The Circle (Hammer) - By Elfgren, Sara B.,Strandberg, Mats Page 0,106

fucking sad.

‘Go to hell,’ Anna-Karin says slowly.

Her rage is so intense that it scares her. She jostles Vanessa as she pushes past her and throws open the door.

The place is packed with people. Anna-Karin forces her way through the crowd, searching for Jari. The warm bodies form an impenetrable mass of flesh. It’s like one of those nightmares when you’re trying to run but can’t get anywhere. She ducks to avoid glowing cigarettes, jumps out of the way of beer spilling and searches for an opening in the throng. Eventually she can’t take it any more.

Get out of my way, she commands.

It’s like when Moses parted the Red Sea. Everyone takes a few steps to the side so that Anna-Karin has free passage. She breathes a sigh of relief. Now she can walk calmly through the building at her leisure while the others are crammed together like sardines, forming a heaving, living wall along her path.

She searches for him everywhere but can’t find him. Eventually she crosses the hallway and opens what must be a door to the basement. She slips inside and closes the door behind her. A naked bulb lights the rough, unpainted pine planking that lines a staircase. Anna-Karin heads down it to another door, which she opens. Much of the little basement is occupied by a boiler and a huge freezer, each trying to drown the other’s loud humming. When she shuts the door, the music and loud voices dampen to a muffled drone.

An old grandfather clock is propped against one wall, with a broken guitar and two sledges. The junk of everyday life. It smells of stone, damp and earth. On the other side of the room, a green metal door stands ajar. Anna-Karin knows instinctively that she shouldn’t go through it. Perhaps that’s why she can’t resist.

The light nearly blinds her. The room is big and the walls are white. UV lamps hang from the ceiling above neat rows of green plants. It’s warm and damp, and she hears a monotonous whirring as if from electric fans.

How strange, she thinks, that someone should grow vegetables in their basement. Then she understands. How naïve she is. The green plants growing beneath the lamps are cannabis. Or marijuana. Or is it the same thing? She has no idea.

She looks at the table, which is cluttered with tools and a pile of well-thumbed instruction manuals. And, next to the manuals, a gun.

Anna-Karin moves closer. The gun is black with a brown handle. It looks as if it’s been used.

Just then she hears footsteps on the stairs and a door opening. Her eyes dart around nervously. The footsteps are coming closer. There’s nowhere to hide.

A tall, lanky guy enters the room. He’s wearing a grey hat pulled down over his eyebrows. He has a dull yet intense look in his eyes. Anna-Karin knows instantly who it is. Jonte.

‘This door’s supposed to be locked,’ he says.

‘It was open,’ Anna-Karin says. ‘I didn’t know …’

Jonte’s eyes narrow. He comes closer and Anna-Karin backs away until she hits the table.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’

Anna-Karin directs her power at him, tries to envelop him in a soft, pleasant feeling. Jonte stops short and cocks his head to one side, a bit like an animal listening for danger. Then his face relaxes, but he doesn’t quite let down his guard. Anna-Karin can’t get a hold of him. The beer, of course.

‘Anna-Karin?’ Jari’s voice calls out.

‘I’m here!’ Anna-Karin shouts back, a little louder than necessary.

She feels an enormous sense of relief when Jari comes in the room. ‘Hey, babe,’ he says, and smiles.

‘Who is she?’ Jonte asks, his voice still full of suspicion.

‘It’s cool. She’s with me,’ Jari says. ‘Anna-Karin, this is Jonte, who’s throwing this party.’ He holds up a clear bottle of brown liquid and grins at her.

‘Better than beer,’ he says triumphantly.

‘Get this skanky-ass bitch and that skunky-ass homebrew the fuck out of here,’ says Jonte with contempt.

‘Don’t you fucking—’ Jari says threateningly, and takes a step towards him.

‘It’s okay,’ Anna-Karin says quickly. ‘Come on, Jari.’

The noise from the party grows in intensity as they go up the stairs. ‘Jonte’s weird sometimes,’ Jari says. ‘His brain is, like, smoked. Know what I mean?’

He laughs hoarsely and holds out the bottle. Anna-Karin pauses to take it. Vanessa and Linnéa are most probably still up there. She swigs and nearly retches. Her mouth seems to be filled with napalm, but she forces herself to swallow. The liquid burns all the way