Dan smiles vaguely, then looks over at Ali, who’s crying in the corner, Josefine holding him.
“Not all of us,” he mutters.
TWENTY-ONE
No one says anything for a few seconds, everyone in the helicopter is just looking at each other as they realize Nasira is gone.
Then, something occurs to Dan. “Wait a minute … she might not be dead.”
William and Josefine both look at him.
He throws out his arms. “I mean … the zombies aren’t interested in her.”
Ali looks up too, sniffing and eyeing Dan with what looks like a glimmer of hope.
“You just might be on to something,” William says, then shouting to Sebastian: “Can we wait up here a few minutes? Just until they all leave? We might be able to see Nasira down there!”
“Why would you want to see her?” Sebastian calls back.
“Because she might still be okay! She was already infected, so she won’t get eaten!”
Sebastian thinks for a moment, then nods. “I’ll keep her steady. But we shouldn’t waste too much fuel.”
Dan looks out the window and down at the road now more than three hundred feet below. The horde of undeads looks even more terrifying from up here. They’ve already begun to scatter, though, most of them headed down the road towards the base, but a few others are waddling off in different directions, apparently sensing some other source of fresh meat nearby.
As the crowd begins to thin out, Dan starts to notice the ones not moving; a dozen or so were killed in the fight and are lying on the asphalt.
“I don’t see her anywhere!” William calls from the other window. “Any of you guys spotted her?”
Josefine shakes her head.
Dan scans the ground carefully with his eyes. He ditched his contact lenses already back at Holger’s place, so his sight isn’t too good. But he catches a movement a little way up the hill. A figure with black hair is waving up at them. Both arms are covered in bandages.
“There she is!” he shouts and points. “On the hillside!”
“Goddamnit, you’re right!” William says. “We need to pick her up!”
Ali is too short to look out the windows, so instead he looks from Dan to William, hope beaming from his face.
“I’ll put ’er down on the top of the hill,” Sebastian says. “Nasira will have to climb up.”
As the helicopter heads for the hilltop, Dan can tell Nasira figures out the plan, because she begins scaling the hill.
They touch down almost at the same place they landed before, just as Nasira makes it to the top and runs to the helicopter.
William opens the door, and Ali almost jumps out into his sister’s arms. Josefine and William haul them both inside and William slams the door again.
“Go!” he calls out to Sebastian—needlessly, as the helicopter is already rising again.
Dan looks at Nasira hugging Ali tightly. She’s even more badly hurt now, her clothes torn and more bloody scratches covering her face and arms, most of the bandages have been ripped off. But her eyes are perfectly alive as she looks at them and says: “Thank you for waiting.”
“How are you feeling?” William asks, eyeing her wounds.
She shrugs. “A little bruised up, but not much different than before.”
William looks at Josefine, then at Dan, then back at Nasira. “I think we need to have a difficult talk here.”
She nods. “I know what you’re going to say, William. And I will be sure to let you know if anything … changes. Like, if I feel a fever coming on.”
William nods. “Good. It’s just that … maybe you’d want to … I don’t know, get off before we reach the ocean? Once we head out to sea, there’s no other way to leave the helicopter than … you know.”
Dan can tell William tries not to look at Ali while he talks, but Ali still gets the message and looks up at Nasira, horrified at the thought of her jumping into the ocean.
“I know,” Nasira says simply. “Maybe you’re right, William. Maybe I’ll get off before then.” She looks at Sebastian. “How long before we reach the ocean?”
“It’ll be at least an hour.”
She looks around at the others. “Are you all okay with me coming along until then?”
Dan nods, and so does Josefine.
She smiles. “Thank you.” Then she hugs Ali again, and he presses himself against her.
One more hour, Dan thinks to himself, feeling a lump in his throat. They have one more hour together.
TWENTY-TWO
It takes the zombies a little longer to reach the house than Iver feared. Probably because they seem to ignore the gravel road and simply trudge along the heather-covered fields, often getting their ankles entangled and toppling over.
He, Chris, Charlotte and Agnete are all gathered in the living room, where they can now see the oncomers from the windows facing the terrace and Agnete’s back garden.
Iver is both relieved that the toddler is sleeping and doesn’t need to experience any of this, but at the same time he feels anxious at the thought of the little guy sleeping alone up in his room.
The air raid siren is still going, wailing outside the house like an elephant in pain. The sound is starting to get on Iver’s nerves.
The radio is still going, but turned down very low, as per Chris’s order. He said the chairman couldn’t really tell them anything new about how to handle the zombies, but it could still be useful to hear of anyone seeing them approach from other directions. Right now, though, the chairman is just reciting the officially issued statements about how to handle the infected should you come into contact with them—which basically boils down to “run away as fast as you can.”
“I’ll have to remind you,” the chairman says. “It is still legally considered murder if you shoot one of the infected, unless of course it’s in self-defense …”
“All right,” Chris says, finishing up the rifle and placing it on the table. “We need to move a few things around. Give me a hand, Iver.”
Iver obliges as they push back the couch and lift the table closer to the windows. Agnete watches in silence, offering no objections.
“Now this one,” Chris says, pointing at the piano.
Agnete still doesn’t object, but she hurries to take the wedding photo.
Luckily, the piano has wheels, and they’re able to roll it to the east-facing side of the room, where it blocks off the windows.
“Now we only need to worry about this side,” Chris says, taking the roll of rope they brought from the garage. “Open the window, Charlotte.”
“What?” Iver exclaims.
Charlotte looks hesitantly at Chris. “Why would we open it?”
“Because I can’t shoot them through the glass now, can I?” Chris snarls. “Open it as far as the lever will go, then put it in the holder.”
The window is top-hatched and swings outward when opened. The lever can be placed in a holder, causing the window to act almost like a trap—the kind you’d use to catch a cat by luring it under a box being propped up by a stick. And that, Iver realizes, is exactly how Chris intends to use it.
As Charlotte opens the window, Chris ties the end of the rope to the lever. Then he hands the other end of the rope to Iver.
Iver just looks at it.
“Take it,” Chris says. “This’ll be your job. Your only job.”
“What … what exactly do I do?” Iver asks, taking the rope reluctantly.
“Nothing until I say so,” Chris says, picking up the rifle. “You just stand over there. You hold the rope, you keep your mouth shut and you stay ready. As soon as you hear me shout ‘close,’ you pull the rope. Got that?”
Iver nods and takes up position at the place Chris appointed.
“What do you need me to do?” Charlotte asks, reminding Iver of an eager cadet addressing the sarge—he almost expects her to smack her heels together and do a salute.
“You take the rake,” Chris says, nodding towar
d the arsenal of gardening tools propped up against the wall. “If any of them should make it close enough to actually reach inside, you shove them back out. I doubt it’ll come to that, but we’re covering all bases here.” He turns to Agnete. “And you, when I shout ‘ammo,’ you bring me the next box of bullets—okay?”
Agnete takes a deep breath and nods.
“Good.” Chris looks around at them. “Everyone clear on their tasks?”
They all exchange looks, nodding.
“Now, you all need to be prepared for the noise,” Chris goes on. “Once I fire this thing, you won’t hear much else than a ringing to begin with. But you’ll get used to it.”
“Here they come,” Charlotte says.
Iver looks out and sees the first zombie cross the hedge separating Agnete’s garden from the outside. It’s only waist high, so the dead guy simply walks right through it and begins to cross the lawn.
Iver clutches the rope, feeling his palms go sweaty and his pulse throb in his throat.
Just focus on what Chris said, he tells himself. Listen for that word. Whatever happens, just listen for that word.
Iver can’t help but feel grateful that Chris is here, despite how he’s been acting so far. He’s probably the last person on earth Iver would hang out with voluntarily, but in a situation like this, he’s exactly the kind of guy you want around. Someone who knows what to do. To take control of things.
Chris leans over the table, taking his time getting his posture right and positioning the rifle. He closes one eye and looks out the window through the rifle’s scope.
Then, unexpectedly, a bang rings out.
For a second, Iver is sure Chris fired the rifle right away, but then he realizes the sound wasn’t loud enough. And besides, it came from the outside.
“Sounds like old Fred just started the party,” Chris mutters.
Iver looks out, but he can’t see Fred’s house from here.
“Oh, jeez,” Agnete whispers. “Poor Fred, all alone over there. I hope he’ll be okay.”
“I’m sure he can handle himself,” Chris says as a second shot rings out.
The dead guy is approaching the terrace, and another one—an older lady—is crossing the hedge, closely followed by a teenager still wearing his backpack, like he’s a regular tourist who just came to visit the island.
“Right, here we go,” Chris says. He takes aim, cocks the rifle and says loudly: “Opening fire!”
Then he pulls the trigger.
The shot rings through the room for several seconds, bouncing between the walls and slamming against Iver’s eardrums. He thought he had prepared himself, but the noise is still a lot louder than he anticipated. It leaves him, just like Chris said, with a shrill ringing.
The guy outside the window is stopped dead in his tracks and collapses on the edge of the terrace.
Chris reloads the rifle and takes aim at the old lady who’s coming up next.
Another roaring bang, and she goes down right next to the first one.
Chris reloads swiftly.
The teenager has picked up speed, and just as Chris fires a third time, the boy trips over his own feet and lands face-first on the grass.
“Damnit,” Iver can hear Chris growl through the piercing dial tone in his ears as he reloads again, the empty cartridges rolling around the table.
The teenager is getting back up, and Iver just has time to notice whisks of grass stuck between his teeth before another movement catches his eye.
From the other side of the terrace, the one only visible to Iver due to his position next to the opposite window, a figure suddenly comes into view. It’s a bearded guy with most of the skin on his scalp missing. He comes in from the side and is headed straight for the window.
Iver looks at Chris, but he’s busy aiming at the teenager, and from where he’s sitting, he can’t see the bearded guy who’s now mere inches away from the open window.
TWENTY-THREE
Dan is back there again. At that cursed house where it all began. He’s standing in the basement. Looking around. He’s alone. It’s dark, but he can still see everything.
The flayed animals nailed to chairs.
The blood pools on the concrete floor.
The remains of the ritual which took place here.
He looks down and sees something right between his feet. It’s just lying there. A tiny brown leather pouch on a string. Like some kind of weird necklace.
It looks insignificant.
But it’s not.
It’s very important.
Dan can somehow sense it.
Then, as he’s still staring at the pouch, the view changes around it. Everything except for the pouch morphs into something else.
Now, while Dan is still seeing the pouch, it’s no longer resting on the concrete floor, but against the chest of a guy his own age.
The boy is standing in a window, looking down at Dan with big, frightened eyes. And Dan realizes he’s now at Holger’s place.
He’s back in the moment right before they had to leave the safe house. The boy has just tipped Holger’s dead body out of the window.
And now he’s just standing there, frozen in time, as Dan stares at the strange leather pouch hanging from his neck.
Then, gently, the dream begins to fade and break up. It drifts back into obscurity. Reality comes creeping back in.
Dan blinks and opens his eyes. This time, he wasn’t sleeping, not really, only nodding off.
He looks around and sees the others resting too. William is sitting with Ozzy between his feet, petting his head while staring at the floor. Josefine seems to be sleeping, leaning against the wall. And Ali is sitting on Nasira’s lap; both of them have their eyes closed.
Dan unbuckles and gets up to look out the window. They’re still over land, a band of desolate mountains passing below. In the horizon is the blue sea.
Dan has this weird feeling that’s left over from the daydream. It’s like something big has shifted inside him. Something which has been there all along but has now finally dropped into place. If he could only recall it, but it’s already slipped back down deep into his unconscious. He sits down next to William.
William looks at him, smiling tiredly. “What’s up?”
Dan leans close enough for him to hear: “Do you … do you believe in fate?”
William raises his eyebrows. “Not really, no. Why? Do you?”
“I didn’t use to, but … with everything that’s happened, it’s hard not to.”
“Guess you’re right.”
They sit in silence for a little while. Dan tries to hone in on the feeling in his gut. Tries to shine a light on it, to see it clearly, to remember. But whatever it was, he’s lost it.
Then Sebastian calls out: “Okay, we’re getting close to the coast now. I’ll find a place to put her down.”
Nasira opens her eyes, revealing that she wasn’t sleeping, and as her eyes meet Dan’s, she sends him a reassuring smile.
Then Ali sits up and they begin speaking in Arabic together.
Dan feels the helicopter begin to descend, and a few minutes later they touch ground once more.
Sebastian turns in his seat, looking back at them. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but I think we should make it fast. I didn’t see any dead ones from the air, but we never know. I’ll keep the engine going.”
Nasira nods. She unbuckles and goes to open the door, Ali following her. As she climbs out, he comes with her, clutching her hand.
“Is it okay if I step out for a minute?” Dan asks Sebastian.
He nods. “Sure. Just don’t lose the helicopter from sight.”
Dan jumps out.
Nasira and Ali have walked a few yards out onto the grassy hilltop. Right on the other side of the hill is the ocean, gleaming green under the setting sun, a couple of seagulls soaring through the air.
Dan can’t bring himself to watch as Nasira kneels down and hugs Ali, telling him goodbye. Instead, he goes to loo
k out over the ocean. He can smell the salt as he sits down in the grass and stares into the waves softly crashing against the shore.
He looks away and sees William and Josefine both coming out of the helicopter. Sebastian joins them as well, stretching his back, Lærke close by his side.
Then, suddenly and without any obvious preamble, the feeling comes rushing back in—or rather, the memory. It’s like a déjà vu, only much stronger.
An image.
The leather pouch.
The boy.
And then Dan finally gets it.
TWENTY-FOUR
“Chris!” Iver shouts, his own voice sounding like it’s far away. “Look out! From the right!”
Chris notices the guy the second he steps into view, and he swings the riffle thirty degrees to the right, almost pulling the trigger, as the guy presses his face up against the glass.
Charlotte screams.
Chris hesitates.
“Shoot him!” Iver yells.
“I can’t!” Chris shouts, keeping the barrel aimed at the guy’s head. “I’ll break the window!”
The guy ducks down as he realizes he can’t push through the glass and leans inside. Chris shoots, and the guy’s skull caves in as he collapses over the windowsill, blood spilling from his open head wound and onto the floor.
“Oh, dear God, dear God,” Iver can hear Agnete chant somewhere behind him.
“Get him out, Charlotte!” Chris roars. “Use the rake, for fuck’s sake!”
Charlotte just stands there, staring at the bloated, bleeding corpse reaching in through the window.
“Charlotte!” Chris roars. “There are more of them coming! Get him out of my line of fire! I can’t take them out!”
Iver looks out and sees four or five zombies crossing the garden.
Charlotte is still just standing there.
Iver—hardly realizing what he’s doing—runs over to Charlotte, grabs the rake from her and jabs at the guy with it. But he’s too heavy. Out the corner of his eye he notices two figures come onto the terrace. He ignores it and focuses on getting the dead guy out of the window. He places the rope between his teeth, enabling him to use both hands on the rake. With the added leverage, he’s able to shove the guy’s torso back out the window.
Dead Meat Box Set, Vol. 2 | Days 4-6 Page 52