“Don’t scream, don’t scream, I won’t hurt you!” somebody hissed in his ear.
Slowly Raf calmed down. What else could he do?
“Are you calm?” continued the voice, “Don’t shout, we’ve got to talk. You won’t shout?”
Raf tried to nod.
The hands gripping him relaxed a bit in order to test him. Raf took some deep breaths and waited. The hands loosened their grip but did not move away.
A man who seemed familiar to Raf stepped in front of him. White hair sticking up rather funnily. This was the man who had met the girl who would not speak to him on the ferry.
“I won’t harm you,” the man said. “Let’s hide by the side of the shed. We’ve got to talk.”
Raf followed him without hesitation. The feeling that he was no longer alone in the middle of that night was incredibly pleasant. He would do anything to keep that feeling for as long as he could.
Thick tufts of dry grass from the year before grew along the wooden boards and the old man with white hair sat down and motioned to Raf to do the same.
“It’s best if we’re not very visible.”
Raf leant on the wood with his back and slid down slowly right next to the old man.
“I’m Aco,” he said.
“Raf.”
They nodded to each other without shaking hands.
“What happened?”
Raf answered with a question:
“What are you doing here?”
“That’s not important, just tell me what happened.”
The man may have been old but he was undoubtedly strong, radiating a decisiveness which Raf could not ignore. It felt so good to let somebody else do all the thinking and agonizing. Maybe Max had worked that one out four years ago and that was why he had spent all his school life copying from Raf.
He quickly gave Aco a resume of what had happened: they were having a party when Alfonz suddenly went crazy and mutilated himself and then went on to attack the others.
Aco did not want to believe that that was all. He prodded and prodded until Raf managed to tell him all he could remember about Alfonz’s visits to the cellar and his strange talk about a child who had asked him his name.
Raf was surprised to see the old man cover his eyes with his hands and start to tremble. Slowly and only just visibly at first and then the shaking got stronger and stronger. Even his hair stood up more and seemed to move.
Raf did not know what to do. Should he touch the old man, comfort him? He sat there silently and waited, constantly observing Aco.
Loud laughter came from the house. Perversely joyful and relaxed, a real contrast to the atmosphere of that night. Max, without a doubt. Letting them know in his own way that he was still alive.
Aco raised his head.
“What’s that? Is there anybody left in the house?”
“Yes, I did think earlier that there was somebody on the first floor. That must be Max.”
“There were four of you on the ferry: you’re Raf, Alfonz has gone crazy, Max is laughing, what about the fourth one?”
“Samo. I don’t know where he is. Alfonz was trying to get him, I could hear screams, I fear…”
The laughter stopped for just a second and then continued with renewed strength.
Aco looked towards the villa with trepidation.
“Let’s go and see,” he said.
“I’m sure it’s Max.”
“Yes, I’m sure it is. But he’s not the one we’re looking for. We’re looking for the fifth person.”
“The fifth? You yourself had said that there were four of us…”
“On the ferry! In the house there were five of you.”
“Five?”
“There was that thing, whatever it is.”
Raf moved away, looking at Aco with expectation.
“That thing?”
“The former child, I’ll explain later. Let’s go!”
Aco’s impatience grew and he kept looking towards the source of the laughter, which would not subside.
Aco jumped up without leaning on anything. Raf tried to imitate him, but when the wood behind his back, which he tried to use for support, started creaking he decided to lean on the stone next to his left thigh, which he had noticed earlier.
He got up and went after Aco, who had already set off for the house. He wiped his left hand on his T-shirt. The stone must have been wet.
In the middle of the dry grass?
He looked at his palm and the dark stain on it.
Suddenly he did not want to go back and see what the stone next to him really was.
But he had to do it. With one long movement he leapt back, moved the tall tuft of grass and looked at the empty head which used to sit two rows behind him. He started choking, ran into the bushes to throw up and stepped into two piles of something he did not really want to recognise, but the moonlight winked back at him from the gouged-out eyes lying on a heap of flesh. He turned back, running up and down, vomiting.
He screamed and rolled on the ground.
He received two such strong blows that it sounded as if he had church bells in his head.
He calmed down.
He let the fluids flow from every possible opening in his body.
“Now you know what happened,” said Aco calmly, holding Raf’s shoulders, “you know what it all looks like but you’re wrong in thinking you know who did this. Wipe yourself and let’s go. It’s going to be a long night, there’s a lot to do.”
Raf nodded, remembered the scene behind the bushes, collected himself, took a deep breath and wiped himself with his T-shirt, which was getting full of stains. He remembered his father, and a little observation Raf had made first about him and then about all the other men who put weight on around their waists and then stick their big stomachs out proudly: they can never finish a meal without dropping some of their food on their front. Always and everywhere. The memory of his parents was both calming and unreal. They were so grey and average, so boring that he suddenly realised what home meant. Home is where you feel safely bored.
“Alright? Shall we go?”
Raf got up and stumbled. Knowing that next to him was a man who knew what it was all about helped him.
Aco hoped deeply that that was how Raf felt about him. If he was on his own he would die from fear, run away in a panic, but as soon as there was somebody who needed his help, he was able to control himself completely. He was a born soldier.
The villa was silent. There were no more sounds of laughter. The dining room light was still on and when they walked round the house they could just about discern some light escaping through the nursery shutters.
Raf hoped they would not have to go into the house. They stood in the middle of the meadow, waiting. It felt like a very long time.
They heard some steps and then the door opened. Max stepped out, saw them and nodded.
Raf nodded back, surprised at how casual their meeting seemed. As if they were somewhere else, at some other time.
“Let’s go,” said Aco and pulled Raf by his sleeve.
“I thought we were going in?” asked Raf, visibly relieved.
“No, not yet. We don’t know enough. Let’s go to the woods.”
Raf noticed the old man watching Max as he joined them, unusually silent.
