Sofia glanced at her watch. 07:03. She was three minutes late. Jonathan was outside, braving the biting winter cold to keep watch. Despite the freezing temperatures, maintaining a watch was necessary.
Ming and Nikolaj were happy to participate, and with the two extra people, the watch shifts were less frequent. However, Jonathan wasn't thrilled about it. He insisted that the patio didn't provide a good enough vantage point. Their attempts to explain that having someone ready to defend the cabin was the main point had fallen on deaf ears.
For Przemek and Nikolaj, this was confusing, considering it was one of the most basic principles of army training. Despite this, tensions weren't high. Everyone had anticipated cabin fever being a significant issue, so the group had prepared by looting everything worthwhile from the village: books, music, board games. They had even brought extra mattresses for Sofia and Przemek .
For Przemek and Nikolaj, this was confusing, considering it was one of the most basic principles of army training. Despite this, tensions weren't high. Everyone had anticipated cabin fever being a significant issue, so the group had prepared by looting everything worthwhile from the village: books, music, board games. They had even brought extra mattresses for Sofia and Przemek .
The living room had been emptied and refitted into three compartments. Sofia and Przemek’s quarters were separated by bed sheets. While it didn't stop sound, it did provide some privacy. The remaining space served as a small living area. Though the group mostly gathered in the kitchen, people spent much of their time in their rooms. Especially Ming and Nikolaj.
She had heard that they had just met, but those two seemed inseparable. Often, when one was on watch, the other would be outside keeping them company.
She grabbed her submachine gun after slipping on her winter jacket. The blankets outside would help with the rest. Despite never having even touched a gun a year ago, she had grown very attached to it.
“Jesus Christ,” Jonathan muttered as she walked out. He didn’t look well; the two blankets on top of him didn't seem to help much. The snow had calmed down compared to last night, but it was still falling.
“Good morning to you too,” Sofia replied.
Jonathan nearly tripped over the machine gun on the floor, another security measure for the cabin.
“Jonathan,” Sofia called as he walked inside and turned around.
“The blankets,” she said. Jonathan realized he had walked in with both blankets. He laughed and apologized as he excused himself to return them.
As Sofia sat down on the sofa outside, she checked the status of the machine gun making sure it could be used. Do she knew nothing would happen today. Putting the two blankets on top of her she took a good look at the valley.
Even with the moonlight, she could see the blanket of pristine white snow that stretched as far as the eye could see, covering the rolling landscape in a soft, shimmering layer. The village lied nestled in the valley, its roofs sagging under the weight of the snow. Earlier in her life, that view would have been breathtaking and serene. But now, with the relentless winter snow trapping them in, it felt more like a cold reminder of their isolation.
She wondered what happened in the rest of the world, how many of the survivors would die from cold and starvation. How many of them were less fortunate than her. She was lucky to have met up with Jonathan and Przemek.
She also wondered what would happen to the lunatics. Nearly a year in and they still had no idea where they came from. The only things they had were speculations. The more optimists of the bunch, be it her group or the people at Kristianstad, believed that they would die from the cold, not able to heat themselves. That they would starve. She knew they wouldn’t be that lucky. She believed that the cold would slow them down, but it wouldn’t be the checkmate humanity needed. She knew how smart they were.
She heard noise inside of the cabin, she wondered who would be awake at that time.
07:12. She had just under three hours left on her watch. The book she was reading would keep her company once the sun was up. Obviously, turning on a light wasn’t a good idea.
The door creaked open, and Przemek stepped out, cradling two cups of coffee in his hands.
“This isn’t from your private stash, I hope,” Sofia asked with a teasing smile.
Przemek flashed a smirk. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” he replied in Swedish, handing her a cup.
Sofia took the cup gratefully. “Jonathan woke me up.”
“Ah, so he’s asleep now while you’re out here in the cold?”
“I don’t mind the cold,” Przemek said, wrapping her hands around the warm cup.
Sofia chuckled, “Well, at least you’ve got coffee to keep you warm.”
Sofia lifted the blanket, inviting Przemek to sit next to him.
“Dziękuję” he uttered as he sat down next to her.
“You’re still going out today?” Sofia asked, her voice tinged with concern.
“Hmh,” Przemek nodded, taking a sip of his coffee.
Sofia glanced back towards the valley, her expression troubled.
“You don’t approve?” Przemek asked, sensing her unease.
“I wouldn’t go looking for trouble,” Sofia replied sharply.
“If we’re right, this could be huge,” Przemek said earnestly. “If those bastards are dead or dying, it might be the best news we’ve heard in a long time.”
Sofia frowned. “What’s the difference? If they all die over the winter, we’ll just find their bodies in the spring.
Przemek shrugged. “Maybe Nikolaj and I just want to go for a walk,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.
Sofia’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not funny, Przemek . It’s not reassuring at all.”
Without saying a word, he gently draped his arm around her shoulders. His touch was warm and comforting. Sofia leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder.
“If it makes you feel better, Ming is pissed Nikolaj going out.” Przemek said silently.
Przemek and Jonathan trudged along the snowy road, their boots leaving deep, crunching impressions in the fresh snow. The path ahead was a blur of white, flanked by snow-laden trees that created a hushed, almost surreal atmosphere.
Przemek led the way, his breath forming faint clouds in the frigid air.. He occasionally glanced around, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of movement. His “Polizei” neck gaiter wrapped around his neck fluttered slightly with each step.
Nikolaj behind him seemed unfazed by the cold.
The two men walked in silence, the only sounds being the soft crunch of snow underfoot and the occasional distant call of a bird. Upon reaching the bus stop, Przemek set down his backpack and sat on the bench, shielding himself from the falling snow. Nikolaj did the same.
Nikolaj leaned against the cold, weathered bus stop wall, his fingers deftly retrieving a small pouch of tobacco from his coat pocket. He pinched a small amount of tobacco between his thumb and forefinger, spreading it evenly along a thin rolling paper. His hands moved with a quiet precision, unaffected by the cold that numbed most. He then carefully rolled the paper, tucking it in with a slight curl of his fingers, and sealed it with a quick swipe of his tongue. He twisted the end, forming a neat cigarette. Holding it between his lips, he pulled out a lighter, flicked it open, and sparked a flame. Shielding it with his hand, he brought it to the tip of the cigarette, inhaling deeply as the tobacco caught and the cigarette came to life.
“You don’t smoke?” He asked Przemek .
“Not anymore.” Przemek answered. Nikolaj nodded as they looked at the snowy field, a handful of ravens trying to dig under the snow.
“What are they doing?” Przemek asked.
“Too lazy to find out,” Nikolaj replied.
“Watch my stuff,” Przemek said as he stood up.
“It’s not worth getting your boots wet!” Nikolaj called after him as Przemek crossed the country road and entered the snow-covered field. By the time he reached the spot where the ravens were digging, the snow was nearly knee-deep.
At first he thought he thought it was a puppet, or a heap of trash. He found it darkly amusing that even after all this time, after all the violence, he still hesitated, still second-guessed himself, whenever he came across a body. As if the odds of an h&m mannequin laying here in a field were greater than some poor girl.
She must not have been here long, she had long red hair, a pair of jeans and some bomber jacket. She was not dressed well for this cold. It had reached minus 10 degrees Celsius a few days ago during the day. She was conserved well thanks to the cold. Around one of her shoulder was her backpack. Przemek didn’t know why, but he took her backpack. It wasn’t with the intention of looting, but more out of a curiosity to learn more about her.
He covered her up with more snow, trying to shelter her from the ravens. He knew it would only delay the inevitable.
He sat back down as Nikolaj was finishing his cigarette.
“What was it?” Nikolaj asked.
“What do you think it was?” Przemek answered annoyed as he sat back down. He opened the backpack after removing his gloves.
An empty water bottle, some bandages, a few loafs of bread and a note book.
“She must have left in a hurry,” Nikolaj remarked, a note of annoyance in his voice.
Przemek , clearly shaken by the sight of the dead girl, stood in silence, his mind racing with questions. He wondered about her origins and the circumstances that drove her to venture into such deadly weather, so ill-prepared.
“Poor girl must have been desperate to leave wherever she came from,” Przemek said quietly. “No one braves this hellish weather unless they're in a real rush.”
He opened the notebook he had found. The initial pages were filled with mundane class notes. “What’s this about?” Przemek asked, pointing out the pages.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
“Looks like she was a psychology student,” Nikolaj replied as he took the book from Przemek . He flipped through the pages, his touch impersonal due to the nerve damage in one of his hands.
“The second half of the book takes a sharp turn,” Nikolaj continued. “It shifts from psychology to housekeeping tasks.”
“How so?” Przemek inquired, his curiosity piqued.
“Tuesday, August 9th: Feed and check on the horses, help Peter after lunch, report to Olof after dinner,” Nikolaj read aloud.
“The last pages are from a few days ago. It’s more of the same,” Nikolaj added, retrieving a photograph that had served as a bookmark. He handed it to Przemek .
The picture showed the girl with what appeared to be her mother and father. Przemek guessed it was them, though he could never be certain.
Przemek placed the photo back into the notebook and tucked it into his backpack. “So, there’s another settlement nearby. I wonder why she left,” he said, a note of melancholy in his voice. The girl’s desperate journey and the mystery of her departure weighed heavily on him, adding a layer of sorrow to the already grim discovery.
“We better get going.” Nikolaj said.
“Yeah, two kilometers left and then god knows how long we’ll stay there.” Przemek answered in Swedish.
Przemek ’s attempts at Swedish and how he flip flopped between English and it amused Nikolaj. But he was impressed by how’s Przemek Swedish was improving and that he bothered to learn the language.
Their demeanor changed as they neared the outskirt of the village. They slowly made their way through a forest, slowed by the weather and the harsh terrain. Nikolaj was upfront, slowly crawling through the bush
Przemek and Nikolaj moved silently through the forest, their breath visible in the frigid air as snowflakes drifted down, blanketing the ground in a soft, treacherous layer. The village lay ahead, just beyond the treeline, its rooftops barely visible through the swirling snow. They both knew the dangers that might lurk there, so they approached with the utmost caution.
Every step was deliberate, the crunch of snow beneath their boots muffled as they navigated between the trees. The snowfall, while providing cover, also added to the eerie silence that surrounded them. Przemek led the way, his eyes constantly scanning the edge of the forest, searching for any signs of movement in the village.
Nikolaj followed close behind, his hand gripping the strap of his rifle, ready for anything. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on them both, both doubting whether their theory was worth the trip.
As they neared the outskirts of the village, the trees began to thin, offering glimpses of the darkened windows and snow-covered streets. The village appeared lifeless, but they knew better than to trust appearances. They crouched low behind a cluster of bushes, taking a moment to survey the scene.
They needed to know if they were correct or not. Nikolaj and Ming had had eyes on the village on their way west from Stockholm. They had seen the lunatics at the edge of the village. It had been confirmed by the folks in Kristianstad. Some people, Przemek included had seen them eat. Przemek , Sofia and Jonathan had been on the receiving end of a gun truck operated by lunatics. If they were smart enough for that, they believed they would be smart enough to find shelter, to make fires or even god forbid, farm.
Przemek removed a small camping chair that was attached to his backpack, a small stool with three legs. Nikolaj removed snow near the base of a tree and sat down on his backpack against it. They didn’t know how long they’ll have to wait. Their deadline for leaving was 3 pm. They wanted to be home on time and not be out in the night.
Nikolaj sat on his backpack, leaning against the rough bark of a tall pine tree. The cold bit through his clothes, sinking into his bones as the snow continued its silent, relentless fall. Everything around him was still, the world muted by the thick blanket of white that covered the forest floor.
He stared at the ground, lost in thought. Images of his past flickered through his mind, mingling with the cold. The snow kept falling, the world growing colder and quieter, as Nikolaj sat there, wrestling with himself and what might come next.
His thoughts turned to Ming. Memories of her surfaced, vivid and piercing in the stark quiet of the forest. He could almost see her smile, the feeling of her soft skin. The thought of every curve on her body made the air around him feel warmer.
He wondered if him and her was a good idea. Despite the grim reality of their situation she could be his emotional anchor in all of this. End of the world or not, she was worth the effort of becoming a better man and leaving his old habits behind.
“Here we go” Przemek said calmly as he pointed at one of the houses. Movement could be seen inside.
The door slammed open, and out he stumbled, a wild look in his eyes, hair matted and unkempt. The biting winter air seemed not to faze him as he trudged through the snow, his movements jerky and unpredictable. His coat, too thin for the weather, flapped open, revealing a mismatched assortment of clothes beneath, as if he had dressed in a frenzy without care or thought.
His breath came out in ragged puffs, visible in the cold air, but he paid no mind. His eyes darted around, as though searching for something only he could see, muttering incoherently under his breath. There was no logic in his actions, no clear purpose, just the manic energy that drove him forward. He reached the side of the house, where the firewood was stacked, and began grabbing logs with frantic urgency, some slipping from his grasp and falling into the snow.
His hands, raw and reddened by the cold, moved with a strange, furious determination, as if the firewood was the only thing holding his world together. Yet there was no method to his madness, only a desperate need to keep moving, to keep doing something, anything, to stave off whatever demons haunted him. You could see it in his eyes—the absolute disconnect from reality, the impossibility of reason or logic breaking through the haze of his madness.
As the man walked back inside with firewood, it slammed the door shut.
Nikolaj dropped his head in defeat. Przemek glanced at him, as if seeking confirmation that what they had just witnessed was real. When Nikolaj looked up and met Przemek ’s gaze, he slowly raised his hands, his lips pressed together, a gesture of helplessness and surrender.
“We sure that’s a lunatic right?” Jonathan asked.
“Why don’t you go knock and ask?” Przemek answered as he got off his chair and strapped it to his backpack.
“I’m not staying here any second longer.” He said.
Nikolaj couldn’t help but agree. What had this trip in the cold teached them but the inevitable.
As Nikolaj was lost in his thoughts, the sound of a motor could be heard.
“What the—” Przemek uttered as a the 4x4 stopped at the road just outside of the woodline.
The passenger walked out, average height with a receding hairline and a clipboard in his hand. He seemed cold and annoyed. Uncaring about anything but the cold he walked to the panel at the entrance of the village just 20 meters from where Nikolaj and Przemek were sitting.
Przemek looked back at the village in stressed anger at the village. The mad men that had picked up firewood was standing outside of his door, axe in hand.
“This is bad” he whispered to Nikolaj. The man was flipping through pages, obvious to the danger him and his driver were in.
A small crowd formed in the village as lunatics walked outside of their house. They had heard the sound of the car’s engine.
“Is the driver armed?” Nikolaj asked.
“Can’t see a weapon.” He added.
“Fuck, we’re not outrunning those lunatics through the forest. Follow my lead.” Przemek said as he stood up, rifle pressed against his shoulder.
“You keep an eye on the guy outside of the car, we have to make this quick.” He added as they hurried out of the wood.
“Drop that clipboard, hands in the air” Nikolaj yelled to the man.
He looked old, he seemed more confused than scared as Nikolaj and Przemek made their way out of the woodline and on the road, rifles in hand.
“Hands in the air!” Przemek yelled as he pointed his rifle through the passenger window and at the driver.
“Do you have any idea who we are?” The man outside yelled at Nikolaj.
“Do you know who you are? Just take a look at the village!” Nikolaj yelled.
The sight of the lunatic stumbling from the village toward them drained the color from the man with the clipboard, his face turning whiter than the snow around him. Panic gripped him as he stammered, "I-in the car!" He fumbled with the passenger door, desperate to escape. "Kjell, we’re leaving," he added, his voice trembling.
"Nuh uh, you’re going in the back with my friend," Przemek commanded, his gaze locked on the driver.
"You heard him—hands where I can see them!" Nikolaj barked, just as a brick smashed into the car’s windshield.
“Reverse, now!” Przemek yelled to the driver as he climbed in, his FNC rifle aimed squarely at the man’s head. “Easy!” he added, as more projectiles began pelting the car and the area around them.
Kjell and “the census man” as Nikolaj and Przemek called them stood on their knees, hands against the back of their head by the side of the road.
Przemek stood watch behind them as Nikolaj searched the car.
Nothing special could be found, only the driver’s pistol stood on the car hood of the car. A glock, same model that Nikolaj had been issued and had given to Ming.
“Nothing,” Nikolaj muttered to Przemek as he approached, fishing a cigarette out of the driver’s pack. He lit it with a flick of his lighter, the flame briefly illuminating his face in the fading light. He admired it for a second. They seemed home made and Nikolaj wondered where they had found tobacco.
“So, you mind telling us why you’re driving around like you’re collecting taxes?” Przemek asked the duo, his voice edged with suspicion as he eyed them both. “Start over again, but this time slower and without crying your eyes out. And we might not shoot you.”
The “tax man” answered “We’re from the principality of Eksjo, on orders of the king we’re here to mark the villages in his territory. That’s why we have the spray cans and my clipboard with the villages we’re supposed to mark.”
“See, that was easy!” Przemek answered.
He shot Nikolaj a stern look. Who ever those clown were, who ever that king was. They were in their backyard now.
“How many of you are there. What’s the principality of Eksjo?” Przemek asked.
“Our kingdom,” Alexander began, his voice steady despite the circumstances, “is a place of order and unity, ruled by our esteemed king. There are about 200 of us here, living under a structured and harmonious feudal system.”
Przemek and Nikolaj both looked at him with the same confused look on their eyes as he seemed to recite a prepared speech.
“We’re surrounded by sturdy defenses—wooden palisades and watchtowers—that protect us from any threats. His authority is absolute and divinely sanctioned, and it is to him that we owe our loyalty and obedience.”
Alexander’s tone carried a reverence that bordered on zealotry. “Our lives are meticulously organized. The land is worked by the peasants, while artisans and tradesmen cater to the needs of the community. Each person knows their place and role, and deviation from these roles is neither necessary nor desirable. Our king’s decrees are the foundation of our daily existence.”
Alexander’s gaze remained steady, his pride and confidence seemed to grow the more he spoke about it. “Our kingdom is a place where order prevails and the king’s word is the ultimate law. This is not just governance but the very essence of our existence. In all this chaos, we could rely on our king. Through all this mess, King Jensen was here for us!”
Nikolaj and Przemek exchanged a glance, the unspoken understanding between them clear. Przemek leaned forward, his voice sharp and demanding, “That doesn’t answer my question. How many people are there in your kingdom?”
Kjell, the driver, met Przemek ’s gaze with a resigned expression. “247 people,” he replied, his tone carrying a mix of pride and finality. “All trueborn Swedes.”
Przemek laughed and spun around before walking to the car.
“Okay, stand up” Nikolaj said, cradling his rifle.
“Turn around.” He said, the two men turned around, their pride and confidence disappearing at the sight of the two heavily armed men.
“We’re keeping your pistol for obvious reasons. You go back home, next time you’re on a fact finding mission make sure to be more cautious. Those mad men aren’t as lenient as we are.” Nikolaj said, rifle still cradled in his arms.
Przemek took the pistol from the car hood and handed it to Nikolaj. “Tak” Nikolaj uttered as he examined it carefully, checking the chamber to ensure a round was loaded. Satisfied, he slipped the pistol into the empty holster at his waist. The familiar weight and solidity of the sidearm was a comforting reminder of his readiness, and he adjusted the holster with a nod of satisfaction.
“Before you go” Przemek said, both of them. They turned around, terrified thinking they were about to be executed.
Przemek took out the notebook from his backpack, he took out the picture and showed it to them.
“You recognized that young woman?” He asked. “And before you say anything, I know the truth so you better not lie.”
The duo looked at each other concerned.
“Don’t look at each other, look at the picture. And hurry up I’m losing my patience.” He added.
“That’s Katrina, she left of her own accord a week ago.” Kjell answered.
There was a moment of silence.
“Go” Przemek said loudly before they made their way back in the forest.
They had made sure to drive far enough from the cabin so that they wouldn’t guide “Eksjo” back to their homestead.
The wind howled around Nikolaj and Przemek as they trudged up the hill, the snowstorm swirling relentlessly in every direction. Visibility was almost nonexistent, with the thick snowfall reducing the world to a blur of white. They pressed on, their breaths coming out in heavy clouds of vapor, each step a battle against the biting cold and the drifts that threatened to pull them back.
The snow was deep and treacherous, often reaching above their knees. They had to dig their boots into the snow with each step, the effort leaving them winded and exhausted. Their progress was slow, the storm making every movement a struggle. The wind cut through their layers of clothing, chilling them to the bone despite their best efforts to stay warm.
After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached the top of the hill. Through the snow storm, the outline of the cabin emerged, barely visible through the relentless snow. Nikolaj and Przemek paused for a moment, catching their breath and scanning the area.
Przemek fumbled with the flashlight, switching it to blue light. The beam cut through the storm, casting an eerie blue hue that flickered and danced through the falling snow. The light was a signal to Sofia, Ming, and Jonathan that they were near.
Nikolaj adjusted his own gear and glanced at Przemek , nodding in acknowledgment. Together, they made their way toward the cabin, their movements determined despite the exhausting conditions. The blue light cut through the snow like a beacon, its glow faint but noticeable against the storm's chaos.
As they drew closer, the cabin's outline became clearer, its silhouette a welcome sight in the blizzard.
Nikolaj and Przemek finally reached the cabin’s door, their faces flushed and windburned from the relentless snowstorm. With a shared grimace of relief, Nikolaj yanked open the door, and they stumbled inside, their boots thudding on the wooden floor.
The cabin’s interior was a welcome sanctuary from the howling wind and biting cold. The storm’s roar was muffled to a distant, angry growl, replaced by the crackling silence of the small, dimly lit space. Ming and Sofia were sitting in the kitchen, their expressions a mixture of worry and relief as they saw them enter.
“Cholera jasna!” Przemek yelled, shaking snow from his coat with frustrated energy. His eyes softened as he saw Sofia and Ming, and he gave a quick nod of acknowledgment. “Good to see you both.”
Nikolaj, still shivering, grumbled, “va helvete!.”
He moved with purpose toward the stove and grabbed a blanket on the way there. He sat infront of it next to Przemek , removed his vest and covered himself under the blanket
“What happened?” Sofia asked, standing up and making her way to boil some water for them.
“You wouldn’t believe it” Przemek said as he warmed himself.