‘Jump on!’ he shouted.
Anders clambered on to the platform with Maja in his arms, and as Kristoffer accelerated along the forest track, she whispered in his ear, ‘Who’s that?’
‘That’s Kristoffer,’ said Anders. ‘He’s helping us.’
Maja nodded. ‘He looks nice. A bit like Simon.’
Anders hadn’t given Simon and Anna-Greta a thought since this all started, he had just registered the fact that they were out of the way and therefore safe. Either at sea or in Kapellskär.
Domarö. It only wants to get at Domarö.
They caught up with the others. Kristoffer braked and Astrid perched gratefully on the edge of the platform. Kristoffer waved to Mats and Ingrid, but Mats shook his head and kept on running with his wife. Presumably the moped would lose so much speed with them on board that it was quicker to keep running.
‘To the rock!’ shouted Anders. ‘The erratic boulder. That’s the highest point.’
Kristoffer nodded, and they shot off along the track. As they passed Mats and Ingrid, Anders shouted the same thing to them. After a hundred metres Kristoffer turned off and they bounced along over roots and stones. But they were moving upwards, climbing all the time.
It was impossible to ride along the last bit, and despite the fact that his feet were hurting so much it brought tears to his eyes, Anders clung to Maja and she clung to him as they got down from the platform and began to climb.
They reached the boulder just in time to see the wave come crashing in over Domarö. Like a dark blue fifteen-metre wall with a crown of ice shards, it came down over the community. Anders sank down at the edge of the rock and watched as what the first wave had left of the Shack was swallowed up by the mass of water.
The chunks of ice flew off the crest of the wave and destroyed the roofs of Anna-Greta and Simon’s houses just seconds before the alarm bell tower collapsed under the pressure and the wall of water smashed the whole thing to driftwood dancing in the foam, and then were was nothing left. The six refugees were standing on a tiny island a dozen or so metres above a rushing, roaring sea, with wreckage swirling around them.
Anders looked up. Gåvasten lighthouse could no longer be seen. The little island was still out there, but the lighthouse itself had disappeared, swept away by the wave. A shudder ran from the sea through the earth, continued into their bodies through the rock, and the island that had appeared next to Gåvasten began to sink.
The water beneath their feet ebbed away. Above his head, Anders heard Mats say, ‘There were people there…’
Anders leaned back and saw that Mats was looking through his telescope. He lowered it and shook his head as he gestured out towards the sinking island. ‘There were people out there. On the island. Lots of people. They’re gone now.’
Anders hugged Maja and buried his nose in the hollow at the back of her neck. The water sank down, exposing a village that was no longer there. Beneath them lay nothing but a muddy mess of fallen trees and the wreckage of houses and outbuildings. Here and there lay large or small pieces of smashed boats. The only thing that was left was the lump of concrete that formed the steamboat jetty.
It’s dangerous. Not only for you. For all those who live here.
This was what Anna-Greta had meant, what she had wanted to prevent. Anders pushed his nose harder into Maja’s neck, rubbing his cheek over her back.
‘Ouch Daddy, you’re all prickly. Stop it.’
Anders smiled and turned her to face him, stroking her cheek gently with one finger. Maja clamped her lips together in a way that meant she was thinking.
‘Daddy?’
‘Yes.’
‘I dreamed I was calling to you. A lot. Was I?’
‘Yes, you were.’
Maja nodded grimly, as if this confirmed something she had suspected for a long time.
‘What did you do then?’
Anders looked into her serious, worried eyes. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead.
‘I came to find you. Of course.’
ALSO BY JOHN AJVIDE LINDQVIST
Let the Right One In
Handling the Undead
In the churchyard in Nåten there is an anchor. An enormous anchor made of cast iron, with a memorial plaque:
IN MEMORY OF THOSE LOST AT SEA
After the incomprehensible storm, the anchor was no longer there. From the spot where the anchor had been, a fresh trench ran down to the shore. As if the anchor had been dragged along by its chain, dragged through the earth like a plough, leaving the furrow behind it before it disappeared into the sea.
Whatever had been fastened to the anchor had torn itself free. Or been set free.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
HARBOR. Copyright © 2008 by John Ajvide Lindqvist. Translation copyright © 2010 by Marlaine Delargy. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
www.stmartins.com
eISBN 9781429995696
First eBook Edition : September 2011
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ajvide Lindqvist, John, 1968–
[Manniskohamn. English]
Harbor / John Ajvide Lindqvist.—1st U.S. ed. p. cm.
“First published in Sweden as Manniskohamn by Ordfront”—T.p. verso
1. Alcoholic fathers—Fiction. 2. Missing children—Fiction. 3. Island people—Fiction. 4. Sweden—Fiction. 5. Dysfunctional families—Fiction.
6. Psychological fiction. I. Title.
PT9877.22.I54M3613 2011
839.73’8—dc23
2011024768
First published in Sweden as Människohamn by Ordfront
First U.S. Edition: October 2011
Harbor Page 51
