Chapter 14
“Bellman!” I shout in a croaky voice.
It’s early morning, still dark, and I’ve taken Bellman out for a quick walk before school. I finally resolved to take him down to the beach, as if to convince myself that there’s nothing to worry about.
Bellman plays by the water’s edge. The sky is gray, and the sea is dark and calm. There is a frosty bite to the air, and I take short, sharp breaths through my nose.
There’s nothing to worry about, I tell myself, shoving my hands in my pockets. It’s just my imagination—a consequence of too many nightmares and too little sleep.
But panic begins to flutter inside me as Bellman wades out and laps at the seawater.
He has to get out of the water. We have to leave. Now!
A foul odor is emanating from the seabed. The stench is inescapable, a disgusting mixture of rotten kelp and decaying seaweed. It reminds me of dead fish and oozing wounds.
I see a glimmer, small points of light appearing in midair.
“Bellman!” I call again. My voice is shrill and cuts through the cold air. “Come on, we have to go home.”
Bellman doesn’t obey. He thinks it’s a game. He wags his tail gleefully and goes even farther out into the water.
I should go after him, pull him out by the collar, but I can’t move. I’m paralyzed. My feet refuse to obey.
“Bellman!” I shout, delirious with fear.
Something is coming to drag him below the surface, I just know it. Any second now, he’s going to vanish right before my eyes.
The stench is even worse, and my vision begins to flicker. There is a light shining somewhere in front of me, and through the mist I see a wave as high as Bellman’s legs come rolling onto shore. The fizzing foam hisses as it swallows up his tail and drenches his fur.
Then he starts barking. Bellman barks like crazy, his body all stiff and his tail outstretched. The wave recedes with a sigh. His piercing barks thunder in the morning mist. He is aggressive, ready for a fight. I’ve never heard him bark like this before.
Then he turns around and runs back. He lopes toward me with his tongue hanging out and sand in his fur. As soon as he’s close enough, I tug on his collar and give him a shake.
“Dang it, Bellman! Never, ever do that again!”
My voice trembles with relief as I wrap my arms around my dog. I get wet, but I don’t care.
Then my eyes are drawn to the water again. It’s completely still. The stench has disappeared as well. The air is clear and fresh again. The points of light have gone.
Only a minute ago I was convinced something was out there. Now everything looks normal. It’s the same little pebble beach where I’ve swum ever since I was little. The wet stones are strewn with piles of washed-up seaweed. The first rays of morning light break through.
The knot in my stomach starts to loosen.
“What was he up to this time?” says a voice behind me, startling me.
It’s Old Man Ingvar out for a walk along the beach. He’s wearing his green felt cap pulled so far down that I can barely see his bushy eyebrows beneath the brim. He has sparse stubble on his chin.
“Bellman was playing at the water’s edge,” I say. “He’s gotten all dirty.”
Old Man Ingvar takes a look at Bellman’s dripping, sandy coat.
“Well,” he says, “I dare say your mother won’t be pleased when he comes home looking like that.”
I haven’t spoken to Mom since we got home from Grandma Gerd’s last night.
“No,” I say.
“Shouldn’t you be in school right about now?”
“The boat’s coming in half an hour.”
“You ought to be careful, you know,” says Old Man Ingvar with a sidelong glance and a nod at the waves. His face is so wrinkled that it’s difficult to tell whether he’s happy or angry.
“With Bellman?” I’m still holding him by the collar. He’s waiting patiently.
“With the sea. Goran Jacobsson still hasn’t come back, nor his boat.” He shakes his head and mumbles, “Should have known better. He’s a local man.”
What should he have known?
I want to ask, but don’t dare.
Old Man Ingvar gazes in the direction of the rising sun. It appears as a pale disc and gives no warmth. “They’ve been here before. Only a matter of time before they came back.”
My mouth is almost too dry to get the word out. “Who?”
He frowns. His back is so stooped that he’s barely taller than me.
“The Russians, of course,” he says. “You mark my words, it’s the Russians capturing people out here, just like they did back when they invaded the archipelago.”
Old Man Ingvar lets out a cawing sound, and I’m confused until I realize that he’s laughing. He’s teasing me.
Then he becomes serious again.
“But you already know to be careful around the water, don’t you?” He nods at the sea. The surface is glossy as though smeared with black oil. “I heard about your classmate,” he utters over his shoulder. “Stay away from the water after dark. It’s for the best, trust me.”
Bellman moves anxiously by my side as Old Man Ingvar disappears into the woods.