Jonas makes a visible effort to pry his eyes off of his levitating brother and looks at Mom. Dennis can see his lips move before the words finally come out in a whisper: “Yeah … sure, we understand each other.”
SEVEN
William slides the door shut and makes sure it’s locked. The roaring wind is cut off right away, leaving only the less intrusive hum of the engine, which doesn’t hurt his ears nearly as much.
“Shit,” he mutters, wiping sweat from his upper lip. “Everybody okay?”
Ozzy whimpers and licks his hand, and William crouches down to check on him. He finds nothing except blood in his mouth—but that all came from Eli.
Eli, that fucking asshole …
The mere thought of him makes William clench his teeth. He turns around to check on the others.
Josefine is standing by Nasira, who’s still sitting with Ali, now holding him in a tight embrace, comforting him as he cries into her shirt.
William sees the scratch marks on Nasira’s arms left by Eli as he tried to claw his way past her.
“Oh, crap,” he mutters, low enough that no one else hears him. “At least now we know for sure she’s infected.”
Then, something comes to mind, and he steps over there.
“Hey, maybe you shouldn’t touch him.”
Nasira looks up at him. She’s still out of breath, and even though her usual expression of peace and calm is somewhat gone, she doesn’t exactly look like someone who just fought off a dead person, either.
“It’s just …” William says, pointing to her arms. “You don’t want to infect him.”
Nasira looks at the fresh wounds and then gently pulls free of Ali. When he tries to resist, tries to hold onto her, she tells him something softly in Arabic.
The boy looks up at her through tears, comprehension dawning in his dark eyes.
Holy shit, that poor kid, William thinks. Lost both his parents, and now he can’t even hug his soon-to-be-dead sister …
Josefine begins to dab at Nasira’s arms with a piece of cotton soaked in Chlorhexidine.
The boy’s face is too painful to look at, so William turns around and sees Dan hugging his father instead.
“That was really brave of you, Dad.”
Henrik runs a hand through his hair and lets out a long, deep breath. “Yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You saved all our asses,” William says, smiling. “Well done.”
Henrik smiles back tiredly. “You and Ozzy did most of the work, really.”
“Good boy,” Dan says, crouching down and hugging Ozzy.
To William’s surprise, Ozzy doesn’t mind. He’s usually not fond of strangers petting him. But apparently, he has a soft spot for Dan. Which isn’t really that odd, since William has one for him, too.
“Everybody all right back there?” Sebastian shouts.
“We’re good!” William calls back. “Just needed to deal with a passenger who was flying without a passport. Goddamn piece of shit. He was infected after all.”
“He might not have known about it,” Dan remarks.
“I bet you he did. He showed me the wrong foot.”
Dan and Henrik both look at him in surprise.
William throws out his arms. “I thought about it just now. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I should have asked him to pull off both shoes, but I didn’t. That lying little scumbag.”
“Well, at least now he’s gone,” Henrik says, then taking a step sideways to keep his balance as the helicopter dips a little.
“You sure you’re all right, Dad?” Dan asks. “You came really close to him.”
“I’m telling you, I’m fine,” Henrik says, holding out his hands and rolling up his sleeves. “See?”
“Better check all over,” William says. “All it takes is one little wound.”
“Look, he didn’t bite me; I think I would have felt it.”
Still, Henrik pulls out his collar and lets Dan check his throat and chest. Then he examines his arms, even checking under his wrist watch. Then, finally, Henrik pulls up his shirt and—
William’s heart drops.
Dan gasps.
“Oh, no,” a voice from behind them—Josefine—says.
“What?” Henrik asks, looking down at himself, still holding up his shirt. When he sees the four long, shining red lines running across his navel, he simply says: “Oh.”
“He … he got you, Dad …” Dan whispers, and the pain in his voice is simply too much for William. He covers his face in his hands and turns away.
EIGHT
“So what’s going to happen?” Jonas asks as they all move into the living room.
The brothers are keeping a fair distance from Mom, and Dennis is standing close to her, the rifle now pointed to the floor once more.
“What do you think is going to happen?” Silas sneers at him. “She’ll fucking kill me using that nasty doll, that’s what.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Mom says. “I just want you to leave. Stand there, both of you.” She points to the middle of the room. “Dennis, you come over here.”
Dennis positions himself next to Mom in the corner, just as someone steps into the living room. It’s a guy a little older than Mom. He’s almost bald, a greasy band of hair still resting above his ears, and his cheeks are red and shiny. He’s not really fat, but sports a heavy gut and jowl.
“What’s the holdup?” he asks, lighting a cigarette. He takes a deep drag and lets out the smoke through his nose. “I thought we were taking your dad upstairs. Why you just standing there?”
“Otto, for Christ’s sake!” a shrill female voice exclaims. “Put out the fucking cigarette, will you? No smoking inside!”
“Get used to it, Sussi!” the guy shouts back. “I can’t very well go outside anymore, can I? Or you want me to get fucking eaten? Jesus Christ …”
“At least don’t smoke when your brother’s here!”
“Aaw, he already got lung cancer,” the guy sneers. “Can’t give him something he already got, can I?”
“Otto,” Silas says.
The guy turns his head and looks at him, taking another drag at the cigarette. “Yeah?”
“Shut the fuck up. We’ve got trouble.”
“What trouble?”
Jonas points over his shoulder.
Otto steps sideways and looks. As he sees Mom and Dennis holding the rifle, his eyes grow big, then narrow. “Oh, fuck me …”
“Hello,” Mom says to the guy, as though he was a colleague she had just bumped into at the office. “You’ll be leaving again. If you make any fuss about it, we’re going to have to hurt the boys here. I assume you don’t want that to happen.”
“Who the hell is that?” the female voice says, and a big, fat lady with thin hair dressed in a tight summer dress which reveals every layer of fat underneath steps into view. She sees Mom and Dennis and shows a row of tiny teeth in a pig-like sneer. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Stop pointing that gun at my nephews!”
She’s about to march right into the living room, but the guy—Otto—grabs her by her wrist and yanks her back.
“Stay here, Sussi!” he hisses. “You wanna get us all killed?”
“Who the hell does she think she is?” the woman shouts, flinging out her free arm—the one Otto isn’t holding—causing the fat-flaps to go flailing. Her eyes, which are deep-set above the round cheeks, are shooting lightning at Mom. “Jonas and Silas give her shelter, and this is how she repays the favor!?”
“That’s not exactly what’s been going on here,” Jonas says. “And trust me, she means business. So you need to just do what she tells you.”
“Yeah, she already killed Holger with a knife,” Silas adds, darting a sour look back over his shoulder at Mom.
For a few seconds, everybody is just looking at each other. As though what Silas said needs to sink in.
Dennis is doing his best not to shake, as the rifle has grown really heavy an
d his arms are starting to hurt with the effort of holding it steady.
Then he hears a buzzing sound, and an electric wheelchair comes rolling into the opening to the kitchen. In it sits a guy who at first glance looks to be a hundred years old. His hair is grey, his skin is wrinkly, and he’s very thin, almost to the point where he looks shrunken. There’s a clear plastic tube running up the guy’s nose, attached to a metal tank sitting on the side of the chair, and he’s wearing white hospital clothes.
But as soon as he speaks, Dennis can tell the man isn’t that old after all. Despite him obviously being sick and his voice sounding winded and raspy, there’s something about the way he talks. Something which almost reminds Dennis of how Mom talks.
“This wasn’t exactly the welcome we were hoping for, was it, boys?”
“No, it wasn’t,” Silas says. “Sorry for messing it up, Dad. I should have been more careful.”
Hearing Silas—a grown man—talking like a boy who accidentally spilled his milk is baffling to Dennis. Until now, he’s been acting like a big bully, but now, addressing his old, sick father, there’s respect in his voice. Fear, even. Dennis should know what fear sounds like.
The man and the woman—Otto and Sussi—also look at the old guy and wait for him to go on.
“So,” the father says, tilting his head to look past the twins and over at Mom. “There’s no way we can make this work then?”
It sounds more like a statement than a question.
“The only way that’ll work,” Mom says, keeping her voice calm as ever, “is for you and your family to leave.”
The old guy chews his cracked lower lip for a couple of seconds. His teeth are so yellow they look like corn kernels to Dennis. “I hope my boys didn’t do anything to insult you or your son. I tried my best to raise them properly, but I’m sure you know boys nowadays. They can get carried away. Personally, I blame social media.”
It sounds like the man is about to say something else, but he’s interrupted by a dry coughing spell. Once it subsides, he lifts one boney, yellow-nailed hand to his face and wipes the corner of his mouth with it.
“I don’t think social media could take the blame for your boys’ behavior,” Mom says, a tone of anger in her voice.
To Dennis’s surprise, the man in the wheelchair simply nods. “I understand. Please accept my sincere apologies. If I still had the strength, I would bash some sense into them right here and now.”
Dennis notices both twins—especially Silas—shift their weight around a little uneasily at that.
“That wouldn’t be necessary,” Mom tells him. “All I need from you is to leave. Now, please.”
The words are polite, but Dennis can tell Mom’s patience is running thin. Apparently, the man picks up on it as well.
“I can tell you’ve made up your mind, ma’am. I honestly don’t blame you. These are trying times to say the least, and we all need to do what we can to survive.” Another brief coughing fit. “Well, I guess we’ll get out of your hair, then.”
“No, Dad!” Silas exclaims. “We can’t just go. I told you, this place is too perfect. It’s got everything we need to—”
“It doesn’t matter how perfect it is,” the father interrupts him, barely raising his voice. “Because you screwed it up. You were supposed to make a deal with Holger, and …”
“But Holger was dead!” Silas cries out. “Instead we find this crazy bitch, and she wouldn’t even let us in to talk, so we had to find another way. I’m telling you, Dad, she fought us every step of the way. Didn’t she, Jonas?”
Silas looks at Jonas, but Jonas just sends him a scolding look, whispering under his breath: “Don’t cut him off, you imbecile.”
“If you speak one more time while I’m speaking,” the father says to Silas, his voice still low but somehow also menacing, “I’ll get up from this stupid chair and I’ll put you down myself. You hear me, boy?”
Silas looks down at his feet.
Even though Dennis doubts the father would have the strength to do it, the threat is more than enough.
“Like I was trying to say,” he goes on. “You were supposed to make a deal with Holger or whoever else was here. But as always, you go and make fools out of yourselves, acting like goddamn kids. It’s despicable. And it’s no wonder this lady doesn’t want us around.” He breaks into yet another round of coughing. Then he says: “Now, we’ll leave like she asks, nice and quiet.” Silas looks up and seems to be about to say something, when the father beats him to it: “And if I hear another word out of any of you, you know what’ll happen.”
Silas doesn’t say anything.
Instead, Otto steps forward and looks at Mom. “Are you … are you sure we can’t make a deal here, ma’am? I think we could all benefit from each other.”
“Don’t insult her intelligence, Otto,” the father bites. “She’s not a moron. She knows she can’t trust my boys—they made sure of that.”
Otto still looks at Mom expectantly. She shakes her head once, putting out the last hope in the guy’s eyes.
“You’ll leave first,” Mom says, nodding towards the newcomers. “Take the car you came in. Then, once you’re out of the driveway, these two will follow you in their own truck.”
Otto and Sussi look at each other, then at the man in the wheelchair, and they begin to move back out into the kitchen.
“There’s one more thing before you go,” Mom says, addressing the father.
He looks at her, lifting his bushy eyebrows slightly.
“Your boys took something of mine. Something very valuable. Could you please tell them to hand it over?”
The father turns his palm upwards. “Sure. Whaddiya take, boys?”
Jonas glances at Silas.
Silas clears his throat. “I took her knife. The one she used to kill Holger with.”
“All right. And where is this knife?”
“It’s in my jacket. Out in the hall.”
“Go get it then.”
Silas is about to move, when Mom stops him with a single word: “Stay.” She holds up the doll, and Silas glances at it, then back at his father.
“What the hell is that?” Sussi blurts out, squinting. “Is that … a doll?”
“It’s a voodoo doll,” Jonas says. “And it works. So don’t do anything stupid, or she’ll hurt Silas.”
A couple of seconds of stunned silence pass over the living room. Otto is the first one to break it.
He scoffs. “That’s a fucking joke, right?”
“No joke,” Jonas says grimly.
“I mean, it has to be,” Otto goes on. “That shit ain’t real. It’s only in the movies.”
“She already showed us,” Silas growls. “Trust me, it’s real.”
Otto and Sussi exchange looks of disbelief and bemusement and confusion.
“Well,” the father says, coughing a little. “With dead folks walking around everywhere, I don’t suppose a voodoo doll is that hard to believe.” He turns his head. “Otto, can you go get the knife and hand it to the woman?”
Otto nods.
The father looks at Mom. “Will that work for you, ma’am?”
Mom nods.
Otto turns around and walks out of sight. Dennis can hear him go to the hall. Half a minute passes by. Everybody is watching each other, saying nothing.
Otto comes back into view, holding the dagger in one hand, turning it over carefully. “I suppose this is the one?”
“It is,” Mom says. “Please give it to me.”
Otto hesitates for a moment, eyes the dagger, his eyebrows raised. “This really is a slick knife. It’s like, medieval or some shit.”
“Eighteenth century,” Mom corrects him, holding out her hand.
Otto looks at her, then at the knife one last time, before he trudges across the room, passing Silas and Jonas and stopping a few steps away from Mom. Dennis notices they’re the same height, although Otto is obviously a lot heavier.
He holds out the dagger, of
fering Mom the butt end, saying in a light tone, almost smiling: “Here you go, ma’am.”
Mom takes a step forward and reaches for the knife.
And that’s when a lot of things happen in very fast succession, almost too fast for Dennis to take it all in.
Just as Mom’s fingers touch the knife, Otto pulls it back, turns it around and swings it at her. He’s aiming high, most likely for her face or neck, but Mom pulls her head back just in time, the blade missing her by inches. Sussi screams. Otto steps forward and swings the dagger back the other way. This time, Mom hasn’t got time to pull back, so she raises her hand holding the doll, and the dagger cuts her wrist open. Mom screams and the doll falls to the floor.
“No!” Silas bellows. “Careful, Otto!”
Jonas steps forward, as though wanting to interfere, as Otto takes another swing at Mom. This time, Mom seems better prepared, and instead of stepping back, she ducks down and comes up from below, catching Otto’s wrist with both hands. She twists it back at a painful-looking angle, and Otto gives a grunt of pain.
Then, just as Jonas reaches Otto and grabs him on the shoulder, something else happens behind him, causing him to turn around.
Silas is suddenly flung to the floor. It doesn’t look like he falls, more like some invisible giant grabbed him and threw him down. He crashes against the floorboards, all wind audibly knocked from his lungs, and he curls up in a fetal position.
“Holy shit!” Otto exclaims, then immediately turns his attention back to Mom, but the second-long distraction is all Mom needed.
She twists the dagger from his hand, draws it back and plunges it deep into his blubbery neck. Sussi screams again. Jonas roars and pulls Otto back. Dennis sees the dagger slide back out, the blade now glistening with blood. More blood begins spurting from the slit in Otto’s neck, and he gives off what sounds like a mix between a cough and a retch, a pink mist of bloody spittle spraying from his lips as he falls backwards, Jonas being the only thing stopping him from plummeting to the floor like Silas just did, as Jonas catches him and lies him down gently.
Mom picks up the doll and steps back, her eyes darting briefly to Dennis, checking if he’s all right, then back at the scene unfolding in front of them.
Dead Meat Box Set, Vol. 2 | Days 4-6 Page 46
