Chapter 9
Iver entered the house. It was as if he had read her thoughts, or maybe he had.
– You're dead.
– What are you saying? – Glenda asked in fear, but did not receive an answer.
The horror was that she felt the truth in his words. Something is wrong in this whole story, something she doesn’t know yet, but the veil of secrecy will lift and everything will fall into place.
– Who am I?
– Iver Larsen. – the girl said in bewilderment.
– Who am I? – the man continued to ask confidently and calmly, as if not hearing her answers.
– Criminology policeman from Copenhagen.
– Who am I?
– A passenger from a London-Copenhagen plane.
– Who am I?
– I don't know! – Glenda cried, crying from powerlessness.
– Who am I? – the man asked a little softer. Gray hair appeared at his temples, and his eyes became brown, like amber.
Unable to resist the obsessive image of her loved one any longer, the girl exhaled:
– Father.
Iver's entire appearance slipped away like a theatrical vestment. A gray-haired, brown-eyed man of about forty-five in a flannel shirt and frayed jeans stood in front of Glenda, smiling timidly, as if expecting that her daughter would now attack him with accusation or resentment.
– Dad, is that you?
– Yeah baby. – He timidly extended his arms for a hug. – Come to me, honey.
Sobbing loudly, tired, disheveled Glenda rushed to the man. How she sucked. How many years have passed since his death, how many times she cried into her pillow, wanting to talk to him, but could not. She yearned for his love, fatherly care, and now he is finally here. There is no limit to happiness. The smell of smoky clothes mixed with baked goods, as she remembered him from childhood, confirmed that it was him, the father.
After standing like this for four minutes, both relatives sat down on the sofa in tears to discuss and sort everything out.
– Am I in the kingdom of the dead?
– Something like that.
– But how… – the words got stuck in my throat.
– How did you get here? – the gray-haired man helped, and seeing his daughter’s nod, he began the story. – Do you remember when you were flying straight into the thunderclouds on the plane? – Glenda covered her mouth with her hand, and silent tears flowed down her cheeks. The horror of the realization took her by surprise. Mr. Miller continued. – The airliner took off from Heathrow Airport. The flight took place over the North Sea in adverse weather conditions. Thunderstorms and wind shear caused the autopilot to disengage. The captain and co-pilot made mistakes in piloting, and precipitation, combined with low air temperatures, caused icing and damage to the engines, which led to their failure…
– So we fell into the sea? – Glenda interrupted the story.
– Yeah baby. But before that, the plane caught fire and broke into pieces.
– God! Glenda looked down at her body. “Wet and wounded, it exuded a burning smell, but surprisingly, it no longer caused either horror or nausea. – Will I remain like this forever?
“No, silly, you can create any illusion you like,” the father answered lovingly. And Glenda looked at herself again, her arms and legs were already in luxury clothes, her hair was combed, and in the mirror she noticed a pleasant pink blush.
– Who are all these people?
– Think.
“I understand!” the girl exclaimed joyfully and sadly at the same time. “Since you, my dad, Iver, are a neighbor from the plane, then the rest are also dead passengers.”
– So. Fine. “Didn’t Jack remind you of anyone else?” the gray-haired man smiled.
– Uncle Samuel! – now Glenda said cheerfully.
– Fine. Was mom here?
The girl thought about it. They had little contact with their mother as children. She was more of a daddy's girl: she was always tinkering in the garage, going fishing with him, shooting plates in the fields with a gun. And my mother spent all her time in the city, running a small office, until she got sick. Despite the rarity of meetings, Glenda loved her, especially lullabies before bed, but having lost her early, she completely forgot.
– Police station manager. – Prickly salty tears flowed down the girl’s tender cheeks again. The man pressed her against the flannel shirt.
– And the woman who gave you an IV?
– Linda, childhood friend. – Glenda said with disgust.
– What about Jornas, Catherine and Graham?
The girl lying on her father’s shoulder raised her head.
– I do not know them.
– Right. These are participants in the very crime for which you took a million for failure to solve. – the father said dejectedly and a little sternly. The censure came in very handy here. Glenda understood that everything could have gone differently if she had taken that dirty money. In the end, she would still be alive.
– So there was no Denmark?
– No.
– How do I know so much about her?
– As a child, I told you about her after business trips, brought gifts, photo cards, and you listened to everything with your mouth open and listened to every detail.
– And this house is haunted?
– No more than your imagination. Our house.
– And the scream in the middle of the hall?
– It was my help to you. But you created this terrible cry yourself.
– Dying airplane passengers?
The man just nodded, pursing his lips and looking at his daughter knowingly.
– So now I’ll stay here forever with you, mom and Uncle Samuel, and then we’ll go to heaven or hell?
The man laughed kindly.
– You can return there, be born again and, having matured, correct your biggest sin. In eighteen years, or even earlier, you can reach criminal politicians and their families, expose the most terrible crimes, save people from tyrants and murderers, eradicate injustice. Or… – he paused. – stay here, but there is no hell or heaven here, there is only your imagination and nothing more.
– But I will forget everything.
– Yes.
– How can I not do the same thing again?
– You won’t do it anymore.
Glenda nodded and hugged her father tightly.