I’m on my knees. Naked. A gun at the back of my neck and also a knife in play. Not a lot going for me.
Except for one thing.
The knowledge that I hadn’t been making all this up. I hadn’t killed the people the police think I killed. I hadn’t made myself schizo.
I take in deep breaths, the air’s never seemed so sweet. Painfully sweet. The sky lightens by the second, stars blinking out, and the world rebirthing around me. A clearing hemmed in by trees. There’s grass, probably millions of blades of it, and on each blade tiny droplets of dew are glistening as they come alive in the light. A bird starts a long warbling melody, complex and simple and one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. There’s a stillness to it. It’s like a key to another place, another time, which is nevertheless right here, right now. I feel deep pangs of regret. I’ve made so many mistakes, so many things that I could have done better.
Most of all I think of Tanya. But even that slips away and I start to sense this place is different, that this place is better. This place is –
‘You know what I’m going to do, don’t you?’
Klaasen’s voice. I don’t want to hear it, the ugly intrusion into where I’m heading. I just want to die here peacefully, taking in the world that I’d never fully appreciated before. The sheer beauty of it all and my failure to see it before more painful than anything he can do to me with his knife.
Klaasen leans in and whispers in my ear, his breath hot and rancid. ‘I’m going to cut your throat and watch you bleed to death.’
I’m leaving this world. It suddenly seems so simple. Like I was destined for this all along. I breathe in again as Klaasen shifts behind me and I feel the knife at my throat. The metal’s cool, but then turns hot as it slices into my flesh.
The pain’s like a switch. It ignites me, electrifies me, jolts through every cell I have. Thought is gone. Thought is nothing.
I slam my head back and to the side, away from the knife. I feel Klaasen’s nose crunch. I throw myself down and roll several times, my hands still bound at the wrist. The world spins, grass, trees, sky, grass, trees, sky. Something’s happening. I feel different.
I turn to face him. He’s standing now, grinning at me, gripping the knife. Nose to the wind. I also see that I’ve been tricked. In his other hand, the hand that I thought was holding the gun, is a very short piece of metal piping. He holds it up, taking aim. He pretends to fire it, and then grins even more.
The world drops away. My stomach lurches. I can feel a huge swell inside me, rising up and gathering strength and speed and power. Up and up and up until I can control it no longer. I’m taken by its sheer magnificent intensity.
As I launch myself towards him, a terrible cry coming from my lips, I know that I’m not me.
Everything’s easy now, everything’s slow. I dodge the swing of the knife, and throw myself right at him, slamming into his chest, knocking him backwards. He takes a few stumbling steps, then catches a heel on something. It takes forever, his arms windmilling, but still he goes down. The earth vibrates as he hits. I leap forward and stamp on his wrist. The knife drops from his fingers. With the other hand he swings the metal rod up and round into my knee. The pain feels amazing. Clear, pure. I stamp on that arm as well and he drops it. He’s still grinning but it’s fixed now. There’s fear in his eyes. There’s fear in the air. I can smell it.
I drop down, knees pinning both his arms. I shove a hand under his chin, exposing his neck. It’s unprotected, stretched out in the gathering light.
Something shifts inside me. Our teeth are bared. Saliva drips.
We itch to bite. Bite the neck and shake it till the crunch that tells us it’s finally broken and he goes limp.
Tremors. Trembling. Bite. Bite. Bite bite bitebitebitebite …
I pull back. It’s got me this far. But I’m in control. I’m still trembling. The desire to bite a blazing fire in my head, my whole body. I force myself to breathe slowly.
I am in control. I start to speak, the words alien sounds at first, odd shapes in my mouth. But they begin to come into focus. I’m breathing hard, the desire is fighting back, and wants to take control, to deal with this situation as it should be. I force it down, force myself to be the one in charge. I start to speak again, and this time the words make sense to me right from the start.
‘Rein Benner, I’m arresting you for the murder of Lucie Muller, Marian—’
His scream of rage drowns out the rest. A bird, startled in a nearby tree, flaps up into the air.