The Day is Dark (21 page)

‘I need you to come with me and photograph this, Alvar,’ said Thóra as cheerfully as she could without sounding idiotic. ‘It would also be good if you could prepare a short report on what you’ve found out.’ She turned to Matthew. ‘We’re even wondering whether we should make arrangements to transport the vehicles to Iceland to have them looked over by mechanics, or get someone to come here.’

Matthew nodded and made an unsuccessful attempt to suppress a yawn. He had been silent since the end of supper. It looked as though the lack of sleep the last few nights had started to take its toll. The simple food had scarcely increased his stamina: pasta with tinned sauce that had so little flavour that they might as well have used milk. He wasn’t alone in being tired: Dr Finnbogi had found it difficult to swallow his food between yawns, and it looked to Thóra as if Friðrikka had dozed off. Eyjólfur had gone straight to his room to sleep after supper, while the others had gathered in the lounge, with the exception of Bella, who had been assigned the task of washing up. Perhaps this strange herd mentality could be attributed to fatigue; Thóra didn’t know about the others, but she always felt sleepy after being out in the open for a long time and breathing in too much oxygen. ‘Can’t we move the return journey forward?’ Friðrikka appeared more than just tired; her face was grey and she had dark circles under her eyes. ‘It was a mistake to come here.’

‘It won’t be long now,’ muttered the doctor. He looked back towards the window where the potted plant stood, and stared at the pitch-black glass. ‘That is, if the weather stays decent.’

‘I’m sure it will,’ said Thóra, with false optimism. She ignored the vague whistling of the wind that carried in from outside. ‘In any case, won’t you be able to finish all your work?’

Friðrikka nodded miserably. ‘Of course, of course. I’ll be finished with most of it tomorrow, and then I’ll make copies of what I can’t go over and look at it back in Iceland.’ Talking about work seemed to cheer her up a bit. ‘It hasn’t been that much work; they didn’t accomplish much after I left, so going over the data has been relatively easy. They should never have tried to work here beyond the New Year.’ She added, smugly: ‘As I actually pointed out more than once.’

Thóra vaguely recalled seeing it mentioned in the documents accompanying the contract that conditions at the work site made it almost impossible to work there during the first four months of the year. It had been left to Berg Technology to decide when the work would be done, but this had been pointed out to ensure the company realized that it could not aim for full-capacity production all year round. ‘Why did they keep working after the New Year?’ she asked. ‘Was it because of the delays?’

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ said Friðrikka. ‘This came up before I resigned and understandably the idea of carrying on was not very popular. Part of the reason the employees were willing to take on this job was the long winter break. That was the last straw for me; after Oddný Hildur’s disappearance there was no way I was going to take on extra responsibilities for such a crappy employer.’

Alvar stood up dramatically. It was as if he had been insulted by Friðrikka’s negativity and could not bear any more of this dreariness. ‘I’m going to bed,’ he said.

‘Oh, hell,’ exclaimed the doctor. ‘I was going to offer you a nightcap.’ He slapped the arm of his chair with both hands. ‘Is everyone going to bed?’

Alvar stopped awkwardly in his tracks. It was abundantly clear that he was dying for a drink and would happily have taken back his previous announcement. ‘Well, I guess bed-time could wait a bit,’ he said, sitting down again gently. ‘I’m not in that big a rush.’

Thóra tried not to smile at the poor man, mindful of his purchases at the duty free shop. ‘Good idea.’ She smiled at the doctor. ‘I have a bottle of Opal liquorice schnapps if anyone is interested.’ Matthew frowned, but stood up nevertheless to go and get the drink, which Thóra knew he could only have found less appealing if it were popcorn-flavoured. The doctor followed him and Thóra hoped that while walking down the corridor they would take the opportunity to discuss the bloodstains on Dóri’s pillow.

After examining them thoroughly Thóra had dragged Matthew back over to the office building to show him the old photographs and convince him of how oddly similar they were to the stains on the beds of the unfortunate first settlers. Matthew had had to admit that the similarities were striking, and before they sat down at the supper table they had got the doctor to examine the evidence as well as the photos. Finnbogi couldn’t actually say anything about the stains or why they appeared to have doppelgangers from the past, but he felt that it was probably coincidence. Thóra found this rather unlikely and tried to convince him that for unknown reasons someone had tried to imitate the ugly scene in the tents. However, he and Matthew both seemed adamant that this did not prove the original inhabitants had died of anything other than starvation, let alone been murdered – their main reasoning being that no one would have had any incentive to want these people dead. They could hardly have been engaged in disputes with others and they were certainly not in conflict with neighbouring settlements, since there were none around. The men relented a bit when Thóra asked whether death by starvation caused bleeding from the head, but they warmed to their theme again when the doctor said that the stains in the photographs were likely to be something other than blood; shadows, or some sort of dirt that could be explained by something other than violence. If they were bloodstains, they would be both larger and more widespread. However, although it was difficult to reach any conclusion about the old photographs, it seemed pretty clear to Thóra that the stains on the driller’s pillow could only be blood, although it wasn’t clear how it had got there.

Bella walked into the lounge and they could see from her expression that doing the washing up hadn’t been her idea of a good time. Thóra found that understandable: the water was obtained by melting snow, so it took a long time to wash the few dishes and pots that they used. ‘I’m not doing that again,’ she thundered. ‘I don’t care how busy you lot pretend to be.’ She looked contemptuously at Thóra, Alvar and Friðrikka as they sat there relaxing.

‘My dear, sit down and unwind. It’s not as if we haven’t all had to do the dishes at some point.’ Friðrikka’s expression was no more friendly than Bella’s. Thóra felt as if she were at a gathering of people with social disorders. ‘We were just going to sit here and chat a bit. Hopefully about anything other than this work site.’ As she said this, Friðrikka looked right at Thóra.

Thóra smiled back in the hope of lightening the mood. If Friðrikka always acted like this, she had nothing but sympathy for her co-workers in this isolated place. ‘I’m up for that,’ she said. ‘There are countless other topics. You get the ball rolling, and I won’t hold back.’

No one said anything and while Bella took her seat the other three sat silently, staring straight ahead. The only topics that Thóra could think of were connected to their project and she suspected that the same went for Alvar and Friðrikka. She hoped Matthew and the doctor would get back soon with the drinks. That would certainly loosen their tongues, and even Alvar would talk the hind legs off a donkey after tossing back a few shots of Opal. Maybe things would get so lively that she would slip on some of her party clothes, since she had brought such a splendid variety. The floor of the corridor outside the lounge creaked and everyone cheered up.

‘Well,’ said Thóra, looking around. ‘Are there any wine glasses here?’

‘No,’ replied Friðrikka. ‘The camp’s regulations prohibit drinking, so the only glasses are the ones in the kitchen.’

She prepared to stand up to go and get them, but Thóra beat her to it. ‘Did you all really follow the rules?’ she asked on her way out.

‘No,’ Friðrikka said again. ‘It’s impossible to forbid adults to drink unless it interferes with their work. Arnar was strongly opposed to people drinking here, but no one listened to him. It wasn’t that much really, we stayed here for months at a time and never brought anything more than the amount allowed by customs, and maybe a case of beer we bought in Kulusuk if we had time before continuing on our way here. Arnar just made himself scarce the few times that we drank here in the lounge. Now and then, on special occasions, the company served wine with dinner and invited us to drinks in the evening – when we were here over the holidays, for instance.’ She pointed at a printed poster on the wall next to the doorway, announcing a Midwinter Feast that was to have been held on Saturday 16 February. For such a small workforce, a lot of effort had clearly been put into the event: a banquet director had been nominated and the evening’s entertainment included everything from bingo to a karaoke contest. ‘I expect there would have been alcohol at that,’ she declared.

Thóra met Matthew and Finnbogi at the door. Matthew was holding a plastic bottle with the colourful Opal label, and the doctor a bottle of cognac. She hoped he wouldn’t mind drinking from a milk glass. The only glasses she could see in the cabinets were the same as the ones they used for their suppers, clumsy cafeteria glasses that stood upside down among the small white coffee cups and a few larger and more colourful mugs. These looked like they belonged to particular employees, and Thóra started looking through them automatically. When she picked up a mug decorated with blue flowers and inscribed
Oddný Hildur
, the good mood that had slowly been overcoming her physical fatigue disappeared again. She hurriedly put the mug back in its place, surprised that the woman’s co-workers hadn’t removed it so as not to be constantly reminded of her disappearance. Perhaps they thought that would be a symbolic defeat: by getting rid of the mug they would be admitting she was dead. Thóra hurriedly gathered seven glasses in her arms, one extra in case Eyjólfur showed up.

The refrigerator started up unexpectedly and noisily, and Thóra was so startled she thanked her stars that she didn’t drop the glasses. Adrenaline rushed through her veins and her heart beat wildly; it calmed down quickly, but she hastened out of the lonely cafeteria nonetheless.

Shortly after they had filled their glasses Eyjólfur appeared, looking dishevelled. ‘Is this where you all are?’ he snorted. ‘I fell asleep.’ He plonked himself down next to the door. ‘Did anything happen while I was sleeping?’ He smiled sarcastically, clearly convinced that they were no closer to getting to the bottom of things as they’d been earlier in the evening. When no one answered, he looked indifferently at the window. ‘The weather’s getting worse. My window woke me up shaking and rattling.’ He laughed mirthlessly. ‘I was so confused when I woke up that I thought for a moment there was someone outside knocking on my window.’ He yawned again. ‘I even thought it was Bjarki.’

‘Ugh, Eyjólfur.’ Friðrikka put down her glass. ‘We’re trying to forget what happened here. I don’t know about the others but I don’t want Bjarki to appear in front of me out there, like the living dead.’ She fell silent.

Suddenly the ceiling light dimmed. They heard a loud bang and saw a sudden bright light outside. ‘What the hell?’ Alvar, who was sitting near the window, stood up and shaded his eyes. Friðrikka let out a low moan and Eyjólfur grabbed the arms of his chair with both hands and squeezed until his knuckles whitened. Although they were all startled, the light did not induce such extreme reactions in Thóra, Matthew, Bella and Dr Finnbogi.

‘What was that?’ asked Thóra, when it became clear no one else was about to say anything. ‘Did a car go past?’ Maybe the helicopter pilots had come to fetch them by land.

Friðrikka was breathing rapidly. ‘Those are the floodlights that were set up after Oddný Hildur disappeared. The security guard suggested them.’

‘And?’ The doctor seemed just as puzzled as Thóra.

‘And they come on if movement is detected by the sensors attached to posts around the camp. The idea was to scare away any polar bears or other unwelcome visitors.’

‘Is there a polar bear out there?’ The Opal had definitely started to make itself felt and Thóra felt quite exhilarated at the thought of seeing one. Standing up, she went to the window, pressed her face against it and peered out. The lights, mounted on two tall towers, made the white snow even brighter. She hadn’t noticed them earlier.

‘Get away from the window.’ Eyjólfur’s tone was stern. ‘It’s probably not a bear.’

‘How do you know?’ asked the doctor, who had followed Thóra’s example and looked out. There was no answer.

Thóra moved away from the cold glass. ‘What is it then?’ If she’d been tipsy before, the feeling had left her abruptly. She imagined the bloodstains on the driller’s pillow and wondered whether the floodlights had gone on just before he had started to bleed.

‘It’s not an animal.’ Friðrikka ran her hand through her red hair. It was so dirty that it stood up on its own. ‘The system hasn’t been working since we arrived. I’d even forgotten about it. It has to be turned on, and a polar bear can’t do that.’

Now they all understood why Friðrikka and Eyjólfur had reacted as they did. ‘Where does one turn on the system?’ Now Matthew had stood up and come over to the window, despite Eyjólfur’s warnings. He peered out but saw no more than Thóra had. ‘And where are the sensors?’

‘The sensors are located between the towers, and they’re turned on from the office building. It’s rather complicated, meaning no one can do it by accident. The equipment is under the steps.’ Eyjólfur looked at Friðrikka. ‘Did you turn on the system?’

‘No, of course not.’ Friðrikka seemed even more alarmed. ‘I hadn’t even remembered it.’ Their old mutual animosity was stirring again. ‘And are you going to say next that I set off the floodlights? I was sitting here, in case you’ve forgotten. Just like you.’

Matthew interrupted. ‘None of us did this.’ He turned back to the window. ‘Probably some animal wandered through the sensor beam and ran off when the lights went on.’ He looked around at everyone. ‘Did anyone mess with the equipment at the office building?’ No one spoke up. Matthew looked out one last time and stared at the lifeless environment until the floodlights suddenly flicked off, leaving him looking only at his own reflection in dark glass. ‘It must have been caused by a power outage. It was probably on the whole time but someone connected the electricity this evening, which brought power back to the system.’