The boys laughed.
One of them said: “Both of them are he-dogs.”
The other boy said something that was probably supposed to be a joke, and then they just continued walking.
Student humour, thought Agnes in disgust, while still pretending that she didn’t know Doffen. The other woman also seemed to be embarrassed, because Agnes heard no more shouts for Blanzeflor.
She didn’t really know what to do. She couldn’t very well leave Doffen to his own devices, but she definitely refused to have anything to do with him while he was in the middle of such ... immoral business. As if to show that she was there for a completely different reason, she walked determinedly up to the ferry in order to pass the time.
A man was hanging over the rail by the steps that led to the moorings. Agnes naturally thought he was drunk, and shuddered. She hurried past him, but he called out: “Hello! Wait a moment!”
Agnes tripped along. She was a decent woman and would never react to such shouts.
“Wait! Help me! I’m not drunk but sick. Please help me for a moment.”
She hesitated. Then she turned around slowly. He had collapsed on the step and was sitting in the cold wind under one of the yellow lights on the wharf. His clothes were much too thin, and Agnes’s good heart got the better of her.
“What can I do for you?” she asked. “Do you want me to call a doctor?”
He shook his head. “I can do that myself later. But first of all, I must reach my ship and fetch something before it leaves. Would you mind helping me down to that boat over there? I can’t climb down by myself, and the wind is fierce.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake. It’s not good for you to try to reach the ship when you’re in such a pitiful state!”
“Yes, I just need to get aboard that rowing boat. Then I’ll just borrow it for a moment. It isn’t locked up, and I’ll be quick about it. Here, please give me a hand.”
The young woman came past and also stopped. She was plain-looking, almost nondescript. She went quickly down the steps and held the boat with stronger hands than Agnes’ spinsterish ones ...
The man crawled clumsily down and slid so that he very nearly fell over Agnes. For a moment, his face brushed against her own and she felt his feverish breath. Then the other woman stretched out her hand and supported him. He regained his balance and was on board the rowing boat.
“Thanks for your help,” he said and pushed off.
They followed the boat, which soon disappeared in the darkness. The ice floes knocked against it like steel and the oars creaked in their rowlocks. Light was streaming from a large ship by the quay, the wind was howling around the corners of the buildings, and Agnes suddenly realized that she was freezing.
The other woman said that she had to be going. She took her dog, which she had tied to a lamp post, and left. Agnes was too cowardly to confess that the dog the woman thought was a stray and had caused her problems, happened to be hers. Or almost. Agnes was silent and ashamed of Doffen.
She watched the woman walk away and disappear among the storage sheds.
Not until then did she dare to call Doffen in a low voice. A little, white, rumpled shadow appeared by her side as if nothing had happened. She quickly took the naughty dog by his collar and, without a word, she tripped off back towards town.
Pastor Prunck was on the telephone. His face was glistening with perspiration. He was speaking to Mr Holt, his bank manager. “I promise that within a fortnight, I’ll put every single penny on your desk. It’s no problem at all, I just need you to give me until then ...”
Mr Holt’s voice was sharp. “This isn’t the first time you’ve asked for an extension, Mr Prunck. The bank can’t wait any longer. We must have the money tomorrow, otherwise we’ll have to resort to the steps we take in such instances.”
Then he put the receiver down.
The pastor groaned. A few minutes later, he had made up his mind. He produced a list and began to call people on it. “Yes, it’s Pastor Prunck speaking. In his mercy, the Lord has given me a new revelation. We have to go to our shelter tonight, where we’ll await Doomsday on earth. The first horrible things are bound to start occurring, and we need to protect ourselves, the Lord’s little flock, in order to build a new ten millennia on earth.”
He thought that “millennium” sounded impressive so he had adopted it, but now changed his wording slightly. Where had “ten millennia” come from? But it sounded even grander. “So we’ll now gather all our belongings and move into the Temple. Secretly, of course. None of the infidels must play a part in our salvation.”
In the last quiet hours of the evening, the frightened but exulting members of the sect sneaked into the cave, dragging their bedclothes and all the other stuff they couldn’t do without.
Pastor Prunck stood by the door, counting his sheep, saying some encouraging words and giving small pats on the shoulder, muttering blessings, while he silently did some mental arithmetic, figuring out how much he could earn from each person.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, dear Karen Margrethe! Dogs don’t go to heaven!”
Kamma stopped abruptly. “I can’t leave Blanzeflor to a horrible death out in the world. Unless Lavinia stays outside with him.”
Pastor Prunck saw Vinnie’s fortune disappearing before his eyes, so he said in a tone of disgust: “Well, then bring the dog with you. But it mustn’t disturb the spiritual peace of our Temple.”
“He’ll be so quiet that you won’t notice him at all. Besides, we won’t be going to heaven yet, will we? Surely we’re being given the Lord’s protection so that we avoid death?”
Pastor Prunck laughed nervously. “Yes, of course.” Then he turned away from the inquisitive Kamma and asked the next family: “Where’s Karl Johan?”
“He’ll be coming,” the father said. “He wasn’t at home but ought to be here soon. We left him a message.”
The pastor seemed to disapprove of this answer. “In a quarter of an hour’s time, the gates will be closed.”
Another inconspicuous woman appeared out of the darkness with her belongings. Mr Prunck wanted to say that you can’t take anything with you to the other side, but wisely held his tongue – something he had learned from bitter experience. He mustn’t frighten them into thinking that it was already time to go. Because that wasn’t the case at all.
He looked around uneasily: “Where’s young Björg?”
“Don’t worry,” her mother replied. “Björg is coming. She just needed to close the boat house so that nobody loots it while we’re in here.”
Pastor Prunck gave a sigh of relief, but said sternly: “I think you’ve forgotten why we’re here! There will be nothing left of humankind when the punishment of the Lord strikes them!”
An elderly woman slipped into the cave and the pastor smiled most seductively at her, but his smile disappeared as soon as she had walked past him.
Finally, Björg showed up. Pastor Prunck felt his zest for life return when he saw her, and he stretched out his hand automatically to caress her silken hair. Immediately afterwards, young Karl Johan walked in.
Then the rusty iron door was closed and locked very securely. The end of the world could begin whenever it wanted.
So ended the evil day.
A seemingly ordinary, innocent day, followed by the day when the horror became apparent. The morning when Death swept across the town. When there was something ominous about the hoarse, discordant factory sirens.
For