Yrsa Sigurdardóttir - The Day Is Dark

‘I hope so,’ she replied, smiling. ‘But one thing’s for certain – there was no polar bear swinging an axe or a club in the video.’ She leaned in and whispered, ‘Did you notice that Bella is the only other person awake?’ Stealthily, she turned to check whether this was still the case. ‘If she weren’t here I could invite you to the toilet and initiate you into the mile high club.’ She looked Matthew in the eye and grinned. ‘Damn it, what a shame she had to come.’ She turned back to the window, pleased with herself.

Shortly afterwards the aircraft landed gently. The travellers disembarked, full of expectation tempered with anxiety. All except one. That passenger had promised never to come here again. Terrible memories lingered here, memories that were impossible to push away.

It was incredible that this passenger had returned, in fact. A blue-black crow screeched on the roof of the airport, rose into the air and flew off into the wilderness.

Thóra wasn’t as excited about the helicopter as Matthew was. What the others in the group thought, she couldn’t guess, but most were at least trying to look as if they found it totally commonplace. Matthew did what he could to enthuse Thóra, saying that it was none other than a Huey, the type that was used in the Vietnam War. She was not impressed, however – even when he added that as soon as the blades started whirring, she would recognize the sound from the movies. She smiled reluctantly. ‘Couldn’t they have added a few more blades? It only has two.’ She hoped that this shortage of propellers wouldn’t cause the helicopter to fly unsteadily, because her stomach was hardly in any condition for that. The Vietnam atmosphere would be dampened somewhat if she started vomiting in the back of the helicopter.

Matthew wrinkled his nose. ‘Two is quite enough.’

They watched the airport personnel load provisions and luggage onto a vehicle. Thóra’s green suitcase appeared and she noticed that the loaders took the time to check whether it was marked with the correct destination tag, since it stuck out so obviously from the other bags. ‘I just hope we have enough food and drink,’ muttered Matthew. ‘I’ve never needed to order provisions for so many, let alone a group making a long expedition to the North Pole in winter.’ Thóra hoped he had consulted with someone else, otherwise they could expect nothing from the boxes but nuts and raisins and maybe some energy drinks. Before she could ask the question he continued uneasily: ‘Aren’t we going to take off? At this pace we won’t get to the camp before dark.’

‘You’ve never been to Greenland before?’ came a voice from behind them. It was the doctor, Finnbogi Kolbeinsson. ‘Here, Murphy’s Law always applies – if something can go wrong, it will.’

Thóra smiled at the man. ‘Do you know all the ins and outs here?’

‘I’ve come here several times,’ replied the doctor, managing not to sound like he was trying to show off. ‘I’m a devoted outdoors man. As you might have seen from the plane, it’s all wide open spaces here. I’ve taken part in several trips around the country on behalf of a group whose goal is to reduce food poisoning, which is pretty common here in the isolated settlements. The conditions are completely different to what we’re used to, since provisions can only be delivered when the weather permits, which means most deliveries stop in the winter. Because of that, people rely a great deal on canned food, which considerably increases the risk of susceptibility to various types of pathogens if the packaging is damaged, as sometimes happens.’

‘Have you been to this work site before?’ asked Thóra, curious.

‘Actually, no,’ replied Finnbogi. ‘I do know where it is, and some years ago I was knocking about those parts, but the project hadn’t started then. That was in the summer, so unfortunately I probably won’t recognize anything.’

‘That shouldn’t be a problem,’ said Matthew. ‘If everything works out according to plan, we won’t be here long.’

‘It won’t,’ said Finnbogi, calmly. He shrugged. ‘That’s one thing I like so much about this country. You never know what to expect once you’re here.’

‘At least we’re lucky with the weather,’ said Thóra, to help lower Matthew’s blood pressure. ‘It’s much better than I expected.’ She had imagined them stuck in a snowstorm from the time they landed until they went back to Iceland. ‘I’ve probably brought too many hats with me.’ She crossed her fingers and hoped she’d packed at least one hat.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Finnbogi. ‘They’ll come in handy. Although the weather is good right now, the forecast is rather gloomy. The helicopter pilots are worried they won’t make it back.’

The sky was clear, but there could very well be heavy clouds hiding behind the mountains. ‘Then they must be in a hurry,’ said Thóra. ‘Or is there maybe time to take a quick look at Kulusuk?’ Perhaps she could find something there for Sóley. The airport had a small shop that sold local handicrafts, among other things, but it was closed.

‘No,’ said Matthew brusquely. ‘There’s no way.’

‘You can do that on the way home,’ said Finnbogi before Matthew had the opportunity to express any further displeasure at the notion. ‘It’s fun to visit the town, but you don’t want to risk missing the helicopter.’ Just then one of the loaders appeared and asked them to prepare for departure. Sóley’s present would have to wait; perhaps something could be found in the village near the work site. Still, she didn’t hold out much hope that she would find a shop there. Matthew had told her that the little village of Kaanneq was a long way from any traditional tourist areas, and ordinary tourists didn’t pay for hour-long helicopter flights to the north just to go shopping. The bank had insisted that they all be transported at once so that it wouldn’t have to pay for two helicopter trips. The village was not connected by road to other settlements, and the sea route was only open over the summer and early autumn. At other times of the year a helicopter was the only choice.

Thóra had butterflies in her stomach when the helicopter lifted off, carrying eight passengers, two pilots, baggage and supplies. She crossed her fingers instinctively for the second time.

It was actually an understatement to call the village of Kaanneq small – tiny was more like it. On steep, flat rocks that extended down to a small, ice-covered bay stood wooden houses, painted in bright colours which made them stand out from their snow-white surroundings. The houses seemed well maintained and the gardens neat, though there was no way to guess what lay beneath the snow. The helicopter had landed just above the settlement, on a level area that served as a helicopter pad. The pilots had chosen the more energetic members of the group to help them unload the helicopter at record speed and as soon as the last cardboard box was out they jumped back in and started the propellers. Matthew had arranged for them to return at noon five days later if they hadn’t heard from the group by then.

‘We shouldn’t hold out much hope that they’ll be back here at the right time,’ said Eyjólfur Þorsteinsson, the young IT technician, as the helicopter vanished from their sight.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Matthew crossly. ‘The forecast for that time is fine. The storm that’s supposed to hit should be over by then.’

‘It’s not the weather that worries me.’ The young man grinned. ‘You know those are the same pilots who took the tourists up to Greenland Glacier and then forgot to pick them up at the appointed time. They remembered them several days later and it was sheer luck that the whole lot of them hadn’t frozen to death.’