The Fire Witness

177

Flora keeps the rifle pointed at Daniel’s back as they leave the manor house and walk down the wide stone staircase, over the courtyard, and onto the gravel road. They walk past an annex to the manor house and down a slope past some sheds. The weight of the rifle is making her arms ache, but she doesn’t notice.

“Keep moving,” Flora mutters, when Daniel slows down.

They are walking on the gravel road, heading toward the field.

She is starting to remember even more fragments of her two years on this estate, but also a single vivid memory from before then, of standing at the door to the orphanage with Daniel.

There must have been a time before that when she was with her real mother.

“Are you going to shoot me?” Daniel asks.

“I could,” she says. “But I’m taking you to the police.”

Sunshine breaks through the heavy rain clouds and blinds her for a moment. She wants to wipe her damp hands, but she doesn’t dare risk taking them off the rifle.

They keep walking along the gravel road, which makes a wide semicircle past the enormous, empty barn. They pass by stinging nettles and milkweed and sacks of LECA balls stacked on pallets beside the wall. A crow caws in the distance.

It is a long way around to reach the field.

The sun is hidden behind the barn until they reach its other side.

“Flora,” Daniel mumbles to himself in amazement.

Flora’s arms are beginning to shake from the weight of the rifle.

On the other side of the large field is the road to Delsbo. It looks like a pencil streak between the yellow pastures.

Flora pushes Daniel between the shoulder blades with the barrel of the rifle. They walk across the dried mud in front of the barn.

Flora quickly wipes her hand on her pants and returns her finger to the trigger.

Daniel stops and waits to feel the pressure of the gun before he starts moving again. They walk past a concrete foundation with rings of rusted iron. Weeds are growing along its broken edge.

Daniel has started to limp and is walking more slowly.

“Keep going,” Flora says.

Daniel lets his hand run along the weeds. A butterfly takes off and glides into the air.

“I think we can stop here,” he says, slowing down again. “This is the old slaughtering spot, when we used to have cattle. Do you remember the slaughterhouse and how they killed the animals?”

“I’m going to shoot if you don’t get moving,” Flora says, adjusting her finger on the trigger.

Daniel catches a marguerite daisy and pulls it from its stalk. He turns as if he wants to give it to Flora.

She steps back and thinks she has to shoot now. She has no time. Daniel has grabbed the barrel and pulled the rifle toward himself.

Flora is so surprised that she can’t dodge him. He slams the rifle butt into her chest. She falls on her back. She gasps for breath, coughs, and scrambles back up.

Now they’re standing and staring at each other. Daniel is looking at her. His eyes are dreamy.

“You shouldn’t have peeked,” he says.

She doesn’t know what to say to him. She realizes that she might die on this spot.

Daniel raises the rifle and meets her eyes. He places the muzzle directly on her right leg and pulls the trigger.

The bullet goes straight through Flora’s muscle. She doesn’t feel any pain, just a kind of cramp.

The recoil makes Daniel step back. He watches Flora drop to the ground, her leg no longer holding her weight.

She tries to break her fall, but her hip and chin hit the ground hard. She lies there a moment. She can smell hay and gunpowder. Small insects are crawling over the weeds beside her.

“Time to cover your face,” he says as he takes aim.

Flora is lying on her side and blood is bubbling from her leg. She turns her head to look at the barn. Things go black before her eyes for a moment. She wants to throw up. The fields and the red barn are whirling around as if she’s riding a carousel.

She’s having trouble breathing. She coughs so she can take a deep breath.

Daniel is standing above her, the sun behind him. He pushes her shoulder with the rifle so she rolls onto her back. She’s starting to feel pain in her leg and lets out a moan. He is saying something she can’t understand.

She tries to lift her head and her gaze slides over the ground, the weeds, and the concrete foundation with its rings of iron.

Daniel aims the rifle at her forehead and then moves the muzzle along her nose to her mouth.

She can feel the warm metal on her lips and chin. She is breathing too quickly. Blood pulses from her leg. She looks up into the sky and then down to the barn. She blinks and tries to make out what she’s seeing. A man is running inside the large barn, behind the sparse boards, right through the rays of light.

She wants to call out, but she has no voice.

The rifle’s mouth is wandering toward her eye. She shuts it and feels the pressure against her eyeball and does not hear the shot.