Fog Island: A terrifying thriller set in a modern-day cult. Mariette Lindstein

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СКАЧАТЬ everyone wakes up and comes down!’ Sofia shouted.

      It was pitch dark in the yard, aside from the flames shooting out of the barn roof. The broken electrical wire must have taken out all the power. But then she heard the generator kick in and the outdoor lights came back on. She could see Bosse and Sten manoeuvring the fire hose toward the barn. The wind had let up a bit, but the thunder was still constant. She saw lightning and heard thunder at the same time, and realized it must be very dangerous to be outside.

      Moos, bleats, and hysterical clucking echoed from the barn.

      ‘I’ll let the animals out!’ she called to Bosse.

      ‘No, they’ll trample you!’ he shouted back as he aimed the hose at the fire. A cascade of water jetted toward the roof, but the flames only grew higher, up towards the treetops.

      The shrieking from the barn was unbearable.

      The thought came over her quickly, but her body was even faster. It was like she was a remotely-guided character in a computer game, always acting before her mind caught up. She had already opened the barn doors by the time it occurred to her that she would rather be trampled than let the animals burn alive inside.

      It was absolute chaos inside the barn. The fire was crackling in the ceiling of the far corner, where the chickens were caged. It smelled like smoke and burnt wood. The animals sensed the danger instinctively; they were stamping and shrieking, their eyes rolled back in fear.

      She opened the gate to the sheep enclosure first, and they immediately ran for the door and pinned her against the wall, but she managed to shoo them out. The cows had begun to throw themselves at the doors of their stalls, wild with fear.

      She climbed up on one of the stall walls to leave the aisle free. One by one she let the cows out and they immediately set off down the aisle and vanished through the door.

      The fire had burned through the ceiling by now and flames were licking at the chicken coop. Thick smoke began to pour in and fill the aisle. She fought with the coop door, but when it finally opened the hens just flapped around at random, squawking and cackling.

      She grabbed a pitchfork from the aisle and started shoving them toward the door.

      ‘Get out, for god’s sake, fly out!’

      At last they caught on and started flapping down the aisle, but a couple of confused hens turned around and went right into the fire, where they flew around like torches, uttering ghastly noises. At the same time, she heard the dreadful creak of a beam falling on the far side of the barn.

      By now the smoke was thick in the aisle and it hurt to breathe. Then suddenly she couldn’t get any air at all and her eyes were swimming, about to go dark. It was crackling behind her, and the heat of the fire licked at her back, just enough to give her one last shot of adrenaline that sent her out of the barn on staggering legs. Once she was out, she collapsed, lying supine on the ground, and sucked in the cold air. She lay there for a moment, staring up at the clouds moving across the black sky.

      ‘Sofia, are you okay?’

      It was Benjamin. He sank down beside her and grasped her hand so hard it hurt.

      ‘Breathe, Sofia, breathe!’ he urged her.

      ‘Thanks for the reminder,’ she said, trying to laugh. All that came out was a rattle deep in her lungs.

      ‘We have to get to a doctor.’

      ‘No, I’ll be fine.’

      Her voice already felt steadier.

      Bosse had arrived with a few other staff members in tow.

      ‘Jesus, Sofia, you should have listened to me!’

      ‘But I didn’t, and that’s why most of the animals are still alive,’ she said, sitting up.

      The yard was full of people. Staff and guests, all mixed up. Some were fighting the fire; others were herding the animals into an empty barn nearby. They seemed so strangely organized: everyone was in motion; everyone had something to do.

      At that moment, the rain came, a heavy downpour that joined the cascades of the fire hoses and put out the fire until all that was left was the smoke and the acrid smell. The back of the barn was destroyed, and thick, grey smoke billowed from its charred skeleton. A few animals were still running around in the yard. It was freezing cold, but it didn’t matter. They kept working.

      When they were all done and the fire hoses were rolled up, they just stood there looking at each other in the rain. The relief on their faces was beautiful. It was a sight she thought she’d never forget.

      She searched for Oswald but realized he wasn’t there. There were guests in soaked clothing, even some in pyjamas and nightgowns, but no Oswald. She looked up at the manor house and saw a figure standing on the balcony: the silhouette of a man gazing down at them with his arms crossed over his chest. It looked as if he was nodding.

      An onlooker on the outside, peering in.

       *

      She couldn’t stop whining about Oswald to Benjamin in the days after the fire.

      ‘What the hell was he doing on the balcony?’

      ‘I don’t know, Sofia. He probably wanted to see how we would manage.’

      ‘The whole barn was burning down, animals and all.’

      ‘Quit complaining. Franz likes to keep a little distance.’

      ‘Even the guests were out there, in their pyjamas.’

      ‘Listen, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were a little fixated on Franz.’

      ‘Fixated? Everyone is, around here.’

      ‘No, not me. He’s really just a regular guy — it’s best to take everything he says with a pinch of salt. Instead of expecting him to be some sort of god.’

      They went on like that for a few days until Oswald came to an assembly and rewarded Sofia with a bonus and two days off for her actions during the fire. He said that the county police chief, Wilgot Östling, had been on the island that day and had seen her rescue the animals.

       *

      She swallowed her annoyance and accepted her time off and bonus, using it to travel home to Lund for a few days to see her parents and spend some time with Wilma.

      Her mother was more anxious than ever. It took almost a whole day of repeated assurances that Sofia was happy on the island, and felt just fine, to calm her down. Sofia didn’t mention the fire.

      It felt strange to be back home again. She found herself going back and forth between several different moods: at times she felt so melancholy that she wanted to remain in Lund, but other times she felt restless and wanted to get her visit over with so she could go back to the island.

      There was something strained about Wilma’s mannerisms, as if she were trying to keep from mentioning something.

      ‘What’s wrong, Wilma?’

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