‘I got them. They’re mine now.’
‘They are not yours! They’re not even your parents, will you stop talking like that!’
Theres closed her eyes and her mouth and rolled over so that she was lying with her back to Jerry. Her narrow chest rose and fell jerkily as she breathed. Jerry leaned back in the armchair and sat there listening to her breathing; he tried to get to sleep, but without success. He asked the question straight out: ‘Why did you do it?’ But there was no answer.
Perhaps it was the lack of sleep combined with being shut in the apartment, but during the course of the morning Jerry got more and more irritated. He had known for a long, long time that there was something seriously wrong with Theres, and that she could hardly be held responsible for her actions. However, he still couldn’t cope with her lack of emotion when it came to what she had done. I got them.
That’s probably something you might come out with if you’ve bagged a couple of ducks with a shotgun. Not when you’ve killed two people-who just happened to be Jerry’s parents, regardless of what he thought of them. I got them.
Theres seemed to have improved after her dreadful night. She was still pale and couldn’t even keep a sip of water down, but she sat up on the sofa with a couple of pillows behind her, flicking through an illustrated Winnie-the-Pooh book Jerry had had when he was little. In his confused state Jerry thought she looked shamelessly smug as she sat there. I got them.
Jerry stood by the unit housing all his videos with his arms folded, looking at her as she studied the nice, brightly coloured pictures without the slightest concern for all the grief she had caused. Without considering what he was doing he selected Cannibal Holocaust and said cheerfully, ‘Shall we watch a film?’
Without looking up from the book, Theres asked, ‘What’s a film?’
You’ll see, thought Jerry, inserting the tape in the video player. If he did have a thought in his head it was something to do with getting Theres to realise that killing wasn’t just tra-la-la and I got them, but a seriously unpleasant business.
The film began, and people were chopped up and slaughtered with screams and tears, internal organs were removed and bodily fluids spurted. Jerry noticed that what had happened to his parents had made him more sensitive, and he no longer took any pleasure in the images. From time to time he glanced at Theres, who was sitting on the sofa watching the bloodbath, her face completely expressionless.
When the film was over he asked her, ‘What did you think? Lots of people died, didn’t they? Pretty gruesome.’
Theres shook her head. ‘They weren’t really dead.’
Jerry had always thought Cannibal Holocaust was one of the better splatter films. It felt and looked real. Since Theres was totally unfamiliar with the phenomenon of film, he had thought she would see it as a pure documentary, which fitted in with his somewhat unclear aim.
‘What do you mean?’ he said, stretching the truth. ‘Of course they were really dead. You could see that, couldn’t you? I mean, they got hacked to pieces.’
‘Yes,’ said Theres. ‘But they weren’t dead.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘No smoke.’
Jerry had prepared a number of responses to possible objections in order to get her to understand at last, but this was so unexpected that all he could say was, ‘What?’
‘There was no smoke. When they smashed the heads.’
‘What are you talking about? There’s never any smoke.’
‘Yes. There’s a little bit of smoke. Red.’
Theres had approximately the same expression on her face as when Jerry had said, ‘If you die I’ll kill you.’ She looked suspiciously amused, as if she knew that Jerry was teasing her, and would soon admit it. Then he realised what she was talking about.
‘You mean blood,’ he said. ‘There was loads of blood, all the time.’
‘No,’ said Theres. ‘Stop it, Jerry. You know.’
‘No, I don’t know. It just so happens that I’ve never killed anyone, so I don’t know.’
‘Why have you never killed anyone?’
Jerry didn’t really know how he had expected Theres to react to the film. With tears, perhaps, or screams, or a refusal to watch, or fascination and lots of questions. This hadn’t been among the possible alternatives.
Acidly he said, ‘I don’t know, I suppose the opportunity never came up.’
Theres nodded, her expression serious. Then she said, as if she was explaining something to a slightly backward child, ‘Blood comes later. First smoke. Just a bit. Red. But then it’s gone. You can’t find any more. But you get that little bit. That’s love. I think.’
There was something about the way she spoke. With the monotonous, soporific voice of someone reading out the stock market prices, she listed dry facts that brooked no contradiction, and for a moment Jerry started to believe that what she said was the truth. Then a minute or so passed in silence, and the spell was broken. Jerry looked at Theres. Beads of sweat had started to break out along her hairline. He plumped up her pillows and shook the blanket, told her to lie down and rest. When she was settled he perched on the edge of the sofa.
‘Sis,’ he said. ‘I’ve asked you this before, but now I’m asking you again. Just say all that stuff about smoke and so on when somebody dies is true. And say I’ve got it inside me as well. Are you thinking of trying to take it?’
Theres shook her head and Jerry asked the obvious follow-up question. ‘Why not?’
Theres’ eyes grew misty and she blinked a few times, but Jerry couldn’t let her fall asleep until he had an answer. He shook her shoulder gently and she said, ‘I don’t know. It says stop.’
Her eyes closed and Jerry had to be content with her answer. He went and lay down to try and sleep off the worst of the woolly mess inside his head, but sleep wouldn’t come. After half an hour he got up, took a cold shower and went out to buy some baby rice.
She has to eat something, after all.
On the stairs he met his neighbour, Hirsfeldt-an elderly man whose neat clothes were in sharp contrast with his face, which was strongly marked by his fondness for alcohol. He peered at Jerry in the harsh morning light as it bounced off the concrete. ‘Has somebody moved in with you?’ he asked.
Jerry’s stomach went cold. ‘No. Why do you ask?’
‘But I can hear them,’ said Hirsfeldt. ‘You can hear everything in this building. I can hear somebody throwing up like a sick calf, and it’s not you.’
‘It’s a friend-she’s not very well, so I’m letting her stay with me for a few days.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Hirsfeldt in a tone which implied that he didn’t believe a word Jerry said. Then he tipped his exaggeratedly elegant hat. ‘My condolences on your loss, by the way. A terrible business.’
‘Yes. Thank you,’ said Jerry, hurrying off down the stairs. When he had covered two flights he looked up through the gap between the landings and thought he could see a tiny bit of Hirsfeldt’s coat by his door. As if he were standing there listening.
Jerry gave up the idea of walking to the big supermarket, and quickly headed for the local shop. He didn’t dare leave Theres alone for too long. What if she woke up and did something while bloody Hirsfeldt was sniffing around the letterbox? Why couldn’t people just mind their own business?
He’d planned on buying ordinary baby rice, but they’d run out, so he had to buy Semper’s organic baby rice, one year and up. When he put the box on the conveyor belt, the checkout girl gave him an odd smile. He’d seen her several times before, she’d seen him, and she was bound to know who he was. If it hadn’t been for the incident with Hirsfeldt he wouldn’t have been particularly bothered, but now he felt like a hunted animal as he hurried home with the baby rice in a plastic bag.