Handling the Undead (11 page)

'Yes,' Flora said. 'They did.'      .1

'Are they sending an ambulance?'

'Yes, but ... ' Flora sat down next to Elvy on the couch, knocking her teaspoon against her cup, 'it may take a while. They have a lot to do ... right now.'

Elvy gently took hold of her hand to make her stop clinking.

'Why is that? What did they say?'

Flora shook her head, turning the spoon in her fingers.

'It's happening all over. There's several hundred that have woken up. Maybe thousands.'

'No.'

'Yes. She said that every ambulance is out at the moment ... picking them up. And that we shouldn't try to do anything, that we shouldn't ... touch him or anything.'

'Why not?'

'Because there could be a danger of contagion or something. They don't know.'

'What kind of contagion?'

'I haven't the faintest. That's just what she said.'

Elvy sank back on the couch, staring at the crystal vase on the coffee table that she and Tore had been given by Margareta and Goran on their fortieth wedding anniversary. Orrefors, Heinous; probably very expensive. A couple of withered condolence-roses hanging from it doubled-over.

It started with a twitch at the corners of her mouth, a trembling in the lips. Then she felt her mouth tugged back, irresistibly back and up, until a grin wide enough to strain her cheeks covered Elvy's face.

'Nana? What is it?'

Elvy wanted to laugh. No. More than that. She wanted to jump out of her seat, do a few dance steps and laugh. But Flora's head drew back ten centimetres, as you might draw away from an uncertain phenomenon, and Elvy used her right hand to wipe the smile mechanically from her face. The corners of her mouth wanted to turn up again, but she kept them in place by sheer force of will. She didn't want to cause alarm.

'It's the Resurrection,' she said with suppressed glee. 'Don't you see? It is the Resurrection. The raising of the dead. What else could it be?'

Flora tilted her head. 'You think?'

There weren't words for it. Elvy could not explain. Her joy and anticipation were too great to be contained in mere language, so she said, 'Flora, 1 don't want to talk about this right now. 1 don't want to discuss it. I just want to sit undisturbed for a little while.'

'Why? What for?'

'I just want to be alone. A little while. Can you do that for me?'

'Yes. Sure.'

Flora walked to the window, stood looking out either at the faint outline of the fruit trees outside, or at Elvy's reflection in the glass.

Elvy savoured her bliss in silence. After a while Flora smacked the metal wind chimes hanging in the window, opened the french doors and walked out. The sound of her steps mingled with the clanging of the chimes, but after several seconds both had died away.

The heavenly kingdom. And on the last day ye shall all ...

Euphoria. There was no other word to describe what was bubbling in Elvy's breast.

As if it were the last evening before a long, long trip. You've got a ticket in your pocket and at last everything is packed. And you can simply sit and feel the nearness of distant lands ...

Yes. Like that. Elvy tried to visualise the distant land she would soon be travelling to, that everyone would soon be travelling to, but here there were no travel brochures to pore over, everything was up to her and she couldn't see. It slipped away, defied description.

But she sat there and felt that
... soon ... soon ...

A couple of minutes went by in this way, and then some drops of guilt began to drip into her goblet of joy. Flora was with her. Here. Now. Where had the girl got to? As she stood up out of the couch in order to go and look, she caught sight of the armchair pushed up against the bedroom door and had time to think why is that there? before she remembered why. Because Tore was sitting in there. At his desk. Shuffling papers. As in life. Elvy stopped in the middle of the floor and a dark suspicion trickled in.

If this is the way it is.

When Flora had returned from the telephone and told her what she wanted to know, Elvy had imagined that silent army of the resurrected, hundreds, thousands striding in dignity down the streets, a beautiful sign of what was to come. Even though she'd known better. She walked over to the bedroom door. Paper sliding, being turned. Unclipped toenails on bare feet, the icy hands, the smell. No exalted host of angels, but flesh and blood bodies forcing their way all over the place, creating problems.

But the ways of the Lord ...

· .. are mysterious, yes. We know nothing. Elvy shook her head, said it out loud, 'We know nothing', and that would have to suffice. She walked out on the verandah to look for Flora.

The August night was dark and not a breeze was moving the leaves.
It is night but so still that the light burns without flickering.
When Elvy's eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, she picked out Flora's dark silhouette leaning against the trunk of the apple tree. She walked down the stairs and over to her.

'You're sitting out here?' she said.

It wasn't really a question; Flora didn't reply. 'I've been thinking,' she said and got to her feet, picking a half-ripe apple from the tree and tossing it back and forth between her hands.

'What have you been thinking?'

The apple went up into the air, hung for a moment in the light from the living room and then fell back into Flora's hand with a slap.

'What the hell will they do?' Flora said, and laughed. 'Everything is different now. Nothing makes sense. You know? Everything they've based all their shit on ... pfff! Gone! Death, life. Nothing makes sense.'

'No,' said Elvy. 'That's true.'

Flora's bare legs took a few prancing steps across the lawn.

Suddenly she sent the apple high and far into the air. Elvy watched it fly in a wide arc across the hedge and heard it thud onto the neighbour's roof, roll across the brick tiles.

'Don't do that,' she said.

'Or what? Or
what
?' Flora threw her arms wide as if she wanted to embrace the night, the world. 'What will they do? Call in the National Guard, arrest someone? Call the Pentagon and ask them to bomb the place? I want to see .. .I really want to see how they fix
this
one.'

Flora picked a new apple, threw it in the other direction. This time it didn't hit a roof.

'Flora .. .'

Elvy tried to lay her hand on Flora's arm, but the girl pulled away.

'I don't get it,' she said. 'You think this is Armageddon, don't you? I don't know the story, but the dead come to life, the seals are broken and the whole deal and then it's all over-that it?'

Elvy felt a strong resistance to this description of her beliefs, but said, 'Well ... yes.'

'OK. I don't believe it. But say you did believe it, then what the hell does it matter if an apple gets on a neighbour's roof?'

'Show some common courtesy. Please Flora, pull yourself together.'

Flora roared with laughter, but not meanly. She hugged Elvy, rocking her side to side as if she were a foolish child. Elvy could take that. She allowed herself to be rocked.

'Nana, Nana,' Flora whispered. 'You think the whole world is about to end and you're telling
me
to pull myself together.'

Elvy snorted. It actually was quite funny. Flora let go of her, took a step back and held her palms pressed together in front of her, bobbing in an Indian greeting.

'Like you said before, I don't share your beliefs. But what I believe, Nana, is that there is going to be a fucking incredible amount of mayhem. You should have heard the woman's voice, at the call centre; It was as if the zombies were panting down her neck. It is going to be chaos, it is going to be something else, and damn if I don't think that's good.'

The ambulance arrived like a thief in the night. No sirens; not even the emergency lights. It glided up the street in front of the house, the front doors opened and two paramedics in light blue shirts stepped out. Elvy and Flora walked out to meet them.

The one who had come out of the driver's side nodded to Elvy and pointed at the house.

'Is he in there?'

'Yes,' Elvy said. 'I...I locked him in the bedroom.’

 'You're not the only one, believe me.'

They pulled on rubber gloves and continued up the stairs. Elvy didn't know what to do. Should she follow them in and help or would she be in the way?

She stood there, rocking on her feet, when the backdoors of the ambulance opened and yet another man stepped out. He was quite unlike the paramedics; older, rounder. His shirt was black. He stood for a moment outside the ambulance and took stock of his surroundings. Or rather,
enjoyed
them. Perhaps he had been shut in too long.

As he turned to the house, Elvy saw the white rectangle in his collar, and she wiped her hands on her robe preparing herself to greet him. Flora whistled, but Elvy paid her no attention. This was senous.

The man arrived swiftly at house – his gait was surprisingly energetic for someone so rotund – and stretched out his hand

'Good evening. Or good morning, perhaps. Bernt Janson.'

Elvy took his hand, which was warm and firm, curtsied and said, 'Elvy Lundberg.'

Bernt shook hands with Flora as well, and went on 'Yes, I'm a hospital chaplain at Huddinge normally, but tonight I’m out riding around in an ambulance.' His expression became more grave. 'How are you coping with this, then?'

'Fine,' Elvy said. 'We're doing fine’.

Bernt nodded and kept silent to let Elvy continue. When she didn't, he said, 'Yes, it’s an extraordinary situation, this. Many people are finding it extremely disturbing.’

Flv y had nothing to add. She really had one question, which she now posed.

'How can this be happening?'

'Well,' Bernt said, 'that's something everyone's wondering, naturally. And unfortunately I can only say: we don't know.'

'But surely you must know!'

Elvy's voice took on a more forceful note and Bernt looked surprised.

'How ... do you mean?'

Elvy glanced at Flora, forgetting that her grandchild was not

the person from whom to seek support. Even more irritated, she stamped her foot into the paving and said loudly, 'Are you standing here in front of me, a minister of the Church of Sweden, and telling me that you do not know what this means? Do you have a Bible on you, shall I look it up for you?'

Bernt raised his arm to placate her. 'I see, you mean .. .'

Flora left them and walked into the house. Elvy didn't notice.

'Yes, I do. You can't seriously mean that this is just an unusual

occurrence, like ... snow in June. Can you? "On the last day the dead shall rise from their graves" ... '

Bernt made a calming gesture. 'Yes, well, perhaps it's a little early to comment on ... these matters.' He looked up and down the street, scratched the back of his neck and lowered his voice, 'But of course these things may turn out to have a greater significance.'

Elvy did not give up. 'Don't you believe it?' she asked.

'Yes .. .' Bernt looked at the ambulance, took half a step closer to Elvy and said, right next to her ear, 'Yes. Yes, I do.'

'Well then, say so.'

Bernt resumed his earlier posture. He looked somewhat more

relaxed now, but still spoke in a low voice. 'Yes, that opinion is not completely comme it faut, so to speak. That is not why I am here. It wouldn't be acceptable for me to go around in this kind of situation

and ... preach.'

Elvy understood. She may have felt it was cowardly, but of course most people would not want a doomsday preacher on a night like this.

'So you do believe,' she said, 'that this is the Second Coming. All of that. That it will be as it's written?'

Now Bernt could no longer retain his composure. His face broke out in a wide, joyous grin and he whispered, 'Yes! Yes, I believe it will!'

Elvy smiled back. At least now there were two of them.

The paramedics returned with Tore between them. Both wore expressions of controlled revulsion. As they came closer, Elvy understood why. The front of Tore's shirt was damp, spotted with a yellowish fluid, and a stench of rotting organic matter enveloped him. He had started to defrost.

'Well, now,' Bernt said. 'Here we have .. .' 'Tore,' Elvy said.

'Tore, I see.'

Flora came after him. She had been in the bedroom and collected her clothes, her bag. She walked up to Bernt, looking him up and down. Bernt did the same; his eyes locked for one second with Marilyn Manson's, and Elvy clasped her hands in front of her chest, tried to send Flora a telepathic signal that this was not the right moment for a theological discussion. But Flora's question was of a more practical nature.

'What are you doing with them?' she asked.

'We ... For now we're taking them to Danderyd.'

'And then? What will they do?'

Tore had been led into the ambulance and Elvy said, 'Flora, they are very busy .. .'

Flora turned to Elvy. 'Aren't you interested? Don't you want to know what they'll do with Grandpa?'

'It is, of course .. .' Bernt cleared his throat, 'a very natural question. And the fact is that we do not know. But I can assure you that no one will do anything with them, so to speak.'

'What do you mean?' Flora asked.

 ‘Well…’ Brent frowned. ‘I didn’t know what you meant, but I assumed .. .'

'How can you be so sure, then?'

Bernt shot Elvy a look, these young people, which Elvy returned half-heartedly. One of the paramedics had stayed with Tore, but the other came over to them and said, 'Loaded and ready to go.' Bernt made a faint grimace and the man grinned and said, 'You done?'

'Yes,' Bernt turned to Elvy, 'Perhaps you'd like to accompany us?' When Elvy shook her head, he said, 'No, no. But someone will be in touch as soon ... as soon as we know something.'

He shook Elvy's hand goodbye. When he stretched his hand out to Flora, she took it and said, 'I'll come with you.'

'Well,' Bernt said, looking at Elvy, 'I'm not sure that's appropriate.'