I'm Travelling Alone (28 page)

‘You’re not a woman, is that what you’re telling us?’ Erik said feebly.

‘Christ Almighty, you’re so much more stupid than I had expected,’ the chilling voice said. ‘I actually had some faith in you. Never mind. OK, this is how we play. You have one minute to pick a name. Andrea or Karoline. Whoever you pick will die tonight. The other gets to live. She’ll be returned to her home within twenty-four hours. If you don’t give me a name, they both die. It makes no difference to me. One will die. One will live. You decide. Are you clear about the rules?’

‘But you can’t do this,’ Grung protested.

‘I’ll call you back in one minute. Good luck.’

‘N–n–no,’ Silje stuttered.

‘Tick-tock,’ the voice said, and ended the call.

Chapter 41

Lukas was in heaven. Or, at least, it felt like it. He had been looking forward to this visit for days: his third to the house in the forest. Lux Domus, ‘the House of Light’, or, as Pastor Simon liked to call it,
Porta Caeli
, ‘Heaven’s Gate’. How was it possible for anything to be so beautiful?
Porta Caeli.
Heaven’s Gate. His body had been tingling with excitement all day and, finally, they had arrived; he was so near to heaven he could barely contain himself, but he forced himself to sit completely still on the spindle-back chair by the window while the pastor read to the children.

God had spoken to the pastor. Told him to build this place. A new ark. Not for animals this time, but for his chosen people. The initiated. The House of Light. Heaven’s Gate. They would travel together on the Day of Judgement. No one else. Only them. Forty people, no more. There were several arks across the world, God had said to the pastor, but they had not been told where the others were. Only that they existed, that was enough; they would meet the other chosen ones in Heaven, so there was no rush. In Heaven. God’s kingdom. Where turquoise water flowed in fresh streams and everything was made of gold, on a carpet of bright, white clouds. Eternity. The chosen ones. For ever.

Lukas closed his eyes and let the pastor’s voice fill him. God’s voice, that was what it was. The children mattered most, God had said, they were pure; it was important that children were pure and clean, as innocent as they had been in their mother’s womb, not tarnished after years on earth, no: pure, they must be purified. Even if it took fire. The flames of hell. The pastor spoke with a mild and calm voice, firm like God’s own hand, hard on the outside and soft on the inside. Water was flowing inside Lukas’s head now. Clean, fresh rivers winding their way through green forests and across white fields in front of a house of gold.

‘My children, I will manifest myself in front of you to guide my people from the darkness to the light,’ the pastor said. ‘I will reveal the reality of hell, so that you can be saved and renounce your evil ways before it is too late. Your souls will be taken from your bodies, by me, the Lord Jesus Christ, and sent into Hell. I will also offer you visions of Heaven, and many other revelations.’

The pastor fell silent and gazed across the congregation. He liked doing this. Looking into everyone’s eyes. It was important. So that they could see God’s eyes behind his. Lukas opened his own eyes and smiled. His house would lie right next to the pastor’s, God himself had promised that. There were not all that many children here: only eight. The pastor had chosen them himself. Five girls and three boys, almost entirely pure; a few sessions with the pastor’s kind voice and they would be ready.

Lukas looked around to see if Rakel, the special girl, was here. The children looked very similar – that was the point:
we are all equal before God
– but he spotted her eventually. Blue eyes and plenty of freckles. They had had a few problems with her. Lukas could not understand why the pastor made such a fuss of one little girl. What made her so special? If she wanted to run away from the House of Light and spend eternity in Hell, then let her go. Why waste time on her? There were plenty of other good candidates in the congregation.

It was not an opinion he had voiced, obviously. The pastor always knew what was best. Why had he even had this thought to begin with? Lukas shook his head at his own idiocy and closed his eyes again. Once more, the pastor’s voice filled him. He pressed his lips together hard so as not to emit even a small sigh.

‘One night as I was praying in my house, I was visited by the Lord Jesus Christ,’ the pastor continued. ‘I had been deep in prayer for days, and suddenly I felt God come to me. His strength and glory filled the whole house. A brilliant light lit up the room around me, and I was overcome by a feeling of beauty and completeness. The light flooded in, rolling in and out like waves. It was a wondrous sight. And then the Lord started talking to me. He said: “I am your Lord Jesus Christ, and I will reveal to you how you should prepare the faithful for my return and how to punish the sinners. The forces of darkness are real and my judgement is true. My child, I will take you into Hell with the strength of my spirit and I will show you many things that I want the world to see. I will reveal myself to you many times; I will take your spirit out of your body and I will take you into Hell.” “Dear Lord,” I cried out, “what do you want me to do?” My whole being wanted to call out to Jesus in gratitude at his presence. It was the most beautiful, serene, blissful, powerful love I have ever felt. Praises of God flowed from my lips. Immediately, I wanted to devote my whole life to him, so that he could use it to save others from their sin. I knew, by his spirit, that it really was Jesus, the Son of God, who was in the room with me. “Look, my child,” Jesus said, “with my Spirit I will take you into Hell, so you can describe it, so that you can lead the lost souls out of the darkness and into the light of the Gospel of Jesus Christ!” Straight away, my soul was taken out of my body. Then I travelled with Jesus out of my house and up to Heaven.’

The pastor rose and told the children to do likewise. They formed a circle in the middle of the floor. The pastor nodded to Lukas to indicate that he should join them. Lukas rose softly from his chair and took two of the children by the hand.

‘Let us pray,’ the pastor said, and bowed his head.

Soon, the small room was full of murmuring voices.

‘“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth, as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.”

‘Amen,’ Lukas said again. He couldn’t help himself.

Porta Caeli
, Heaven’s Gate. And now they were here to prepare for the day that would soon arrive.

The pastor opened the door and let out all the children. All except Rakel. He always kept Rakel back for an extra chat. Perhaps it was like the lamb that had got separated from the flock? Of course it was. The lost sheep and the shepherd. Yet again, Lukas felt bad for having doubted the pastor’s wisdom.

‘I think that Rakel needs a little time alone with God, and with me,’ the pastor said, and signalled to Lukas to leave the room.

Lukas nodded, smiled and left.

‘Make sure that no one comes in and disturbs us, would you, Lukas?’

‘Of course,’ Lukas said with a bow.

He closed the door softly behind him. It had started to grow dark outside now; he could see stars in the sky. He smiled broadly to himself and felt another warm rush through his veins. That was where they were going. To Heaven. He could hardly wait. He was so looking forward to it; indeed, it was hard to describe how excited he was. A huge, wonderful, constantly tingling feeling from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers and into his toes. Turquoise rivers and houses made from gold. Was that really possible? That he could be so blessed? Lukas folded his arms across his chest, still grinning from ear to ear and started humming a new hymn he had just taught himself.

Chapter 42

It was undoubtedly the longest minute in Mikkel Wold’s life. And the shortest. The shortest and the longest minute. It was as if time had stopped. And yet it was slipping away between his fingers. Time had acquired a new meaning. Time had no meaning. They spent the first five seconds just staring at one another. Mikkel looked at Silje, whose jaw had dropped and whose eyes looked like they had just seen a UFO. Silje stared desperately at Grung, a young member of the flock seeking comfort from one of the older ones, but there was no help to be found in Grung; the normally so resourceful editor stared alternately at the mobile lying on the table between them and Mikkel Wold, who was now looking at Erik Rønning.

Erik had ground to a halt. He was no longer functioning. There was not a single movement or expression to be found in his face. The rubber ball sat half squeezed in his hand. His mouth was half open; a witty or sarcastic comment had stopped on its journey out into the room and was now going back inside his head. All four of them. Dumbstruck. Frozen. In total shock. So went the first five seconds.

The next fifteen seconds were the total opposite. Everyone started talking over one another. Like four children in a tunnel who had just realized that the goods train was coming towards them and that they couldn’t get off the railway tracks, there was just one way out and that was to run, even though, deep down, everyone knew it could only end in tragedy, but still they ran out of instinct. Random words bounced around the room.

‘Christ Almighty.’

‘We have to pick one.’

‘Jesus.’

‘What if it’s a hoax?’

‘I think I’m going to be sick.’

‘But what the hell, we can’t just …?’

‘What if we don’t pick one?’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘We have to pick one.’

‘We can’t.’

‘This can’t be happening.’

‘Grung?’

‘Mikkel?’

‘What are we going to do?’

‘We can’t kill another human being.’

‘I think I’m going to throw up. I feel sick.’

‘We can save a human being.’

‘Erik?’

‘Silje?’

‘What happens if we do nothing?’

‘They both die.’

‘We can’t kill a little girl.’

‘Shit.’

‘We can save a little girl.’

‘Shit.’

‘What are we going to do?’

‘Shit.’

Twenty seconds had passed now. The clock in the office had no hand for seconds. It still said 12.16. It wasn’t helping. It didn’t count the seconds. That was the one thing they needed right now: not hours, not minutes, just seconds. The next ten were spent trying to work out how much time had passed. At this point, panic was spreading around the room like wildfire.

‘How much time has passed?’

Silje’s face was deathly pale.

‘How much time is left?’

Grung had stood up and was resting the palms of his hands against the table.

‘Did someone make a note of the time?’

Mikkel Wold looked his mobile, at the clock on the wall; without the second hand the numbers might as well have been painted on the wall. Four children on the railway tracks in a tunnel who can feel the vibrations of the train thundering towards them.

‘Let’s not waste time working out how much time has passed!’

Erik had got up, too, and banged his fist against the table. Once. Twice. Three times.

‘Let’s not waste time working out how much time has passed!’

Grung had moved his hands from the table and started pulling at his hair.

‘How much time has passed?’

This part took ten seconds. By now, thirty seconds had passed.

‘We have to think now!’ Erik shouted. ‘There’s no point shouting over each other.’

‘We can’t just shout each other down!’ Silje shouted.

‘We must decide!’ Mikkel Wold shouted.

‘What are we going to do?’ Grung shouted, still tearing his hair out.

‘Everyone, calm down!’ Erik shouted.

‘Let’s all calm down!’ Silje shouted.

By now, forty seconds had passed. Every single one of the last twenty seconds had felt like an entire minute in itself. Or an hour. Or a whole year. It was as if the hands had stopped moving and yet were running away at the same time. Erik was the first person to make a sensible suggestion.

‘Let’s vote.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t say anything. We’re voting now. Hands up everyone who thinks we ought to do something.’

Erik held up his hand. Grung held up his hand. Mikkel Wold held up his hand without quite knowing why; his reaction was pure reflex. Silje’s hands remained on the desk.

Forty-nine seconds had passed.

‘Three against one.’

‘But—’ Silje protested, but Erik was not listening to her.

‘Hands up everyone who votes to save Karoline.’

‘You mean, kill Andrea?’ Silje wailed.

‘Hands up!’ Erik shouted.

By now fifty-three seconds had passed.

‘Hands up if you think we ought to save Karoline!’ Erik shouted again, desperate now; the train was nipping at his heels, this was the only way out, make it stop or derail it.

He raised his hand and stared at Grung. Grung copied him and looked desperately at Silje.

‘No,’ Silje sobbed. ‘No, no, no.’

By now, fifty-seven seconds had passed.

Grung and Erik were standing with their hands in the air now. They both looked at Mikkel Wold.

‘Yes or no?’ Erik demanded.

Mikkel Wold tried to raise his arm from his lap, but it refused to move. It felt leaden. His arm had never been that heavy before. It refused to obey him. Or maybe that was exactly what it was doing. His brain didn’t know.

By now, fifty-nine seconds had passed.

‘Come on!’ Erik roared. ‘Do we save Karoline or not?’

‘We kill Andrea,’ Silje sobbed. ‘We can’t do that.’

‘Yes or no?’ Grung bellowed.

He had clumps of hair in the hand which was raised in the air. Mikkel Wold tried to lift his hand again, but it was still stuck to his lap.

Then his mobile rang.

The room fell completely silent. Their time was up. The mobile rang again. Mikkel Wold was staring at it, yet he had no idea where it was. He couldn’t see it clearly. It could have been in another room. On the moon. He didn’t know what to do. Finally, Erik Rønning leaned over and pressed the screen.