He picked up a cartridge from the cardboard box on the coffee table and once he had figured out which way the primer should go, he slid the cartridge in and screwed the buffer on tight. Then he pulled out the bolt until he heard a clicking sound from the trigger. He grabbed the gun with both hands, held it against the table top and fired. The nail shot through the wood with a bang that made Lukas jump.

‘Did you see how I did that?’

Guided by Anders’ instructions, the boy unscrewed the gun and loaded another cartridge. When he put it against the table top, Anders shook his head.

‘You have to pull it out first. All the way. Now you can do it.’

He let him do a few trial runs, on the table top and on the armrest of the sofa; the boy pulled the trigger with a feeble-minded smile on his face.

Torgny and Yvonne lay in their bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. Stava was standing by the foot of the bed and Moa was sitting on the floor, her face hidden between her knees. Ransu was standing by the window, hunched and naked, with a deranged look in his swivelling dog’s eyes.

Lukas was holding the bolt gun.

‘They’re asleep,’ Stava said.

‘But their eyes are open,’ Lukas protested.

‘Close your eyes,’ Stava said and they did, instantly.

The boy went up to the edge of the bed and put the bolt gun against Torgny’s forehead. He opened his eyes when he felt the steel against his skin.

‘No peeking,’ Stava said.

‘Isn’t it going to be messy?’ Lukas said.

‘I guess we’ll find out,’ Stava replied.

The gun cracked and Torgny’s feet danced wildly under the covers. It looked like he was being electrocuted. But it was a short dance. Within moments, he was still.

‘Torgny?’ Yvonne said.

Stava hushed her and Lukas pushed the nail back into the gun by pressing it against the nightstand. A lamp was knocked to the floor, but Stava told him to leave it. He shuffled around the bed, leaned in over Yvonne and placed the gun against her forehead.

‘Torgny?’

*

Stava wanted Moa to go up to her room and get in her bed, but she refused. She had curled up in a corner of the bedroom and spit was bubbling out between her tightly shut lips. Lukas pulled on her arm, but couldn’t get a good hold on her.

‘There’s no point,’ Stava said. ‘You’re going to have to do it here.’

Every time Lukas aimed the bolt gun at Moa, she jerked her head away or pushed it aside with her hand.

‘Moa, cut it out!’ he said.