by Nick Clausen
Adam begins crying when he sees them.
Agnete picks him up and turns away, looking at Iver with big, scared eyes. “Are we going to make it?”
“Yes,” Iver hears himself say, then he begins hammering away at the bricks. He goes into a frenzy, clubbing the wall like a wild man, feeling the painful jolts run up through his arm, but he doesn’t care, he wants those last two bricks out right now, and he’s not going to relent before they give way.
And they do within half a minute. They loosen up at the same time and plummet through the hole into the bathroom.
“Ready!” Iver shouts, dropping the candlestick and darting a look over at the door, where one guy has now pushed his head through, glaring at them with his white eyes, clapping his teeth hungrily. The door looks like it could give up any second. In fact, Iver can’t tell what’s holding that last hinge in place.
“Give him to me!” Iver shouts, holding out his arms.
“You climb through first,” Agnete says. “Then I’ll hand him to you.”
Iver doesn’t want to waste time arguing, so he simply hoists himself up and climbs through to the bathroom. The air duct is right above the toilet, so he can step down onto the seat, spin around and reach his arms back through the hole.
Agnete hands him the crying toddler. “Careful! Don’t bump his head.”
Iver pulls Adam through the wall, and just as he does so, there’s a crunching sound from the bedroom followed by a bang.
That was the door …
Iver sees Agnete dart a glance to the side and knows he’s right.
“Come on!” he shouts, holding Adam on one arm and reaching the other one back, trying to grab Agnete. “Come on, Agnete! Hurry!”
But the look on her face tells him all he needs.
She stares at them through the hole, smiling. “Take care of him, Iver.”
“No! Agnete, no!”
But she has already ducked down out of sight. At first, Iver thinks she has lain down, but then she comes back up, holding the night table. She flings it aside, effectively cutting herself off from climbing through the hole—but also making sure none of the deads can do the same.
Then, just as the first zombie staggers into view, Iver steps down from the toilet, squeezing Adam tightly and closing his eyes. He wants badly to cover his ears, but instead he uses his free hand to cover Adam’s ear, pressing the other one against his head as the toddler cries.
To Iver’s great relief, though, Agnete doesn’t scream.
TWENTY-TWO
The light comes from somewhere overhead. But it’s not celestial as Dan first thought. It’s plain old sunlight.
He opens his eyes after what feels like several minutes, but what is more likely only a couple of seconds.
And he sees a figure come jumping down from above, landing beside him, straightening up and pointing a rifle at Birgit, who stops only eight or ten feet away, the bright light painting her face white and causing her to squint.
The person besides him says something, but Dan’s hearing has tuned out and he can’t interpret the words. Instead, he turns his head and looks at William.
This is a dream. I’m probably already dead. Then, almost making himself smile, he thinks: William must be an angel.
William looks very much alive and temporal, though. He’s holding the rifle firmly against his shoulder, nudging Dan backwards with one elbow while staring fixedly at Birgit. And as he speaks again, Dan is able to understand him.
“You heard me, lady: stay back, or I’ll blow your fucking head off!”
“William?” Dan hears himself asking, his voice sounding bemused more than anything.
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” William says without looking at him. “This was a pretty close call, huh?”
“How did you … I don’t understand.”
“Let’s save it for later. Right now, we need to deal with psycho-lady here.”
“You okay down there?” a voice asks from above.
Dan looks up to see Liv peering down through the opening. From somewhere behind her, Dan can hear Ozzy panting and whimpering.
“We’re fine,” William says, still not moving his eyes from Birgit. “Step back, please.”
Birgit doesn’t move. Instead, she turns her head and looks at Dan. “I thought you said you weren’t coming to take back the house?”
“We’re not,” Dan says earnestly, still only halfway convinced this isn’t some sort of dream.
“It’s true, we weren’t,” William confirms. “Not until you decided to kill him anyway. Now, move back! I’m not telling you again.”
“Mom?” a voice calls from down the tunnel. “What’s happening?”
“Go back inside, Dennis!” Birgit calls over her shoulder. “Get down to the bunker right away! Lock yourself in there and don’t—”
“Shut the fuck up!” William shouts.
“—let anyone in, no matter what they say!”
“Stop talking!”
“Go, Dennis! Go, now!”
“I told you to—”
“William!” Liv cuts him off. “They’re coming back!”
Ozzy starts barking up there.
“Move!” William roars, stepping forward and jabbing the rifle at Birgit’s chest. “Get back, or we’ll all be zombie-dinner!”
Finally, Birgit steps backwards, her eyes darting from William to Dan, the dagger still in her hand.
“Come down here and close the hatch!” William shouts—unnecessarily so, because Liv is already coming down the ladder.
She slams the hatch and locks it, looking at William: “What about your dog?”
“He’ll be fine, don’t worry about him.”
Liv climbs down and joins them.
For a moment, they all just stand there, staring at each other: Dan, William and Liv in close formation, Birgit alone a few yards away.
“So far, so good,” William says, as Dan can hear fingers begin to scratch the fake well cover from above. “Now everyone just stay calm …”
“You’ll never get into the bunker,” Birgit says.
“Shut your mouth. And put down that fucking blade you’re holding. What the hell is that, anyway? Looks like something from Game of Thrones.”
“I’ll put down mine if you put down yours,” Birgit tells him calmly.
William grinds his teeth. “Listen, you fucking psycho. I know you’re probably used to bossing people around, but you’re no longer in charge here, so put down that goddamn mini-sword, or I’ll shoot it out of your hand.”
“William,” Dan says.
“Not now,” William says. “Do it, lady. Last warning.”
Birgit doesn’t look like she’s about to put down the dagger. She just stares at William, daring him.
“You really are fucking nuts,” William says, taking a deep breath. “Okay, I’m going to have to shoot her. I suggest you cover your ears …”
“William,” Dan says again, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. Put it down.”
William darts one quick look sideways. “Put what down? The rifle? Are you out of your mind? She’ll come at us if I do that.”
“No,” Dan says, looking over at Birgit. “She won’t.”
Birgit looks back at him, saying nothing, but Dan can tell she tries hard to read him.
“We’re done fighting,” Dan goes on, talking to all of them now. “No more killing each other. From now on, we’ll work together. We’ll find a way to end all this. Right?”
He looks from Birgit to William.
Birgit doesn’t say or do anything; she simply waits to see what happens.
William hesitates, clearly fighting himself.
Dan reaches out and puts his hand on the barrel of the rifle, pushing it gently towards the floor. William resists at first, then lets the rifle drop. He straightens up and looks at Birgit.
Suddenly, the distance between them seems very short. Birgit could close it in less than a second, a lot faster than
William could get the rifle back up, and Dan can feel how keenly they’re all aware of that fact.
So he steps forward.
“No, Dan,” William begins, grabbing for his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” Dan says, slipping past him. He stops in front of Birgit and looks up at her—she’s a full foot taller than him. “We’re done fighting,” he repeats softly. “Let’s go inside and talk.”
Then he simply walks past her, the sleeve of his T-shirt brushing against her arm—the one holding the dagger. He walks on down the tunnel. Then, as he senses the others aren’t coming, he stops and turns around.
“You guys coming?”
Liv, William and Birgit are all still standing there, uncertain what to do.
William is the one to break the silence with a snorting laughter. “Jesus Christ, the balls on that guy!”
Liv begins walking, passing by Birgit while giving her one brief look before joining Dan. Then William shrugs and walks past her, too, the rifle by his side. And finally, reluctantly and without a word, Birgit turns and joins them in walking back through the tunnel.
TWENTY-THREE
“Dennis?”
Mom’s voice through the door.
Dennis gets up from the terminal. He’s been following along on the screens, staring in horror as Dan was the first one to appear back inside the house, then the girl came out of the cabinet, followed by the other, older guy. For a brief moment, Dennis felt absolute panic at the thought of them having killed Mom and left her down in the tunnel.
But then, to his amazement, Mom appeared from the cabinet as well, looking unharmed. It looked almost like the four of them had made some sort of truce.
They went to the kitchen, exchanged a few awkward looks before Mom went on to the bedroom, from where she climbed down the hatch to the bunker. The three intruders are still in the kitchen, helping themselves to the fridge, as Mom knocks the metal door.
“It’s me, Dennis. You can open up.”
Dennis unlocks the door and opens it.
He halfway expects Mom to come in and slam the door, having played some sort of trick on the intruders, so as to make it safely down to the bunker.
But she doesn’t come in, she just stands there.
“What … what happened, Mom? Why are they in the house?”
“They’ve come to talk,” Mom says, sounding like the words are difficult to utter. “I agreed to it.”
Dennis blinks. “So they … they weren’t lying after all?”
“I don’t know. We still have to be careful. Okay?”
Dennis nods. “Okay, Mom. So now what?”
Mom darts a look over at the screens showing the three newcomers in the kitchen, eating. “Now we go back up there and talk. I want you there, too.”
Dennis shakes his head. “I can’t, Mom. Dan must hate me after what I did.”
“He’s not angry,” Mom assures him. “And he won’t do anything to hurt you. I’ll make sure of that. Come on, now.”
Dennis follows Mom back into the house, feeling a strange mixture of different feelings like amazement, confusion and anxiety all at once.
They find the three newcomers in the kitchen, all three sitting down by the table, shoveling in food. They’ve taken out bread, ham, cheese, fruit and other stuff from the fridge.
The guy with the tattoos looks up briefly at them and says with his mouth full: “We haven’t eaten anything real for days.”
“I can tell,” Mom says in a cool voice.
Dan looks at Dennis, finishes chewing, then says: “Hi again, Dennis.”
“Uhm, hi,” Dennis says, feeling immensely awkward. “Sorry for … locking you in the tunnel.”
“Sorry for lying to you. That was stupid and unnecessary. I should have trusted you to trust me.”
Dennis can feel Dan isn’t angry, which makes it easier for him to relax. He even manages to send Dan a meek smile.
“This is William,” Dan goes on. “And this is Liv.”
“Howdy,” William says, stuffing most of a banana down his throat.
“Nice to meet you,” Liv says, sounding like she’s still a little tense, but at least trying to mean it. “I’m glad we could, you know … make it work.”
“We’ll see,” Mom says, pulling out a chair and looking at Dennis.
He goes to sit.
“Was it your scrambled eggs?” William asks him. “Sorry, but I ate them. Damn, they were good. Can’t remember the last time I’ve had scrambled eggs.”
“That’s … okay,” Dennis mutters. He feels weird just sitting there, while the rest of them are eating, so he takes a slice of bread and starts making himself a sandwich. His tummy feels very uptight, and he’s not sure he can squeeze down a single bite.
“You care to join us?” Dan says, looking up at Mom still standing there.
“That’s okay, I’m not hungry,” Mom says, going to stand by the sink. She turns and leans her lower back against the table, folding her arms across her chest.
“Oh, shoot,” William says, getting up. “I almost forgot about Ozzy. One moment.”
“What are you doing?” Mom says as he goes to leave the kitchen.
William looks at her. “I’ll let in my dog. It’s okay, he’s very well trained.”
“You can’t just open the door,” Mom says, nodding towards the windows. “They are still out there.”
“I know, I’m not stupid,” William says. “I’ll let him in through the vegetable garden—don’t worry, I’ll lure them away first. They’re not interested in Ozzy, so it’ll be easy for him to slip inside.”
Then he leaves the room.
Mom looks at Dan, her expression hard to read. They keep on eating for a few minutes, the silence in the kitchen becoming more and more oppressive to Dennis. He’s done making his sandwich and forces himself to chow down a couple of bites. As soon as it reaches his stomach, he realizes he’s actually hungry.
Then William returns, a German shepherd by his side. “Piece of cake,” he says, sits down and resumes eating.
The dog goes to Dan, licking his hands happily, and Dan ruffles his ears. “Good to see you too, buddy.”
Then the dog goes to the girl, and she lets him smell her hand, then pats him on the head. The dog comes to Dennis next. He copies the girl’s gesture of offering the dog his open palm, and the dog sniffs it, then gives it a quick lick. Finally, the dog goes to greet Mom.
“I hate dogs,” Mom says. She’s talking to William, but the dog reacts to her voice as well, stopping a few paces away from her.
“Ozzy,” William says, looking up briefly. “Find a place to rest, buddy.”
The dog looks up at Mom for a moment, giving off a short whimper, then slinks to the far end of the kitchen and lies down.
“So,” William says, putting his hands together. “Looks like all are present and the disciplinary meeting can begin.”
Dan finishes chewing, puts down his sandwich, then looks at Mom and says: “We need your help. Like I said, we want you to try and reverse this thing.”
“And like I said, that can’t be done.”
“Why not?” William says right away.
Mom looks at him, answering in a voice like a patient teacher having to explain something to a dumb student: “Because it doesn’t work that way. These things can’t just be reserved. They can only be lifted.”
“Explain to us the difference, please,” Dan urges.
Mom runs her tongue across her teeth. “The difference is, reversing a curse would mean to undo it, to make it as though it was never there. That’s not possible. It’s like curing someone of a bad fever: you can’t make it so that the fever was never there.”
“But you can make it go away?” Dan asks. “The fever?”
Mom looks at him for a long moment, then shrugs. “In theory, yes. You might make it go away, but whatever damage the fever has done will remain.”
“So what would that mean?” William asks. “Supposing we could lift the
curse off these poor pricks—would it bring them back to life?”
Mom shakes her head. “They’re already dead.”
“So what would happen to them, exactly?”
Mom shrugs: “They would die.”
William smacks his lips and looks at Dan. “Not exactly what we were hoping to hear, huh? Even if we could make a ritual to cure this thing, it would just kill them. Sounds a lot easier to just shoot them.”
“Hold on,” Dan says, looking at Mom. “Could you explain how exactly lifting the curse would work? I know a little about voodoo. I know about the big and the little angel and that thing about how the soul is split in two.”
Dennis is surprised to hear Dan mention these terms. Mom never speaks to Dennis about her beliefs, not directly at least, but he has picked up a few things over the years. He looks at Mom, curious to see her reaction.
She looks at Dan with slightly raised eyebrows. “Where did you learn about that?”
Dan shrugs. “In school.”
“Well, your school is wrong. That’s not at all how it works.”
“How does it work, then?”
Mom is quiet for a few seconds. When she starts speaking, the words come slowly and pensively. “What you’re referring to are the ti bon ange and the gros bone ange. The ti bon ange or the Little Angel is our individual personalities, small, imperfect, vulnerable. The gros bone ange is the collective life force which animates all life and flows in every human being from birth until death. It is eternal and can never be killed or harmed or even stained.”
For some reason, Dennis feels very uncomfortable hearing Mom talk about this stuff. Maybe it’s because he considers it to be crazy, and he’s sure the others will think so too.
Looking at William, Dennis’s suspicion is confirmed, as he rolls his eyes.
But before he can say anything, Dan asks earnestly: “And the Little Angel is gone, right? In the zombies? Their personal life force is dead. Because that’s the one that dies when a person dies, isn’t it?”
“Normally, yes.”
“But you called it back. In the girl that started all this. You called her Little Angel back from the dead and sent it inside her body again, only it was all screwed up. Isn’t that right?”
