Stalker

58

Joona stands still with his arms wrapped round him, leaning forward slightly. He sees the blond man change his grip on the pipe and move to the side. The bald man takes off his jacket and hangs it over a plastic chair.

Joona slowly raises his head and looks the bald man in the eyes.

‘Give the money back to Crina,’ he repeats.

The bald man grins with surprise and steps sideways into the darkness. There’s a click as he unfolds the blade of a flick-knife.

‘I’m going to hurt you if you don’t drop the knife on the ground now,’ Joona says in his melancholic Finnish accent, and takes a step forward.

The bald man crouches down and moves aside, holding the knife in a classic hammer-grip, then reaches forward and takes a few trial stabs.

‘Be careful,’ Joona says, and coughs gently.

The knife is sharp, and glimmers in the weak light. Joona watches it with his eyes and tries to read the man’s irregular movements.

‘Do you want to die?’ the man grunts.

‘I may look slow,’ Joona says. ‘But I’m going to take that knife and break your arm at the elbow… and if you don’t lie still after that, I’ll puncture your right lung.’

‘Stab the Finn!’ the blond man shouts. ‘Stab the fucking Finn.’

‘And I’ll deal with you next, once I’ve got the knife,’ Joona says, stumbling into a rusty bicycle.

The bald man swings the knife to the side unexpectedly and the blade catches Joona across the back of his hand, which starts to bleed.

The blond man backs away with a forced smile.

Joona wipes the blood from his hand on his trousers. The bald man shouts something to the blond one. A baby starts crying in one of the caravans.

The blond man moves in behind Joona’s back; he notices, but is too weak to move.

When Joona glances over his shoulder the bald man mounts an attack. He aims low, towards Joona’s kidneys. The white blade jabs forward like a lizard’s tongue.

It happens fast, but everything is still there as a physical memory. Joona doesn’t think as he deflects the knife, grabs the man’s hand and closes his fingers over his cold knuckles.

Everything happens in rapid succession. Joona bends the man’s wrist, puts his other hand under his elbow, and jerks upward.

When the man’s arm breaks there’s a cracking sound, like standing on a twig beneath deep snow. Splinters of the radial bone pierce through ligaments and tissue, and a squirt of blood spatters a filthy bucket. The man sinks to his knees, screaming, and bends double on the ground.

‘Behind you!’ Erik shouts.

Joona turns. Suddenly giddy, he stumbles in a pool of water, stares up at the tops of the pines against the sky, but manages to keep his balance.

He spins the knife between his fingers, changes his grip and hides it behind his body as he approaches the blond man.

‘Leave me the fuck alone!’ the man shouts, and swipes at the air with the pipe.

Joona goes straight in, takes the next blow on his shoulder, cuts the man across the forehead, and rams his lower arm up into the man’s armpit, knocking his arm out its socket as the pipe falls to the ground.

The blond man gasps as he clutches the top of his arm, moves backwards, but can’t see anything for the blood running into his eyes. He stumbles over a pile of wood and remains there, lying on his back.

The man with the saucepan has disappeared into the darkness behind the camp. Joona walks over, leans down and takes the money from both men, panting as he does so.

He knocks on the door of the caravan, leaning against the frame to stop himself falling. Erik runs over and holds him up when he staggers.

‘Give the money to Crina,’ Joona says, and sits down on the step.

Erik opens the caravan door, sees the woman in the gloom at the far end, looks her in the eye and shows her where he hides the money under her carpet.

Joona slips down onto the grass with his head resting against one of the concrete blocks holding the caravan up.

The tattooed man comes back round the first caravan. He’s holding a shotgun and is approaching with long strides.

Erik realises that Joona is in no condition to run, so crawls beneath the caravan and tries to pull him in behind him.

‘Try to help,’ he whispers.

Joona kicks his legs and slowly slides in. The grit catches his jacket and they can hear steps nearby.

They hear the man with the gun open the caravan door and shout at the old woman. The floor above them thunders as he goes inside.

‘Come on,’ Erik says, crawling further in. He hits his head on a cable tray.

Joona shuffles after him, but catches his jacket on a strut. Erik emerges on the other side of the caravan and hides among some nettles.

Beneath the caravan Joona watches as the tattooed man steps down on to the ground again.

They hear voices and suddenly the man bends down, puts his hands on the ground and stares right at Joona as he lies under the caravan.

‘Get them!’ the blond man shouts.

Joona tries to pull himself free and the seams of his jacket creak. The tattooed man starts to walk round the caravan, through the rough undergrowth.

Erik slips hurriedly underneath again, crawls over to Joona and frees his jacket.

They roll sideways, crawl between the concrete blocks and emerge into the weeds, toss aside a rusty sheet of tin and take cover beside a shack.

The tattooed man comes round the caravan, slips on the wet ground, raises his gun and takes aim.

Erik pulls Joona out of his line of fire.

The man follows them with his gun raised. They crouch down beside a kitchen sink mounted between two trees.

The gun goes off and a stack of crockery on the draining board explodes. Broken shards rain down on them.

There’s shouting and voices echo through the trees now. Erik leads Joona in behind the shack. The tattooed man follows them, the broken crockery crunching beneath his feet. The gun sighs as he expels the cartridge and feeds in a new one.

Erik can feel his legs shaking as he pulls Joona after him into the forest.

They hurry across the uneven ground, pushing through tight thickets of pine scrub and getting caught on branches.

Joona’s back is wet with sweat, his hip is burning and he’s lost all feeling in one foot. He can’t focus properly and fever is rolling through him in waves, rushing icily through his veins and making him shiver with cold.

Erik is holding him firmly by the arm as they move through the edge of the woods towards the car. Between the trees they can see the flickering light of pocket torches, and a dozen migrants arguing after they disarm the tattooed man with the gun.

Joona has to rest for a while before he and Erik cross the road to the car.

His legs give out and he all but falls into the passenger seat and closes his eyes, coughing so badly that it makes his lungs burn.

Erik runs round the car, gets in and locks the doors as there’s a sudden thud on the windscreen. The blond man with the blood-smeared face is lit up by the headlights. He’s holding a heavy branch, and raises it again as Erik starts the engine and puts his foot down. The front wheel spins on the verge, and grit and small stones fly up beneath the car.

There’s another crash and the wing mirror comes loose and dangles from its wires as they lurch back onto the road. They can already hear the sound of emergency vehicles beyond the patch of woodland.