[Johan Theorin] The Quarry: Chapter 1

Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
They just throughout his life, Johan has been a regular visitor to a Baltic Island of his mothers family, sailors, fishermen, and farmers have lived there for centuries nurturing the island's rich legacy of strange tales and folklore. Uh Johan's first novel echoes from the originally published in Sweden as the one with C W A. John Chris Duggan for best debut crime novel 2009 was a top 10 best seller in Sweden and has been sold all over the world in his second novel, The Darkest Room originally published in Sweden. As not ****. No, not won the C W A International Dagger 2010 and was a Swedish number one best seller. A journalist by profession. Johan is currently working on the final novel in his quarter of books, all of which are set on the island that means so much to him here. The dark hang up the quarry. Um First chapter it was March in northern and the sun was shining on small dirty white snow as they slowly melted on the lawns at the residential home for senior citizens in two blue flags fluttered in the breeze by the car park. The Swedish flag with its yellow cross and the flag of Holland with its golden stag national time, both were flying at half mast. A long black car moved slowly towards the home and stopped in front of the main entrance. Two middle aged men in thick winter coats climbed out and then turn around to the boot of a car where they slid out a metal trolley. They lowered the wheels and set off, pushing it up the wheelchair ramp and then through the glass doors, the men, their undertakers retired sea captain Gerloff Davidson was sitting drinking coffee in the dining room with his fellow residents and they emerged from the lift. He watched them move along the corridor, pushing the trolley in front of them on top of it lay yellow blankets and broad straps which would be used to secure the body. The men plodded silently past the dining room and continued towards the service lift which would take them down to the whole store. The murmur of conversation among the elderly residents had temporarily died away as a trolley passed by. But now it began once more. A couple of years earlier recalled everyone in the home. He had been asked to vote on deer. They wanted the undertakers to park at the back of the building and make their way indiscreetly through a side door. Then they came to collect someone who had passed away. Most had voted against the suggestion included plan we launch the old people in the home wanted to see a dead neighbor's final journey. They wanted to say goodbye. The person being collected on this cold day was an Axelson and he had died in his bed. What a pity. The story alone. And late at night as was often the case when death came, the staff on the morning shift had found him, called a doctor to certify the DEA and then dressed him in his best dark suit. They had fastened a plastic bracelet with his name and ID number around one wrist. And finally, they had wound the bandage around to, he had to keep his jaw closed when rigor set in because you can jo knew that thr had been deware of exactly what would happen to him after his death. Before he retired, he had worked as a church, pardon and grave digger. One of the many coffins he had buried, belonged to belonged to a murderer by the name of Nils. But most of the graves th had dug, there were there for ordinary Islanders. He had dug graves in the churchyard all year round except then there was a great deal of snow and the temperature below zero reach double figures. It had been particularly difficult to dig in the spring. He had explained to because the frost was so slow to leave a ground on the island. But the physical exertion hadn't been the worst thing Thorton had added. He had found it extremely hard to get out of bed on those days, when he knew he had to make his way to the church yard to dig a grave for a child who had passed away sad story. Now he would soon be lowered into his own grave in an urn Thorton wanted to be cremated. I'd rather burn than have my bones left in the ground to be tossed here and there. He had said things were different in the old days thought when he was young and some relative died, there were no undertakers or funeral directors to take care of the practicalities. In the old days, you died in your bed at home. Then some relative would make a coffin. This thought reminded Gerloff of an old family story. Uh As a newly married couple living in an renovated cottage down in at the beginning of the 20th century journal's father and mother had been woken one night by strange noises coming from the attic. It had sounded as if someone was hurling around the leftover planks of wood. His father stored up there. But then he went up to see what was happening. Everything was silent and there was nothing there. His father came down and went back to bed and the crashing and banging began again. Lots of ******* action. Jolo's parents lay there in the darkness listening to the terrifying noises, not daring to move. A muscle belov had finished his coffee. But undertakers came back with a trolley. He could see that there was a body on it now hidden beneath a blanket and secured with a leather straps. They moved silently and quickly towards the door. Farewell towards him. He thought when he outside door closed, Gerloff pushed back his chair, time to go. He said to his companions, he got slowly to his feet with the help of his stick. He gritted his teeth against the rheumatic pain in his legs and then into the corridor, heading for the supervisor's office for a few weeks. Now, JOLO had been thinking something over ever since his birthday when he suddenly realized he would be 85 in just a couple of years. Time was passing so quickly a year. Now that he was old was like a big when he was young today following Thorson's death, Jar Love had made up his mind. He knocked dented tentatively on the supervisor's door and pushed it open and bo answered, she was sitting at the computer filling in some kind of report. JOLO stood in the doorway saying nothing. Eventually she looked up. All right, Gerloff. Yes. What is it? Is there some kind of problem? He took a deep breath. I have to get away from here. Ball started to shake her head. I've already made up my mind. He broken. Oh, I'm going to tell you a story. JOLO noticed Ball raising her eyes weirdly to the ceiling, but he carried on anyway, my father and mother got married in 1910. We took over an old craft where no one had lived for several years. What the **** is craft on that first night when they went to bed, they heard strange noises from the attic ghost. It sounded as if somebody was sorting through the planks of wood. My father had stored up there. They could find no explanation for the noise. But the following morning, the neighbor called around journalist paused for a fact. Then then on the neighbor told them that his brother had died over on his farm the previous evening. Then he asked if they could spare him some wood to make a coffin. My father let him go up into the attic alone to choose some planks. And as my parents sat there in the kitchen listening to the banging and crashing from above, they recognized the noise. It was exactly the same as they had heard. The previous night, silence fell in the room and said it was a sign, a sign of impending death. Well, that was a very nice story. But what exactly is your point? He said the point he said is that if I stay here, uh it will be my coffin there making eggs. I've already heard the planks of wood being moved around and the rattle of the trolley as it comes to collect, the body Boyle appeared to give up. So what are you intending to do then? Where will you go home? Said your home to my cottage. The end of the first chapter. Goodbye.