Yrsa Sigurdardóttir - The Day Is Dark

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?’