The Day Is Dark

Chapter 4

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.’

Matthew didn’t seem amused by this story and Thóra had to suppress a giggle when she saw his expression. ‘They must have learned from the experience and started writing everything down,’ she said brightly, smiling at Eyjólfur. She looked back at Matthew. ‘Don’t you think?’

Matthew’s expression was unchanged, except that he was a tiny bit paler. ‘Undoubtedly,’ he said. ‘I’ll still get in touch with them after we’ve arrived and remind them of it, just in case.’

Thóra did not ask about the telephone connection at the camp, which was not necessarily in working order. All would be revealed soon. Matthew had actually told her that there was no GSM connection at the work site, and the same appeared to apply to this isolated settlement. But of course they could always call from one of the villagers’ phones if necessary. If in fact there were any villagers – there was no one out and about.

‘Shouldn’t we get going?’ called Matthew to the group. It was starting to grow dark. The hangar where Berg Technology’s cars were supposed to be was a short distance away, and the path there led along the edge of the village. ‘If it turns out we have no means of transportation, it’s better that we give ourselves enough time.’ The group set out immediately, except for Bella, who eked out her long-awaited cigarette as long as she could. The only sound apart from the high-pitched creaking of the snow beneath the shoes of the expedition members was the panting of the secretary as she tried to catch up with the rest of them.

For the final stretch they walked past the unfenced back lot of a house where numerous huskies were curled up asleep. The dogs were chained to posts that had been driven into the ground here and there throughout the yard. They jerked awake from their peaceful dozing as the group approached. Asleep, they looked quite adorable, but awake they were rather frightening; they immediately rose to their feet and bared their gleaming white teeth. The hairs on their shoulders rose, as did a stripe down their spines. Several of them leaped forward, growling, as far as their chains permitted, jerking the wooden posts. The red-haired geologist Friðrikka whimpered and reddened. ‘I hate those dogs,’ she muttered, quickening her pace. None of the others spoke, but most of them sped up too, until the menacing barking of the dogs was behind them. Thóra turned around once they’d travelled a safe distance and saw that now the dogs had started to threaten each other, although their chains held them back. There was no sign of human activity. Either no one lived in the blue-painted house or the people there were used to the dogs raising a ruckus now and then.

Dr Finnbogi walked alongside Thóra the final metres to the large, corrugated-iron hangar. The rusty iron creaked in the breeze, which seemed to be picking up. ‘What do we do if the cars aren’t here? I don’t get the feeling that the villagers are overjoyed about our being here.’

‘If they haven’t been stolen, then they’re here,’ said Thóra, watching Friðrikka and Matthew bending over a large combination lock on the hangar door. ‘At least that’s what the contractor says.’ She looked back at the little crowd of houses. ‘I doubt anyone would steal a car around here. It would take the police half an hour at most to find him.’

‘There are no police here!’ exclaimed Friðrikka. Between them, she and Matthew had managed to open the lock. ‘The nearest police station is in Angmagssalik. It takes more than car theft to get them on a helicopter this far north.’

Bella lit a fresh cigarette. ‘Like what?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know, murder, maybe,’ replied the geologist drily. ‘You shouldn’t imagine that things here are like what you’re used to. Far from it. If you get lost, no one will search for you. If you fall into the sea, no one will fish you out. Here you’re not much better off than an animal.’ Friðrikka pursed her lips and said nothing more.

The others in the group smiled uncomfortably and tried in vain to think of something clever to say in response. Matthew – who wasn’t yet fluent enough in Icelandic to fully understand his fellow traveller’s statement – had continued trying to open the door, but ice around the catch was making his task difficult. He broke the embarrassed silence. ‘Well,’ he said contentedly, pulling forcefully at the door. The hinges creaked loudly and the door swung out towards the group.

Inside were two white raised pickup trucks and only Thóra knew Matthew well enough to read on his face how happy he was. In addition, there was one well-equipped Ford Econoline, which Eyjólfur told them belonged to the Greenland authorities so that the police or others on public business would have a vehicle available whenever it was needed. ‘Who wants to drive?’

Thóra stared out of the window as they drove through the village, in the hope of seeing anyone out and about. She was troubled and could not avoid the thought that perhaps a dangerous epidemic or food poisoning had swept over the area and killed the villagers and employees of Berg Technology. Suddenly two little girls appeared, walking between the houses. They stopped abruptly when they saw the cars and fixed their dark eyes on them. They looked to Thóra to be a bit younger than Sóley, perhaps five and six years old. Yet it was difficult to be sure, since they were dressed warmly in thick hooded coats and windproof trousers that were tucked into snow boots. Their blue-black hair splayed out from beneath their hats and blew in the wind. Thóra waved to them and smiled her warmest smile but the girls stood stock-still and watched her dispassionately. The taller one grabbed her companion’s mittened hand. If there had been an epidemic, it appeared that at least some of them had escaped. A third girl was sitting on a landing at the top of the stairs in front of a house at the end of the village, and down at the harbour were two adults. Thóra turned in her seat to get a better view of the girls, but they had disappeared. ‘Should we try talking to the people here?’ she asked. ‘I saw a couple of them down at the harbour.’

‘No, let’s keep going,’ said Matthew. ‘We can come back down here tomorrow if we want. Hopefully all this will be explained when we get to the work camp, and then talking to the villagers will be unnecessary. They want to be left in peace, so it wouldn’t pay to trouble them unnecessarily.’

Thóra looked around again. Just as she’d suspected, she would find no souvenir shop here. ‘How far is it?’ she asked. As if her hangover weren’t enough, now the muscles in her bottom were killing her after a day in transit, due mainly to the helicopter seat. The helicopter’s manufacturer had saved its pennies on more than just the number of propeller blades.

‘It’s not too far,’ replied the unlovely Alvar, who was driving. ‘According to the GPS, we’ve got only ten kilometres to go.’ Twenty minutes later the work camp appeared. The low, dark green buildings were difficult to see in the encroaching darkness. The car plodded at a snail’s pace over one more snowdrift, and while they waited they regarded the buildings.

‘Shouldn’t there be lights on if anyone is here?’ asked Eyjólfur. ‘That’s how it was every time I came here. I don’t recall ever seeing the camp so dark.’

No one said anything, but clearly they had all been thinking the same thing. Not a single light was lit in the camp.