Page 82 of The Sleepwalker (Joona Linna #10)

Hugo almost loses his footing as a gust of wind takes hold of him. He stumbles, slips down a couple of steps and regains his balance, but it feels like he has pulled a muscle in his back.

The snow lashes at his face.

It has taken him almost an hour to walk two kilometres, clambering over fallen trees and ducking to avoid flying debris.

All around him, flagpoles have snapped, and there are broken awnings and solar panels strewn along the street.

When the metro reached Aspudden, there was an announcement telling everyone to leave the train, and the driver locked the doors behind them.

Most people hung around on the platform, but Hugo decided to walk the last few kilometres home, despite all the warnings. He did up the zip on his coat and climbed the stairs. The station doors were broken, and the tiled floor in the ticket hall was buried beneath a thick blanket of snow.

It felt as though he had been hit by a snow cannon as he left the building and headed out onto the dark street.

There was no sign of anyone else out and about.

Hugo is now less than half a kilometre from home, but he has lost all feeling in his face. He hurries along the street, past a fence that seems to have been torn out of the ground outside a large villa. Pink curtains flutter through two broken windows.

He takes cover for a moment against a supporting wall when he sees the cover from a swimming pool careening through the air.

It crashes down onto a car roof nearby with such force that the windows shatter.

The last stretch along Pettersbergsv?gen is relatively sheltered, but the tall pines creak as they bend in the wind, and the snow beneath them is full of branches, needles and cones.

In the darkness and the haze, Hugo almost misses his own driveway.

Their green rubbish bins have all blown over.

He picks his way down the slope, battling through the fierce wind blowing in from the lake. He scrapes the inside of his thigh as he clambers over three fallen trees, then runs the last few metres to the door.

His long hair whips around his face.

The ground is littered with broken roof tiles, he notices, and the old maple is groaning.

Hugo fumbles for his keys and opens the door with stiff fingers. He stamps his shoes, hurries inside and locks the door behind him.

Shivering, he brushes the snow from his coat, hangs it up, kicks off his shoes and makes his way down the dark hall towards the kitchen.

The wind is howling in the extractor fan.

He goes through to the library and smells the faint scent of burning wood. His father must have lit a fire in the stove in the bedroom, he thinks.

Hugo climbs the stairs and sees the warm glow in the hallway.

As ever when he reaches the landing, he glances to the left, through the window in the door leading to his old room, before turning right into the main bedroom.

Bernard and Agneta are sitting by the stove, each with a glass of wine. On the sideboard, there is a plate of hotdogs and buns.

‘Hugo!’ Bernard shouts, getting to his feet.

‘The metro stopped at Aspudden, so I had to walk,’ he says.

‘You were probably lucky; nothing is working,’ Bernard says as he comes over to give him a hug. ‘My God, you’re frozen. Here, sit down by the fire.’

‘It’s crazy out there.’

‘I’m just glad you made it home safely.’

‘Hi, Agneta.’

She looks up, nods and gives him an absent smile.

The gale thunders in the chimney, and a sudden downdraught causes sparks to fly inside the stove just as a large amount of snow hits the window.

‘Crikey,’ says Bernard.

‘Have you guys been out?’ asks Hugo.

‘We’re supposed to stay indoors. Come on, sit down.’

Hugo takes a seat on the footstool and holds his hands to the stove. He feels the heat on his face, and his fingers start to tingle as they slowly warm up.

‘Would you like a whisky?’ asks Bernard.

‘Seriously?’

‘Special circumstances.’

‘I could go for some wine,’ Hugo replies.

‘Some wine it is, then.’ Bernard smiles and pours him a tumbler.

‘Thanks.’

‘Are you hungry?’

‘Starving.’

‘Cheers.’

Hugo toasts with his father and tries to meet Agneta’s eye, but she is staring at the fire, at the charred wood and flickering embers.

‘What do you think? Is it ready for the sausages?’

‘Maybe a bit longer?’ Hugo replies.

Agneta doesn’t speak. She seems lost in thought, absentmindedly scratching at a stain on the arm of her denim shirt.

‘You OK, Agneta?’ Hugo asks.

‘Fine,’ she replies, looking him straight in the eye.

‘Are you?’ Bernard says, giving her a strange smile.

‘You two are being really weird. Have you been fighting or something?’

‘Fighting? No. It’s probably just the storm .?.?. and because we couldn’t get hold of you,’ says Bernard.

There is another low rumble inside the chimney. The sound is ominous, like trumpets deep underground. Hugo shuffles back from the stove and feels the cool wine on his lips as he takes a sip from his glass.

‘Dad, I know you really like Lars, that you’re friends and stuff,’ he says. ‘But it seems like he’s been giving me and some of the other patients meds that actually make us worse, that make us sleepwalk more , rather than less .?.?.’

‘He’s extremely focused on his research.’

‘Yeah, I get that it’s all for his research, but it’s just so .?.?. unethical.’

‘It’s not always an easy line to draw.’

‘Would you stop defending him?’ Hugo says, both amused and surprised.

‘I’m not.’

There is a loud crack outside, followed by a series of heavy noises downstairs.

‘God, what was that?’ says Hugo.

‘Sounded like the maple just fell,’ Bernard replies, reaching for the poker.

He jabs at the fire, causing the blackened wood to fall apart.

‘I’ll go and get more logs,’ says Agneta.

‘There’s no need,’ Bernard replies, gripping her wrist.

‘For overnight,’ she explains, pulling her hand back.

‘What’s going on, Dad?’

‘I don’t want her to go out in this weather. I’ve already brought in all the wood we need; we’ve got two full baskets in the library.’

Hugo notices that Agneta’s face is sweaty.

Bernard spears three hotdogs on skewers with wooden handles.

‘I started reading my medical records,’ Hugo says. ‘You know, from when I was little. It said I had a broken collarbone when I arrived at the lab for the first time. You never told me that.’

‘That’s right, I’d completely forgotten,’ says Bernard. ‘You were playing on the rope swing we had back then, and you crashed into the trunk.’

‘But I remember I .?.?.’

Hugo trails off, gazing in at the hotdogs in the stove.

‘What? What were you going to say?’ Bernard asks, looking up at him with glassy eyes.