Harbor by John Lindqvist (classic novels for teens txt) 📕

also switched off, and so Mats was able to hear the sound of sawing from elsewhere, up towards the village and quite a distance from the newly felled trees they were busy clearing. He stood up and looked for the source of the noise. When he found it he dropped his saw and ran.

At the time when Holger’s father sold Kattudden to the agent from Stockholm, a couple of families from the village had managed to secure a promise that they could at least divide up and purchase a small area, so that not everything would pass into the ownership of strangers. They had been allocated a few small parcels of land furthest away from the sea, up towards the forest.

The Bergwall family, to which Lasse belonged, was one of them. His mother, Margareta Bergwall, now owned the two summer cottages that lay up on the hill to the west, perhaps three hundred metres from the shore, but with something of a sea view. The cottages were rented out to summer visitors, but Lasse’s brother Robert was planning to renovate one of them and move back home.

Between the two properties stood the largest birch tree on Kattudden: a real giant some twenty metres tall. A grown man could just about get his arms around it. And it was this birch that Karl-Erik was busy cutting down.

When Mats saw what he was up to, he dropped his saw as well and hurried towards Karl-Erik. The birch was between the two properties, but leaned slightly towards Lasse’s mother’s house, and judging from the way Karl-Erik was making the face cut, he intended to use the tree’s natural lean to ensure that it would land right on top of Lasse’s future inheritance.

‘Karl-Erik!’ yelled Mats as soon as he was within earshot. ‘Karl-Erik, what are you doing!’

But Karl-Erik was wearing his ear protectors, and couldn’t hear a thing. He was just cutting the final part of the wedge, and kicked it out so that a wide, deep cut at the base of the tree gaped towards Lasse’s house like a hungry mouth. He examined his work, seemed satisfied and went around the other side of the tree to start making the felling cut. It was no more than a minute’s work, and then the tree would fall.

Mats reached Karl-Erik just as the sawdust began to whirl up from the tree, grabbed his shoulder and shook him. Karl-Erik looked up and Mats took a step backwards. The eyes that were looking at him were neither angry nor confused. They were as empty and ice-cold as the sea in November. It is a testament to Mats’s courage that he still, when Karl-Erik revved up the saw again, pulled off his ear protectors and screamed, ‘Are you crazy! Stop it! You can’t chop this tree down! Stop!’

Karl-Erik jabbed at him with the saw and Mats was forced to step back again. He ran his hands over his sweaty face and thought: He’s gone completely mad. How am I going to stop him?

There was no time to think about that, because Lasse had realised what was happening and came running, with his own saw in his hands. When Karl-Erik once again inserted the blade of his saw into the felling cut he had started, Lasse came rushing towards him, and Mats saw that his eyes were also empty. They were staring straight at Karl-Erik, but showed no emotion whatsoever.

Only now did Mats begin to feel afraid.

Karl-Erik’s saw roared behind him, and the sawdust was tickling his calves; Lasse was racing towards him with his saw held high and the motor running at full speed. It’s no surprise that Mats did what anyone else would have done under the circumstances. He took a couple of steps to one side and yelled to the people who were clearing up down on the site of the fire, ‘Help! Up here! They’re going to kill one another! Help!’

When Mats screamed, Karl-Erik looked up and saw the approaching threat at the last minute. He pulled the saw out of thecut and jumped back as Lasse rushed forward, swinging the saw at him. The howling chain missed Karl-Erik by a fraction, and the force of his own action made Lasse fall down headfirst, with the saw in his hands and chain oil splashing over his face.

Mats saw Karl-Erik push the speed to maximum and lower the saw over Lasse’s back; he just had time to think: He’s going to do it! before a reflex took over and hurled him towards Karl-Erik. The blade cut through the braces of Lasse’s overalls, reaching his skin, and Lasse would have been chopped in half like a rotten log if Mats hadn’t tackled Karl-Erik at that very moment, making him stagger sideways so that he couldn’t complete the incision.

Lasse got to his feet and his trousers fell around his ankles as the blood started to gush from the wound on his back. He raised his saw and bared his teeth. For a couple of seconds the two men stood face to face, their chainsaws screaming and their empty gazes locked together.

Mats could see that people were on their way up from the shore, but the closest still had at least a hundred metres to go, and he turned to the combatants and screamed like a despairing child, ‘Stop it, stop it, stop it!’ as the tears scalded his eyes.

It had no effect whatsoever. Lasse took a clumsy step forward, sweeping at Karl-Erik’s arm with his saw, but Karl-Erik managed to lift his saw and parry the blow. Sparks flew as the howling chains made contact.

Karl-Erik responded with a low sweep towards Lasse’s unprotected legs, but despite the fact that his trousers were in a heap around his feet, Lasse managed to jump backwards towards the birch so that the whirring blades missed his shins and merely tore up earth and grass.

Once again there was a brief lull as the two men measured each other and revved their chainsaws.

Mats