Page 32 of The Living and the Dead

“Seven.”

Hard to believe. The boy in front of Sander was already a head taller than him, and he was as wide as a whole motorcycle. But he looked strong too. Probably good to have around in a war, no matter how old he was.

“What’s your name?”

“Killian.”

“What?”

“Killian.”

Sander had never heard a name like that before, but then again, no one else shared his name either.

“Do you want to join? We need more valiant soldiers.”

“What does ‘valiant’ mean?”

Sander had to think about it. “That you’re brave, sort of. All heroes are valiant.” He crouched down and peered around, like a soldier would do. “We just need to find you a gun.”

Killian turned his head to look at a large bush nearby. From it he snapped off his own branch, and once he pinched off the little twigs, it looked almost exactly like Sander’s, just a little flimsier.

“Will this work?”

“It can be a Kalashnikov.”

“What’sa—”

“Look out, they’re coming!”

After a moment, the bus to Halmstad arrived, chugging and sighing. When Sander saw it, there was a tingle in his belly and he turned to his brother-in-arms. “Do you have any money?”

Killian’s eyes were huge as he gazed at Sander. “No.”

“You need money so you can pay.”

Sander dug deep in his pocket and took out two ten-kronor bills.

“Here.”

The bus driver took their money and they sat in the way back. While the world was going by outside, Killian worried about what he would say if his mother boarded the bus, what would happen if thedriver threw them off, if they would be able to find their way home again, if some grown-up would help them, if there were strangers on the bus or in town who wanted to hurt them,if—

“Killian.” Sander touched his arm. “Relax. It’s fine. We’re just riding the bus.”

“But I’m worried, though. How will we get home again?”

“You can ride back on the same ticket, of course. And no one will notice that we’re gone.”

With every intersection, red light, and curve they passed, Killian’s concerns were drowned out by curiosity. Soon they both had their faces pressed to the window, as though neither of them had ever seen the city before. It seemed brand-new.

They got off at Stora Torg, which was bustling with movement and energy. People walked by with grocery bags or briefcases or suitcases in hand; buses drove by and birds flocked around the big fountain. They saw different cars from the ones at home, smelled different smells and heard different voices. When they passed cafés, they overheard what people were talking about, how they laughed.

Sander saw bus stops for lines with destinations he’d never heard of, and he wondered where they were. He observed the city people, how they were dressed and how they behaved, where they looked when they walked. He tried to move like them, because if he could do that, he thought, he would be one of them.

Killian stopped at each shop window, had a look, and moved to the next. He said things like “Hey, those shoes are super nice, I want ones like that” and “Weird how they’re selling winter clothes right now, it’s summer” and “Wow, princess cake!”

Sander secretly watched him, this new comrade, and tried to figure out who he was. He was big and friendly, but sometimes he almost seemed a little dumb, as though the world were a question and he had no answer.

“How many pieces of princess cake can you eat?” Sander asked.