The Collector of Names (25 page)

And that strange feeling in his stomach, a heavy feeling and then nothing below. He could not feel his legs at all. He put his hands on his stomach and it was all wet. He brought the hands to his face. Blood.

"Tell me, am I going to die?" he said and then kept repeating those words, turned towards the sky, even though there was nobody he could ask, nobody to give him the answer.

Tell me, am I going to die?

Tell me, am I going to die?

Tell me, am I going to die?

Tell me, am I going to die?

Tell me, am I going to die?

Tell me, am I going to die?

*

By the time Ana let go of the trigger, the barrel was already aiming towards the roof and the tiles were flying up into the air.

The attacker was lying on his back in the middle of the grass, with his legs spread wide and he was not moving.

"There is a God!" breathed Ana and pressed her knuckles to her mouth.

The boy did not take his eyes off her. Nothing could stop him from getting out of the way now. Thank God.

It was all finished. She would jump up and run to the boy. She started moving backwards when she felt something on her wrist and saw an arm clutching her.

"I love you!" said Alfonz looking at her.

She started shaking off the arm and the top part of Alfonz’s body shook with her. It looked as if the monster was nodding to her faithfully. It was pulling her towards it. Ana rolled forward, fell almost right next to the skull, kept feeling around her for a weapon, grabbed the handle of a stick, pulled but could not tear it off, then felt some sort of a pipe under her fingers and started hitting those eyes. The pressure of the arm slowly weakened and she pushed herself backwards, rolling back into the machine-gunner’s part of the cabin. The skull kept looking at her, leaning onto the side of the partition. Ana grabbed a grenade and hurled it towards the skull. In the split second while the grenade flew across the air she thought BOOOM, but it never happened. She had hit her target and knocked the skull over to the other side, where her eyes could not reach it.

"Alive! He was still alive! How was that possible?"

She listened but there was no sound from the other side of the partition. Were those his last words? Was this the end after all?

She did not have to climb back up to the turret! She could get out right there! She opened the door and pushed her head out as if she had been drowning for a long time and her lungs had been nearly destroyed.

The child was a few metres away from her, getting out of the way of the tank, which was now heading straight for the villa. Oh, how did that happen? The stick she grabbed when she was looking for a weapon! She pulled one of the sticks again and the tank turned.

The boy was only a step away from safety and Ana realised he was not in danger anymore but she could not stop herself from shouting:

"RUN! RUN!"

Suddenly she felt a pressure in her head. What big eyes that boy had! Why was he looking at her like that? A moment earlier he had been moving out of the way but now he just stood there, looking at her. Why did he stop getting out of the way? Why did he become so strange? As if something strange and terrible had awoken in him, something that would not leave him until he had performed a duty. He wanted to ask her something. No, there was no time for things like that! I have to save him! I have to! I have to turn the tank!

Ana wanted to move her head back in, but the boy’s eyes would not release her. Then she tried to reach the controls blindly with her hand...

- - - - - - -

Her arm was too short!

Too short!

She cried:

"Let me go, please, let me go! I have to save you!"

The boy was looking at her, holding her eyes and asking for her name. She knew she had to tell him it otherwise he would not release her and she would not be able to save him. That was why she shouted Ana! Ana! Ana! and then felt her freedom returning to her, the pressure was gone, the boy’s face changed back from that of a cool interrogator to that of a child frightened to death. He was only a metre away from the tank and Ana, who was still screaming, and then the tracks pulled him under.

Epilogue

"Fucking hell, what a night! I was up till one o’clock and now this!"

"Yeah."

"Right, you’ve been here for half an hour. I’ve seen the first report, but still tell me what’s it all about."

"Well, it just looks as if they all went crazy and killed each other."

"Who?"

"The villagers and the tourists."

"You mean the villagers fought the tourists?"

"No, I’d say they just killed each other pretty indiscriminately. It’s not a pretty sight."

"Fuck it, don’t ever forget the first rule: their nightmares are our jobs, our daily bread. But let’s stop romanticising and get going before the boss comes. We’ve got to write a report. Have they all been identified?"

"Not yet. There’s no problem with the villagers. But as for the others, let me summarise it for you. We found one of them behind that shed there and he was cut up into pieces and it won’t be an easy job to put him all together again. Another similar body was stacked in the tank, we don’t know who he is either. The woman driving the tank had a wallet with all her documents around her neck, so there shouldn’t be a problem there. We’ve already notified her parents. They’re in the middle of a divorce and they’d sent her here for a holiday so that they could arrange everything in peace. And we don’t know who that one, lying in the grass over there, is."

"That burger over there?"

"Yeah, did you notice how she managed to run over his trunk while his limbs are untouched?"

"He’s holding a spear, what was he, a red Indian? Weird, weird. And what’s that, that little white pile under the tank tracks?"

"I don’t know, though I did have a look at it earlier. Let’s wait for the rest of the team."

"I can still try to identify it. Hm, no smell..., no taste. Sand or something. Maybe there’s something inside, let’s have a look."

"I’m not sure that’s very wise..."

"Come on, it’s nothing. Hey, look at this... a drop of blood. Did you see it?"

"Yes, quite fresh blood, in the middle of the dust."

"It sank into the soil, did you see?"

"Yeah."

"Oh let’s leave that now. So the woman driving the tank is the only survivor?"

"Yeah. She hasn’t got a licence, I’ve already checked."

"I’d say so, looking at that pile of minced meat, the tracks zigzagging all over the place, those legs over there and the villa she drove into. The floor gave in and she ended up in the cellar! That’s women drivers for you!"

"Ha ha ha!"

"Funny, isn’t it? That’s my favourite joke. Anyway, she’s alive, has she given a statement yet?"

"No, and the doctor who examined her said it might be difficult - she’s in a coma, but there don’t seem to be any physical injuries apart from a few scratches and bruises. He hasn’t got all the test results yet though. He can’t see why she’s in a coma."

"What do these guys ever know? And the rest of the island is OK?"

"The village, yes. The receptionist at the campsite had a body in the cupboard. Looks like the man bit the veins on his own wrists. It’s writers and their antics, said the receptionist, winking and grinning as if he wasn’t quite right either. They took him to psychiatric hospital on the mainland for observation."

"OK."

"We found another body on the road, he’d been shot and hasn’t been identified yet."

"Is that all?"

"We’re still looking, there may be more."

"There’s a chopper. The boss must be coming. Let’s go."

*

The drops hanging from the beams on the cellar ceiling started to bubble, move and tremble. Steam, smelling of old, long disappeared woods, was coming from them, combining into long, thick ribbons, which were wrapping themselves around the front of the tank, sinking into the ground. The vanishing drops were bursting and names were falling out of them. Rays of sunshine forced themselves in through the rubble, making bright patterns in the air. On their way through the light, the names became red for a moment then tumbled over, some of them floated for a while but sooner or later they all became dust before they even reached the floor. The dust fell on the ground with a faint rustle, turning around like a vortex and then disappeared through the cracks and into the soil.

THE END

I don't wanna hear a love song...

Emmylou Harris

Epilogue

"Fucking hell, what a night! I was up till one o’clock and now this!"

"Yeah."

"Right, you’ve been here for half an hour. I’ve seen the first report, but still tell me what’s it all about."

"Well, it just looks as if they all went crazy and killed each other."

"Who?"

"The villagers and the tourists."

"You mean the villagers fought the tourists?"

"No, I’d say they just killed each other pretty indiscriminately. It’s not a pretty sight."

"Fuck it, don’t ever forget the first rule: their nightmares are our jobs, our daily bread. But let’s stop romanticising and get going before the boss comes. We’ve got to write a report. Have they all been identified?"

"Not yet. There’s no problem with the villagers. But as for the others, let me summarise it for you. We found one of them behind that shed there and he was cut up into pieces and it won’t be an easy job to put him all together again. Another similar body was stacked in the tank, we don’t know who he is either. The woman driving the tank had a wallet with all her documents around her neck, so there shouldn’t be a problem there. We’ve already notified her parents. They’re in the middle of a divorce and they’d sent her here for a holiday so that they could arrange everything in peace. And we don’t know who that one, lying in the grass over there, is."

"That burger over there?"

"Yeah, did you notice how she managed to run over his trunk while his limbs are untouched?"

"He’s holding a spear, what was he, a red Indian? Weird, weird. And what’s that, that little white pile under the tank tracks?"

"I don’t know, though I did have a look at it earlier. Let’s wait for the rest of the team."

"I can still try to identify it. Hm, no smell..., no taste. Sand or something. Maybe there’s something inside, let’s have a look."

"I’m not sure that’s very wise..."

"Come on, it’s nothing. Hey, look at this... a drop of blood. Did you see it?"

"Yes, quite fresh blood, in the middle of the dust."

"It sank into the soil, did you see?"

"Yeah."

"Oh let’s leave that now. So the woman driving the tank is the only survivor?"

"Yeah. She hasn’t got a licence, I’ve already checked."

"I’d say so, looking at that pile of minced meat, the tracks zigzagging all over the place, those legs over there and the villa she drove into. The floor gave in and she ended up in the cellar! That’s women drivers for you!"

"Ha ha ha!"

"Funny, isn’t it? That’s my favourite joke. Anyway, she’s alive, has she given a statement yet?"

"No, and the doctor who examined her said it might be difficult - she’s in a coma, but there don’t seem to be any physical injuries apart from a few scratches and bruises. He hasn’t got all the test results yet though. He can’t see why she’s in a coma."

"What do these guys ever know? And the rest of the island is OK?"

"The village, yes. The receptionist at the campsite had a body in the cupboard. Looks like the man bit the veins on his own wrists. It’s writers and their antics, said the receptionist, winking and grinning as if he wasn’t quite right either. They took him to psychiatric hospital on the mainland for observation."

"OK."

"We found another body on the road, he’d been shot and hasn’t been identified yet."

"Is that all?"

"We’re still looking, there may be more."

"There’s a chopper. The boss must be coming. Let’s go."

*

The drops hanging from the beams on the cellar ceiling started to bubble, move and tremble. Steam, smelling of old, long disappeared woods, was coming from them, combining into long, thick ribbons, which were wrapping themselves around the front of the tank, sinking into the ground. The vanishing drops were bursting and names were falling out of them. Rays of sunshine forced themselves in through the rubble, making bright patterns in the air. On their way through the light, the names became red for a moment then tumbled over, some of them floated for a while but sooner or later they all became dust before they even reached the floor. The dust fell on the ground with a faint rustle, turning around like a vortex and then disappeared through the cracks and into the soil.

THE END

I don't wanna hear a love song...

Emmylou Harris