Yrsa Sigurðardóttir - I Remember You

‘It’s like a graveyard.’ Veigar immediately regretted his choice of words and tried to make up for them. ‘I can’t hear a thing. Not even snoring.’

Dagný frowned and her expression seemed exaggerated in the light from the torch. ‘Are you sure this is the right house?’ She turned to the captain.

‘Yes. Definitely. They brought all this stuff with them on the boat.’ He pointed at a stack of timber and something unrecognisable under a sailcloth. ‘Shouldn’t we just knock?’

They stood silently, side by side, staring at the house. No one responded to the skipper’s suggestion, though it was a sensible one. Freyr took this to mean that he wasn’t the only one to feel something odd was going on; the sounds had disappeared as they stepped off the path but that didn’t change the fact that there was still something unpleasant in the air. Even the house, which was in every way a charming old-fashioned Icelandic wooden house, seemed oppressive to him as it stood there silently, daring them to knock on the door. The torch beams managed to illuminate only a portion of the gable facing them, and the long wall, which should have been visible, receded into the darkness. It was Dagný who cut to the chase. ‘Veigar, come with me. You two wait here while we go and see whether these people are all right.’

‘Suits me.’ The captain gave Freyr a hearty clap on the shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind having to wait outside. ‘We’ll just wait quietly out here, eh?’

Freyr staggered a little – the old man hadn’t spared his strength, perhaps intentionally. Freyr had no business in the house; the septic tank was outdoors and maybe already down in the ground. He might even be standing on it. The thought caused him to take two instinctive steps sideways, but when he aimed the dull beam of his torch at the ground there was nothing to see but a thin layer of snow. He wondered whether he should walk around the house but couldn’t bring himself to do it; it would be better if Dagný and Veigar were there. A loud knocking broke the silence and hung in the air. ‘Is anyone home?’ Veigar’s voice resounded and Freyr thought it impossible that anyone could sleep through such noise. The knocking began again and Veigar called out: ‘This is the police. We’re coming in.’ The screech of the doorknob was piercing, but it wasn’t followed by a creak suggesting the door was being opened. Dagný and Veigar then came round the corner and said they were going to check whether the back door was unlocked. Otherwise they would have to break in.

Freyr and the skipper followed them automatically, keeping far enough back to give no impression of wanting to go in with them, but close enough to see what was happening. Dagný and Veigar stepped up onto an old porch that was in a rather sad state of repair and went straight to work, knocking hard on the door and calling out to those who were supposed to be inside. ‘Of course they might be down at the doctor’s house,’ the captain shouted to Veigar just as the old, stocky police officer was about to throw himself against the door, shoulder first. ‘I remember now that I let them have the keys so they could move there if they encountered any… inconvenience.’

Veigar and Dagný turned to them. Their faces weren’t visible, but it was clear they were less than happy with the skipper. ‘Was there any light there? Or smoke coming from the chimney?’

‘Uh, no.’ The old man took one step closer to Freyr as if to enlist him as a team-mate.

‘All right then. If they’re not here, we’ll go and check that house.’ They both turned back to the door and Veigar threw himself against the tired old wood. It gave a loud crack but didn’t budge. He tried again and at the third attempt the door flew open. ‘Oh, Christ!’ Dagný and Veigar turned aside and a second later the stench reached Freyr and the skipper, forcing them to cover their noses and mouths. ‘That’s fucking disgusting!’ Veigar spat on the porch and Freyr was tempted to do the same. The stench was unlike anything he’d ever smelled, and he’d encountered some rank odours in medical school. This one most resembled the smell that he remembered from forensic medicine when they’d opened the belly of a man who’d drowned and been found after several days in the sea. A salty, rotten stink.

Something shot out through the door and they all gasped. ‘What the hell was that?’ The captain now stood so close to Freyr that Freyr had to step slightly aside to avoid losing his balance. They waved their torches, searching silently for an explanation. Finally they saw a small creature trembling near Freyr, a little dog that had certainly seen better days. Its coat appeared sticky and had formed clumps in several places on its scrawny body. ‘I’d forgotten him; they brought this dog with them.’ The skipper held one hand to his chest. ‘Scared the shit out of me.’

‘Is there anything else you’ve forgotten to tell us?’ Dagný walked angrily past them to the dog. ‘It would be great if you’d share it with us before we go in.’ She bent down to the little animal, which initially took a few steps back but then went to her and allowed her to pick it up. ‘God, he’s shaking, poor thing. Do you remember his name?’

‘Hvutti, Patti, or something like that.’ The captain stared at the dog, not particularly kindly. ‘What a wretched little scrap. Call that a dog…’

Dagný didn’t answer him, but handed the dog to Freyr. ‘Keep your eye on him. I’m not planning to chase him around all over the place before we can go back.’ Freyr took the dog, which looked into his eyes as if to check whether he was trustworthy. Its little body felt like no more than skin and bones and it would probably be easy to forget he was holding it at all if it weren’t for the trembling that shook it from limb to limb. Freyr used his free hand to stroke the poor thing’s head, unafraid that it would bite. It really didn’t matter to him, and it might even make Freyr feel better. But the dog gave no indication of wanting to bite him and instead shut its eyes and relaxed slightly. Then it turned its head towards the house and growled softly, recovering its courage in the security of Freyr’s embrace. As he adjusted the creature in his arms he noticed that his hand was stained with something after touching the dog. He couldn’t see clearly what it was, but when he smelled his hand he realized it was blood. Instinctively he held the dog away from his body, then called to Dagný and Veigar: ‘The dog’s covered in blood!’ They turned to look. ‘But he’s not injured, so it must be from someone else.’ They nodded, their faces grave, and turned back to the house.

‘What?’ The captain shone his torch on the dog and stepped back when he saw what Freyr was talking about. ‘What the fuck…? This doesn’t look good.’ He turned towards the house. ‘I’m glad I don’t have to go in there.’

They watched Veigar and Dagný cover their noses and mouths in the crooks of their arms and walk in. Freyr and the old man said nothing, but through the curtainless windows they watched the torch lights move through the house. The lights stopped suddenly and moved up and down and back and forth in the same place. A few moments later one of the beams set off in the direction it had come from and Dagný appeared at the door, calling for Freyr.

‘Can you come inside? We’ve found a woman. She seems to be injured, I think you’d better look at her before we move her.’ Freyr handed the dog to the skipper, who was less than happy about taking the filthy creature and being left alone outside. But Dagný forbade him to move, and the seriousness in her voice made the man obey. In their haste, Dagný and Freyr neglected to defend themselves against the stench that met them like an invisible curtain in the doorway. But they forgot about it as soon as they were in. The little that Freyr could see of the house’s interior appeared to be much as he’d expected: everything rather old and battered, though in several places the owners’ attempts to renovate the place were visible – and even the dull light couldn’t hide how badly they’d done. ‘She’s here.’ Dagný made way for Freyr to enter the kitchen. ‘Watch out for the hole in the floor back there. You don’t want to fall down it; the smell seems to be coming from there.’ Veigar was hunched over a person lying face down on the floor, her head in a dark pool that Freyr hoped wasn’t blood, but suspected almost certainly was. That could explain the state of the dog.