“So, who are you going back to find? I thought you said you lost your family?”
“I did.” He pauses. “I’m not going back because of them. Well, I guess I am, in a way.” He pauses again. “I’m going back to try and stop this thing.”
TWENTY-SIX
It takes him the better part of an hour explaining everything to Liv.
He begins with how he agreed to go along on Jennie’s paper route and ends with how he and Åsaa reached the harbor in Bergen.
He doesn’t skip any parts, but tells her everything. The death of Jennie, his mom and his dad. How they reached and later lost the safe house. How they got the helicopter and ended up in Norway and how he convinced William to go with him back to Denmark—and how that sealed William’s fate. He even tells her everything about the voodoo and why he thinks it holds the key to stopping the pandemic.
It’s a long story, and a personal one. He feels awkward telling it to a person he just met. But the way Liv simply listens, and maybe helped by the fact that he can’t see her face, makes it surprisingly easy to keep talking. It also has a therapeutic effect; it’s like his mind needed to put everything in order, to sum up this last, awful week of his life where everything has been turned upside down.
Once he finally stops talking, he feels both exhausted and relieved.
“Well, you were right,” Liv says. “That was a long story.”
“I know, sorry about that.”
“Can you drive a jet ski? My hands are freezing.”
Dan blinks. “Oh, sorry, I completely forgot we were supposed to switch.”
“Don’t sweat it. Can you drive it?”
“I never tried it before. But I guess I can give it a shot.”
Liv slows down the jet ski and leans sideways, showing him the dashboard. “Let me give you a crash course. It really is very simple. You just need to keep it at full throttle and then concentrate on steering. If you turn too sharply, you’ll throw us both off. But there’s a safety thing that probably won’t allow you to. See that thing there? That’s a digital compass. You just follow the coastline until it’s pointing west, then let me know and I’ll take over again.”
“All right. How do we switch?”
“It’s not going to be easy without one of us going into the water. But let’s try. Me and my sister did it once. Come forward as far as you can.”
Liv scooches up against the handlebars, and Dan follows her.
“Right, now lie down on your back.”
“What?”
“Just trust me.”
Dan leans back and lies down on the seat. He lifts his head to see Liv look at him over her shoulder. “Now, try to be still. Don’t lean to either side, or we’ll both go in.”
“Uhm, okay,” Dan says, feeling both awkward and exposed as he lies there with no idea of what’s going to happen or how this will help them switch seats.
Then Liv raises herself up and moves backwards, climbing over him. Her buttocks pass right in front of Dan’s face, and Dan is so unprepared for it, he has no idea how to react, so he simply shuts his eyes firmly.
He can sense Liv hover over him when she says: “Right, here’s the tricky part. Now you sit up.”
He opens his eyes and hoists himself up, feeling Liv grab his shoulders for support. They wobble for a second but manage to regain balance. Dan grabs the handlebars for support and Liv sinks down into the seat behind him.
“There,” she breathes. “We did it.”
Dan is too flustered to say anything, so he just clears his throat and focuses on the dashboard.
“You remember what I told you?”
“Yeah, sure. I just need to turn the handle like this, right?”
He twists the throttle carefully. The engine growls louder and the jet ski begins moving forward.
“You got it,” Liv says, moving in closer and putting her arms around his waist. “If I nod off, remember to tell me when the compass points west.”
“I will.”
He feels her leaning her cheek against his shoulder blades. She shivers gently all over.
“You freezing?” he asks.
He can feel her nod. “My hands are like ice.”
Sitting up front, he understands why; even though the wind screen blocks most of the oncoming air, it’s still a lot cooler than sitting behind the driver. Especially his hands are taking the worst of it.
“You can put them in my pockets, if you want.”
The suggestion slips out before he can think about it.
He can feel Liv sit a little more upright. “You sure?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
She hesitates, and Dan looks back. “What?”
“There’re no holes in them, are there?”
“Holes in what?”
“In your pockets.”
“No. Why would there be—” Dan cuts himself off, then looks back at Liv. “You thought I wanted you to …? Jesus, no!”
“Good,” she says earnestly. “Just making sure.”
“Well, don’t worry.”
Liv slips her hands into Dan’s pockets, curling them up into fists. Even through his pants, he can feel how cold they are against his thighs.
Dan can’t help but snort with laughter. The situation is simply too weird and awkward.
“What?” Liv asks in a defensive tone.
“It’s just … I can’t believe you … sorry, just forget about it.”
“Well, you’d be surprised,” she says. “Some guys never miss a chance.”
“I just told you I lost my entire family!” he blurts out, and he can’t help but laugh some more. “Trust me, the last thing that’s on my mind is getting a hand job.”
“Good,” Liv says, and even though her voice sounds tight, he can tell it’s because she’s close to laughing, too. “My hands are so cold right now, I’d probably turn it into an icicle if I touched it anyway.”
A moment of tense silence passes between them. Dan has to fight hard not to laugh. He feels almost giddy. And it makes him wonder if he’s lost his mind. That image of his penis all blue and frosty just keeps popping into his mind.
Then Liv begins
