by Stefan Spjut
Ulf looked up at Susso.
‘What was that you said you knew?’ he asked. ‘About that bear …?’
‘What?’
‘You said on the phone you knew something.’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Just that he could mutate like that.’
‘Mutate?’
‘How long has it been since you saw him?’ she asked.
‘It’s twelve fifteen now,’ he said. ‘And I got here just after ten. But I can’t say for sure how long we’ve been sitting here.’
‘So two hours, max?’
He nodded uncertainly.
‘It’s no more than an hour,’ Randolf said, ‘since we saw him.’
Susso walked over to the car and took out her bag. She pulled a tangle of clothes out onto the seat and from the pile dug out a pair of blue thermal leggings and a thick jumper.
‘Randolf,’ she said, carefully removing her jacket and giving it to Torbjörn, ‘we need to borrow your snowmobile. How much fuel is left?’
‘What do you mean by mutate?’ Ulf said, standing up unsteadily.
‘I don’t know about borrowing it,’ said Randolf. ‘But I could consider letting you hire it.’
Swiftly Susso undressed down to her bra and pants. She felt the goosebumps spread over her thighs and upper arms. Gudrun protested, but mainly because Susso was stamping barefoot in the snow.
‘How much do you want?’ asked Susso, pulling a thermal T-shirt over her head.
‘Well, that depends, of course, on how long you want it for,’ said Randolf, who was polite enough to turn his head away and inspect the snow-covered treetops. ‘But we could say a thousand kronor for twenty-four hours. Fuel included. And the tank is almost full.’
Susso turned to face Gudrun, who immediately shook her head.
‘I’ve got no cash on me,’ she said.
After Susso had picked up her jacket and put it back on Torbjörn opened his wallet.
‘I’ve got twenty,’ he said.
‘You’ll get the money when we bring it back,’ Susso called as she walked over to the boot of the car to get Torbjörn’s backpack. She pushed the plastic bag containing the revolver into the top section.
‘I’ll want a deposit then.’
By now Susso was fully dressed and carrying the backpack. She fastened the top straps and put her mitten to her Inca hat to straighten it.
‘Okay, Randolf,’ she said. ‘I don’t think we want to hire it after all.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘We would really prefer to borrow it.’
The old man frowned and then nodded.
‘I suppose that’s a possibility,’ he said slowly.
‘It’s going to be very cold, you know,’ Torbjörn said.
‘And we want to borrow your ski pants as well,’ she went on.
‘My trousers …’
‘Borrow. Not hire.’
‘Oh,’ he said, looking down. ‘Well, I’m sure that will be all right.’
Slowly he undid his jacket, shrugged off the shoulder straps and pulled down his bright-yellow ski pants. When Susso saw that he was wearing only long johns underneath, she felt sorry for him.
‘Mum,’ she said, ‘you’ll have to drive Randolf home.’
Gudrun threw a look at the trouserless man and tightened her lips to prevent a smile breaking out.
‘Ask the warden if we can borrow the GPS he’s got in the car,’ Torbjörn said in a low voice as he took off his jacket.
‘Ulf!’ Susso said. ‘We’re borrowing this!’
‘That,’ he said, without opening his mouth properly, ‘that is a GPS receiver.’
‘I know that, Ulf,’ Susso replied with a smile. ‘You haven’t got a torch as well, have you?’
They were sitting leaning against the wall on either side of the sink when they heard determined footsteps on the porch above. It had been silent for over twelve hours and the sound terrified them. Seved grabbed hold of Amina and moved her to the side. They positioned themselves so that they would not be seen from the door as it opened.
‘It’s time now.’
It was Jola.
Amina did not move, but even so Seved held her tightly.
‘Can you hear me? Come up now!’
They stood waiting in silence, hearing his panting and his impatience.
Eventually the door was shut. And locked.
‘Come on,’ Seved said. He switched on the torch and they hurried towards the tunnel. He pushed Amina ahead of him. She crept inside a short way and crouched down, looking at him.
There was the sound of heavy feet up above again. Light poured down the staircase and then they heard Lennart’s voice:
‘If you don’t want to burn to death, you’d better come up now!’
Burn? Had he said burn?
‘Seved! I’m setting fire to it whether you come up or not.’
Seved took a step towards the staircase.
‘I want to talk to Börje,’ he shouted.
There was silence for a few seconds and then Lennart said:
‘Are you coming up or not?’
‘Not until I’ve talked to Börje, I said!’
He waited for an answer but none came, and Lennart left. But the door was left open. The flight of stairs was illuminated and the sink was shining.
Seved wondered why they did not come down and get them if they were so keen on them coming out. Were there shapeshifters in the hide that they wanted to avoid?
An hour or so later Seved thought he heard a car engine. A diesel engine, idling. The camper van probably. He walked closer to the stairs but he wasn’t sure. He asked Amina if she had heard anything, but she only shook her head.
Had they left? He wondered whether he dared go up and look. But just then there were heavy footsteps above and Jola came and stood halfway down the staircase.
‘Seved,’ he said quietly, ‘he’s serious. We’re setting light to the house. We’ve got to leave here, and quickly. So you’ve got to come up now.’
Seved had become trapped in his silence but now he was beginning to feel uncertain. It actually sounded as if Jola was telling the truth. But why could he not talk to Börje? That could only mean they had hurt him, and if that was the case it was highly likely he and Amina would meet the same fate.
‘Why can’t I talk to Börje?’
‘He and Lennart have gone. It’s only me left.’
‘If I can’t talk to Börje, then we’re not coming up!’
Jola had bent down and was staring into the darkness. He muttered something and then ran back up the stairs. Seved turned towards Amina. She sat curled up with her arms wrapped around her legs in the opening of the tunnel. She was still holding the creature. Shit, that shifter! Could it have somehow managed to make its fear stick to them? He squatted down below her, leaned his back against the wall and waited.
About five minutes later Jola returned.
‘Are you coming?’ he shouted from the doorway.
Seved did not bother answering.
The next moment something bounced down the stairs with a hollow sound and landed on the concrete floor. It was the petrol container, green with a yellow label. Seved stood up and watched as a blue snake with a fin of flames shot down the stairs.
It was as fast as lightning and it found the container in no time.
The flames that leapt up in the darkness forced Seved backwards.
The rubbish on the floor caught alight and the flames crackled on the wooden staircase. Billows of blue-grey smoke surged forwards under the roof. There was a rustling of small feet as the animalshifters fled up the stairs. Petrified, Amina had vanished into the tunnel, and he followed after her. She crawled ahead of him, her boots scraping against the concrete, and he soon caught up with her. He almost wanted to fling her out of the way to get past. Panic was snapping at his heels. We’re going to die here, he thought. The smoke will suffocate us.
Then it struck him that Jola might have taken off the chain. Perha
ps they only wanted to smoke them out, to teach them a lesson. Yes, that must be it.
But the hatch doors would not open.
The chain rattled and a crack of watery light opened up. With all his strength he rammed his shoulder against the steel plate. He lay down and kicked wildly with his right foot, then stood up and pushed and thumped powerlessly.
‘Open!’ he screamed. ‘For God’s sake!’
Were they standing out there, grinning? Or did they mean business? Had they left already? He pounded and pounded and then sank down and leaned his head against the frozen concrete wall at the end of the tunnel. His eyes were stinging already and he knew there was nothing they could do. He heard Amina’s hand patting weakly but unceasingly against the hatch, heard her cracked voice and her coughing.
The snow fell thicker and thicker, and they drove as fast as they could, but the machine was heavy and difficult to manoeuvre. When Torbjörn revved the engine as far as it would go it began to complain and splutter, and he swore loudly.
They followed the track Randolf had made and without any difficulty found the tree where the large creature had found shelter. It was pitch dark underneath so they decided not to look there and rattled on past. Time was short and the tracks left behind by the bear would soon be snowed over. For a long way it had lumbered along the edge of the marshes, where the snow was packed down hard by the wind, but after a few kilometres the tracks veered off into the forest. It was considerably harder for them to make progress in there, but at least the snow was not falling as heavily.
Torbjörn rested one knee on the seat and tugged the handlebars hard, and they leapt forwards over the deep snow. Susso lifted her backside to counteract the jolting as best she could. Slowly but surely the old Ockelbo covered the ground. Periodically Torbjörn twisted the throttle as he steered the skis to the side, zigzagging between the overhanging birch branches and stooping fir trees.
The shadows had deepened and Susso worried about the encroaching darkness. When night fell it would be practically impossible to follow the trail.
She supported the GPS against Torbjörn’s back and tried to zoom out to see what kind of terrain lay ahead, but her fingers froze and it was hard to use the navigation buttons with her gloves on. They had driven through a hollow filled with stunted birches but now the ground sloped steadily upwards. Susso jumped off and ran beside the snowmobile as Torbjörn made his way diagonally upwards. If it continued like this, it would be faster to go on foot. But they would be able to make up for lost time on the marshes, where they could get up some speed. The only question was what the troll would do when he heard the sound of the approaching snowmobile. Attack them, probably. The squirrel had shielded her on the ice and she supposed it would shield her again. There were only two cartridges left in the revolver, and she had not forgotten what the police officer told her at the hospital: she had been lucky to bring down the bear with such a feeble old weapon. Yes, hunting down a troll like this without stopping to think was like putting your life on the line, but as she had told Gudrun with a grin when she had seen her anxious face, they could not stop now.
It was doubtful she would ever get as close again. The troll was maybe a kilometre or two ahead of them, and anyway the danger she was facing now by following the troll had to be weighed against the danger she was already facing and would continue to face until she found the people who had tried to get her in Kiruna. She unzipped the pocket on the front of her jacket to let the squirrel out. It sat on her shoulder and settled down, and she felt safe with it there.
They had juddered down a hillside and there in front of them was the wide expanse of marshland the troll had crossed. They were going fast now, trailing a cloud of snow behind them. Torbjörn lowered his head below the frosty windscreen and Susso hid her head behind his back, feeling the squirrel’s long whiskers sticking into her cheek like nails.
The revs slowed and they glided gently down a ridge of snow to find themselves on a forest road lined with snow poles. Torbjörn drove alongside the ploughed wall of snow, craning his neck. There were no footprints on the other side and the trees were growing so tightly together it was impossible to see where one began and the other ended.
‘We’ll have to go up and look and then come down again,’ Susso said, pointing. Torbjörn nodded and swung the snow-mobile round.
They went so slowly that the exhaust fumes caught up with them. Torbjörn stood looking for tracks, while Susso read the GPS screen. Giertsbäcken and Giertsjaure. Gångstig. Jippmotje. Further on there should be a church. She thought that was odd because they seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. The squirrel clawed around on her shoulder and then hopped down onto the road. It sat still for a moment or two and then darted forwards, only to stop again. Then it carried on a few metres before running up the wall of snow and vanishing in among the trees.
‘He’s off,’ said Torbjörn.
Susso nodded.
Further on there was a sign. It was covered in snow but the blue paint was visible. That meant they were approaching a village.
‘There are a few houses here,’ Susso said, studying the GPS map. ‘And a church.’
‘Shall we go up there then,’ Torbjörn yelled over his shoulder, ‘and find out if anyone’s seen anything?’
‘Seen anything?’ she said. ‘That could very easily be the place he’s run off to.’
Torbjörn sat down in his seat. Then he turned the handlebars and began carefully swinging the snowmobile round.
‘What shall we do then?’
There was no need for Susso to answer. The squirrel had run out into the road a few hundred metres away, and when they drove in its direction it scrambled up a ridge of snow and raced backwards and forwards. Susso climbed off, and a few metres in among the trees she found deep holes in the snow.
Pulling together they managed to get the old machine to the side of the road and then waded into the forest on foot. Branches tore at their jackets, and here and there sharp sticks protruded from the snow, trying to stab them. They caused slabs of snow to slip from the heavily laden spruce trees and it soon became such an effort to move that neither of them had the energy to speak. They stopped frequently. The squirrel was ahead of them the whole time. They had been trudging for about half an hour when Torbjörn’s mobile started ringing. It was Gudrun, wanting to know how it was going and where they were. Susso told her they were close to a hill called Varåive, and Torbjörn repeated the name several times.
‘It’s almost impossible to get lost with one of these,’ Susso said, holding up the GPS. Then she added, as an afterthought: ‘As long as the battery’s charged, of course.’
‘How much is left?’
‘More than half.’
Torbjörn glanced at his mobile.
‘Mine’s almost run out. I should have charged it before we left.’
They were both worn out and neither of them felt like struggling on straight away so they stood where they were, surrounded by towering spruce trees wrapped in utter silence. Susso’s legs were very cold. She looked up at the treetops and the sky, where the lower layer of clouds was constantly moving. It was rapidly getting darker and she thought it had felt better when they were sitting on the snowmobile. Now the giant could emerge from anywhere and they would have no chance to get away.
The squirrel seemed eager. It had hopped down into the snow and was leaping from one of the bear’s deep footprints to another as if to show them which way to go.
Susso scratched herself with the GPS, the solid antenna against her cheek.
‘Okay, we get it,’ she said. ‘But you’ll have to wait for us. We can’t run in the tracks like you can.’
But the squirrel did not seem to realise that they understood. Torbjörn inserted some snus, clicked the tin closed and looked at the little animal in amusement. It was embroidering the snow with its impatient circling.
They trudged on with the squirrel in front, at times so far ahead it was out of sight. Sometimes it ran into t
he trees, seldom visible, but branches dipped and snow came crashing down. They heard it rustling inside a fir tree, and as they strode past it chattered. It seemed to be excited. Susso waited for it to come up to her, but when there was no sign of it she walked under the tree and looked up among the branches. She could see the squirrel sitting upright with its claws embedded in the trunk. Then she almost lost her balance.
High up in the shadowy gloom hovered a pale, gaunt face.
‘Torbjörn,’ she said softly.
‘What is it?’
‘Come and see.’
The snow crunched as he bent over to get under the tree.
He jerked back when he saw it, but he said nothing.
‘Isn’t that him?’ Susso said.
Torbjörn nodded, the hard bulge of snus disfiguring his lip.
It was a man’s head, wedged in the fork of two branches. The blood on his shredded neck was almost black. His mouth was gaping open and his teeth and tongue were grey. One of his eyes was staring, the other was out of sight behind the branch. But it was still possible to recognise him. It was the man with the axe. The man Torbjörn had wrestled to the ground and punched on the jaw in Holmajärvi.
‘Oh shit. What’s he doing here?’ Torbjörn said.
It was not intended as a question.
Susso removed the backpack. She opened the top section, pulled out the plastic bag and unfolded it. She took out the revolver, tugged off her glove with her teeth, released the cylinder and checked that the cartridges were in the right place.
‘Fuck it, we’ve got to call the cops now,’ Torbjörn said, striding up to her. He was frowning and wiping the snot from under his nose. His voice was tense and she thought he looked like his father. It was a resemblance she had never noticed before.
Susso pushed in the cylinder with a click and put her glove back on.
