Let the right one in by John Ajvide Lindqvist Page B

looked at themselves in the mirror, saw no resemblance whatsoever. In the evening, in bed, they wondered if they should change something about their appearance in the morning or would that seem suspicious?
    It would turn out they didn't need to bother. People would soon have something else to think about. Sweden would become a changed nation. A violated nation. That was the word that was continually used: violated. While those resembling the police sketch lie in their beds weighing the benefits of a new hairstyle, a Soviet submarine has just run aground outside of Karlskrona. Its engine roars and echoes across the archipelago as it tries to free itself. No one goes out to investigate.
    It will be discovered by accident on Wednesday morning.

    Wednesday
    28 OCTOBER

    The school was buzzing with rumors. Some teacher had listened to the radio during recess, had subsequently told his class about it, and by lunchtime everyone knew.
    The Russians were here.
    The biggest topic of conversation among the children over the past week had been the Vallingby murderer. Many had seen him, so they said, some even claimed to have been attacked by him.
    The children had seen the murderer in every sketchy-looking character who walked past the school. When an older man in ratty clothing had taken a short cut across the school grounds the children had run for cover—screaming—to the nearest building. Some of the tougher guys had armed themselves with hockey sticks and prepared themselves to knock him down. Luckily someone had finally identified the man as one of the local alcoholics from the main square. They let him go. But now the Russians were here. They didn't know much about the Russians. There once was a German, a Russian, and a Bellman—or so the joke went. The Russians were best in the world at hockey. They were called the Soviet Union. They and the Americans were the ones who flew in outer space. The Americans had made a neutron bomb to protect themselves against the Russians.
    Oskar talked it over with Johan during the lunch break.
    "Do you think the Russians have it too—the Bomb?"
    Johan shrugged. "Sure. Maybe they've even got one on that submarine."
    "I thought you had to have an airplane to drop it?"
    "Nah. They put them in rockets that can be fired from wherever." Oskar looked up at the sky. "And a submarine can have those?"
    "That's what I said. They can put them anywhere."
    "The people die but the houses are left standing."
    "Exactly."
    "Wonder what happens to the animals."
    Johan pondered this for a moment.
    "They must die too. At least the big ones."
    They sat down on a corner of the sandbox, where none of the smaller kids were playing. Johan picked up a large rock and threw it so the sand whirled up around it. "Pow! Everyone dead!"
    Oskar picked up a smaller rock.
    "No! One person survived. Pshiuuuu! Missile in the back!" They threw rocks and gravel, exterminating all the cities of the world, until they heard a voice behind them.
    "What the hell are you doing?"
    They turned around. Jonny and Micke. Jonny was the one who had spoken. Johan tossed the rock he had in his hand.'
    "Uh—we were just..."
    "I wasn't talking to you. Piggy? What were you doing?"
    "Throwing rocks."
    "Why were you doing that?"
    Johan drew back a few steps, was busy retying his shoes.
    "Just—no reason."
    Jonny looked at the sandbox and then thrust his arm out so suddenly that Oskar flinched.
    "The little kids are supposed to play here. Don't you get it? You're wrecking the sandbox."
    Micke shook his head sadly. "They could trip and hurt themselves on the rocks."
    "You're going to have to clean this up, Piggy."
    Johan was still busy with his shoes.
    "Did you hear me? You're going to have to clean this up" Oskar stood still, unable to decide what to do. Of course Jonny didn't care about the sandbox. It was just the usual. It would take at least ten minutes to clear away all of the rocks that they had thrown and Johan wouldn't help. The bell was going