Nine, Ten ... Never Sleep Again (20 page)

"What a
surprise to
see you here," Michael said.
"What can I do for you?"

Anna sighed. The nervousness and anxiety made
her stomach hurt. She looked into Michael's eyes, looking to see if she could
spot the man she had once loved and who had loved her.

"Valdemar is sick."

Michael shrugged. "So take him to the
doctor."

"No not like that. He is really sick.
Seriously ill. He has Cystic Fibrosis."

"So what?" Michael said and looked
down at his papers. "Listen, I'm really busy these days. In case you
haven't heard, our company is in big financial trouble, the economic crisis has
made people stop buying toys for their kids. We need something major to pick us
up. I have to go through all these new products to find that one thing, that
one big bestseller that can help us get back on top. If I don't, I'm fired. So
you can understand why I'm trying to have you get to the point here. What is it
you want from me?"

"I want a part of your lung," Anna said.

Michael dropped his paper. Now she had his
attention. "You want what from me exactly?"

"Valdemar needs a lung transplant or he'll
die. His lungs are below ten percent in capacity as it is. And it's going
downhill fast now, the doctor says. He keep getting infections and the doctor
says he won't be able to pull himself through them for much longer. His body
simply can't keep fighting them. So he needs new lungs. They need two donors.
I'll be one and I'm asking you to be the other. They won't take your entire
lung, just a part of it, or a lobe as they call it. I'm no expert but I know a
person has five lobes and they'll only be taking one out. One from you and one
from me. You'll naturally have to undergo a series of medical and psychological
tests
first."

Michael stared at Anna like she was insane.
"This is a joke, right? This is you getting back at me for leaving you,
right?"

Anna shook her head. "No. I'm serious here
Michael. Valdemar will die if we don't help him."

Michael exhaled and leaned back in his leather
chair. He was quiet for a long time, while a million thoughts ran through
Anna's mind.

Come on, Michael. Step up for
once. Show the boy you're not a bastard. Be human for once.

Michael looked at Anna. He shook his head and
leaned forward.

"Michael. This is important. This is a
matter of life or death for our son. Don't you dare …"

But it was too late. Michael had made up his
mind. Anna could see the determination in his eyes. They had the same cruelty
to them as they had on the day he saw Valdemar for the first time in the
hospital. "The boy was a mistake from the beginning, Anna. You know how I
feel about him. Maybe this is just nature's way of sparing him a horrible life.
You know he will never be able to do any of what other kids do. He will never
be able to live a normal life. Who would hire him? Who would marry him, huh? A
sick man with no arms? Do you think he is going to provide grandchildren for
you, huh? How should he be able to do that? Who would want to be with him? Is
he going to live with you for the rest of his life?"

Anna couldn't believe what he was saying. The
cruelty, the heartlessness. It was unbearable. "What are you saying,
Michael?"

"I'm saying, I think it is for the best if
he dies. I know it's going to sound cold-hearted, but that's how I feel. It
would give you a chance to finally move on. You've been stuck with him for way
too long. He was never meant to live, Anna."

"How can you be so cruel?"

"Nobody likes to hear the truth, but that's
all it is. The boy is useless."

Anna lifted her hand and threw the memory stick
on the desk. "You see this? On this memory stick is a game, a computer
game that Valdemar has created for the sole purpose of impressing you. And
that's just one thing. Our house is packed with inventions made by him. I tell
you Michael, the boy is a genius. He is NOT useless. He is brilliant, and if
you can't see that then you're fucking blind."

Anna was standing in front of Michael's desk
now, snorting in anger. When she saw no change in Michael's eyes, she turned around
and left. Through the open door to his office, Anna heard Michael yell:

"It's the best for him, Anna. I'm doing him
a favor don't you see?"

Hours had
passed.
There was blood all over the floor. Henrik
even had it on his face and all over his clothes from beating Karl. Now, he
wasn't moving anymore and Henrik took a break. Panting, he blew on his hand,
which was sore from the beating. He looked at Karl who still wasn't moving and
realized he wasn't breathing either.

Henrik shrugged, then went into the kitchen and
found a big knife. He started cutting Karl open and took out his organs, one
after another, making it look like organ thieves once again, in case they found
his body. Then he found some black garbage bags and put all the organs inside
of it. He tried to cut off the right arm, but it was way too hard and the knife
wasn’t sharp enough. How Karl had been able to chop his victims into pieces,
Henrik didn't understand.

But it wasn't his thing, he discovered. It was
way too difficult. Instead he put the remains of Karl on the rug and rolled him
inside of it. He really didn't care what happened to Karl's body, but he didn't
want to leave it in the basement, since Henrik was planning on crashing there
for a couple more nights.

So, Henrik pulled the rug into a small closet
where he placed it leaning against the wall and placed the black bag of organs
next to it, then closed the door and locked it.

There. Out of sight out of
mind
.

Henrik took a shower and put on some of Karl's
clothes. Luckily, they were almost the same size. He looked at himself in the
mirror and thought he could easily be mistaken for Karl. Henrik went back into
the living room and looked at the old laptop on the coffee table. Then he
picked it up. Karl was still logged into the chat room and someone had written
to him.

Karl are you there?
The
one called Andreyer had asked half an hour ago.

Henrik smiled to himself, then wrote.
Yes. I'm still here.

A few minutes passed before there was another
reply.
Did you make your kill?

Henrik chuckled as he wrote:
I did
.

How do you feel? Was it good?

It was amazing. Much better
than expected.

Henrik found a new beer and sat down on the
couch with the TV still on in the corner of the basement. Some British series
was showing. He looked at the screen and waited for an answer.

Suddenly, a small line on the screen said
Bill Durgin joined the chat
. Henrik almost
choked on his beer and sat up straight. Bill Durgin. This was the one he was
looking for. He was the one who had taken the organs, Karl had said. Was he the
one who had taken Henrik's as well? Karl had said he was the only one doing
this, but that would mean Henrik had killed those girls in vain?

Well not in vain. They were stupid bitches who
no one was going to miss anyway. But, he was willing to admit that maybe they
hadn't been a part of some greater feminist conspiracy after all. That much he
would give them. But they deserved to die. Just like Karl deserved to be
killed. Henrik was still doing the world a favor. He was still a hero, of 
sorts. Not one who would ever be honored for his accomplishments. No, as a
matter of fact, he
was
a little
like the incredible Hulk. Misunderstood, but still a hero. And so what if he
accidentally killed a few innocent people along the way? The end justified the
means after all, didn't it? Well, something like that. Henrik didn't feel
guilty or bad for killing the girls. He was way beyond feelings like that.
Killing them had made him feel better and killing Karl had been the best
sensation he ever had. That justified anything, in his mind.

What's up, Bill?
He
wrote.
Chosen a new victim yet?

Seconds passed by while Henrik finished his
beer. Finally the curser blinked and Bill wrote:

Looking at him as we speak.
He's eating Soft Tofu soup.

I was furious
with
Peter and ran upstairs, pretending to have to go
to the bathroom. I was walking back and forth in the bedroom not knowing what
to do. He knew about the pregnancy, and now he had told Julie about it as well?
Julie was so exited and apparently so was Peter. But I wasn't. I had no idea
what to do.

I sat on the bed and felt my stomach. Yes there
was already a small bump there, one that only I could see, but it was there. It
was really happening. But what if the child wasn't Peter's? Did I pretend it
was? Did I just decide it was probably his and then say nothing to Sune? After
all, he had told me he wanted out of my life completely. That he never wanted
to see me again. I felt my stomach and realized I really wanted this baby. I
was already looking forward to seeing it, to holding it in my arms. Who cared
who the father was? And, I knew Peter would be a great father, just like he was
to Julie. But could I live without knowing for sure?

I shook my head with a sigh. Of course I
couldn't. Sune wanted a second child more than anything. I couldn't deprive him
of it. He had to know. I would have to ask him to take a paternity test at some
point. That was the right thing to do.

But how was Peter going to react to that? Would
he resent the child because he wasn't the father?

My head was spinning with thoughts and worries
when my cell phone suddenly rang. I looked at the display and realized it was
my sister.

"Hello?" I said.

"Rebekka. I …"

She sounded upset. My heart stopped.

"What's the matter? Is it something with
dad?"

"He … I came to check in on him and found
him. He was lying on the floor in the kitchen. He had fallen and hurt his head.
Rebekka, you have to come home. I'm afraid it's serious. We're at the hospital
now. They say he had another stroke."

"Oh my god. I'm coming right away," I
said and hung up.

I shoved my things into my suitcase and stormed
downstairs. "What's going on?" Peter asked.

"Julie, go upstairs and start packing your
things. We have to go back to Karrebaeksminde," I said.

Peter approached me. "Hey, what's going
on?"

"We're leaving. It's my dad. He's in the
hospital. He fell and hurt his head. We have to get back."

Peter clenched his jaw. "Now?" He
asked. I could tell he was restraining his anger. "Does it have to be
right now? I mean we were just finding each other as a family here. We were
having a moment."

"Are you insane?" I asked. "My
dad hurt himself. I have to be there. He had a stroke."

"I hear you loud and clear there, Rebekka.
But I'm asking does it really have to be like RIGHT now?"

Peter was looking at me in a strange way and
yelling certain words, making him sound like a crazy person.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there is always some sort of
emergency with you, isn't there? Couldn't we, for once, just NOT run to it? Couldn't
we, for once, let someone else handle it?"

"No. Peter it’s my dad we're talking about
here …"

"Yes, and yesterday it was your
ex-boyfriend we were
talking about here
,"
Peter said imitating my voice. "When is it going to stop, huh?"

"It’s my dad," Peter. "This is
more important than anything else, than anyone else, even you, Peter."

Peter's head tilted from side to side while he
stared at me with manic eyes. "
More important
than anyone, even you Peter
," he repeated, mocking me.

"What's going on here, Peter? What is
this?"

Peter looked at me grinning, then lifted his
hand and slapped me across the face so hard I fell to the floor. He was still
smiling when I looked up at him holding a hand to my hurting cheek.

"THIS is what is going on here, Rebekka.
I'll tell you what is going on here. You're not going anywhere. You're staying
here with me. That's what's going on. I'm taking back control."

"Taking back control, what the hell are you
talking about Peter?"

"
What
the hell are you talking about Peter
," he copied me.

My heart was racing and my face hurt badly. I
felt so confused. Julie came down the stairs. "Mommy? What's going on?
Daddy?"

Peter turned on his heels and smiled at Julie.
"Oh nothing sweetie. Your mom and I are just discussing a little matter.
Nothing to worry about. Just go back to your room and unpack. We're all staying
here."

"Julie," I yelled. "We need to
get out of here."

Peter turned quickly and looked at me. "And
just how do you suppose you'll be able to do that, huh? There is a raging storm
outside and there is no way you'll make it to the other side in that tiny boat
of ours … if you make it that far."

I stood up. Peter grabbed my arm and held me
tight. "Peter. You're hurting me."

"Well that's kind of the point,
Rebekka."

"Mom?" Julie sounded scared.

"Go to your room Julie," Peter said.
"I'll be up to tuck you right in."

"But … it's not nighttime yet?"

"Just GO!"

Julie stormed back up the stairs with a whimper,
while Peter tightened his grip on my arm. Then he started pulling me towards
the stairs as well.

"What are you doing Peter?"

"I have something to show you, dear
Rebekka. Something I've been wanting to show to you for a very long time."