US v THEM

The Second World

  We arrive to the prison about thirty minutes later. It isn't at all what I was picturing. To be fair, it barely resembles a penitentiary. The entire place is surrounded by grass and vegetation and a wire fence circles it. But as it used to keep the prisoners in, it now keeps the intruders out. It is not imprisonment anymore but protection. I observe a few döda struggling to even pass a finger through the fence, craving what is on the other side. And we see what is there as well—people. Not a lot at first but the sound and sight of our vehicle parking in front of the prison gate does not go unnoticed and the place starts to fill up. I guess it is what we expected. A black woman with short afro hair looks agitated and runs to the prison tower. Some men are in charge of killing all the remaining döda that surround the fence in order to let us come out safely.

  Cora is the first to open the door of the car but she is interrupted by Vinter who grabs her arm. She is surprised by such a gesture and so am I. He seems to be too because he lets go of her but not after he asked her if she was sure of what she was doing. She tells him that it is safe and closes the door on her way out. The woman comes back with a man. To describe him, the only word that comes to my mind is simple. He seems like quite a simple man, probably in his thirties, who wears a blue pullover to make up for his very skinny body and slightly bearded. He looks shy and quiet, yet his presence in this moment gives him importance—like a kind of authority. And he is not alone but accompanied by a punky-looking woman with short black hair and matching eye shadow and another man, maybe a bit younger than the previous one, who—as for him—has mid-length sorta blond hair. Also, they are both pointing guns at us. Cora puts her hands in the air and slowly approaches the fence; they follow her closely.

  "I was wondering when you were finally gonna come out and say hello," the skinny man says.

  "Do we know each other?" she asks, confused.

  "We spotted you observing us from the trees a few times," he reveals, amused.

  "Well, I thought I was a bit more discreet than that," she replies—as she does—her hands still placed above her shoulders. "I guess I overestimated my sense of discretion. Can they put their guns down now?"

  "Not before they got out of the car," the man imposes, referring to us.

  All eyes on me. As soon as we leave the vehicle, we say goodbye to safety and escape. I see Höst's uncertainty in his look, but he also cannot conceal his excitement. I think everybody feels the same here. I eventually decide to open the door and show myself.

  "Roman!" the black woman calls him.

  Both guns are now pointed at me and I quickly understand why. I put my hands up—again—and sigh.

  "It's okay, he just cut himself running through the woods," Cora explains.

  "Show us," the armed man orders aggressively.

  Of course explaining wouldn't be sufficient. I roll up my pant leg for the last time, take the bandage off and reveal my stitched wound.

  "It's not a bite," the short-haired woman confirms.

 "Okay," the simple man says; they lower their guns.

 I put my hands down in turn and look at the rest of the group that stayed in the car. A movement of the head makes them understand that it is safe to join me outside and they do. Vinter comes first and Höst last.

  "No way," the man blurts, approaching the gate.

  "A child!" the black woman completes his thought.

  Sommar keeps him close; this reception has nothing welcoming to it.

  "Open the gate," he eventually demands after a brief instant of contemplation.