be arrested with the other leftists. It looks to Adrian like she senses something is wrong, like she wants to run.
They are wet from the rain, and the air inside is moist and hot. The noise stops, but he tastes blood. Phones are ringing in South Buskerud and Oslo, too. He feels a twitch in his shoulder, like the flick of a finger, but his head feels like it's been torn apart. She leaves after lunch. This must be a prank, he tells himself. The bangs are impossibly loud. There is a free transfer bus to a nearby railway station, which has trains to Oslo and Drammen. The stern briefly dips and water sloshes over the gunwale, but the front rises clear. "What should I do?" the man asks, his voice calm and flat.