The Accidental Further Adventures of the Hundred-Year-Old Man

Sweden, Denmark

Allan, Julius and Sabine crowded into the front seat of the hearse, since the Nazi was hogging the back.

Ten minutes later they had managed to divorce themselves from their unconscious problem. Johnny Engvall was now sitting on a bench in a decently empty park not far from downtown. While Julius and Sabine did the grunt work, Allan found a white plastic cup between the front seats in the car. He placed it in the Nazi’s hands, instantly transforming him into a presumed beggar who had fallen asleep on the job.

‘Don’t sit here too long, Mr Johnny, or you’ll catch a cold,’ was Allan’s farewell.

The situation remained intensely complicated. The Nazi problem was, of course, far from over. But with all the carrying-around and the fresh air, Sabine had her brain function back.

Now was the time to use it to think new thoughts. Or, at least, big ones. Best-case scenario, also good ones.

Sabine made up her mind.

Julius noticed that she seemed to know where she was going. He didn’t say anything, for he thought the next move should be hers.

They left Malmö, ended up on a highway, and soon found themselves approaching the bridge to Denmark. Sabine slowed and prepared to pay the bridge toll.

‘In light of what has happened, it’s best if we switch countries,’ she said.

‘Denmark,’ said Julius.

‘I love Denmark,’ said Allan, who had returned to his coffin and made himself comfortable. ‘I think. I’ve never been there. Or have I?’

‘Denmark won’t be far enough, if we’re going to keep away from everyone who wants to kill us,’ said Sabine. ‘And assuming we want money to put food on the table, our current business model will never do.’

She continued by saying that she had, in tandem with other topics, put a great deal of thought towards their future. It had all come to a head when the Nazi turned up to get a table lamp to the head.

‘That lamp knew where to land,’ Allan said. ‘If I’m alive next year I’ll be danged if I don’t vote Social Democrat.’

‘You vote?’ Julius asked.

‘Not that I know of.’

Sabine asked the old men to keep quiet for a bit and went on: ‘Anyway, I had time to do some thinking. We can’t drive around in the hearse any more. It will be recognized by the Nazi who, we know with all certainty, is angrier with us than ever.’

Allan was on the verge of gauging the Nazi’s presumed rage in comparison with that of Kim Jong-un and Donald Trump but realized he had been asked to keep quiet.

‘So, no more hearse,’ Sabine reiterated. ‘And no Sweden.’

Allan sat up in the coffin. This conversation looked promising. He couldn’t keep not saying anything. ‘It sounds to me as if young Miss Sabine has an idea.’

‘Agreed,’ said Julius.

She did. If their séance operation was to blossom, and they were to survive for more than a week, they had to think internationally. The Nazi and his gang would have a much harder time finding them out in the big, wide world. On the other hand, the competition in the spiritual branch would be much tougher than it was in their homeland. It wouldn’t be enough to hawk ghosts and the chance to speak with those who had already spoken their last.

‘So what do we need?’ Julius wondered.

‘Product development,’ said Sabine.

‘And where on our good green earth can we best develop our product, do you think?’

‘Are you sitting down?’ Sabine asked.

‘I am sitting, as you can see,’ said Julius.

‘I just lay down again, but by all means,’ said Allan, and sat up.

‘Good. Right now we’re driving to Kastrup, where we’ll permanently park the car and buy three plane tickets to Dar es Salaam.’

‘Dar es what?’ said Julius.