The Demon of Dakar - Kjell Eriksson [153]
A butterfly fluttered outside the window but disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Eva dropped the bedspread and sank down on the bed.
The dream was over so fast, she thought.
Sixty-One
The Alavez brothers had been holed up in the shed for three days. They had not seen a single person. Sometimes they heard the muted roar of traffic and the cracking sound that they believed came from a weapon, a series of rhythmic salvos, and which they later realized must come from military training exercises.
In the evening of the first day, Manuel had walked back to the arts and crafts village. He had watched the parking lot for several hours before he had dared venture out. Now the car was parked in a tumbledown garage on the property.
On the morning of the second day, Manuel had raised a ladder against the side of the main house, climbed up and managed to open a window. In the kitchen they had found crackers, a box of canned food, and a packet of raisins. They brought up water from the well, and in an earth cellar they found some dusty jars of jam with the year 1998 written on the label.
They were used to meager diets and did not really want for anything. The lack of anything to do was worse. Patricio became anxious and irritable. Manuel had joked with him that he should be used to lying around on a cot, but Patricio had just muttered in reply.
Manuel had wondered if he should tell him about Armas’s death. It was only on the second day, when they were talking about the fat one and the tall one, that Manuel was struck by the fact that his brother knew nothing. In an unconscious way Manuel had simply assumed that Patricio knew what had happened by the river. He decided to say nothing.
Manuel had sawed the apple tree and piled the wood against the wall of the shed. Patricio had helped gather up the sticks that were left over.
The rest of the time was filled with passive waiting.
Now it was one day before Manuel’s flight to Mexico was due to leave. They talked about how they should proceed and decided to go together to Arlanda. Patricio would use Manuel’s passport and ticket in order to leave the country. Patricio had increasingly started to doubt the plan and raised objections.
“How are you going to get home?”
“We’ve already talked about that,” Manuel said grumpily. “I’m not wanted for anything. They can’t charge me with anything. I’ll go to the Mexican embassy and get a new passport. I can say that I was drunk and lost both the passport and the ticket and that I missed going to the airport. They can’t punish me for that.”
“But if—”
“Stop it! Don’t you want to go home?”
Manuel had grown tired of Patricio’s nagging pessimism and got up from the bench outside the shed.
“I’m going into town tonight,” he said abruptly.
Patricio looked up.
“Is that why you are so worried?”
“I’m not worried,” Manuel snapped.
“What are you going to do there? We have everything.”
“I have to …”
Manuel left his brother without listening to the rest and walked up toward the edge of the woods, then he stopped halfway, returned to the shed and walked in. Patricio heard him bustle about inside.
A little while later Manuel emerged with a bag and a towel over his shoulder, walked over to the clothesline where his change of clothes were hanging, and pulled down a pair of pants and a T-shirt.
When Manuel started pumping up water and filling the washbasin, Patricio laughed.
“You want to look clean and nice,” he observed.
Manuel looked up angrily, but when he saw Patricio’s expression he couldn’t help let out a chuckle.
May this go well, he thought. I want to see him happy in Mexico. He took off his clothes and soaped up his whole body. The sun sank behind the trees and he shivered. Patricio came over, filled a bucket of water, and poured it over Manuel.
“Now you will do,” he said.
While the Alavez brothers were hiding in the forest outside Uppsala, the