Hjalmar sniffed and wiped at his face. All he could picture was the car turning over and then blackness. The hospital and the blurry ceiling and the slow rhythmic beep of the monitor. It was haunting.

"Torden?---"

The Swede's voice came out as a husky whisper, hands still clutched onto the Dane's clothes. His breathing erratic and he was disorientated to where he was right now.