Yrsa Sigurdardóttir - The Day Is Dark

‘We’ll process it as speedily as possible, and as soon as we find out anything we’ll let you know.’ The man leaned forward in his chair and waited for Eyjólfur to come in and take Thóra’s place. He took the vial holding her dark red blood, labelled it and placed it carefully in a small box.

Eyjólfur sat down. ‘What if this is something serious and we’ve all been infected?’ He rolled up his sleeve and laid his hand on the arm of the chair. ‘Will we die?’

‘Of course you’ll die, like everyone else. However, I doubt it will be anytime soon, or because of infection.’ The doctor said nothing as he stuck the needle into Eyjólfur’s arm, then: ‘You’re probably as fit as a fiddle, but this is a necessary preventative measure.’ The face-mask and latex gloves suggested otherwise.

Friðrikka dropped her cotton wool ball into a small yellow plastic bucket where needles and other such things were thrown away. Thóra guessed that the red symbol on the bucket indicated that its contents might be infected, and needed to be destroyed under special conditions. Friðrikka turned to Dr Finnbogi as she rolled her sleeve back down. ‘How do they know that this is the Spanish Flu?’ Her voice was weak and although they were all alarmed, she was the only one who seemed unable to compose herself. The Greenlandic police force’s announcement that the man in the freezer was suspected to have died of this pernicious epidemic had been made just a short time ago, although it had long been clear to everyone that something serious was going on. Soon after Thóra and Matthew’s conversation with the policeman, the group was sent on foot in the direction of the hotel, but instead of going in through the familiar reception area they were led over to a row of buildings that resembled the work camp they had just left; these were the staff quarters for the airport in Kulusuk. They took seats on a sofa; Eyjólfur hurriedly turned on the television to try to find a news station in English. They stared at the television while waiting for further information. This soon became so tiresome that Thóra was on the verge of suggesting that they switch to the German porn channel for variety. Finally they were told that they would have to be ruled out as disease carriers before any decisions could be made concerning further travel on their part. By then they had watched the same news reports so many times that they had become immune to them. They were waiting for doctors from Angmagssalik, and so had to put up with several more rounds of the headline news. Then the doctors wished to consult with their colleagues at the hospital in Nuuk, since it was possible that a major epidemic was on the way. Now for the first time the group was seriously concerned, and their anxiety was not appeased when they were told that this looked like a case of Spanish Flu, and that it seemed likely to have killed both Bjarki and Dóri.

‘They don’t know for sure. They need to compare this virus with what they found recently in the grave of a woman who died of Spanish Flu in Alaska. She died around the same time as the settlers in Greenland, but was buried under a layer of permafrost. No sample of the virus has been found before, because the bodies of the victims decomposed in the ground. It is very unusual for a corpse to remain frozen for decades, as has happened here.’ Finnbogi watched as the other doctor lightly tapped Alvar’s inside arm. ‘But the timing of the epidemic fits in perfectly with the period when the original inhabitants of the area died, and the symptoms match the description of the drillers’ deaths. It’s likely that the doctor or his guide infected the villagers when he made his survey trip there during that winter so long ago. In the isolation that characterized a place like this, and in fact still does, fertile ground is created for infectious diseases in the event that they are brought in. In addition, the Spanish Flu was a deadly epidemic and could very well have decimated such a small and isolated settlement. Especially because the community’s survival was based on hunting. When people become ill or are disabled, they can’t provide for themselves. Some of the villagers died from the disease, others from starvation, so the story goes. Spanish Flu, unlike most other types of flu, affected the young and healthy rather than the elderly and little children.’

‘I find it absolutely extraordinary’ – Eyjólfur was still pressing cotton wool to his puncture wound – ‘that such an old disease can flare up again. As if we don’t have enough new epidemics.’

‘No one’s saying it has “flared up”.’ Finnbogi looked askance at the other two doctors, but they were not even trying to follow the discussion. ‘Although Bjarki and Dóri were infected, they came into a completely different type of contact with the man than we did. You might not all have seen the hole in the man’s chest, but something happened when it was drilled through. The men got bodily fluids on them and even breathed them in.’

‘But doesn’t the man who cut up their bodies need to be examined as well?’ asked Eyjólfur. ‘The same thing must have happened to him, since he was probably covered in blood droplets, or something even more disgusting.’

‘Not everyone becomes infected, but the man will certainly have to undergo the same sort of examination as us. If it’s the young man who came with us in the helicopter, he’s not ill, any more than we are. Those who were infected became ill very quickly, so he should be safe. The infected were at death’s door after twenty-four hours, which may be one of the things that pointed the investigators towards this particular disease. The drillers didn’t lie on their sickbeds for long.’

‘And we were made to sit with him in the helicopter?’ Friðrikka’s voice had risen to a shrill high C again. ‘We breathed the same air as him for almost an hour, didn’t we? Who knows, maybe we were infected then, which is why we haven’t become ill yet!’

‘We shouldn’t worry unnecessarily. We’re still asymptomatic, and we’ll probably remain that way,’ said Finnbogi determinedly. ‘I think we should talk about something more interesting and constructive; we’re not going to change anything with foolish speculation.’

The group fell silent and remained that way as it tried to come up with another topic of conversation. ‘Why do you think that guy killed Oddný Hildur? Is he completely mental, or do you think he raped her or something?’ Eyjólfur got top marks for changing the subject, but a fail for the subject matter.

‘She wasn’t raped.’ Friðrikka was nearly foaming at the mouth.

Eyjólfur turned to her, just as angry. ‘I wasn’t talking to you. What would you know about it?’

‘Women aren’t raped through their clothes. Her body was fully dressed, in case you managed to miss it.’ Friðrikka was beginning to shout.

The Danish doctor turned round and raised his eyebrows, and Thóra cut them both off brusquely. She couldn’t bear to think of the group being broken up and each of them shut in a separate room. Although the company wasn’t at its most entertaining right then, time did pass faster when something was happening besides them all staring out at the ice-bound bay below the town, no matter how beautiful it was. ‘Settle down. We don’t know Naruana killed Oddný Hildur. Maybe it was someone completely different. Stop yelling at each other and try to discuss something constructive instead.’

Thóra’s words calmed Friðrikka and Eyjólfur down a bit but they still couldn’t think of anything else to talk about. ‘Who could have killed her if not one of the villagers? One of the employees at the camp?’ asked Alvar. He had stood up and was now watching the final blood test, which was being carried out on Bella.