holger replies, she looks to Dan. Dan simply shrugs, gets up and follows them into the next room.
Holger’s bedroom is dimly lit and smells even more stuffy than the living room. His bedsheets visibly need a changing, and dark blinds keeps out most of the daylight. Dan notices the bed is placed at an odd angle, and he realizes why as Holger kneels down and pulls aside an old, worn-down rug, revealing a hatch in the wooden floor. He opens it and reaches down to pull up a flashlight.
“Follow me,” he says, placing the flashlight in his belt. Then, he climbs down a ladder fastened to the inside of the hole in the floor.
“Ozzy, stay,” William says, following his uncle. The German shepherd sits down and watches his owner disappear out of sight.
Dan glances at Mille, who’s staring at the hole with a highly skeptical look.
“Is that like a hidden basement or what?” she whispers.
“I have no idea,” Dan admits. “Do you want to go first?”
Mille steps back and waves him forward.
Dan takes a deep breath before he sits down and climbs down the rusty steps. The descent is longer than he anticipated, maybe twelve feet before he finally feels solid ground underfoot. He turns and is blinded by the flashlight.
“Where’s the girl?” Holger’s voice asks.
Dan is too stunned to answer right away. He looks around to see not a basement but a long, narrow corridor stretching as far as the light reaches. The ground is dirt, but the walls are made of planks and wooden boards. The ceiling is just high enough for Holger and Dan to be standing upright, but William has to crane his neck slightly.
“Holy shit,” Dan whispers.
William sends him one of his crooked smiles. “Wait till you see what’s at the end.” He looks up through the hole. “You coming, Mille?”
No answer, but after a short while the steps creak, and Mille comes climbing down very carefully. She looks around, appearing just as surprised as Dan. “What is this place?” she asks, stroking her arm.
“That’s a good question,” William says, looking at his uncle. “What do you call it, Holger?”
Holger shakes his head. “I don’t call it anything.”
“Well, let’s name it … Fort Holger!”
Holger bares his baby teeth in a silent grin. Then, he turns and paces down through the corridor, bringing the flashlight and causing the rest of them to follow along quickly so as to not be left in the dark.
The corridor goes on for what feels like a hundred yards with no turns or forks. Finally they reach a door with no visible lock but only a small panel of numbered buttons. Holger glances briefly over his shoulder before typing the code. The lock beeps and the door can be opened.
Holger steps through it, and an automated light turns on on the other side.
“You first,” William says smiling and stepping aside. “I’ve seen it before. Mind the step.”
Dan squeezes past him, steps down a single step onto a vinyl floor and sees a surprisingly large room. He stops in the doorway and stares around at what looks most of all like a pretty regular apartment. If it hadn’t been for the lack of windows and the big, heavy wooden beams supporting the ceiling, Dan would never have guessed they were still underground.
There’s a kitchen area with a stove and two large refrigerators, a dining area with a table big enough for four people, an old couch with a flat screen TV and a bookcase stuffed with books, and a home office with three laptops. The shelves in the kitchen are stuffed with cans and jars and something that looks like dried herbs and fruits.
But this is where the similarities to a normal home end.
Next to the dining table is what looks to Dan like a mini hospital, complete with a full array of surgical instruments, pill bottles and even an operating table hinged to the wall. On the opposite end of the room are two large metal cabinets with heavy padlocks, clearly marked with the next: FIREARMS, KNIVES & MACHETTES, EXPLOSIVES.
Holger has gone to the office area and activated one of the laptops. The screen shows eight live feeds from around the property, both inside and out—and the purpose of all the cameras suddenly becomes clear to Dan.
“This is insane,” he mutters as Mille steps past him, glaring around in stunned silence.
The fact that Holger built a big underground room is impressive enough. It must have taken him years—not to mention the structural knowledge and skills it would take—but that he also turned it into a seemingly perfect survival place with everything you would need to outlast a minor nuclear war …
“You haven’t seen it all yet,” William says, putting a hand on his shoulder, pointing to a door Dan didn’t notice until now. “Come on, I’ll show you the other rooms …”
TWENTY-ONE
Finn is staring blankly at the plate in front of him. The lasagna has gone cold but still it smells good. He just doesn’t have any appetite. That’s an understatement, really; appetite is no longer a feeling Finn understands. Food is an unknown concept to him.
The only thing still present in him is the thought of Lone. That she’s walking around out there right now with all the other lost souls. So many people dead all at once; it’s unfathomable. And yet, Finn really doesn’t care about all the rest of them. He has no relatives, no kids or siblings, so why would other people’s fate matter to him? All he cares about—all he ever really cared about—is Lone. And Lone is dead.
“Try to eat something, Finn.”
The voice causes him to lift his head and blink sleepily. Henrik is looking at him with an expression of warm concern.
“You’ll feel better if you eat,” the neighbor says, pointing to the plate.
Finn lets his eyes wander around the table. He has actually forgotten where he is and who else is present. There’s Trine, of course, Henrik’s wife. And Trine’s mother—Finn can’t recall her name, he’s not even sure she told him. Trine’s mom, who’s around Finn’s own age, is eating her lasagna neatly using both knife and fork, while trying to look as though everything is normal. Still she can’t help but dart a look towards the windows every time there’s a screech of fingernails scraping the outside of the glass. The windows are carefully blocked off with towels and blankets in the hope that those outside would stop trying to get in once they couldn’t see them anymore.
But they didn’t stop. Apparently, they don’t need to see them to know they are there. They can probably smell them. Like sharks, who can pick up on the smell of a single drop of blood at a distance of several miles. Finn saw that once in a documentary.
There’s also another reason why Henrik and his mother-in-law took great care to seal off every window in the house. They didn’t say it, but Finn knows it’s because they don’t want him to see—
“Finn?”
Henrik’s voice pulls him back once again.
“How’re you feeling? Have the pills started working?”
“The pills?” Finn repeats.
“I gave you a couple of Trine’s sedatives, remember?”
“Oh, right,” Finn mutters. “Yeah, I—I think they’re doing the job.”
“That’s good. I still think you should get some food, though.”
Finn picks up the fork and looks at it like it’s some sort of advanced piece of equipment he never operated before. He scoops up some lasagna and transports it to his mouth, chews it, swallows.
Henrik smiles at him. Then he goes on eating.
It’s warm and stuffy in the living room, since they can’t air out and because the evening sun is still baking away outside. He should have been sitting at the terrace right now, a cold beer in his hand and Lone by his side while she did her crosswords.
Finn forces down another bite and looks at Trine. She is the only one present who looks like Finn feels. Her eyes are red and distant, her lasagna untouched. She prods it with her fork now and then, only to put it down again.
“You too, honey,” Henrik says. “Try to—”
“Mind your own business,” Trine sneers, not looking up.
Henrik sighs. “I know it’s a terrible situation, but … I’m sure Dan is fine, and he’ll come home.”
Trine shakes her head slowly. “He’s not. You told him yourself to stay away.”
“Only because it’s not safe around here right now. You can hear them outside, can’t you?” Henrik gestures towards the window. “Would you really want Dan to come home while they’re still out there?”
Trine lets out a long, trembling breath, and Finn can see her eyes turn moist. “I’ve lost my daughter,” she whispers, “and now you’ve sent off my son to die …”
“Honey, please,” Henrik says, reaching for her hand.
She draws it away hissing: “Don’t touch me.”
Henrik looks to his mother-in-law. “Kirsten, would you …?”
Kirsten nods, puts down her knife and fork and dabs her mouth with the napkin. “Listen to me,” she says, turning to her daughter. “Henrik did the right thing. I’m sure Dan is safe.”
“How would you know?” Trine asks as she begins stabbing the lasagna with her fork. “You don’t know the people he’s with.”
“As soon as the police get this under control, we’ll go and get Dan,” Kirsten goes on.
“We can’t,” Trine says, raising her voice. “’Cause we don’t know where he is! And he’s not answering his phone … do you think that’s a good sign, huh, Mom? Or do you think he might be dead somewhere, just like Jennie, just like my girl … my girl … my little girl … oh God …” Trine bursts into tears, and Henrik and Kirsten get up in unison.
“Let me take her,” Kirsten says, glancing at Finn. “Maybe he could use some sleep.”
Henrik nods and turns to Finn, while Kirsten helps her daughter to the couch.
“Would you like a nap, Finn?” Henrik asks.
Finn agrees without really thinking. Henrik helps him to his feet. They leave the living room and the sound of Trine’s sobbing cries, and they go down the hallway to a room slightly cooler, even though the window here is also blocked by a blanket.
“Is this … is this Jennie’s room?” Finn asks absentmindedly, looking at the posters of singers.
“It was,” Henrik murmurs. “Until yesterday.”
“Until yesterday?” Finn parrots, not understanding.
“Jennie’s dead, Finn.”
“Oh, right.”
“Come on, lie down.”
Finn lies down on the neatly made bed, folding his hands on his stomach. He stares up to the ceiling, where Jennie did a collage of photos of her and her friends having fun.
Henrik glances up at the pictures and swallows audibly. “Try to get some rest,” he says. “You just call me if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay. Thank you, Henrik.”
Henrik leaves the room
, closing the door almost all the way.
Finn just lies there for a while, studying the photos without really seeing them. His eyelids are growing heavy when someone suddenly scrapes on the window.
Finn sits up and looks at the blanket. He can make out a low figure on the other side, hands groping the glass and the person uttering a low, almost pained moaning.
Could that be her?
Finn’s breathing automatically speeds up a notch. The silhouette could very well be Lone—but then again, what would the odds be? Henrik said earlier there must already be hundreds of them out there, so it could be anyone outside the window. Perhaps another one of the residents of the street. Perhaps a total stranger.
Perhaps … Lone.
Finn gets up and steps carefully closer. The tuneless groans from the figure grow slightly louder, the hands start fumbling more eagerly, as though the person feels him approaching.
The blanket is attached all the way around with tacks. Finn picks one of them out and gently moves the blanket a little aside, allowing him to peek out.
A strong dropping sensation in his lower belly almost makes him stagger.
Lone’s face is staring at him through the glass. Her mouth is open, and there’s dried blood on her chin and down her throat. Her glasses are gone, and her hair is messy and lumpy with more dried blood. The eyes aren’t the grey, loving eyes he remembers, but dull and white, empty and without a trace of anything human.
Or—are they? Are her eyes really completely empty?
The more Finn stares into Lone’s face, the more he begins to sense a remnant of her old self. She, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to recognize him, as she just keeps running her hands over the glass and growling at him.
But maybe … maybe that’s her way of communicating? Maybe she can’t talk or move normally anymore, but who’s to say she’s not still in there? After all, how else would she have found him, if she wasn’t at least partly herself still? Maybe she could even be cured!
She shouldn’t be out there with all the rest of them.
Dead Meat Box Set [Days 1-3] Page 22