With a gasp, I jerk my hand back and stand up. What are these strange ideas and notions that keep creeping into my mind? Remnants of Alex’s ghost stories must be lingering in my consciousness. The stories about Lake Malice and its malevolent powers. Briskly I continue on, reminding myself that those tales are nothing more than supernatural nonsense mixed with old superstitions. Yet I can’t help looking over my shoulder several times. My feet cut through the grass faster and faster until I’m practically jogging.
I weave between the tree trunks, their shadows growing deeper, their scraggly branches reaching for me like long, malevolent arms. Something grabs hold of me, twigs scrape at my scalp like claws, and I scream loudly, unable to stop myself. The sound of my own terror is too much for me. Thoughts spring into my mind and race wildly, no longer under my control, whipping up greater and greater waves of emotion inside me. I’m not going to find them. I’m never going to find them.
But then—at that very moment—something occurs to me. Make a phone call. If I can’t find them, I need to call. Of course. That’s the first thing to do when someone goes missing. Why didn’t I think of that before? I slow down and, breathing hard, shove my hand in the pocket of my capris. Empty. I check the other pocket, but my cell phone isn’t there either. Where could it be? Did I lose it somewhere on the island? Or did I leave it back in the boat? Fragments of memory slowly coalesce.
I didn’t take my cell with me when we left the cabin. It was an impulsive decision to set off on this excursion, and I actually hadn’t intended to go along. Yet I did. My chest tightens again, but this time it’s not from straining to breathe. Again I look around, desperately trying to see a tiny scrap of pale-pink fabric, a flutter of blond hair. But she’s no longer here. I know that. I can feel it. I left my phone back at the cabin, probably in my purse. There’s only one thing to do.
Yet it doesn’t feel right. How can I leave the island without having found Alex and Smilla? How can I simply leave them to their fate? To their fate… There’s something terrible about those words. This doesn’t make sense. Something is wrong. Very wrong.
No! I push away the sinister whispering inside me and start walking faster. Once I get hold of my phone, everything will work out. I’ll be able to call Alex, or he’ll call me. Who knows, maybe he has already tried to reach me. I pick up the pace even more, ignoring how exhausted I feel. I need to get my hands on my phone ASAP. The only question is whether I’ll be able to find my way back to the spot where we tied up the boat.
I take another step forward and I’m falling into the dark. The ground disappears from beneath me. At the last second I manage to stay on my feet, but my stomach lurches. When I calm down, I stand still for a long time, staring at the sight in front of me. It’s the hill I came up. The hill that, from this direction, is more like a treacherous precipice. How could I be back here already? In my confused state I could hardly tell which way I’d been heading. But here it is. Below I can see the outline of the boat, rocking among the reeds as if nothing has happened. I stare at it with mixed emotions. Clearly Alex and Smilla aren’t down there waiting for me, but at least the boat is still there. The next second it occurs to me what a strange thought that is. Why wouldn’t the boat be there?
Something is nagging at me. A certain uneasiness. Or is it regret? If I could turn back time, do things differently, undo what was done… I shake off the feeling and once again glance over my shoulder. It’s dark now, everything immersed in shadow. I picture two silhouettes, one tall and one short, emerging from the dim light and rushing toward me with loud shouts and laughter. But no one is there. No one’s coming.
A bird flutters past, so close that I think I can feel the rushing of its wings. I glimpse the contours of a sleek body and a dagger-shaped beak. The loon dives for the water. For a moment I stare after it. Then I step over the edge.
3
Somehow I manage to make my way back. I get the boat moving and go as fast as I can away from the island and across the lake to the slightly rickety dock. A large number of skiffs and small fiberglass boats are already there, bobbing at their moorings, but all of them are empty. My hands are shaking and I can hardly make my fingers obey as I tie up the boat. My body feels stiff and tense and I’m breathing hard as I stumble up the narrow path leading away from the lake. A tree root sticking out of the ground makes me lose my balance and trip. The old pain in my thigh flares up, but I grit my teeth and keep going, keep climbing. The cabin is silently waiting, the last in the row of houses on the road. It’s protected from view by a hedge of arborvitae on one side and a steep mountain wall on the other. The key is right where we left it, under the front steps.
My fingers are ice cold as I fumble with the key. I have to take several deep breaths before I succeed in unlocking the door. Just as I’m about to close the door behind me, I see a furry creature slink past my legs and into the cabin. I hear a furious meowing, as if Tirith has been waiting ages to come inside and wants to tell me how indignant he is at such neglect. Paying no attention to the cat and not bothering to take off my shoes, I rush inside to turn on the lights and check all the rooms, yelling as I go. I shout for Alex and Smilla, but no one answers. The cabin looks exactly the same as it did when we left. As if time has stood still inside while we’ve been gone. In the kitchen I see a pile of newspapers on the table, next to a dirty yogurt bowl. Smilla’s Barbie dolls are scattered across the floor. When I think about how she was sitting in this very spot, playing with the dolls earlier in the day, the tight feeling in my chest gets worse.
Then I notice the mark on the floor. A single footprint. Dark and sticky, with a clear impression from the sole of a shoe. Did someone break into the cabin while we were gone? Has somebody been inside? Is it…? I look up and feel the hairs rise on the back of my neck and along my forearms. Is someone here right now? Is somebody hiding under a bed or in a wardrobe, just waiting to attack me? An icy shiver races through me. Then I notice another footprint, and another. They’re all coming from the same direction. From me.
I look down at my feet and catch sight of my pink sneakers—the shoes that I was in too much of a hurry to take off when I came inside. One shoe is still more or less decent-looking, but the other one is covered with brown splotches. I lift my foot and see how dirty the sole is. When I tentatively sniff at the air, a clammy smell fills my nostrils. Mud. I must have stepped in it somewhere. Then I remember slipping in something as I climbed the slope. Could it be mud from the island that is now tracked across the cabin floor? Mud from that island, the island where Alex and Smilla… Again I run my eyes over the footprints, as nausea takes hold. How could I leave the island without them?
A movement in the room catches my attention. Tirith is standing in front of me. The fur on his neck fluffs over the thin pink collar he’s wearing. His tail swings slowly from side to side as he stares at me, his eyes narrowed. As if he’s wondering what I’m doing here, alone, wearing a sweatshirt that belongs to his master. We stare at each other. The cat’s yellow eyes shift to look at the footprints on the floor and then back up at me. I imagine that he’s demanding an explanation. What do you mean, missing? How could they just disappear? I bury my head in my hands, stifling a scream. Thoughts whirl through my mind, sucking me into a perilous maelstrom.
Somehow I manage to get hold of myself. I picture myself from a distance, standing there, doing nothing, a defeated and pitiful figure in every way. Get a grip on yourself this minute!