Minus Me

by Ingelin Rossland

  Linda looks over at him. Does Zak know something? Does he know more than other people about what happens after death? She’s aware that she needs something; that, more than ever, she wants some sort of manual, a guidebook to life. Perhaps that’s why she can’t give up on the list? Because it gives her something to do? Project Death.

  Just as she’s about to ask him what he actually knows, he winks at her and nudges her.

  ‘Stop being daft. Why can’t we just keep to the facts,’ she says.

  ‘Like your list?’

  ‘For example, yes,’ she sighs.

  ‘So who’s going to be the lucky one?’

  ‘What do mean?’

  ‘You haven’t crossed “Kiss” off your list yet. Is it going to be Axel or Oscar?’

  ‘I don’t quite know. Oscar and I are going to play on his PlayStation tomorrow. So it might happen then. He nearly kissed me this evening on the dance floor.’

  ‘But Axel’s the one you think about most?’

  ‘Yes, but Axel lives so far away, and I don’t know if I have enough . . . you know . . .’

  ‘Time?’

  Linda looks down at her mobile.

  ‘Are you wishing he’d ring or send a text?’

  ‘Well, it’s my birthday tomorrow. He might have forgotten. Last year he sent me a present. But this year nothing’s arrived in the post.’

  ‘Something might come tomorrow.’

  Linda doesn’t respond, so he continues.

  ‘Have you told Axel how you feel about him?’

  ‘No, but he must realize, surely?’ says Linda, leaning her head against the wall. She thinks back to the summer. She sees herself running down towards the jetty in her yellow dress. The dress she loves so much, but that her mother says is too small and should be thrown away. She sees now that her mother is perhaps right, since as she runs, her red swimsuit shows under the skirt. Down on the jetty she kicks off her flip-flops and pulls off the dress and leaves it in a heap. She waves at Axel who is lying on a blow-up mattress. He’s wearing dark glasses, and since he doesn’t wave back, his eyes are probably closed. She watches herself dive in. She and Maria have spent hours perfecting this particular dive. A soundless dive that doesn’t even leave a ripple on the water’s surface. Axel has no idea that he’s got company and that a human torpedo is zooming towards the mattress he’s lying on. He lets out a roar as the mattress tips over and he lands in the water. The two of them thrash about before their heads finally pop up over the surface. Their faces are so close they can feel each other’s breath. Axel brushes away a lock of hair from her face, and tucks it behind her ear.

  ‘Dolphin girl.’

  ‘Turtle boy!’ she answers, her body evading him, hands not returning his touch, choosing instead to spurt him with water. She hears her own laughter, and notices that Axel doesn’t laugh back. She watches his face fall, sees him turn and swim back to the jetty, pull himself out, shove his feet into his sandals, pick up his towel and t-shirt and walk away. And she sees how, just at that moment, Mia rides past on her bike, and gets off it to walk at his side. Linda stays in the water and swims over to the mattress. She gives it a shove so it floats towards the shore. Axel lost his sunglasses in the water. Perhaps it’ll cheer him up if she finds them? Linda takes a deep breath, dives to the bottom, and searches for his glasses.

  ‘No. I probably haven’t told him right out,’ she says, looking at Zak.

  ‘No, it’s not always easy to say the things we should, or to resist saying things we shouldn’t.’

  Linda nods. She thinks about the mean things she’s said to Kristoffer and others.

  ‘Why is it so difficult to be good?’ she asks.

  ‘I don’t know. But it might be worth trying.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Well, when it comes down to it, I suppose we’re the sum of what we do,’ says Zak simply. ‘Somebody who does kind things is kind, and somebody who does bad things is bad. Come on. Shouldn’t we go on this expedition, now we’re here?’

  Zak is already on his feet, and he stretches his hand out to help her up. Linda takes it and lets him pull her up.

  ‘Yes, I suppose we should,’ she says. More than ever she wants to avoid thinking about the nasty, bad Linda. Nasty, bad Linda who might die.

  Chapter 25

  ‘Wait for me!’ shouts Linda, as loud as she dares. She doesn’t like the way her voice echoes and booms around the cathedral.

  ‘Get a move on, then!’

  Zak doesn’t slow down, but increases his speed. His open coat flaps after him like a cape. Linda hasn’t any choice but to walk faster too, and even though Zak has switched on the lights, she continues to use the torch. There are so many nooks and crannies that the light doesn’t reach. She directs its beam over the stone statues. Their gaping faces lean out from the wall and send shivers down her spine. Why did they carve so many terrifying faces? When she aims the torch ahead of her again, Zak has gone once more. She feels a wave of panic and breaks into a run. What if something or someone grabbed her feet now? She’d die of fear.

  ‘Zak?’ she says, her voice faint, her heart beating hard. ‘Zak? This isn’t funny.’

  Then something grabs her from behind. Startled, she jumps, then screams. This is the end. She holds her hand to her heart to try to calm it, but she can feel it thumping even through her thick jacket. Is it a ghost? Is it the headless monk who’s come to get her because she’s entered without permission? Linda feels a cold breath at her neck. She dares not turn round. Even though she’s shivering with fear, a river of sweat is running down her back, and she feels she’s about to wet herself.

  ‘Relax!’ says Zak, gently taking her arm.

  ‘Oh? It’s you!’ Linda feels the fear replaced with anger. ‘What the hell’s going on? Weren’t you in front of me a second ago?’

  ‘And now I’m behind you. Exciting, isn’t it? There are so many places to hide. Tag, you’re it!’ he says, prodding her and dashing off again.

  ‘Zak, it’s really mean of you to keep frightening me. Imagine if my heart stopped again.’

  Linda shines the torch towards the gallery. Zak has gone and she can hear laughter. Has he climbed even higher?

  ‘There’s no reason to be scared,’ Linda says to herself, heading for the gallery. She tries not to look up at the stone faces. They’re too lifelike in the torchlight. Surely all these scary faces are a bit unnecessary? Surely it would have been nicer to have a few friendly faces? It is a church after all! Aren’t people meant to feel comfortable here? She reaches the end of the gallery. Here, there’s one staircase going up and another going down. She feels a little puff of wind, or is it a breath on her cheek?

  ‘Zak, stop it!’

  She swings round. But it isn’t Zak. Her torch lights up a face that reminds her of her own. It’s only a statue, but she quickly flicks the torch off, and stands with it held against her chest, trying to slow her heart.

  ‘It’s just your imagination getting the better of you,’ she says to herself. But she has no desire to shine the light on that face again.

  When her heart rate is almost normal again, Linda decides to take the staircase that appears to lead down to the ground floor of the cathedral. If Zak wants to fly about up there under the roof like some crazy bat, he can do it alone.

  She sees a light coming from a side chapel. She is drawn to it like a moth. The soft, warm light comes from a seven-branched candlestick that stands on an altar. Above it is a Christ figure, hanging from the cross with a tranquil expression on his face. Linda walks straight up to the altar and stands on tiptoe so as to touch its feet. But she immediately pulls her hand back; they feel warm. They must have been warmed by the candles, she thinks, trying to reassure herself. Nevertheless, the words ‘I’m sorry’ slip from her lips. Luckily Jesus doesn’t answer.

  ‘Were you frightened of dying?’ Linda asks the figure, as she steps back and sits down on the front pew. She can’t take her eyes off the qui
et and peaceful face. ‘Was it simpler for you, knowing you were going to die for all the sins of the world by hanging on the cross?’

  Jesus is still silent. And there isn’t even a flicker from the candles at the altar.

  ‘I don’t suppose dying is such a big deal, when you’re sure you’re going to be resurrected,’ she says, his mild expression triggering an anger in her. ‘You’re one big con man really; I could have hung up on the cross and looked cool too, if I knew it was going to be like a short sleep.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  The candles on the altar flicker and one of them goes out, as Zak slips onto the pew next to her.

  ‘Where did you come from?’

  ‘I’ve been here all the time. So you think it was easy for Jesus to die?’

  ‘At least he knew what was going to happen.’

  ‘He wasn’t 100 percent sure. But he believed it. Or hoped?’

  ‘Well, that amounts to the same thing,’ protests Linda.

  ‘No, because people who believe can also doubt.’

  ‘Well, at least he didn’t have to wonder whether he was going to die or not.’

  ‘So you think it would be easier if you knew exactly when you were going to die? If somebody told you that you were going to die exactly five days from now?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything any more. Apart from the fact that I’m frightened. Frightened and tired,’ sighs Linda, bowing her head sadly and resting her elbows on her knees.

  ‘Come on!’ says Zak, getting to his feet, before she has time to object. ‘Come with me.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘We’re going to build up your courage!’

  Chapter 26

  In front of a door in a dark corner of the cathedral Zak takes out the key again from his inside pocket.

  ‘What’s in there?’ asks Linda.

  ‘Not in there . . . but down there,’ says Zak, putting the key in the lock. ‘This is the staircase down to the crypt.’

  ‘The crypt?’

  ‘Yes, where all the dead people are,’ says Zak, grinning without a trace of fear.

  Linda doesn’t feel the same way. Her palms are sweating, a cold shiver goes down her spine, and her throat closes up. She has all the symptoms of someone who’s dead scared.

  ‘You mean there are dead people buried under there? And you want me to go down there with you? Thanks, but no thanks!’

  ‘They’re not buried at all. They’re in coffins that we can open and look into. Isn’t that cool?’ says Zak enthusiastically, grabbing her hand and dragging her down into the dark. Linda shudders as the door slams behind them. The fact that the light Zak turned on is rather weak and pale doesn’t make her feel all that comfortable either.

  ‘Whoops . . . I left the key in the outside lock!’

  ‘You’re joking,’ she squeals.

  ‘Yup. Come on, let’s go,’ he says, without letting go of her hand.

  Linda admits she’s glad to have a hand to hold right now, even if it is rather a cold one.

  The staircase is narrow and has a stale, closed-in smell. It feels as though she’s breathing in spiderwebs and dust. Linda is sure Zak must be able to feel her pulse thumping in her wrist.

  Reaching the crypt, he lets go of her hand.

  ‘I didn’t reckon it would be so big down here,’ says Linda, hoping her voice sounds normal, as though peering at dead people was something she did every day.

  ‘Well, it is. Come on. Let’s see if we can find someone to say hi to.’

  Zak goes over to a tomb in a niche in the wall, and pushes the lid to one side. He looks down into it and sticks his hand in.

  ‘You’re mad. Please, let’s go,’ Linda whispers. She can barely breath, every muscle in her body is tense, and the floor seems to sway scarily under her.

  ‘Weren’t you the one who wanted some idea of what happens after death? If you come here you’ll see what’s going to happen to our bodies. If we’re lucky, that is.’

  ‘No, thank you!’ says Linda.

  Backing away from the tomb, she bumps into something and feels it collapse behind her. She freezes. A piece of bone clatters to the floor beside her. She screams. Terror-stricken, she darts over to Zak. The tomb that she’s bumped into has fallen apart and she can see the bones peeping out.

  ‘Oh, no . . . what if they’re angry?’ she whispers.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘These dead people.’

  ‘I doubt it. They’ve been nothing but bones and dust for hundreds of years.’

  He goes over to the coffin and sticks his hand in and fishes out a skull. He holds it up and talks to it.

  ‘What do you say, sir? Are you angry?’ he asks.

  Zak’s out of his mind, Linda thinks to herself. But her mouth is too dry for her to say anything. It’s as if her lips were glued together with superglue.

  ‘Did you always talk this quietly when you were alive, sir?’

  ‘No,’ answers the skull puppet.

  ‘Zak, I want to go now,’ she says, finally managing to tear her lips apart.

  ‘Theses are just bits of old bone. They’re not important. There’s nothing left here of these people or the lives they lived. You see, Linda, the important thing is what you do before you get here.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘That it’s too late for regret when you’re a pile of bones,’ Zak says gently.

  ‘But—’

  Linda stops mid-sentence and looks into the two black holes that once held eyes. What has she left undone? she asks herself. Although, of course, she already knows the answer: Axel.

  ‘You’d better get your arse in gear before it’s too late! What do you say, sir?’ Zak asks the skull, which, of course, nods in agreement.

  ‘Stop it! Stop it!’

  Zak starts swaying with the skull in his hand, and hums.

  ‘Always look on the bright side of life,’ he sings, before breaking into a whistle. Linda has to bite her lip to stop herself laughing. Zak is pleased she’s cheering up and continues to sing and whistle, until he suddenly stops and holds the skull to his ear.

  ‘Oh, really? Do you think so?’ he asks, looking at the skull that nods back. ‘Right . . . I see . . . we’ve got a message from the other side here,’ says Zak.

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘Life, my girl, life is meant to be enjoyed as long as it lasts,’ says Zak.

  He carefully places the skull on the pile of wooden planks that had, until tonight, been a tomb. Then, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world, he picks up the bit of bone that fell to the ground and sticks it in the pile with the others.

  ‘The point is that it’s never too late. You exist here and now, so be present in the here and now.’

  ‘That’s not true. I am too late,’ says Linda, irritated at all the wise-guy stuff Zak constantly spouts.

  ‘But are you really too late?’ he says. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at your phone, the way you think about the text that might come, that has got to come from this Axel guy. And if it doesn’t? Then what? That list you’re carrying around; is that going to help against death?’

  Linda sighs. Zak walks over and strokes her cheek. But Linda pulls away, shuddering at the touch of his cold fingers.

  ‘I think it would do you good to have a bit of a laugh. Come on, I’ve got more things to show you.’

  ‘Like what?’ asks Linda, relieved to be leaving the crypt, but uncertain about what else Zak might have up his sleeve. Perhaps he wants to show her something even more horrifying.

  ‘We’re going all the way up to the top!’

  ‘Oy!’

  ‘You may well say!’ says Zak with a grin, grabbing her hand again.

  Chapter 27

  Zak almost flies up the long, narrow staircase towards the tower. Linda huffs and puffs so much behind him that she feels quite embarrassed. Her heart feels like it’s beating in sticky syrup. Linda tries to control her breath so sh
e sounds less like a decrepit steam engine. Just as she’s about to ask for a little break, Zak stops on a landing above her and rests his hands on his knees.

  ‘Pff! I need a break!’ he says.

  ‘Me too,’ says Linda, panting and wiping her forehead, which is drenched with sweat. ‘Uhh!’ she says, trying to laugh.

  ‘It’s a beautiful building, isn’t it?’ says Zak. ‘Europe’s most northerly mediaeval cathedral.’

  ‘It’s beautiful, but spooky.’

  ‘Why do you think it’s spooky?’

  ‘Well, they say there are ghosts here; that there’s a monk who walks around.’

  ‘And you believe that? You saw for yourself that the dead rest quite peacefully in their coffins.’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s still a bit spooky with so many dead people about.’

  ‘What do you find so spooky about it?’

  Linda doesn’t reply. She doesn’t have a good answer. Why does a pile of bones scare her almost as much as when she nearly fell and killed herself on her way up into the cathedral? Linda looks down at her hands, and gives her fingers a stretch. It’s cold, even though they’re indoors.

  ‘Can you hear that?’

  ‘Hear what?’

  ‘Hear the complete silence,’ he says, taking her hand. He’s cold too. They sit down, side by side, and say nothing for a while.

  ‘Do you believe in God, Zak?’

  ‘Which god?’

  ‘Why can’t you ever answer a question directly, instead of asking questions in reply?’ asks Linda, sighing and leaning back.

  ‘I have to understand what you mean by the word “god” before I can tell you whether I believe in it or not.’

  ‘Okay. Do you believe in a god who lives in heaven and who created the earth and human beings? The usual kind of god.’

  ‘No,’ says Zak.

  ‘No?’ Is that it? Is Zak finally giving a simple, straightforward answer to something?

  ‘No, I don’t believe in any usual god, but . . .’

  ‘Argh! You’re off again!’ she sighs.

  ‘Well, what about you? You always want simple answers to complicated questions. Can’t you just accept the fact that things might be a bit more complex? More fantastical? Am I really meant to give you a yes/no answer to something human beings have wondered about ever since time began?’ Zak has stood up now and is waving his arms about, his coat flapping like the wings of a raven.