Errki still didn't move. Nothing in the world would make him go into the water. Not even a gun. He would rather die. He was still not ready, and he would like to leave this earth with a certain grace. But if he couldn't, then he couldn't.
'OK, let's get moving!'
Morgan had made up his mind. He was using almost his whole body to speak. He went over to the sofa, grabbed Errki's T-shirt, and yanked him up. Errki had to struggle to keep his balance.
'A quick dip and then back out again. It will only take us a couple of minutes. Clear our heads. Except for yours, of course.'
He jabbed at Errki with the gun, herding him outside to the yard.
'Head down to the left and we'll come out near that little island over there.'
Errki looked down at the bare rock and shuddered. He was never, ever going into that black water! There wasn't a sound from the cellar. No-one was going to help him now. It was as if they were sitting and listening, wondering what he would do. His body began to itch, a bothersome itch. He didn't know how to swim. He couldn't take off his clothes and show his naked body, couldn't stand that sort of humiliation. Reluctantly he headed down the slope covered with dry heather and grass. There had been a path once, but it was now almost overgrown. He stared at the water, thinking that if there wasn't a shallow part, he would sink straight to the bottom. Behind him Morgan was getting excited.
'I'll bet the water is cold. That suits me fine.'
He jabbed at Errki when they reached the crag. 'Take off your things. Or go ahead and swim with them on. I don't care. Just get in the water.'
Errki stood as if carved from stone, staring at the lake. Here on the shore it no longer looked reddish, merely black and deep. He couldn't see the bottom, only some long, pliable grass floating down there that would twist around his legs like hideous fingers. Maybe there were fish too, or even worse: eels.
'Are you going to jump in or do I have to push you?'
Morgan was impatient.
'I can't swim,' Errki muttered. He was still standing with his back turned. The corner of his mouth was twitching.
'Doesn't matter. You can hold on to the edge. Come on. I'm sweating like a pig.'
Errki didn't move.
'What's it going to be? I'm cocking the gun.'
Errki heard a sharp click through the sound of the drum roll. Morgan had got an idea in his head, and he was going to see it through, no matter what happened. Errki took a few steps closer to the water and felt a rushing at his temples. For him water was just as unthinkable as a sea of flames. His normally pale cheeks were blazing. Carefully he turned around. Couldn't see the gun; maybe Morgan had hidden it in the heather. Now he was coming towards Errki with a menacing expression, his fists raised.
'I want to see what you look like when you're scared,' he said.
Errki lurched wildly to one side and doubled over, prepared for the attack. Morgan hesitated and gave him a wary look but he kept on coming towards him. Errki darted up and forward, like a beast of prey, and furiously sank his teeth into Morgan's nose. His jaws slammed together like a pair of scissors, he felt his sharp teeth burrowing through skin and cartilage, all the way to the bone. Morgan teetered, trying to keep his balance, flailing his arms violently, but Errki refused to let go. For a long time he held on until he came to his senses, and then he did let go.
At first Morgan didn't utter a sound. He stared at Errki in astonishment, and several seconds passed before he realised what had happened. The end of his nose was loose, it seemed to hang from a thread. And then the blood came, pumping out in little spurts. Morgan screamed. He raised his hands to his nose, felt the blood running out and tasted it in his mouth, and then a strange numbness.
'Oh, God!' he howled as he sank to his knees. 'Errki! Help me! I'm bleeding!'
He was truly a pitiful sight as he knelt there in the heather with his hands on his face. The blood was gushing out. Errki stood and stared at him. Rocking back and forth, terrified by all the blood but at the same time calmer because he had fought back. Now everything would be different. He could hear the commotion down in the cellar. They were cheering his effort, hailing him as a hero, the applause went on and on.
'You shouldn't have pressurised me like that. I can't stand being pressurised!'
'It's going to get infected!' Morgan whimpered and sobbed. 'Do you realise what you've done? You're a real lunatic. You can just clear off and go back to the asylum. Damn it, man, this is going to be the death of me!'
'I tried to tell you,' Errki said peaceably, 'but you didn't want to listen.'
'Good Lord, what am I going to do?'
'You could put a piece of moss on it,' Errki said.
It was certainly quite a sight: Morgan in those gaudy shorts with his nose falling off.
'Major parts of the world are at war,' he said.
'I don't have a damned thing to clean the wound with! Don't you know how dangerous it is to be bitten by a human being? It's never going to heal. You fucking asylum devil!'
'You're different when you're scared.'
'Shut up!'
'You've had a tetanus shot like everybody else, haven't you?'
For once Morgan didn't answer. Errki thought it was about time – he talked too much. The hut was already full of his rubbish.
'Years ago,' he gasped finally. 'I don't think it's still good. Besides, it only takes a matter of hours to turn into blood poisoning. You have no idea what you've done! You lunatic!'
'Rinse it with whisky,' Errki said. 'You can borrow my underpants for a bandage.'
'Shut up, I said! Shit, I can't take this any more!
He started fumbling around in the heather for the pistol, keeping one hand on his nose. Errki caught sight of the weapon, glinting brightly in all the green. Both of them bent forward, but Errki was faster. He picked it up and weighed it in his hand. Morgan began to shake. He uttered a few gurgling sounds of fear and tried awkwardly to scramble backwards. His jaw dropped open, and Errki peered inside at several black fillings. A terrified person is not a pretty sight, he thought. Then he raised the gun and threw it with all his might in a great arc right into the lake. It made a modest little splash.
'You fucking bastard!'
Morgan collapsed again, in a mixture of relief and despair. 'I should have shot you dead, I should have done it right at the start.'
His lips were quivering. 'I should have shot you in the back and turned your arse inside out! It only takes an hour for a wound like this to go to hell, I should have driven right to the doctor! Who the hell do you think you are?'
'I'm Errki Peter Johrma. I'm just here on a visit.'
Morgan was still sobbing. In his mind he could picture the putrefaction, the decaying flesh and poisoned blood spreading with the speed of lightning through his veins, through all the arteries, and with one blow striking right at his heart. He felt as though he was going to faint.
'Wherever you might fall, you should spread out hay,' Errki said sagely.
He started walking up the path. A bellow came from behind.
'Don't leave me!'
'The fly that refuses to leave the corpse will end up in the grave,' Errki said. But he stopped. He had never heard anyone yell at him like that, saying they needed him. He was touched by the sight of Morgan with his ruined nose. He was no longer pitiful. Not in a disgusting way.
'Say something! Help me with the wound. I'll never be able to show my face in public again!' Morgan moaned.
'No, you won't. You robbed a bank, and the police have a good description of you.'
'Will you go back up to the hut with me?'
'I'll go back with you.'
'Hurry up. I'm bleeding.'
