The 100-year-old man who climbed out the window and disappeared --Ch.1, Ch.2

ONEMonday, May 2, 2005 You might think he could have made up his mind earlier, and been man enough to inform his surroundings of his decision. But Allan Karlsson had never been given to pondering things too long.So the idea had barely taken hold in the old man's head before he opened the window of his room on the ground floor of the Old Folks' Home in the town of Malmkoping, and stepped out-into the flower bed.This maneuver required a bit of effort, since Allan was 100 years old, on this very day in fact. There was less than an hour to go before his birthday party would begin in the lounge of the Old Folks' Home. The mayor would be there. And the local paper.And all the other old people. And the entire staff, led by bad-tempered Director Alice.It was only the Birthday Boy himself who didn't intend to turn up. TWOMonday, May 2, 2005 Allan Karlsson hesitated as he stood there in the flower bed that ran along one side of the Old Folks' Home. He was wearing a brown jacket with brown trousers and on his feet he had a pair of brown indoor slippers. He was not a fashion plate; people rarely are at that age. He was on the run from his own birthday party, another unusual thing for a 100-year-old, not least because even being 100 is pretty rare.Allan thought about whether he should make the effort to crawl back in through the window to get his hat and shoes,but when he felt his wallet in his inside pocket, he decided that it would suffice. Besides, Director Alice had repeatedly shown that she had a sixth sense(wherever he hid his vodka, she found it), and she might be nosing around in there even now, suspicious that something fishy was going on.Better to be on his way while he could, Allan thought, as he stepped out of the flower bed on creaking knees. In his wallet, as far as he could remember, he had a few notes saved - a good thing since it probably wouldn't be free to go into hiding.He turned to take one last look at the Old Folks' Home that - until a few moments ago - he had thought would be his last residence on Earth, and then he told himself that he could die some other time, in some other place.The 100-year-old man set off in his pee-slippers(so called because men of an advanced age rarely pee farther than their shoes),first through a park and then alongside an open field where a market was occasionally held in the otherwise quiet provincial town. After a few hundred yards, Allan went around the back of the district's medieval church and sat down on a bench next to some gravestones to rest his aching knees. The piety in the area was not such that Allan worried about being disturbed. He noted an ironic coincidence. He was born the same year as a Henning Algotsson who lay beneath the stone just across from the bench.But there was an important difference - Henning had given up the ghost sixty-one years earlier. If Allan had been more curious he might have wondered what Henning died of, at the age of thirty-nine. But Allan did not get into other people's business - if he could avoid it, which he usually could. Instead, he thought that he had probably been mistaken when he'd sat in the Old Folks' Home, feeling as if he might as well be dead. However many aches and pains he suffered, it had to be much more interesting and instructive to be on the run from Director Alice than to be lying rigid six feet under. Upon which thought the Birthday Boy, despite his complaining knees, got up and said good-bye to Henning Algotsson and continued on his badly planned flight.Allan cut across the churchyard to the south, until a stone wall appeared in his path. It wasn't more than three feet high, but Allan was a centenarian, not a high jumper. On the other side was Malmkoping's bus station and the old man suddenly realized that his rickety legs were taking him toward a building that could be very useful. Once, many years earlier, Allan had crossed the Himalayas. That was no picnic. Allan thought about that experience now, as he stood before the last hurdle between himself and the station. He considered the matter so intently that the stone wall in front of his eyes seemed to shrink. And when it wasat its very lowest, Allan crept over it, age and knees be damned.Malmkoping is not what you'd call a bustling town, and this sunny weekday morning was no exception. Allan hadn't met a living soul since he had suddenly decided not to show up at his own hundredth birthday party. The station waiting room was almost empty when Allan shuffled in. Almost. On the right were two ticket windows, one closed. Behind the other sat a little man with small, round glasses, thin hair combed to one side, and a uniform vest. The man gave him an irritated look as he raised his eyes from his computer screen. Perhaps the current crowd was too much for him, because over in the corner stood a young man of slight build, with long, greasy blond hair, a scraggly beard, and a jean jacket with the words Never Again on the back.Perhaps the young man was illiterate since he was pulling at the door to the handicapped restroom, as if the sign Out of Order in black lettering against an orange-colored background had no meaning.After a moment, he did move to the door to the restroom next to it, but there he faced a different problem. Evidently he didn't want to be parted from his big, gray suitcase on wheels, but the restroom was simply too small for the two of them. It seemed toAllan that the young man would either have to leave the suitcase outside while he relieved himself, or allow the suitcase to occupy the restroom, while he himself remained outside.But Allan had more pressing concerns. Making an effort to lift his legs in the right sequence, he shuffled with small steps up to the little man in the open ticket window and inquired as to the possibility of public transport in some direction, any at all woulddo, within the nest few minutes, and if there was, what would it cost?The little man looked tired. He had probably lost track of things halfway through Allan's inquiry, because after a few seconds, he said: "And where is it you want to go?"Allan took a deep breath, and reminded the little man that he had already stated that the actual destination, and for that matter the means of transport, were of less importance than a)the time of departure, and b)the cost.The little man silently inspected his timetables and let Allan's words sink in. "Bus number 202 departs for Strangnas in three minutes. Would that work?"Yes, Allan thought it would. The little man told him that the bus departed from outside the terminal door and that it would be most convenient to buy a ticket directly from the driver.Allan wondered what the little man did behind the window if he didn't sell tickets, but he didn't say anything. The little man possibly wondered the same thing. Allan thanked him for his help and tried to tip the hat he had in his haste not brought along. The 100-year-old man sat down on one of the two empty benches, alone with his thoughts. The wretched birthday party at thehome would start at three o'clock, and that was in twelve minutes. At any moment they would be banging on the door to Allan's room, and then all hell would break loose. He smiled at the thought.Then, out of the corner of his eye, Allan saw that somebody was approaching. It was the slightly built young man heading straight for Allan with his big suitcase trailing behind him on four wheels. Allan realized that he might not be able to avoid engaging the long-haired youth in conversation. Perhaps that wasn't so bad. He might gain insight into what today's young people thought about this and that.A conversation did take place, but without the depth of social analysis Allan had anticipated. The young man came to a halt a few yards away, seemed to study the old man for a moment, and then said: "Hey."Allan replied in a friendly tone, saying that he wished him a good afternoon, and then asked him if there was some way he could be of service. It turned out that there was. The young man wanted Allan to keep an eye on the suitcase while the owner relieved himself. Or as he expressed it:--I need to take a dump.Allan replied that, although he was old and decrepit, his eyesight was still in good repair and it did not sound like too arduous atask to keep an eye on the young man's suitcase. He did recommend that the young man relieve himself with some urgency - without, of course, using the young man's own terminology - as Allan had a bus to catch.The young man did not hear the last bit. His urgent need drove him toward the toilet before Allan had finished speaking.The 100-year-old man had never let himself be irritated by people, even when there was a good reason to be, and he was not annoyed by the uncouth manner of this youth. But he couldn't warm to him either, and that probably played some part in what happened next.Bus number 202 rolled up outside the entrance to the terminal, just a few seconds after the young man had closed the toilet door behind him. Allan looked at the bus and then at the suitcase, then again at the bus and then again at the suitcase.It has wheels, he said to himself. And there's a strap to pull it by too.And then Allan surprised himself by making what - you have to admit - was a decision that said "yes" to life.The bus driver was conscientious and polite. He stepped down and helped the very old man with the big suitcase to get on the bus.Allan thanked him and pulled out his wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket. The bus driver wondered if the gentleman was possibly going all the way to Strangnas. But Allan thought it best to be frugal and so he held out a fifty-crown note and asked:--How far will this get me?The driver said jovially that he was used to people who knew where they wanted to go but not what it would cost, but this was quite the opposite. Then he looked in his schedule and replied that for forty-eight crowns you could travel on the bus to Byringe Station. Allan thought that sounded fine. The driver put the newly stolen suitcase in the baggage area behind his seat, while Allan sat down in the first row on the righthand side. From there he could see through the window of the station's waiting room. The restroom door was still closed when the bus rolled off. Allan hoped for the young man's sake that he was having a pleasant time in there, bearing in mind the disappointment that was awaiting him.  The bus to Strangnas was not exactly crowded that afternoon. In the back row there was a middle-aged woman, in the middle ayoung mother who had struggled on board with her two children, one of them in a baby carriage, and at the very front an extremely old man.This passenger was wondering why he had stolen a big gray suitcase on four wheels. Was it because he could and because the owner was a lout or because the suitcase might contain a pair of shoes and even a hat? Or was it because the old man didn't have anything to lose? Allan really couldn't say why he did it. When life has gone into overtime it's easy to take liberties, he thought, and he made himself comfortable in the seat.So far, Allan was satisfied with the way the day had developed. Then he closed his eyes for his afternoon nap.At that same moment, Director Alice knocked on the door to room 1 at the Old Folks' Home. She knocked again and again.--Stop fooling around, Allan. The mayor and everyone else have already arrived. Do you hear me? You haven't been at the bottle again, have you? Come out this minute, Allan! Allan?At about the same time, the door opened to what was, for the time being, the only functioning toilet in Malmkoping Station. Out stepped a young man who was doubly relieved. He took a few steps toward the middle of the waiting room, tightening his belt with one hand and combing his hair with his fingers of the other hand. Then he stopped, stared at the two empty benches, and looked left and right. Upon which he exclaimed:--What the damned hell...!Then words failed him, before he found his voice again:--You are a dead man, you old bastard. Once I've found you.