I'm Traveling Alone

by Samuel Bjork

  Karen smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. She glanced up at the ceiling, and she seemed to be contemplating something.

  Hamar Hospital. Mia guessed they must be near Hamar. Karen Nylund’s father had murdered her mother. The police had done nothing. That explained her hatred of the police.

  “Am I allowed to ask questions?” Mia said.

  “Everything is allowed.” Karen laughed. “Everything is allowed in this game!”

  “Except swearing,” Mia said, forcing out another smile; she hoped it looked genuine.

  “That’s right.” Karen giggled. “We don’t like that.”

  “What did you call her?” Mia said.

  “Who?”

  “The baby from the maternity ward.”

  Karen had stopped smiling.

  “Margrete,” she said.

  “Beautiful name,” Mia said.

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, very beautiful. Was that her room?” She nodded in the direction of the monitor.

  “Yes,” Karen said forlornly. “Or no, it wasn’t as nice as that. That was where it was, but I had a new one built. The old one became so sad.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Oh, no, my turn, my turn.”

  Mia took her eyes off the screen. She could not bear to watch it. Marion was lying on the bed, wearing a white doll’s dress trimmed with lace.

  “He bled to death inside.” Karen smiled.

  “Who?”

  “The one we never mention. I put rat poison in his food. After the police said that my mom had run away, I had to cook for all three of us. It was fun watching him die. We watched him, my sister and I. He bled from his mouth, from everywhere. It was really good to watch. A red-letter day, you could say. Almost like Christmas.”

  “Where did you bury him?” Mia said, trying her hardest not to look at the screen.

  Focus now, Mia, focus.

  “Right behind the outhouse.” Karen smiled. “Stinky, stinky, filthy, filthy, filthy. Very apt. Are you sure you don’t want some cake?”

  “Maybe later.” Mia smiled.

  “It’s very good.” Karen nodded and disappeared inside her own head for a moment.

  “Malin Stoltz.”

  “Oh, you mean Maiken?”

  “Two different-colored eyes? Malin?”

  “Maiken.” Karen nodded again. “Poor Maiken. She’s as mad as a hatter, did you know? But together we made loads of money.”

  Slowly it began to dawn on Mia how everything was connected.

  “Through the church?”

  Karen Nylund gleefully clapped her hands again.

  “Well done, Mia. Clever girl. You’ve no idea how easy it is to make old ladies give all their money to Jesus when they think they’re about to die.”

  She laughed briefly.

  “The church got sixty percent, we got forty. A fair deal in my opinion. That’s a lot of money, Mia. Do you know how much money that is?”

  “No,” Mia said.

  “It’s a lot.” Karen winked at her. “Let’s put it this way, this is not my real home.”

  “But she didn’t know anything about Margrete or the other girls?”

  “Oh, no!” Karen laughed. “Maiken is downright crazy, no doubt about it, but much too soft for anything like that. That stupid friend of hers, Roger Bakken, at least I could use him for something. He could never make up his mind whether he was a man or a woman—a bit bizarre, really. People like that are always weak, easy to manipulate.”

  “Wow, that’s quite a scam,” Mia said. “Working with the church. Clever for sure. Everyone’s a winner.”

  “Yes, they are, aren’t they?” Karen said proudly.

  “So what happened to her?” Mia continued.

  “Who?”

  “Margrete. The baby?”

  Karen fell silent for a moment before she replied. “I was hit by a car. I broke my foot and both arms,” she said, pressing her lips together. “I was admitted to the hospital.”

  “For a long time?”

  Karen nodded. “I can’t blame them either,” she said, putting on her smile again. “The old people, I mean. Giving away their money. They lie there all alone. Their bodies are packing up. They look back on their lives and have regrets. Oh, they have so many regrets, Mia. I have seen them. Heard them talk. About all the things they wish they’d done differently. Worried less about other people. Put themselves first. Traveled more, had more fun, explored the world. They’re all terrified. They have fear in their eyes. It’s extreme, Mia, you should have seen some of them. They realize that they’ve made mistakes. They panic. They hope for another go. They want to buy their way to a second chance. I can’t blame them, really. How does it feel to be about to die, Mia?”

  “Are you going to kill me?” Mia said.

  Karen looked at her strangely. “Yes, of course I am. Why do you ask?”

  “Why me?”

  “Have you really not figured that out? And here I was thinking you were so clever!”

  “No, I have not figured it out,” Mia said quietly.

  “No, you haven’t, because I’m smarter than you.”

  Karen smiled triumphantly and clapped her hands again in a childish fashion.

  “I killed a dog, did you know? So that the girls would have someone to play with, wasn’t that nice?”

  “I didn’t know that,” Mia mumbled.

  “That’s because you’re stupid.” Karen Nylund smiled even wider.

  “Yes, you’re smarter than me.”

  “That’s right, I am.”

  “So why are you going to kill me?”

  “Do you not know? Do you really not know?” said the woman with the strawberry-blond hair, laughing.

  “No.”

  “Do you want me to tell you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because you killed my sister,” Karen said, and she disappeared into the kitchen.

  76

  The first time Liv-Hege Nylund sniffed glue was in a back alley in Hamar when she was thirteen years old. She had dropped out of school ages before. She hadn’t liked it there—studying was not for her—she hadn’t liked the people either, and anyway, no one cared about where she was. Her sister, Karen, used to care; she was ten years older than Liv-Hege and had always looked after her while they were growing up in Tangen, in a small house far away from other people. Their father had been a bully. Physical and psychological abuse had characterized life for the two sisters and their mother, who had finally vanished from the surface of the earth. Young Liv-Hege had witnessed things her mind and her body could not process. The cloth filled with glue had offered her a much-needed break from reality. While Karen was around, life had been easier. Going to school. Looking after herself. Believing she was going to be all right. But once their parents were gone, Karen had grown so strange and her personality changed. She lost her temper at the slightest provocation. Without warning, she would laugh out loud at things that weren’t funny. Liv-Hege remembered a bird that had crashed into the living-room window. She had picked up the bird, brought it inside, and tried to keep it alive in a small cardboard box lined with cotton wool. One day after the school bus had dropped her off, she came back to discover Karen in the kitchen; she had a saucepan of water on the stove and was watching the screaming, little bird being boiled alive. She had turned to Liv-Hege with a huge grin on her face. As if she enjoyed watching the bird die. Their mother had worked at Hamar Hospital, and Karen had been allowed to come with her to work. What their mother hadn’t known was that Karen had stolen medication. She’d shown Liv-Hege a box in the attic once when they were home alone, full of syringes and vials and bottles of pills with all sorts of strange names. Liv-Hege didn’t know what her sister intended to use it all for, but it was most likely to kil
l someone. Karen enjoyed killing.

  Liv-Hege, however, only wanted to forget. The glue-soaked cloth was merely the start of the journey that had only one destination. To begin with, Liv-Hege had hitchhiked from Tangen into Hamar, but that soon stopped, and she no longer went home. She and her friends would sniff glue at Domkirkeodden and sleep rough under the bushes. They took poppers, heart medication, and slept on benches and in stairwells. They stole food and spent most of their time trying to get high. The more often Liv-Hege got high, the harder it was for her to stay clean. She had boyfriends, but they weren’t important. A guy who offered her a bed and some weed. Another one who let her shower and gave her alcohol.

  But then she met Markus Skog. Liv-Hege had fallen asleep in someone’s car and woken up in Oslo. Her friend was picking up a packet of something. Speed. Whatever. And there he was, in an apartment in Grønland. Liv-Hege fell head over heels in love, and they became an item. Markus Skog introduced her to heroin, so now she had two loves. Heroin was the perfect drug for her. Much better than glue, with all its waste products and impurities. Glue made her zone out, true, but also sick and nauseous most of the time. Heroin was completely different. Markus Skog injected her for the first time on a summer’s day down by the river Aker, and Liv-Hege barely believed such bliss was possible. It was as if her body had been in tension her whole life, and finally it could relax. All the sharp barbs and her piercing misery turned into a huge smile. One big, beaming, lovely smile framed by pink clouds of eternal beauty. People were good. The world was fantastic. Forever. Since that day they were never apart. A perfect heavenly triangle. Markus and her and heroin. They had moved about, living here, there, and everywhere. Markus knew a lot of people. And when he started dealing, they got to know even more. Dealers were the celebrities of the underworld, always surrounded by an entourage of famous and obscure faces, and even though he was only a street dealer, they did well. One autumn they lived in a camper up at Tryvann. The party atmosphere was pretty good—a lot of cocaine and speed, but not enough heroin, and Liv-Hege missed it. It would be good to score some. Get properly high again. Fortunately, the party crew withdrew to the city center over time. And then there was just the three of them left in the camper van. Markus, her, and the lovely liquid gold that would soon be going into her veins.

  “Please, can you hook me up?”

  Liv-Hege looked beseechingly at Markus Skog, who was pacing back and forth inside the camper van.

  He had just snorted two lines of speed and cocaine mixed together and was quite manic. He was talking to himself constantly, and his eyes were the size of saucers.

  “Markus?” she pleaded with him again. “Hook me up, will you?”

  Liv-Hege lifted the sleeve of her sweater and rested her arm on the small gray plastic table.

  “Damn it, Liv-Hege, do it yourself. Why do I have to do everything for you?” Markus Skog grunted as he cut more lines on the table.

  “But I like it when you do it,” Live-Hege said. “Please?”

  “You’re a real nag, did you know that? I don’t know why I put up with your bony ass. Tell me, Liv-Hege, why do I? It’s not as if you contribute anything, is it?”

  Liv-Hege stared shamefully at the floor and tightened the rubber tube around her arm herself. Markus bent down and snorted both lines, one in each nostril.

  “Ah, here we go, that’s it. That’s right, now we’re going places.”

  He laughed out loud to himself and slammed his fist into the wall. Liv-Hege jolted, almost missing the vein with the needle, but she got it in at last. The warmth started flooding through her body. Finally. Pink clouds. Endless beaches.

  She had just dropped the needle onto the floor when there was a knock on the door to the camper van.

  “Hello?” A woman’s voice.

  “What the hell?” Markus said.

  He tried looking through the curtain but had forgotten that they had cardboard for windows and that he couldn’t see out.

  “Police.” A male voice this time.

  “Shit,” Markus said, starting to clear the table of drugs. “Liv-Hege? Help me, will you?!”

  But Liv-Hege saw no reason to do anything. She had a big smile on her face and was heading for a place where all was well. Just exactly how it happened, Live-Hege could not remember, but suddenly a female police officer was inside the camper van.

  “Mia Krüger, Violent Crimes Section. We’re looking for this girl. Have you seen her?”

  “Ah, that’s Pia.” Liv-Hege smiled when she saw the picture.

  “Shut your mouth!” Markus yelled at her.

  “But it is Pia, isn’t it, Markus? Can’t you see?”

  “I said shut your mouth!” Markus Skog screamed again.

  “Markus?” the policewoman said suddenly. “Markus Skog?”

  “What’s going on, Mia?” It was the male police officer outside.

  “Mia Krüger, now, who would have thought it?” Markus grinned. “It’s been a long time.”

  The police officer named Mia looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

  “How’s your sister?” Markus laughed. The two last lines had kicked in now, and his mouth was one big gaping hole of teeth and laughter.

  “Oh, no, that’s right, she croaked, yeah? Yes, she did, couldn’t handle the pressure, ha, ha. I’ve seen it happen so many times, good girls from nice families. Can’t take the heat ’cause they’ve had it too easy.”

  Liv-Hege had not seen the police officer pull out a gun, but it was there now, looking very large in the small, dirty camper van. Liv-Hege herself had mentally left the cramped quarters. She was sitting on a mountaintop, watching from a distance. It was nice and warm. The wind was blowing briskly through her hair.

  In the room faraway, the one she had left, Markus had picked up a syringe from the table. He was frothing at the mouth now. He waved the syringe at the police officer and laughed maniacally.

  “Want to try it, Mia? Eh, are you sure you don’t want a taste? Your sister couldn’t get enough of it. Spineless cunt, poor little Sigrid, ha, ha.”

  From the lovely mountaintop where she was sitting, Liv-Hege had a clear view of what happened next. It was almost like being at the movies. Markus hawked up a gob and spit at the policewoman while at the same time trying to stab her with the syringe. The policewoman jumped back, and a bang sounded. Liv-Hege’s mountaintop turned into a volcano now—there was rumbling underneath her. The policewoman fired her weapon twice. Markus Skog was flung back across the room and lay bleeding on the floor.

  Liv-Hege Nylund woke up two weeks later to find herself suffering serious withdrawal symptoms in a room she didn’t recognize. Karen was sitting next to her and for a whole week never left her side. They had strapped Liv-Hege to the bed. She’d never experienced anything so horrendous. She was in hell. It was as if every cell in her body were wide awake and screaming. A billion hangovers at the same time; she howled as if the devil himself had taken residence in her. She lay strapped to the bed in the white room until the drugs left her system. All the time with Karen by her side. Her sister had watched her, fed her, held her hand, calmed her down. She’d been gone, but now she was back.

  Finally she was allowed out of bed. She could to go to the bathroom on her own, eat her own food at the table. Karen never left her alone. Then she was allowed out into the garden. Sit on the grass. Gaze at the sun. Look at the trees. Karen was smiling now. Liv-Hege had not seen Karen smile during the whole of her detox, but now her sister was happy.

  What Karen Nylund did not know was that Liv-Hege had no intention of staying alive. She had lost everything. Her two loves. Markus Skog and heroin. What could this world offer her? Nothing.

  One week later, the first time she was allowed out for a walk on her own, she climbed a spruce in the forest as high as she could, tied a rope around her neck.

  And jumped into freedom.

&nb
sp; 77

  “I’m so sorry,” Mia said.

  “Oh, it’s fine. You killed her. And now you’re going to die. It all fits together rather neatly, don’t you think?”

  Karen patted Mia’s hand. She went back to the kitchen and returned with a slice of chocolate cake.

  “Would you like some cake, Mia?”

  Mia shook her head.

  “But you have to eat something. It’s really good, I promise—it’s my mother’s recipe.”

  Mia glanced sideways at the screen on the table. Marion Munch was lying immobile on the bed in the basement room. Mia saw her stir. Thank God. The little girl was merely asleep. Karen Nylund smiled and ran two fingers across the screen.

  “I look forward to getting her ready. It’s important that children are clean, don’t you think?”

  Karen smiled at her. Mia started to feel scared. She’d been relatively calm so far, but her terror was taking control of her now. She felt she was in the presence of evil. She had never seen eyes like that before. It was as if the woman in front of her was fully aware of what she was saying and doing and yet was completely devoid of empathy and normal human emotions.

  “Do you want to know what happens next? Shall we play that game?” Karen got up.

  “Can’t we play another game?” Mia said.

  She had to stall for time now. For her own sake, but mostly for Marion’s. Her body was aching. She thought about Munch. How he would react if Marion were killed. She couldn’t bear to think of it. It was too unreal.

  “So what do you want to play, then?” Karen smiled.

  “Anything,” Mia said, attempting a smile as well. “Perhaps we could talk about Margrete?”

  Karen grew more serious now. She frowned and folded her arms across her chest. Mia Krüger tried desperately to read what was going on inside her mind, how this woman was thinking, to find a weakness, but it was impossible to penetrate.

  “Margrete is fine,” Karen chirped, smiling again now. “She goes to school in heaven and has four classmates. Soon she will have five and a teacher.”