Only the Dead by Vidar Sundstøl Page A

me, is he? But didn’t he just rescue me? Yes, that’s why I’m lying here and not at the bottom of the lake. It’s as if I’ve come ashore once again. I was way up there in the sky. A star. I thought I was dead, and he has brought me back to life. I’ve heard the gypsies can do that sort of thing. And I think this man must be a gypsy. Now he’s nodding and muttering something. The brim of his hat is blocking out the moonlight. His face is in shadow. He’s still holding his hand on my chest. It’s the warmest hand I’ve ever felt.
    I can feel myself breathing again. And it hurts. A rib, I remember now. I fell into a creek. No, I jumped over it. I can move my head now. Take a look around. The enormous lake. The ice-covered bay. The hole in the ice. The moon. The black water merging with the sky, like the sea. And behind the gypsy a cross. Two sticks lashed together with rope. That was what I saw just before I went under. He is patting my chest. Gives a toss of his head. Does he want me to go with him? He puts his hand to his cheek, as if to signal that he’s tired. Does he want me to go with him and sleep? But I need to find Knut’s boat shed. From there it’s a straight path up to his cabin.
    I try to sit up but can only manage to move my hands a bit. So how will I be able to find my way to Knut and Nanette? It’s impossible. Either I lie here all alone and freeze to death, or I go with the man who rescued me. Because that is what he did. He rescued me from the water. Brought me down from the stars. I try to nod, but can’t manage it. He seems to understand. He grabs the rope and again starts dragging me across the packed snow. It’s worse here than out on the ice. There are rocks and tussocks under the snow. The ground goes up and down. But he’s careful. He drags me in between the big pine trees. I can hear a river. It must be the same one I saw just before I fell through the ice. Where are we going? But anything is better than lying there alone and freezing to death next to that cross, even though pain shoots through me when I slide over a tussock or a rock.
    I don’t let go of the ax. The gypsy drags me and the ax over the snow. Up above, between the big pines, I can see the moon. It has followed me the whole way. I was up there with it, but now I’m back on earth, where I belong. He stops. I turn my head and see a sort of sod hut like the Lapps build. He says something in his gypsy language, comes over to me, squats down, unties the rope and takes it off me. Then he grabs me under the arms and lifts me up. Sets me on my feet. I’m still holding the ax. I don’t think I could let it go even if I wanted to. I try to stand on my own, but I can’t. He grabs me as I fall. Then he partially carries me, partially supports me over to the hut. It’s not like an ordinary sod hut. It’s covered with birch bark. Animal hides are hanging from poles that are stuck between the trees. This place smells of animals. He moves aside a big sheet of birch bark. That must be the door. I fall into the dark.
    IT WAS SO QUIET Lance heard a ringing in his ears. He was sitting on post. Andy was supposed to start at the river and head west, crossing the path of the two first drives. Along a creek bed they thought would be promising. Lance was positioned near a small area that had been clear cut, half hidden behind a tree. The clearing was covered with a thick underbrush of raspberry bushes, but they weren’t so tall that they’d block a deer from view. There were also a number of tall, slender aspens, as well as some bigger birch trees.
    Lance was annoyed to feel his big stomach pressing against his thighs. Actually, it disgusted him. He thought about how easily Andy moved through the woods. No matter how much he ate, he kept the same lean physique. Tammy and Chrissy too. They were a thin family.
    He and Andy had exchanged only a few words, and only about the hunt, after Lance had mentioned Chrissy. Neither of them said any