After almost one and a half hours, sometimes heading north, sometimes west, the road begins to narrow. They are now in Dorotea, approaching the Norwegian border, and high, jagged mountains tower above them. Suddenly a car coming in the opposite direction flashes its headlights at them. They pull over to the side of the road, watching as the other car stops and reverses towards them.
“Mountain Rescue,” says Joona dryly, when they see that the car is the same as theirs. He rolls down the window, and crisp ice-cold air sucks all the heat out of the car.
“Are you the lot from Stockholm?” shouts one of the men in the car in Finnish.
“We are,” Joona replies in Finnish. “City slickers, that’s us.” They laugh, then Joona reverts to Swedish. “Was it you who went out to the house? Nobody has been able to get hold of you.”
“No radio coverage,” replies the man. “But it was a waste of petrol. There’s nothing up there.”
“Nothing? No tracks around the house?”
The man shakes his head. “We went through the layers of snow.”
“What do you mean?” asks Erik.
“It’s snowed five times since the twelfth—so we searched for tracks through five layers of snow.”
“Well done,” says Joona.
“That’s why it took a while.”
“But no one’s been there?” asks Simone.
The man shakes his head. “Not since the twelfth, like I said.”
“Shit,” Joona says quietly.
“So are you coming back with us, then?” asks the man.
Joona shakes his head. “We’ve come all the way from Stockholm. We’re not turning back now.”
The man shrugs his shoulders. “Suit yourself.” They wave and head off to the east.
“No radio coverage,” Simone whispers. “But Jussi said he was calling from there.”
They drive on in silence. Simone is thinking the same thing as the others. This trip may be a disastrous mistake. They could have been lured in the wrong direction, up into a crystal world of snow and ice, of wilderness and darkness, while Benjamin is somewhere else altogether, without protection, without his medication, perhaps no longer even alive.
It’s the middle of the day, but this far north, deep in the forests, day is like night at this time of year, an immense night that overshadows the dawn from December to January, that refuses to crack and let in the light.
103
sunday, december 20 (fourth sunday of advent): afternoon
They reach Jussi’s house, driving the last part across the hard crust on the snow. The air is freezing, utterly still and fragile. Joona draws his gun. It’s been a long time since he saw real snow and experienced this dry feeling in his nose from severe cold.
Three small buildings face one another in a U-shaped formation. The snow has formed a huge, softly curved dome over each of the roofs, and there are drifts against the walls, right up to the windowsills. Erik gets out of the car and looks around. The Mountain Rescue team’s tyre tracks are clearly visible, as are their footprints around the buildings.
“Oh God,” Simone whispers, hurrying forward.
“Wait,” says Joona.
“There’s no one here, it’s empty, we’ve—”
“It seems to be empty,” Joona says. “That’s all we know.”
Simone waits, shivering, as Joona crunches across the snow. He stops by one of the small windows, leans forward, and can make out a wooden chest and some rag rugs on the floor. The chairs have been placed upside down on the dining table, and the refrigerator is empty and switched off, with the door wide open.
Simone looks at Erik, who has stopped in the middle of the yard, looking around as if perplexed. She is about to ask him what’s wrong when he says loudly and clearly, “He isn’t here.”
“There’s nobody here,” Joona replies wearily.
“I mean,” Erik says, “this isn’t his haunted house.”
“What are you saying?”
“This is the wrong cottage. Jussi’s haunted house is pale green. I’ve heard him describe it: there’s a larder off the porch, a tin roof with rusty nails, a satellite dish near the gable end, and the yard is full of old cars, buses, and tractors.”
Joona waves his hand. “This is his address. This is where he’s registered.”
“But it’s the wrong place.”
Erik takes a few steps towards the house again; then he looks at Simone and Joona, his expression deadly serious, and says stubbornly, “This is not the haunted house.”
Joona swears and takes out his mobile phone, then swears even more when he remembers there is no coverage.
“We’re not likely to find anyone we can ask out here, so we’ll have to drive until we pick up a signal again,” he says, getting back in the car. They reverse up the drive and are about to pull out onto the road when Simone spots a dark figure among the trees. He is standing there motionless with his arms by his sides, watching them.
“There!” she shouts. “There’s someone over there!”
104
sunday, december 20 (fourth sunday of advent): afternoon
The edge of the forest on the other side of the road is dense and dark, the snow packed tightly between the trunks, the branches overloaded. She gets out of the car, even though Joona tells her to wait, and tries to see between the trees. The headlights are reflected in the windows of the house. Erik catches up with her.
“I saw someone,” she whispers.
Joona gets out of the car, draws his gun, and follows them. Simone hurries toward the edge of the forest and spots the man once again among the trees, further in this time.
“Wait, please!” she shouts.
She runs a little way but stops when she meets his gaze. It’s an old man with a furrowed, utterly serene face. He is very short, he hardly reaches up to her chest, and he is wearing a thick, stiff anorak and trousers made of reindeer skin. A couple of dead ptarmigans are slung over his shoulder.
“Sorry to bother you,” Simone says.
He says something she doesn’t understand, then looks down and mumbles something. Erik and Joona approach cautiously. Joona has already concealed his gun inside his jacket.
“I guess he’s speaking Finnish,” says Simone.
“Hang on,” says Joona, turning to the man.
Erik hears Joona introduce himself, point to the car, then mention Jussi’s name. He is speaking Finnish in a steady, muted way. The old man nods slowly, pulls out a pipe, and lights it. He listens to Joona with his face upturned, as if he were looking for something and listening at the same time. Taking a puff of his pipe, he asks Joona something in a calm, melodic, clucking voice; Joona replies, and the man shakes his head regretfully. He looks at Erik and Simone with an expression of sympathy. When he offers them the pipe, Erik has enough presence of mind to accept it, take a puff, and pass it back. The tobacco is bitter and strong; Erik wills himself not to cough.
Simone hears the Sami explain something at length to Joona. He breaks a twig from a tree and draws a few lines in the snow. Joona leans over the snow map, pointing and asking questions. He takes a small notepad out of his inside pocket and copies the map. Simone whispers “thank you” as they walk back to the car. The little man turns away, points into the forest, and sets off along a narrow track between the trees.
They have left the car doors open, and the seats are so cold they burn their backs and legs when they get in.
Joona hands Erik the piece of paper onto which he copied the old man’s directions.
“He was speaking an odd kind of Umeå Lappish, so I didn’t really understand everything. He was talking about the Kroik family place.”
“But he knew Jussi?”
“Yes. If I understood him correctly, Jussi has another house, a hunting lodge even deeper in the forest. There’s supposed to be a lake up ahead on the left. We can drive as far as a place where three big stones have been raised in memory of the fact that the Sami used to spend their summers her
e. The snow-ploughs don’t go any further, so we have to walk north across the snow from there until we see an old trailer.”
Joona looks at Simone and Erik with an ironic expression and adds, “The old man said that if we fall through the ice on Lake Djuptjärnen, we’ve gone too far.”
They drive for forty minutes, slowing down to pause at the three standing stones hewn and raised by the community of Dorotea. The headlights make everything look grey and shadowy. The stones appear for a few seconds, then disappear into the darkness again.
Joona parks the car by the edge of the forest and says he probably ought to camouflage it; he cuts a few branches but changes his mind. He glances up at the starlit sky and sets off as quickly as he can. The others follow, as quietly as possible. The hard crust lies like a heavy board over the deep snow. The old man’s directions are correct; after a third of a mile, they see a rusty trailer half buried in the snow and turn off the path. Others have walked along the track they are on. Below them lies a house surrounded by snow. Smoke is rising from the chimney. In the light from the windows, the outside walls appear to be mint green.
This is Jussi’s house, Erik thinks. This is the haunted house.
In the yard they can just make out big dark snow-covered shapes that form a strange labyrinth. As they head slowly towards the house, they move along narrow passageways between these great heaps of snow-covered vehicles—scrap cars, buses, combine harvesters, ploughs, and scooters—their feet crunching on the snow.
Inside the house, they see a figure moving past the window. Something’s happening over there; the movements are rapid, violent. Erik can’t wait any longer, he starts running towards the house; he doesn’t give a damn about the consequences. Simone runs alongside him, panting. As they close the distance, running across the hard snow, they suddenly hear a muffled scream, followed by rapid, floundering thuds. A figure appears in the window again. A branch snaps off at the edge of the forest. The door of the woodshed bangs. Simone is breathing fast. They stop at the edge of a path that has been shovelled out of the snow, just before reaching the house.
105
sunday, december 20 (fourth sunday of advent): afternoon
The person at the window has disappeared. The wind sighs in the treetops. Light snow swirls across the ground. Suddenly the door is flung open, and they are dazzled; someone is shining a powerful torch in their faces. They shade their eyes with their hands and squint in order to try and see.
“Benjamin?” Erik calls out.
When the beam of light is lowered to the ground, Erik recognises Lydia. In one hand she is holding the torch, in the other, a large pair of scissors. The light illuminates a figure in the snow. It’s Jussi. His face is an icy bluish-grey, his eyes are closed, he is covered in frozen blood, and an axe sticks out of his chest. Simone stands next to Erik in silence. He can tell by her shallow, rapid breathing that she has also seen the body. At the same moment he realises that Joona is no longer with them. He must have gone a different way, thinks Erik. He’ll creep up on Lydia from behind if I can just keep her busy for long enough.
“Lydia,” says Erik. “Good to see you again.”
She stands there motionless, watching them but saying nothing. The scissors glint in her hand, swinging loosely. The beam of the torch shines on the grey path.
“We’ve come to pick up Benjamin,” Erik explains calmly.
“Benjamin,” Lydia replies. “Who’s Benjamin?”
“He’s my child,” says Simone, her voice half suffocated.
Erik tries to gesture to her to keep quiet; perhaps she sees him, because she takes a step back and tries to steady her breathing.
“I haven’t seen anyone else’s child, only my own,” Lydia says slowly.
“Lydia, listen to me,” says Erik. “If we can take Benjamin, we’ll go away and forget all about this. I promise never to hypnotise anyone ever again—”
“But I haven’t seen him,” Lydia insists, glancing at the scissors. “There’s only me and my Kasper here.”
Lydia is in the perfect spot right now, Erik thinks feverishly. She’s focused on us and her back is to the house. All Joona has to do is creep around and overpower her from behind.
“I’d like you to leave now,” she says firmly.
“Please, just let us give him his medication,” Erik begs. His voice has begun to shake. Suddenly, he thinks he can see someone moving along the line of vehicles diagonally behind the house. A jolt of relief shoots through his heart. But Lydia’s expression becomes alert, and she lifts the torch and shines it towards the woodshed and out across the snow.
“Kasper needs his medication,” says Erik.
Lydia lowers the torch again. Her voice is cold and harsh. “I’m his mother. I know what he needs,” she says.
“You’re right, of course you are,” Erik says quickly. “But if you let us give Kasper a little bit of medicine, you can show him what’s right and wrong; you can discipline him. I mean, it is Sunday—”
Erik pauses involuntarily as he sees the figure behind the house move closer, then disappear from view.
“On Sundays,” he goes on, “you usually—”
Two people appear around the side of the house. Joona is moving stiffly and reluctantly towards them. Behind him is Marek, with the elk gun pressed into Joona’s back.
Lydia smiles and steps up onto the hard snow from the cleared path.
“Shoot them,” she says tersely. Lydia nods in Simone’s direction. “Start with her.”
“I’ve only got two cartridges,” Marek replies.
“Do what you like, just get it done,” she says.
“Marek,” says Erik. “They stopped me from working. I wanted to help you—”
“Shut your fucking mouth.”
“You’d started talking about what happened in the big house out in the country in Zenica-Doboj.”
“I can show you what happened,” says Marek, looking at Simone with calm, empty eyes.
“Just get on with it,” sighs Lydia, looking impatient.
“Lie down,” Marek says to Simone. “And take off your jeans.”
She doesn’t move. Marek turns the gun on her, and she backs away. Erik moves forwards and Marek quickly aims at him.
“I’ll shoot him in the stomach,” says Marek. “Then he’ll be able to watch while we’re having fun.”
“Do it, already,” says Lydia.
“Wait,” says Simone, starting to unzip her jeans.
Marek spits into the snow and takes a step towards her, but he doesn’t really seem to know what to do. He looks at Erik and waves the gun in his direction. Simone won’t meet his eyes. He points the gun at her, aiming the barrel first at her head, then at her stomach.
“Don’t do this,” says Erik.
Marek lowers the elk gun and moves towards Simone. Lydia steps back. Simone starts to pull down her jeans and underwear.
“Hold the gun,” Marek says quietly to Lydia.
She is moving towards him when a noise comes from among the maze of junked vehicles—a metallic knocking, over and over again. Suddenly, there’s a roar as an engine kicks into life, with the sharp sound of the pistons working. The engine revs deafeningly, the gearbox screams, snow is churned into the air, and a bright light blanches the front of the house. An old bus with a huge tarpaulin over the roof rumbles forward out of the formation, tearing free of the hard crust of snow that covers it and heading straight for them.
106
sunday, december 20 (fourth sunday of advent): afternoon
When Marek turns his head to look over at the bus, Joona moves forward with remarkable speed and grabs the stock of the gun. Marek holds on tight but is forced to take a step forward. Joona hits him hard across the chest and tries to kick his legs out from under him, but the powerfully built Marek remains on his feet and, using all the strength in his arms, tries to turn the gun around, the butt grazing Joona’s head and sending him to his knees. But Marek’s fingers are so cold he loses his
grip, and the gun spins through the air to land in front of Lydia. Simone rushes towards it, but a snarling Marek seizes her hair and yanks her back.
The bus has run into a fir tree and become stuck, its engine roaring in protest; it is surrounded by a miasma of exhaust fumes and churned-up snow as it bumps stubbornly into the trunk of the tree, scraping off the bark, the wheels spinning without traction. The engine revs once again, the tree sways, and snow tumbles from its dark branches. The front door of the bus opens and closes over and over again with a gentle hiss. Benjamin’s bewildered face is visible within. His nose is bleeding.
“Benjamin!” Simone screams. “Benjamin!”
Lydia runs towards the bus with Marek’s gun, Erik following. Screaming, Lydia climbs aboard the bus, lashing out at Benjamin with the butt of the gun and shoving him out of the driver’s seat. She settles behind the wheel and manipulates the tall gearshift. With a shrieking grinding of gears, the bus begins to roll back, picking up speed as it rattles down the slope toward the lake. Erik yells at Lydia to stop, racing after them in the tracks dug by the wheels.
Marek is still holding Simone by the hair. She is screaming and trying to pry his fingers loose. Joona tenses, shifting from a kneeling position to a poised crouch, then leaps to his feet. As Marek begins to turn in his direction, Joona drops his shoulder and twists his body, driving his fist into Marek’s armpit. Marek’s arm flaps as if it had been jarred loose from its socket, and his grip on Simone’s hair loosens. She pulls away and scrambles for the scissors in the snow. Marek lashes out with his other hand, but Joona dodges the blow and jabs his right elbow down towards the side of Marek’s neck with all his strength, breaking the collarbone with a dull crack. Marek falls to the ground, screaming with pain. Simone dives for the scissors, but Marek kicks her in the stomach, grabbing the scissors and making a sweeping backwards slash with his functioning arm. Simone screams and sees Joona’s face stiffen as the scissors penetrate his right thigh, blood splashing onto the snow. Grimacing fiercely, Joona swings down with the handcuffs he’s taken out and smashes Marek’s skull over the left ear. It is a hard blow. Marek stops moving; he simply stares straight ahead, trying to say something. Blood is pouring from his nose and ear. Joona bends over him, panting, and fastens the handcuffs around Marek’s slack wrists.