smart. An unfamiliar warmth spread through his midriff. It started as a stinging sensation in his mouth, then sank downwards and filled his whole torso. Then he noticed the sweet taste, almost like caramel.
'Good, huh?' Morgan smiled. 'Where do you live? Do you have a flat?'
Out by the lake, Errki thought. By the public park, in a beautiful setting and paid for by the county. One room plus a kitchen and bathroom. Upstairs lives the old man who paces back and forth at night; sometimes he weeps. I can hear him, but I don't pay any attention. If I gave him my hand and listened to him, I would give him hope, but there is no hope. Not for anyone.
'Why does it have to be such a secret?' Morgan said, reaching for the bottle.
'It smells bad there,' Errki said in a low voice.
Morgan jumped at the sound of his voice. 'What smells bad? Your flat? I believe it. You smell too. Maybe it's time that you went out in the fresh air.'
'Raw meat smells bad. Especially in this heat.'
'What are you babbling about?'
'It's on the counter. I eat it for breakfast every morning.'
His face was dead serious as he spoke. Morgan stared at him suspiciously.
'Are you kidding me, or are you having hallucinations? You're just kidding, aren't you? I don't doubt that you're crazy, but I refuse to believe that you eat raw meat for breakfast.'
He felt a chill spreading slowly down his spine, in spite of the heat. What kind of person was this man, sitting right here in front of him?
'Have some more whisky. Maybe you're having trouble because you didn't take your pills. If you ask me, whisky is better for you.'
He sat down on the floor and put the gun down next to him.
'So tell me, when did you realise that you were starting to slip?'
Errki gave him a long, sideways glance.
'Was it like it says in books, that you got up one morning feeling terrible, went over to the mirror and saw to your horror that red worms were crawling out of your eyes?'
He chuckled as he screwed the top back on the bottle.
Errki shut his eyes. A faint drone was coming from the cellar, like a warning. 'It wasn't worms,' he said in his quiet, clear voice. 'It was beetles. With shiny shells. They gleamed in the light from the window, black as oil.'
Morgan blinked in confusion. 'You're kidding, right? It doesn't really happen that way. I assume,' he said thoughtfully, 'that it's important to work out why a person gets sick. That's the only reason I asked you. Maybe it's inherited? Was your mother crazy?
Errki was silent, listening. Listening to the words that were spilling out of his mouth like rubbish. Like wet paper, potato peeling, coffee grounds and apple peel.
'How about you?' Errki said. 'When did you realise it?'
'Realise what?' Morgan blinked his eyes and peered out of the window. 'It's not easy to talk to you. Is there anything that's OK to talk about? You choose the topic.' He sighed heavily. 'It's a long time until nightfall.'
Another pause. Errki sat on the sofa with his legs tucked under him.
'Large parts of the world are at war,' he said.
'Is that so? I suppose you're right. Why don't you tell me something about the asylum?' said Morgan. He was practically pleading now.
He could do that, of course. If he felt like it. Talk about Ragne, for example, who could never reconcile herself to the fact that she was born a girl and who was forever being found mutilated, either in bed or in the shower, in a pool of blood because she had tried to cut off her genitals. And that's not easy to do when you're a girl. Soda pop, tea and coffee, Errki thought. Beer, wine, and booze. Tell all of that to this curly haired idiot? Never.
'OK, never mind,' Morgan said, resigned. He looked at Errki. 'Are you a genius? A sparkling, brilliant mind? I'm not pulling your leg, I can tell that you're sharp, even though you may not seem it.'
Errki didn't reply. The man was a real simpleton, he was really pathetic.
Morgan sighed. He felt worn out. Errki didn't want to talk, and he was tired of listening to his own voice. Besides, what he said was nothing but babble. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't drink any more whisky either. He wasn't used to this, sitting in a room with another man and getting no answers. It made him nervous.
'What are you going to use the money for?' Errki asked with perfect friendliness.
'The money?'
'The money from the robbery. Are you going to buy a Nintendo? All the boys want a Nintendo.'
Morgan stood up briskly and went over to the window. He stood there, staring down at the water. It was as shiny as glass, with a deep reddish-brown colour, like bronze. He looked at the bare island and the dry firs hanging over the water. The news would be on again shortly. He thought about the car and wondered when it would be found. When it was, the police would realise that they had gone up into the woods.
'I have to take a leak,' he said and walked across the room. He took the gun with him. 'Stay here. I'll be on the steps.'
He went outside and breathed in the hot air. It was the hottest time of the day. He longed for a darkness that wouldn't come. Not until autumn. What a shambles, he thought.
Errki got up from the sofa and sat down on the floor instead, leaning against the wall. He heard the stream strike the dry grass and the cosy sound of Morgan zipping up his trousers. The whisky felt warm in his body. He wanted more.
Morgan came back inside. He could ask for more, but it went against a principle that was impossible to override. To ask for something. No, that was unthinkable. Here came Morgan, with his stubborn stride. He dragged the bag away, and stood with his back turned, fiddling with the radio, twisting the antenna a bit. Errki stared at his sleeveless shirt and down at his muscular calves. Imagine being a man and having all the equipment a man should have, but at the same time looking so discordant, as if he'd been put together using random parts that didn't fit. The room was silent. Errki was about to say a prayer. He couldn't remember when he had last prayed, not in years. He could feel the words balling up into a lump that refused to come out.
Instead he stared at the bag. He concentrated all of his strength in one eye and felt his gaze becoming a ray penetrating the room. It struck the black canvas bag, and the next instant a thin stream of smoke rose up from the black material. He noticed the faint smell of burning. Morgan turned around. A rumbling sound was coming from the cellar, as if great blocks of stone had come loose somewhere and were crashing down. The rumbling grew louder, it was like thunder. Nestor blazed up. A moment later Errki saw something growing out of the filthy floorboards. A river of blood. He stared. It was about an inch from his feet. The bag stood on the other side.
'What's the matter with you?' Morgan said in real alarm. 'Are you sick?'
Errki was staring at the bag.
'I think you should have some more whisky. Maybe that would help.'
He sounded worried. Errki stayed where he was. He was staring at the blood.
'I said, have some more.'
But Errki didn't move. He couldn't reach the bag with his hand, he would have to take a step forward to get it. His feet would slip in the thick, hot blood.
'Why do you make everything so damn difficult! Do I have to put a teat on the bottle and hold you in my arms?'
Morgan grabbed the bag, took out the bottle, and held it out to him. Errki tore it out of his hands and took a drink. The bag stopped burning.
You were lucky. Don't count on being so lucky next time.
'I'm not stingy,' Morgan said. 'Say what you like about Morgan, but I'm not a stingy person.' He scowled at Errki, who was drinking greedily.
Morgan went out to the kitchen. It was true, Morgan was a strange man, but not stingy. He was rummaging through the drawers out there, then Errki heard him open the door to the pantry. While he was out of sight, Errki took several more big gulps. He could hear Morgan cursing softly and things being tossed around. Then a rustling sound that meant that he was fiddling with a candle wrapped in plastic. Next he went into the bedroom. Errki drank some more, listening to him pounding on the walls. Suddenly his voice echoed through the cabin. 'What the hell? Take a look at this!'
Errki stood up and tottered forward. 'You called, Master?' He was holding the bottle in his hand.
