The End of the World. Maybe

by Jo Nesbo

  Nilly bent his knees, struggled to keep his balance, and waited for the wire to stop swaying. But there was still a long way to go to the other side, and the wind wasn’t letting up. He couldn’t quite see how he was going to be able to do it, with or without the balancing shoes. But he had to. It was as simple as that. So he put his left foot in front of his right. Then his right in front of his left. It wasn’t going so badly. Had the wind died down a little? Yes, it had. Nilly heard a voice shout something from a distance. It was Lisa from back behind him, down by the shore. But he didn’t want to turn around. He wanted to hurry. He moved his feet faster. Then even a little faster.

  Well, there was absolutely no wind now. Maybe this was going to work after all? And that’s when he heard it. A rushing, roaring sound from the forest. And out of the corner of his eye he could see the tops of the enormous spruce trees down below him along the riverbank. They were pitching to and fro, leaning over sideways in the colossal gusts of wind. And Nilly knew that he was lost. It was as if the wind had just been inhaling, gathering all its strength to blow this cheeky little redhead down from where he didn’t belong. And now it was exhaling at full force. Nilly hunkered down as the initial squall line buffeted him and blew his orange hat off. He saw it fly away, first up a ways, then swirling downwards until it became a small dot. The second gust sent him spinning twice around the high-voltage wire before the third and final gust sent him off into midair.

  “Urraaaaaaaaah!” Nilly screamed and fell.

  “Hiccup!” Perry hiccuped.

  They slowly turned in the air so that Nilly first saw the high-voltage wire above them getting farther away, and then saw the surface of the water below them getting closer.

  “Double urraaaaaaaaah!” Nilly screamed.

  “Hiccup-hiccup!” Perry hiccuped.

  Because of course they both knew what the outcome would be. Flat as pancakes with strawberry jam.

  Nilly closed his eyes.

  Kept them shut.

  Waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Wasn’t the crash going to come soon?

  Yes, yes, the longer it took the stronger it would be when it finally happened.

  He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.

  Come on now, get it over with!

  But, no. Nothing.

  How high could they have been? Because this was actually starting to get a little boring. Or maybe he was already dead?

  Nilly cautiously opened one eye. He could still see the river way down below him, but it wasn’t getting any closer. The opposite, actually. It looked like it was getting a little farther away. And something around his hips was tugging, as if he were wearing a harness.

  Nilly turned to the side and looked up.

  And could hardly believe what he saw.

  A skinny thread was running straight up from him, apparently into midair. And Perry was sitting on the thread right above him. Slowly it dawned on Nilly what it was: a spiderweb.

  “Hello?” Nilly asked. “Am I dreaming?”

  “Hiccup!” Perry said.

  “Am I hanging from a cobweb? Is that possible, Perry?”

  But before he got any response, the wind picked back up again and caused them to swing back and forth as if they were sitting on an enormous swing right over the river. And the cobweb held! Nilly sat there feeling quite pleased about his life. Until he realised that the world was about to end anyway. He had to act. He had no idea how a cobweb from a completely average seven-legged Peruvian sucking spider could hold a guy with so much muscle mass and an oversized brain, but he could think about that later.

  “Perry!” Nilly yelled. “Can you make the thread even longer?”

  And Perry could. Soon they were hanging right over the surface of the river, and Nilly stretched his small legs straight out and leaned back in his cobweb harness. They swung a little forward. He leaned forwards and bent his knees under him. They swung backwards. He stuck his legs straight out and repeated his pumping action. Their speed slowly increased, and the arc they were swinging in got bigger and bigger. In the middle of the arc, Nilly’s feet almost dragged through the water while over on the sides it was a long way down, the air rushing past his ears. And then there was a puff of wind from behind, and the swing with Nilly and Perry on it swung all the way over the far bank.

  “Let her rip!” Nilly yelled.

  And with that, Perry unfurled even more cobweb and Nilly sank down onto the ground.

  “Yippee!” Nilly shouted as he landed gently in the snow on the riverbank. He tugged on the thread.

  Perry must have bit it off, because the end soon drifted down. Nilly ran over to the rowboat, pushed it out, jumped in and snapped the oars into the oarlocks. As he rowed, he spotted Perry sitting on the seat in front of him.

  “Ingenious!” Doctor Proctor yelled as the boat reached him and he helped the others aboard.

  “Fantastic,” Mrs Strobe said, pinching Nilly’s cheek.

  “But what actually happened?” Lisa asked after she gave Nilly a hug.

  “My hat blew off and we fell,” Nilly said, leaving the rowing to Doctor Proctor and Mrs Strobe, who had each grabbed an oar. “It’s really unbelievable, but Perry must have shot out a thread of cobweb around the high-voltage line and then attached the other end around me. It was like falling attached to a rubber band; I didn’t even notice that we’d stopped. But I don’t really understand how that’s possible.”

  “Hiccup!” Perry said.

  “Hm,” Doctor Proctor said. “But I think I do. Do you remember the flask Gregory smashed on the asphalt? The one containing Doctor Proctor’s Strength Tonic with Mexican Thunder Chili, Medium Ho—”

  “Yeah, yeah!” Lisa and Nilly yelled impatiently.

  “Do you also remember that we picked Perry up off the ground and that he was standing in the middle of those glass shards?”

  “Aha,” Lisa said.

  “Aha,” Mrs Strobe said.

  “Aha!” Nilly said. “Perry, you sneaky spider! You tasted the strength tonic, didn’t you?”

  Perry didn’t respond.

  “With such a small body, it wouldn’t take more than a few drops to make him super-strong,” the professor said.

  “And make him spin super-strong spiderwebs,” Nilly said.

  “And start hiccuping,” Lisa said.

  They had crossed the river and pulled the boat up onto the bank. Then they walked up to the road that ran in front of the house with the big sales banner.

  “We could try to hitchhike into South Trøndelag proper,” Doctor Proctor said.

  “Or maybe a bus will come along soon,” Lisa said.

  They stood there for a while looking up and down the road, but no one came: no cars, buses, motorcycles with sidecars, kick-sleds or anything else.

  “Seems pretty deserted,” Nilly said.

  “Maybe someone in the shop can help us,” Doctor Proctor said.

  THE SHOP TURNED out not to be a normal shop, but more of a large hall. They walked over to a very empty, very deserted counter.

  “Hello?” Doctor Proctor called out, but the only response was an echo.

  “What’s that?” Lisa asked, nodding at the strange devices scattered across the floor. They were the size of trampolines and consisted of colourful sailcloth stretched over frames, with a bunch of attached bars and strings. Underneath each sailcloth frame, there was something that looked like a sleeping bag.

  “It looks like someone didn’t read the instructions for how to set up their tent,” Nilly said.

  “Those are hang gliders,” Doctor Proctor said. “If you take one of these high up in the mountains, you can get a running start, take off, and then just lie down in this sack under the wings as you fly away. For hundreds of miles if you luck out in terms of the wind and weather conditions. HELLO?”

  “HELLO!” Nilly shouted.

  Nothing happened.

  “There doesn’t seem to be anyone here,” Lisa said.


  Just then there was a bang that made the air in the hall vibrate.

  “Wh-wh-what was that?” Doctor Proctor asked.

  Nilly nodded at Mrs Strobe’s hand, which was still resting on the counter.

  “Mrs Strobe’s signature move,” he whispered. “Hand slap on the teacher’s desk.”

  “Could you ask her not to do that again?” Doctor Proctor said, stretching his jaw and shaking his head to try to get his ears to pop.

  They heard rattling from somewhere, a door opened, and in came a young man in a tight red leotard with black oil stains on the outside of it and a teeny tiny little potbelly on the inside. He looked liked he’d just rolled out of bed, because his blond, bushy hair was sticking up in all directions, and from behind the thickest eyeglass lenses Lisa had ever seen, a pair of narrow eyes peered at them.

  “Flabbergast me!” he said with a mixture of fear and excitement. “There’s people here! No one’s been in here since last Easter!”

  “Hello, Mr . . .”

  “Petter! I’m Petter! I’m the one and only Petter and a heck of a Petter I am!”

  “I see. I’m Doctor Proctor, and this is Lisa, Nilly and Mrs Strobe.”

  Petter leaned over and took a closer look at Nilly. “Are you sure your name’s not Petter, son?”

  “Quite sure,” Nilly said.

  “You look like a Petter.”

  Nilly shrugged. “You’re the only Petter here, Petter.”

  “And you can bet your moonshine on that!” Petter said, straightening back up again. “What are you folks doing here?”

  “We came to find the king,” Lisa said. “The king of Norway, that is.”

  “He has a cabin in the big city,” Petter said.

  “The big city?”

  “Klæbu, population three thousand and sixty-three. It’s far from here, though. Sixty miles. Do y’all have a car?”

  “No,” Lisa said. “But maybe there’s a bus?”

  Petter shook his head. “Everyone moved to Norway. Or Klæbu. I’m the only one left.” He stretched his arms out to either side, tilted his head back and yelled: “I’m Petter! Petter! Ain’t nobody better!”

  “Um, do you have a car, Petter?” Doctor Proctor asked. “We would gladly pay you for a lift into Klæbu.”

  Petter shook his head and adjusted his eyeglasses. “Near-sighted. Quite bad. Those cowards at the DMV wouldn’t give me a driver’s license. That’s why I never make it to Klæbu. I’ll never make it out of this hole without a driver’s license.” He tipped his head back and screamed at the ceiling again. “Cowards! I’m Petter, come on!” He stopped abruptly and looked at them. “I suppose they were afraid I’d run somebody over. But now that every last person can just drive wherever they want, there are no pedestrians left to run over. Why can’t I get a driver’s license? Why is everyone against me?”

  “What about your boat?” Lisa said. “Could we borrow it?”

  Petter shrugged. “Klæbu is upstream from here. And the other direction, the river is all waterfalls and rapids.”

  The Four Vincibles gave each other dejected looks.

  Then suddenly Petter lit up: “Wait! I have hot chocolate! I did a hot chocolate commercial back in my hang gliding days, you know. I was good. I beat them all! Child’s play! I’m Petter! Should I make you some hot chocolate? I’ve got a cupboard full!”

  “I don’t know,” Doctor Proctor said, looking at his watch. “The invasion of Denmark is going to start in forty-eight hours.”

  Petter looked pleadingly at them: “Can’t you all just stay for a little while? We could play Chinese checkers. I’m good, you know! I’m Petter!”

  “Sorry,” said Doctor Proctor.

  “Don’t go! I’ll put whipped cream on the hot chocolate.”

  Doctor Proctor looked at the other three.

  “I think he’s a little lonely,” Lisa whispered. “I guess we could stick around for a little while.”

  Doctor Proctor turned to Petter with a big smile: “We’d love to have a little hot chocolate.”

  LISA AND NILLY helped Petter make the hot chocolate in the small kitchenette over by the one wall.

  “I’m going to get out of here someday, you know,” Petter said. “If I could only just sell the rest of these hang gliders, I could get out of here. Yes, maybe I’ll make it all the way to Oslo and visit you guys. If you’d like a visit, that is.”

  “We’d love one,” Lisa said.

  “How are hang glider sales these days anyway, what with no one living out here and all?” Nilly asked.

  “Things aren’t going well at all,” Petter said gloomily. “The sale’s been going on for almost three years now, but there are hardly any customers.” He lit up. “But maybe I could interest you all in a hang glider?”

  Lisa laughed. “I don’t really think we need any . . . uh, hang gliders, Petter.”

  The hope behind those thick eyeglass lenses, correction minus seventeen, faded again. “No, of course not. What would you all do with a hang glider?”

  It was quiet for a while in the kitchen as they listened to the rumbling from the saucepan, keeping an eye on the hot chocolate so it wouldn’t boil over.

  “Although, actually . . .” Nilly said. “I think . . . I think I actually have an idea.”

  Oh no, Lisa thought.

  “HOW DID YOU even think we were going to fly a hang glider to Klæbu?” Doctor Proctor asked, shaking his head. “I mean, to begin with, none of us even knows how to fly a hang glider.”

  “Petter has a family-size hang glider,” said Nilly, who was hopping up and down the way he usually did whenever he thought something fun was about to happen. “And he knows how to fly it. Right, Petter?”

  Petter nodded. “Sure, sure. But it only has room for four, and there are five of us.”

  “Lisa and I will fit in the same sleeping bag,” Nilly said. “And Doctor Proctor is just a skinny beanpole. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of room.”

  The professor looked at Petter, who shook his head sadly.

  “The launch,” Petter said, and Doctor Proctor nodded.

  “What?” Nilly asked. “What do you mean?”

  Doctor Proctor sighed. “The launch. Taking off. It’s great that you’re such a creative thinker, Nilly, but look around. Do you see any mountains we can take off from? Well?”

  Nilly looked out the window at the flat-as-a-pancake countryside surrounding the hall.

  “We could just start walking to Klæbu,” the professor suggested.

  “Oh, but there’s still more hot chocolate,” Petter said, his voice sounding a little helpless. “I could add a sprinkle of cinnamon on top? And we haven’t even started playing Chinese checkers.”

  Doctor Proctor, Mrs Strobe and Lisa shook their heads, thanked Petter for the hot chocolate, buttoned up their jackets and were about to leave when they heard Nilly’s voice exclaim, “I’ve got it!”

  They turned around. Nilly was still sitting at the table, staring down into his empty hot chocolate mug.

  “What’ve you got, Nilly?”

  “Pour another round of hot chocolate for everyone, Petter.”

  Petter lit up. “With a sprinkle of cinnamon on top?”

  “Not exactly cinnamon,” Nilly said.

  “What are you talking about?” Lisa asked.

  “I’m talking about a launch,” Nilly said.

  “ARE YOU SURE this is going to work?” Petter asked. He was bending over, holding on to the control bar of the big family-size hang glider.

  “No,” said Doctor Proctor, who was lying on his back. “You can still back out if you want.”

  “No thanks. I’m in,” Petter said, gripping the bar harder. “I want to go to Klæbu.”

  “Good,” Doctor Proctor said, raising his hot chocolate mug. “Everyone ready?”

  “Ready!” called Lisa and Nilly, who had climbed into the sleeping bag on one side.

  “Ready!” called Mrs Strobe, who was lying in the sleeping
bag on the other side.

  “Then let’s drink,” Doctor Proctor said.

  And with that they all emptied their hot chocolate mugs in one, long gulp.

  “Four,” Nilly said.

  “Mmm,” Petter said appreciatively. “Considering that it wasn’t cinnamon, it wasn’t bad. What did you call the powder again?”

  “Doctor Proctor’s Fartonaut Powder,” the professor said, smacking his lips in satisfaction. “The essence of pear really makes a statement, don’t you think?”

  “Three,” Nilly said.

  “And you all really think a powder can get us to Klæbu?”

  “Well . . .” Doctor Proctor said.