The Quarry

69

Per blinked, waiting for Thomas Fall to toss the match into the shining pool of petrol. He could simply flick it away with his thumb and forefinger, then take a step back to watch the conflagration.

But Fall was much more cautious than that. He leaned forward slowly, lowering the match towards the pool.

Per saw the flame twirl and grow — and then, at the last moment, a slightly stronger puff of wind from the sea blew it out. A glowing point lingered for a second, then disappeared.

I ought to get up and make a run for it, thought Per. Or knock him down. After all, I can do a bit of judo, I ought to knock him down.

But he couldn’t get up, he was too badly hurt. He had severe burns on his arm, and the rest of his body just felt numb. He was not aware of any pain in his broken ribs; he felt nothing.

Fall didn’t seem annoyed that the flame had gone out; he quickly dropped the match and took out a new one. No, in fact he’d taken out three, Per realized — he put them together and struck them.

He heard the crackling noise again, louder this time. The flame that sprang to life was three times stronger than the last one, and burnt more brightly. Per sat on the ground with his head pounding, still thinking about judo. He had sat in this position in the training centre in Kalmar, his knees resting on a thin, soft mat, and he remembered how he had learned to relax and focus on moving through the space. A fluid movement — throwing himself forwards, rolling to one side, falling backwards.

Backwards. He could try to fall backwards.

Now Fall was bending down towards the edge of the pool of petrol, and at the same moment Per gathered all his strength and threw himself backwards in a somersault. He relaxed as he fell, arched his back, turned his head to one side and tried to make his body into a soft arc, rolling away from the flame and the petrol.

Fall had dropped the match. The fumes dancing just above the ground ignited first, then the entire pool began to burn with a dull puff! and a glow that lit up the rock face all around.

For a brief moment Per found himself on his back at the edge of the pool of fire with his shoes pointing up at the sky, then he completed the backward somersault as his legs hit the ground and he felt a stab of pain bury itself in his ribs.

But he was away from the fire. He had rolled backwards away from the pool of fire, and his petrol-sodden clothes were still only wet, not burning.

Good, keep going, he thought. Get out of the way.

His ribcage was throbbing and aching, but still he tried to get up. He put his right hand down on the gravel and managed to push himself up.

Behind him the flames continued to dance.

He had to try to get away, but where could he go? He was trapped in a giant punchbowl, with walls of rock several metres high all around him; between him and the track leading out of the quarry were Thomas Fall and his car.

A wide, jagged shadow loomed before him in the darkness beyond the fire, forty or fifty metres away. Per realized it was the nearest heap of reject stone, where he and Jesper had found the oblong blocks for the steps. It was perhaps two metres high, like a little round fortress on the bottom of the quarry — he could hide there.

He began to drag himself towards it. When he had gone some twenty metres, Per glanced behind him, but he could no longer see Thomas Fall in the glow of the fire. The burning petrol had begun to die down, but was still glowing and smouldering on the ground. The wind was spreading the billowing smoke, forming a grey curtain in the centre of the quarry — and somewhere behind it he heard the sound of a car engine starting up. The headlights swung around as if the car were searching for him.

Per increased his speed, and seconds before the lights found him he hurled himself down behind the heap of stone.

He clung to the dry blocks of limestone and tried to keep his head down.

The headlights swept past; the car seemed to be driving around in circles in an attempt to find Per. The engine was revving in a low gear, reverberating between the rock faces like a growling prehistoric monster.

Per took a deep breath of cold air and saw a faint glow down towards the coast in the south; he didn’t know what it was at first, but realized it must be a bonfire. They were burning all over the island this Walpurgis Night, and anyone who happened to see flames shooting up in the quarry wouldn’t give them a second thought. He couldn’t count on any help.

Thomas Fall was still driving around in ever increasing circles. Sooner or later, Per would be discovered.

Where was the axe? It had disappeared in the darkness.

Per looked over at the rock face and the steps leading up to his cottage, to a telephone and to all of Ernst’s tools. A hundred metres away, perhaps. It wasn’t far, but there was nothing to hide behind on the way there.

The beam of the headlights suddenly swept over him, and stopped. The engine roared and Per realized he had been spotted.

The car waited a few seconds, then shot forward. It ought to brake soon, but instead it was speeding straight towards the pile. Per clung on tightly and tried to scramble higher up, but his hands slipped on the blocks of stone. His ribs banged into something hard, and he gritted his teeth.

Fall braked at the last minute, but the bumper crashed into the stones just below Per’s legs. The impact made the entire pile wobble, and Per was surrounded by clattering and rattling as lumps of stone came loose and tumbled down the sides.

The car reversed about ten metres, and he knew it would soon shoot forward at full speed again.

He had no intention of waiting; he jumped down and began to run. Straight out into the open, heading for the stone steps. He just had to ignore the pain in his ribcage if he wanted to survive. He limped along as quickly as he could, but the car headlights picked him out. He could see his own shadow growing and dancing along across the ground.

The engine started revving behind him.

The steps were still fifty metres away, and Per wasn’t going to make it. He veered off towards the nearest rock face. The sheer wall was three or four metres high here; there was no way he could climb up it, but if he stayed put he would at least have a certain amount of protection — Fall was hardly likely to crash the car straight into the rock face.

In the beam of the headlights he saw the clumps of red in the rock. The place of blood.

He reached the rock face, pressed himself against it and tried to catch his breath. The car was still revving behind him, but Fall seemed to be hesitating. Then he swung the car around in a semicircle, pulled in as close to the rock face as he could some twenty metres away, and headed straight for Per.

Per’s protection was gone, and all he could do was run towards the stone steps.

He heard a shout above the roar of the engine, and looked up as he ran.

Someone was standing at the top of the quarry — a tall, stooping figure leaning on a stick. It was old Gerlof. He was standing right on the edge, and Per saw him raise the stick.

Per kept on going. The car behind him had picked up speed; he didn’t know how near it was, but it was sticking close to the rock face, and Per had no means of escape. All he could do was keep on running. He was aware of some kind of movement in the air above him, Gerlof seemed to be waving, but Per didn’t have time to look. His heart was pounding, his chest was aching, he was on the point of collapse.

The car roared behind him and he reached desperately for the steps just ten metres away, but when he realized he wasn’t going to get there he took two long strides and hurled himself sideways, into the darkness. He rolled over and tried to tuck his legs beneath him.

A second later the car swept past him close to the rock face; the left-hand wheels missed his feet by just a few centimetres.

Per closed his eyes and heard the car brake violently. The gravel sprayed up around the tyres and the right-hand side scraped along the rock, then he heard a deafening crash and the screech of metal. Stones rained down on the bodywork.

He opened his eyes.

Thomas Fall had crashed into the flight of steps. One of the headlights had gone out on impact, but the rear lights were still glowing, like two red eyes in the darkness.

Per could see that the entire flight of steps was beginning to collapse. The limestone blocks he had so carefully piled up teetered for a few seconds like long bricks, then they began to fall, smashing on to the car and crushing the bonnet and front windscreen.

The ground beneath him shook as the uppermost blocks crashed down between him and the car. He closed his eyes again and waited until everything was quiet.

The whining engine coughed and died, and suddenly there was total silence. Per breathed out and opened his eyes. The closest block of stone was just half a metre from his legs.

Slowly he got to his feet and looked at the mangled car. The roof had been crushed and the side windows were broken; he couldn’t see any sign of movement inside.