Strangers: A Novel(80)

“That’s good to know,” I say, and feel her shifting around next to me, changing position. There’s a rustling sound. I wish I could see if she’s reaching for something, a bottle for instance, or a can of something. The shelf in front of us is full of that kind of stuff.

With all my concentration, I listen for sounds that might let me ascertain what Joanna’s doing, but everything’s gone quiet again.

After a few minutes, her breathing steadies. She’s fallen asleep. I lean against the wall, my back hurting. A short while later, Joanna shifts down a little and rests her head on my thigh. I close my eyes. It makes no difference; the darkness stays the same.

* * *

They arrive just before three.

I hear them as they enter the kitchen, conversing at a whisper. How did they manage to break the door open that quietly?

The pressure from Joanna’s head on my legs lifts. She’s heard them too. I carefully feel around for her, find her arm, and gently squeeze it to let her know I’m awake.

I hear a rustling that’s hard to place, then more whispering.

A nervous glimmer of light appears in the room, quickly dances to and fro, then lingers on the shelving unit, where it dissipates into thin strips of light that cut through the gaps between the boxes, the crates, and the packaging, drawing patterns in the darkness.

My heart is pounding so violently that I’m scared it can be heard all the way to the kitchen. Joanna’s hand feels around for me with erratic movements, digs into the flesh of my forearm so tightly that I barely manage to stifle a gasp. I can’t help but hold my breath. Two seconds, three … then the cone of light swivels away from the shelves. I let the air exit my lungs very cautiously, and am just about to breathe a sigh of relief when suddenly the light gets brighter. The flashlight isn’t pointing directly at the shelf anymore, but the beam is still darting around the storeroom.

Steps, barely audible, approach the spot where we’re cowering. I break out in a sweat. If they’ve found us, it’s all over. They’ve come to kill Joanna, there’s no doubt about that. They’ll be surprised when they see me squatting on the floor back here as well, but it’ll be their chance to finish the job they didn’t succeed at a few times before.

Then again, the fact that they don’t expect me to be here could be an advantage. I’m not going to make it easy for them. They’re going to have to pull the shelving unit aside, and while they’re trying that I’ll jump up and throw myself against it with all my strength. It will keel over and, with some luck, bury them underneath. Maybe I’ll be able to use the moment of surprise and tackle them. Maybe … I hear more steps, brisker now, less cautious. The second guy. He approaches quickly, stops just in front of us.

Was I really just thinking about tackling those two? I’m frozen in fear.

“There’s nothing down here.” A hissing voice. “What are you still doing down here? Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

“Calm down. I’m just having a look at all the good stuff they’re hoarding down here.”

“Come on already.”

It gets darker; the flashlight appears to be aimed at the exit. The steps fade, get quieter, then vanish completely. The last shimmer of light goes with them.

Darkness. Silence. Joanna’s grip loosens, a relief. I hear her inhaling deeply, then she completely releases my arm.

They didn’t find us. They’re still in the house, but they were just standing right in front of us and didn’t see us. There’s nothing I’ve felt before that can compare to the relief I feel now. But there’s something else. Something I absolutely have to tell Joanna once those two have cleared off. If they don’t end up finding us after all.

I’m just having a look at all the good stuff they’re hoarding down here, one of them just said. He didn’t say what she’s hoarding, he said what they’re hoarding. So they know Joanna had not been living here by herself. It’s not even clear to me why I find it so important to point this out to her, so important that I would notice it right now, in our current situation. Especially since she herself probably knows by now that we have to have known each other for some time. But there are still so many damn inconsistencies. The fact that all of my stuff has vanished from the house, for instance.

Neither of us dare to say a word while the men are still in the house. Then I finally hear the dull thudding sound of the heavy front door being pulled shut. They’re gone.

“That was close,” I gasp.

Joanna’s hand finds my forearm again, but her touch is more tender this time. “Do you think they’re gone for good?”

“Yes. They didn’t find you, so why would they stick around? But maybe they’re sitting outside in their car, waiting for you to get back.”

She leans against me, tentatively; she probably expects me to push her away again any second now. “Are we staying here for the rest of the night?”

“Yes. I don’t think they’ll be back tonight but who knows…”

“Sure. Who knows.” She takes a deep breath. “Erik? I still don’t remember our time together. But I’m feeling more and more comfortable when you’re close.”

“Try to get some sleep now,” I say, and close my eyes.





37

I think it was Erik moving that woke me, but it could also have been the pain in my neck.