I Am Behind You by John Ajvide Lindqvist

Author:John Ajvide Lindqvist [Ajvide Lindqvist, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: kindle, sf, horror, fiction
ISBN: 9781786480422
Publisher: Quercus
Published: 2017-09-06T23:00:00+00:00

*

Majvor isn’t quite sure how it happened, but she seems to be alone in the camp. Stefan came in and dragged his son away before they had even started the attack on the Death Star, and when Majvor stepped out of the caravan she saw Lennart and Olof shambling across the field after Molly, just as Stefan drove off.

So.

Majvor looks at the spot where her own caravan stood, and it is a sorry sight. What used to be the floor of the awning is now a lonely expanse of wooden decking, with upturned chairs, tables and plant pots. It needs tidying up, and guess whose job that will be?

The sound of Stefan’s car fades away, and all is quiet. Majvor hears a noise she can’t identify, a quiet smacking and slurping coming from somewhere nearby. She bends down to look under Stefan’s caravan, but her back is so stiff that she has to get on her knees to see properly.

Benny. It’s a while since she thought about the dog, but he is lying here with that cat he was barking at before. The cat yawns, apparently not in the least bothered by the proximity of her former arch-enemy, while Benny carries on chewing.

What’s he chewing?

For a moment Majvor imagines that Benny is chomping away at the cat’s tail. She crawls forward and takes a closer look. There are a few scraps of black rubber between Benny’s front paws, and Benny is determinedly destroying the larger piece in his mouth. A hose, or what was once a hose.

‘Benny,’ Majvor says, and he looks up at her. ‘Have you made a new friend?’ Benny snorts and shakes his head, then resumes his chewing, as if the question is too stupid to warrant an answer. With some difficulty, Majvor gets to her feet.

So.

Funny how things can change. Yesterday evening she and Donald had sat there peacefully watching the music festival from Skansen, then Donald went off to talk to Peter while Majvor read the latest instalment of the serial in her magazine. Now Peter, Donald and the magazine have gone, and she is standing here all alone in the middle of a field. How did that Gunnar Wiklund song go?

Something about walking alone on a deserted shore, as the waves . . . hm, hm . . . What was it the waves were doing?

Majvor wanders aimlessly towards the decking, because at least it is a place that is somehow hers. The fridge is lying on its side with the door open and the cans have rolled out. She looks around and thinks she sees something glinting in the grass where their caravan used to be. What can it be?

Ouf!

Down on her knees again, that’s all she seems to be doing these days. She scrabbles in the grass until her fingers close around an object made of metal. It is a ring. A gold ring, one half blackened and pitted as if something has been eating away at it, while the other half is more or less intact.

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