Autumn Killing

73

Lights and sounds.

Cars, spraying cascades of colour.

I couldn’t kill the old man. But I could kill his son, I had that much in me. And it felt wonderful.

I did it.

I didn’t mean to kill Jerry Petersson, but can anyone say he didn’t deserve to end his days like that?

It’s time for me to go. This is it. And this is a good place, Andreas, isn’t it?

If you’re here, show me, because in that case I’ll stay. And stare straight into the yellow faces of the snakes.

The lights.

The cars.

Shouting and people, that person moving towards me like a black silhouette over the waterlogged meadow.

I can’t see the person’s face.

But I know it isn’t you, Andreas.

Out of the car.

‘I’ll take this on my own, Zeke.’

The figure out in the field seems to be shaking, just like in the images of his life. His long black hair like a whip in the wind.

And in his hand the rifle. A sporting rifle.

Malin has drawn her pistol for the second time that day.

Close to their prey now.

Evil, confusion, fear, all within sight.

He’s holding the gun along the side of his body.

The others take cover behind the cars, Sven’s voice, anxious, concerned, but full of certainty: I can’t stop her from doing this, and now she’s walking towards the man in the field and the closer she gets, the clearer his contorted features become, the torment in his eyes. It’s as if he can’t see me, Malin thinks. As if he’s alone in the rain and wind and his gaze seems to be searching for something he’s been missing for a long time.

I can’t see anything but darkness.

Can only feel the sharp slithering of the snakes inside me, can only hear their whimpering. Feel Dad’s blows, hear their shriek as they chase me.

You’re not here, Andreas.

That’s enough for me, there’s nothing more for me to do here, and the cold rain that has pressed through all my clothes will never stop, nor will the darkness.

I’m looking at the lights and the person coming towards me, she seems to be shouting but I can only hear an agitated rumbling, as if she wants something important.

But I ignore her. Instead I put the barrel of the rifle in my mouth, and caress the trigger the way your finger often caressed it, Dad, before your eye was destroyed.

I see her in front of me.

But I can’t see you, Andreas. You’re not here.

He’s raised the gun to his mouth.

His finger’s on the trigger, careful yet without any uncertainty.

‘Don’t do it,’ Malin shouts. ‘It won’t make anything better.’

As she shouts a powerful wind sweeps over the field, somehow making a rattling sound.

He’s going to shoot, Malin thinks.

But Anders Dalstrom doesn’t pull the trigger, instead he meets her gaze, and his eyes become calm, reassured by what is about to happen, and Malin shouts again: ‘There’s another way, there always is,’ and time becomes compressed and she sees Janne and Tove standing in front of her. They’re sitting watching television in the house out in Malmslatt, waiting for her to come back with her love, that must be it, they must be missing that. I want to understand, she thinks, what it is that stands between me and the love that I feel.

‘Don’t do it.’

My voice a prayer now.

Don’t do it.

There’s always another way.

‘Don’t do it,’ she shouts at me. I can hear it now.

But I want to do this, and I look out into the darkness, and I see a car roll and spin and the world tumbles into nothingness, it ends.

Tell me, why should I stay?

The barrel is cold and hard. A taste of gunmetal and iron.

I’m going to do it now.

And her mouth moves, but no words come out, but what is it I can hear, whose voice, and what’s it saying?

Do it. Do it.

You weak fucker. Do it!

Pull the trigger and put a stop to this.

Of course I was driving, but what difference does that make? You had no life before that, and afterwards you had a reason to believe in your own misery, and you never moved on from that.

Hopeless.

So do it, do it, do it, do it now, now, now!

Away, away, away.

Anders Dalstrom wants to wave his arms in the air, wave the disembodied voice and everything it’s saying away, even if it’s saying the words he most wants to hear.

Do it.

‘Sit still. I’ve got the ruler. Hold your fingers out.’

‘Get him, get him.’

Do it.

I shall, I shall, but have I got the nerve?

Go away!

I want to do it myself.

Do it, says the voice, don’t, says another, don’t do it, and whose face is that in front of me?

He’s staring into thin air, as if he’s focusing on something just in front of my face, Malin thinks.

I know what you’re looking for, she thinks, says: ‘He’s here. He wants you to stay.’

And Anders Dalstrom stands still, stops shaking, just as if the film of his life had come to an end, then he moves his mouth, but Malin can’t make out his words, the noises coming out of the gap around the barrel are aimed at someone else.

His finger on the trigger.

Darkness like a wall behind him.

What’s that in the darkness?

Andreas? Is that you, are you there?

Is that really your face floating in front of hers? In her face? In place of her face?

What are you saying?

‘Anders, it’s me, but so much more,’ the voice says now.

‘I’m the one you need to listen to. No one else.

‘And I don’t want you here.

‘No.

‘You’re not done yet. The snakes will go. I promise.

‘The life you’ll lead might not be easy or enviable, but it will be your life.

‘You can see my face now. It’s me. Isn’t it? So take the barrel of the rifle out of your mouth. Otherwise I’ll disappear again.’

It’s you, Andreas.

And you’re telling me not to do it.

I’m going to listen to you. How could I do anything else?

Don’t do it.

The blades of the lawnmower are finally silent, nothing chasing me any more, and one day, some day, love will come to me again, the love I sought and fled from.

So don’t do it.

For my sake. For Katarina’s. For everyone’s sake.

Malin sees Dalstrom slowly take the barrel of the rifle out of his mouth, then with a quick jerk he throws the rifle out into the boggy ground of the meadow, then he puts his hands in the air and looks Malin right in the eye.

What can you see? Malin thinks.

Me?

Someone else?

She aims her pistol at the man in front of her.

Feels the rain running under her collar and down her back, hears the sound of steps behind her.

Then she sees two uniformed officers go over to Dalstrom, force his arms behind his back, with gentle smiles.

An arm on her shoulder.

Zeke’s voice in her ear: ‘You’re crazy, Malin. Crazy.’