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

the television, Simon followed her. A sweaty man standing in front of a steel-grey skyscraper vanished from the screen and Simon said quietly, ‘He has to know. Everything.’

Anna-Greta’s expression didn’t change. She looked closely at Simon’s face, then gave an almost imperceptible nod and said, ‘Then he will also be—’

‘I know,’ said Simon. ‘But that doesn’t matter. It’s already after him. He has to be told what it is.’

He told Anna-Greta very briefly what had happened out in the bay. Then they went into the kitchen together, sat down opposite Anders and told him the whole story.

Left

Tempered by fire. Anders had never really understood the concept, something being tempered by fire in order to change it. He still didn’t really know what it meant, but he had an idea of how it felt.

He had despaired and been nothing, then he had chased after a burning hope. He had gone from the depths of cold to a rapid warming process in the course of just a few minutes, the opposite process to tempering steel, and that was just how it felt. He had been softened. Every nerve was on the surface, and his body was as loose as a rotten pear. If he didn’t hang on to the edge of the table he would dissolve into a puddle. With every glass of water he drank, he felt more and more diluted.

Anna-Greta and Simon talked and told stories. Of Domarö’s past, of the pact with the sea and the people who had disappeared. Of the island that had persecuted his father, and the recent change in the sea.

Anders listened and understood that he was being told astonishing facts. But it wasn’t really hitting home, it was passing him by. His gaze returned over and over again to the red snowsuit, hanging up to dry in front of the kitchen stove.

He listened as attentively as he could, but it still seemed like any old story, a story in which he had no part. His story had been about Maja, and that story was over now. It was that thought which kept on going around and around in his head like the whine of a dentist’s drill: They tricked me. They. And Maja.

Maja had been a participant in all of this. She had left him and gone back to them. She was one of the evil spirits now, one of all those horrible people who had been put to death, sacrificed, or gone to the sea of their own free will. Everything had been a game to trick him, to entice him.

To Gåvasten.

And he had gone. Presumably they would have taken him during the day if it hadn’t been for the gulls. They hadn’t been after him atall, they had protected him and formed a wall between him and the thing that wanted to take him.

You took me with you. And then you left me.

He had been aware of Maja’s presence all the time. At first he had thought it was in the house, then he had realised it was inside his own body. It had left him now. He knew that. She had done what she had to do. And then she had left him.

The hours passed and he asked questions where necessary so that the narrative continued. He was afraid of being left alone with his thoughts.

Gåvasten.

Which means the stone of the gifts. Which gave. And took. And took.

Now it had taken everything. Anders could no longer hear Simon and Anna-Greta’s voices. He stared at Maja’s red snowsuit, and it really was the end now. There was, to put it bluntly, nothing to live for any longer.

Why should I live?

With the voices buzzing in the background he made an effort to come up with one reason why he should continue to crawl around between heaven and earth. He couldn’t find one. A person is given a certain number of opportunities, and certain number of roads to follow. He had reached the end of every single one.

All that was left was the fear of pain.

He didn’t notice that Simon and Anna-Greta had stopped speaking as he went through the alternatives.

The last thing he wanted was to drown himself. Hanging was horrible, and by no means foolproof. He had no tablets. Drinking himself to death would take too long.

For a brief moment he saw himself from outside, as it were, and found that these thoughts brought him peace. He had finally made his mind up, and it felt…not good, but less painful. There was even a hint of tingling anticipation deep inside.

Things will be better.

That last, faintly flickering possibility that something really did exist on the other side. A place or a state where there was joy, happiness. A place that was made for him. That wasn’t his belief, but…

Anything is possible.

Yes, anything is possible. Hadn’t that been proved during the last few weeks? We know nothing and anything is possible, so why not a heaven or a paradise?

And then it occurred to him. The shotgun. The one that had featured in the story of Simon and Anna-Greta. He knew that Anna-Greta found it difficult to get rid of things, so presumably the gun was in the house somewhere, possibly in the hidey-hole.

Anders nodded to himself. The shotgun was good. It would satisfy all his requirements. It was quick, it was certain, and there was a perverse beauty in using the gun that had saved his father’s, and thus his own life. To end things with the same weapon.

So be it.

Once the decision was made and the method established, he became aware of the silence in the kitchen. He was worried that he might have been speaking out loud without being aware of it and, venturing a neutral little smile, he turned to Simon and Anna-Greta.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘There’s a lot to think about.’

Anna-Greta gave him a penetrating look, and Anders followed his comment with a thoughtful nod, as if they really had given him something to think about, despite the fact that