He stops in the empty, dark kitchen and listens. From the living room he can hear Leif snoring. He steps closer and peers in there. Linda’s couch is empty. The blanket has been moved aside, which Iver takes to mean she was lying there earlier.
Was she waiting for Leif to fall asleep? And once he did, did she get up? Get up to do what? Maybe she’s just out for another cigarette.
Or maybe she and Chris are going at it again.
Or maybe Linda is up to something else, something much more sinister.
Iver turns towards the hallway leading to the laundry room. He feels a sudden prickle of goose bumps down the back of his neck.
Where is Chris, anyway?
He was supposed to take the first shift, staying awake and keeping guard in the kitchen. But he’s nowhere to be seen.
Iver notices the fridge door being ajar and he goes to close it, when he sees the empty shelves inside.
He frowns. Did someone go on an eating spree? No, the fridge had been packed full of food; no one could eat all that in one go.
But then where has it gone?
Iver is getting really nervous now. He goes to the hallway, stepping lightly, holding his breath as he approaches the door to the laundry room. He stops in front of it and listens. Nothing.
Then there’s a noise from the opposite door, the one leading to the garage. Iver stares at it. It’s standing ajar, and a faint glow is coming out from there.
He reaches out a hand and opens the door just enough for him to look out into the garage.
Leif’s car is parked there, the engine off but the headlights on, pointing at the closed garage door. On the other side, Iver can hear the deads scratching away eagerly.
Linda is standing by the open passenger door, smoking a cigarette. She’s wearing a sweater which looks like it belongs to Agnete.
Chris is busy loading stuff into the backseat. He’s wearing his black jacket and boots.
The trunk of the car is open, and from where Iver is standing, he can see plastic bags full of stuff—the stuff from the fridge. Both weapons are also there, along with the boxes of ammo, piles of clothes, spare shoes and other stuff.
“You done soon?” Linda asks in a low voice, dropping the cigarette and stepping on it. “I thought you said we needed to move fast.”
“I did,” Chris says, going to the shelves and helping himself to different tools. “I just need a few more things, and we’re out of here.”
As the full picture is finally revealed to Iver, he finds himself stepping into the garage without really thinking and without making any attempt to hide himself; he’s simply too outraged.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
Linda jumps and Chris spins around, dropping a hammer, which lands with an awfully loud clatter on the concrete floor.
“Holy shit, you gave me a scare!” Chris says.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Linda hisses at Chris. “That’s the second goddamn time he walks in on us …”
“Where are you going?” Iver asks again. His heart is pounding hard enough to make his vision go fluttery. “Are you sneaking off in the middle of the night? With all the food and all the weapons? Are you really doing that?”
He looks from Linda to Chris. Linda just stands there, staring back at him, licking her teeth with her pink tongue.
Chris throws out his hand—the one not holding any tools—and tries for a casual smile. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Really? Because it sure looks like you’re about to fuck us all over.” Iver is surprised to hear his own voice jitter from rage. He hardly ever swears, but he’s so angry, he can’t help himself. “How did you get Leif’s car in here? Does he even know?”
“Could you keep your damn voice down?” Chris asks. “We don’t need to wake up everybody else …”
“No, that would ruin your plan, wouldn’t it?” Iver says, still talking loud enough that he hopes someone will hear him. The living room is a little too far away for Leif to wake up, but maybe Charlotte can hear him, as her room is closer.
“Could you deal with him?” Linda asks Chris.
Chris doesn’t take his eyes off of Iver. “Listen, dude, let me explain this to you, all right? It’ll make sense.” As he talks, he steps closer to the car.
Iver picks up on what Chris is doing and acts before he has even time to think. Iver steps to the trunk of the car—he’s closer than Chris, so he has time to yank up the rifle and point it at Chris.
Chris—who was obviously planning on doing the exact same thing—stops dead in his track and holds up his hands again. “Woah, dude! What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?” Linda exclaims at Chris. “Just take it from him! It’s not loaded.”
“It is,” Chris says. “I made sure.”
“What? Why would you drive around with a loaded rifle?”
“Because we might be needing it fast. I didn’t want to waste time fiddling with the bullets while a fucking dead guy was gnawing away at me.”
Linda sighs. “You idiot!”
Chris darts her a look. “What did you call me?”
“You can leave if you want to,” Iver says, addressing both of them. “Take your sick love affair as far away from here as you please. But you’re not taking all the food with you. Get that out of the trunk.” He waves the rifle at Chris, but Chris doesn’t move.
“Okay, listen. You caught us. All right? No need to do anything crazy now. Let’s just talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Iver says, straining to keep the rifle steady. He’s shaking all over. His finger is curled around the trigger. Just seconds earlier, he was furious enough to shoot the rifle if he needed to. Now, actually holding it, he feels a lot less certain he can do it.
“I want to explain what we’re doing
