Daybreak

by Viktor Arnar Ingolfsson

  “No,” Birkir lied.

  “It’s like a jungle of enormous rock pillars and boulders, hillocks, and caves. There’s birch shrubbery all over. A perfect place for our game. A complete labyrinth. The game consisted of heading off in opposite directions around a particular circle: the path is pretty narrow so we knew we couldn’t miss each other. According to the rules of the game, we were supposed to touch all the stakes that line the path every few meters either with a foot or with the gun. That would ensure that we’d keep to the path and force us within range of each other sooner or later.”

  “Wouldn’t it have been easy to cheat?”

  Jóhann shook his head. “I didn’t need to cheat,” he said. “It would have ruined the game for me. Remember that it wasn’t just a contest with Hjördís as the prize. The contest itself was the most phenomenal experience of our lives. It had to be absolutely honest.”

  “I see,” Birkir said unconvincingly.

  Jóhann continued. “It was time to part. We tossed a coin for which direction each should go in. I was to head north and Leifur south. It was our last moment together as friends and it was emotional for both of us. We embraced, kissed, and wished each other good luck. You’ll probably think it’s strange, but I had never been fonder of Leifur than at that moment. We both felt we were about to embark upon the best night we had ever experienced together. This was the game we had always been looking for. A fight to the death with a worthy opponent. We backed away from each other, and the last I saw of Leifur was when he smiled and waved. Then he took off quickly along the path.”

  Jóhann stood up and backed into the shadows, reappearing soon with two cans of Coke. He sat down again, opened one can, and pushed the other toward Birkir. “It was overcast and very dark. We had identical flashlights and were free to use them whenever we wanted; the catch was that the light made you an easy target. I’d switched mine on when I started walking, but turned it off after five minutes. At that point, I couldn’t see anything at all because my eyes weren’t used to the dark. I stood still for several minutes until my night vision improved. I also became aware of the silence. It was completely still, and there were no natural sounds—no birds or anything like that. The only thing I could hear was the sound of my own breathing, and automatically, I tried to breathe silently. Then I started inching along. Suddenly one fact became clear to me. Leifur had, of course, trained for the contest just as I had, but he had very probably done it in this exact place and at night. This had become his home ground. That was why he had run off so quickly and confidently when we parted. And he had smiled, too. I almost panicked in the darkness when I realized this. It occurred to me to turn around and flee. The keys were in the car and I knew I could get to Akureyri before he realized I was even gone. But then I began to see a bit better in the dark, and the competitive spirit returned.”

  He reached for his Coke, took a swig, and belched loudly.

  “The path is very clearly marked, so it was relatively easy to follow despite the darkness. But I knew that soon I would have to abandon it and take to the rough ground, or I would be an easy target. The game was really about being the first one to sight one’s opponent. So I cut off to the left of the path and felt my way over the lava. I went very slowly, because every step had to be carefully thought out. Not only was I in danger of stepping into a hole or a cave, but I also had to be careful not to be too conspicuous or make a noise. And at the same time I had to concentrate on watching for Leifur.”

  Jóhann looked slowly to the right and to the left as if searching for something. Then he said in a rush, “Suddenly I saw a glimmer of light ahead. I stopped dead and aimed the gun.”

  He fell silent briefly, before continuing his story at a normal speed. “The light was at a distance of about fifty meters but then it went out. Leifur was evidently there. I had arrived at the field of battle, which was good to know. I was surrounded by tall lava pillars and could hardly see a thing. I got down on my stomach and edged toward where the light had been, listening. There was complete silence and I hardly dared breathe. Meter by meter I eased myself closer to uncertainty. Adrenaline was flooding through my body and I knew I had to keep moving forward. I felt that if I stopped, my nerves would betray me. The tension was unbearable and I imagined that in slowing down, I’d start to panic; once that happened, I knew I wouldn’t be able to shoot when the moment arrived. The light came on again briefly and then went out. I couldn’t understand what Leifur was up to. At a range of about thirty meters, I lost my patience. I got up on one knee and fired three times in the direction of the light.”

  Jóhann paused a beat. “But then the shot suddenly came. Wham!”

  He banged the table with the palm of his hand on the last word, and fell back as if hit. “That was the one that hit my face and almost took me out. But it hadn’t come from the direction of the light; it was from the side of the path.”

  He pointed to the right as if an invisible opponent were hiding there.

  “Immediately, there were two more shots, but by then I had gotten down, and I heard them whistle past over my head. A slight rise in the ground between us meant Leifur couldn’t get a clear shot at me, whereas I now knew precisely where he was. I reloaded while I reviewed the situation. I knew I was hurt but didn’t know how badly. But it was obvious I couldn’t let the battle drag on—one eye was completely numb and all I could see with it was a blurry mist. My forehead was bleeding, too, and I had to be careful to prevent blood from trickling into the other eye. I only thought about this briefly, and then I quickly crawled back a few meters and stood up. Behind me was a jet-black lava pillar, so I must have been as good as invisible in the darkness. Then I ran, my gun raised, directly toward Leifur’s position. Halfway there I fired two shots and threw myself sideways onto the ground.”

  Jóhann lowered his voice. “I heard a half-stifled scream, followed by total silence. I lay still with my face to the ground, waiting for return fire, but nothing happened. I thought to myself that Leifur would now be able to locate me and would soon direct some shots in my direction. I reloaded carefully and waited for about ten minutes. Then I lifted my weapon and crept on my front toward his hiding place. Wormlike, I inched my way, gun aimed the entire time. In front of me was a lava plinth that I knew he must have sheltered behind. I crawled to one end of it and peered around the corner. There was nobody there, but I glimpsed something lying in the grass. As I came nearer I saw it was Leifur’s shotgun. I switched on my flashlight and saw two severed fingers lying next to the gun. By some incredible luck I had made a direct hit on the lock, destroying the trigger housing and taking off his index finger and thumb.”

  As he spoke, Jóhann pointed with his left hand at the fingers of his right hand, clutching the trigger of his weapon. “When he was hit, Leifur must have been resting the gun on top of the lava plinth, while sheltering his head behind it. Now that the gun was useless, he had made a run for it. I beamed the flashlight around. Right away, I found what I was looking for: a small pool of blood that trailed off into the darkness. The track was a cinch to follow, and once I’d reloaded I was on my way, almost at a run, squinting at the flashlight beam with my good eye. Leifur was waiting for me at a distance of about a hundred meters. The flashlight must have made it easy for him to follow my approach, but I didn’t think about that at all.

  “Though unarmed, he still had a perfectly good pair of legs, and he used them. Suddenly I felt a massive kick to the chest, and it flung me backward. The shot that came out of my gun was purely accidental and could have landed anywhere. But for the second time that night I was incredibly lucky and Leifur was incredibly unlucky. The shot hit him directly in the groin as he prepared to jump on me. You could see the sky through the hole. He collapsed, and I got up and took two steps toward him. The duel was over, and we both knew it. The worst thing was that he spoke to me. Just two words, but they were words I didn’t want to hear.”

  There was a long silence. Then Birkir asked, “What did he sa
y?”

  Jóhann replied quietly, “He said…‘Don’t shoot.’”

  “So what did you do then?”

  “I shot him in the head, of course.”

  There was another long silence. Then Jóhann continued. “I sat down and didn’t move for at least twenty minutes. I was breathing as if I’d been sprinting. My chest was sore as hell after the kick and my face was weirdly numb. I felt almost dead in a way. But in the end, I forced myself to my feet. I had to tidy the place up. I went back to get Leifur’s gun, and chucked it down a deep crevice in the lava. Then I found his flashlight, which I’d smashed to pieces with my first shot. That was disappointment number two. Not only had he visited the location before to explore the lay of the land, he’d set up a trap for me. He’d made a box for the flashlight with a peg and a coil that pressed the flashlight’s switch. He’d placed the box next to the path, and with a length of string attached to the coil was able to switch the light on and off from a distance of twenty meters. This way he could make me think he had the flashlight in his hand, and as soon as I fired a shot at this device he could know exactly where I was. This was a clear breach of the game’s rules. We were not supposed to use any kind of equipment unless it had been agreed upon beforehand and was available to us both. My best friend had tried to cheat me at the most important moment of our friendship.”

  Jóhann shook his head and Birkir thought he could see tears.

  “I threw the box and flashlight down the same crevice as the gun. Now I had to deal with Leifur. I managed to lift him onto my shoulders and headed back. I also had to carry my gun and light my way. It was incredibly hard. The bleeding from my face had mostly stopped, but the fight had drained all my stamina and strength. Step by step I stumbled onward, and when I was near the parking lot, I put my load down next to the path. I got the plastic bags from the car and wrapped him up before putting him into the car. As luck would have it, Leifur had brought a large roll of bags, so there was plenty of material to cover the seats and floor, and wherever my blood-covered outfit might come into contact. I put on gloves that I had in my pocket, and drove off. I was very careful to only hold the steering wheel in one place so I wouldn’t wipe off Leifur’s fingerprints. First I drove to the grave we’d dug by the western track to Dettifoss, and chucked the body into it. It didn’t take long to shovel the earth over him and smooth the surface. He should never have been found there. You can just imagine how flabbergasted I was when that guy happened to pick that very spot for his excavation. The odds were so infinitesimally small in all that vastness.”

  He shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “I drove back to Route 1 and then up to Dettifoss by the eastern route. I parked up in the lot there and cleaned the car. I took all the odd scraps of plastic and put them in my car, also the remnants of our picnic, and anything else connected with the game. All that remained was Leifur’s car, with the keys in the ignition and his letter on the passenger seat.”

  Jóhann paused; he seemed to be thinking back. “By the time I’d done everything it was seven in the morning and reasonably light. I knew I needed medical attention for my face, but I couldn’t do that in the north. This was something we had forgotten to plan for—that the survivor might be wounded. I decided to drive back the same way, over Sprengisandur, and seek help in the south. On the way, I made up the story about the accidental shooting in the Landsveit area. When I reached civilization, I ditched my jacket and the rest of the stuff in a Dumpster by the road. The jacket was drenched in blood and completely ruined. I really miss it. Then I went to the Selfoss hospital. The doctor picked most of the pellets from my face—and called the cops. I gave a statement on the spot, and then they sent me to Reykjavik by ambulance, because of my eye. You know the rest of that story.”

  Birkir nodded and Jóhann continued. “I was in the hospital while they tried to save my eye, and so I didn’t need to invent any more stories while the cops were looking for Leifur in the north. It seemed to take them an incredibly long time to find the car—it wasn’t until some tourist visiting Dettifoss came across it that they solved that issue. The Akureyri police called me to ask if Leifur had been depressed and stuff. I told them I hadn’t talked to him for several weeks before he disappeared. Apart from that I couldn’t be of much help to them. Despite there not being a body, he was declared dead and they held a memorial service in Akureyri. I went north and was going to look up Hjördís. I imagined we would comfort one another and the relationship would develop from there. But she didn’t show up at the service, and I discovered that she’d gone to New York to study graphic design. I couldn’t believe it. Hjördís had, it’s true, talked about going back to school. We knew she’d been in touch with some colleges; but she’d always found it difficult to make up her mind. And then she picked the exact worst time to make her decision and leave. Just when I needed her most.”

  He sprang to his feet and paced back and forth several times before sitting again. “So, the only thing for me to do now was to follow her to New York. I called her a few times and we exchanged e-mails. We talked mostly about Leifur, trying to find a reason for the suicide. I wanted us to write an obituary together, but that never got further than a draft. Then I told her that I wanted to come and visit. I sold my car and knew I had enough money to support myself for a few weeks; I figured after that I’d find some way to work under the table. I flew to New York and arrived in Manhattan, where Hjördís lived, late in the evening. She was sharing a tiny apartment with two other Icelandic chicks and they didn’t have room for visitors. It was just a kitchen, bathroom, and a large living room where they all slept together. They let me stay on the floor that night, but then I had to find a cheap hotel room. Initially, Hjördís was really pleased to see me, as always, and we met every day that first week. She showed me the city and we went together to museums and stuff. I started saying that we should rent an apartment together and that I could get myself a job. But she only smiled, as if I wasn’t being serious. We had no place where we could be alone, so I was never able to approach her. Sometimes I put my arm around her or we walked hand in hand, but that was exactly what we’d done so often before, when Leifur was alive. I never succeeded in taking the next step. Then came days when she wasn’t able to see me. Projects for college and other stuff seemed to be more important. I didn’t know anybody else in New York, so all I could do was wait for our next date. On the phone, I pretended I was meeting up with other people and had plenty to do. Then, one time when I called her she told me to come over for a visit. For once, she was alone at home, and I imagined that my big opportunity had arrived. But then she said she needed to explain something to me. She told me that she was gay and that she had a girlfriend.”

  He seemed to find it difficult to continue his story. Finally in a shaky voice he said, “It was as if I’d been hit on the head with a sledgehammer. I tried to tell her that she wasn’t a lesbian at all and that we should be together as a couple. I tried to put my arms around her, but she only pushed me aside as if I was some disgusting freak. Then I told her that Leifur had died because of her. ‘How because of me?’ I remember her asking. But I was neither willing nor able to explain it. And then this so-called girlfriend arrived, and on top of everything else, she was black. Hjördís asked me to leave, and we didn’t meet again in New York.”

  Jóhann shook his head and clenched his fists. “Afterward, I was very depressed. I’d killed my best friend for this woman and sacrificed an eye. There was nothing left to live for.”

  02:20

  Jóhann was silent and stared into space for a long time. Birkir also sat motionless—he was determined to force his opponent to take the initiative in their dialogue. At least twenty minutes passed. Then, all of a sudden, Jóhann picked up as if nothing had happened. “I returned home to Iceland and drifted about Reykjavik for a few weeks. Then I got this job with the security company. After everything that had happened, I didn’t feel like living in Akureyri; there were too many memories.
<
br />   “I started weight training like I’d done before, and sometimes I practiced shooting. I felt at my best when I had the gun. The duel with Leifur had, in spite of everything, been an amazing experience. I can remember every second as if it had happened today, and I only had to think about it for the adrenaline to start flowing. It was an incredibly powerful feeling, and eventually I realized it was something I wanted to experience again.”

  He stood up and straightened himself.

  “That’s when I had the idea of repeating the game,” he said. “Find a worthy opponent and take him on. I had nothing to lose. The only thing was how to go about it. Goose-hunting season had started, and there were guys around with guns. I only had to get one of them. A real hunter, who wouldn’t let himself get killed without a fight.”

  He punctuated this last word by raising his gun and firing a single shot over Birkir’s head. Dust arose from the hole that the pellets punched in the wall panel. It scared the hell out of Birkir. He had ducked the instant the shot was fired but now calmly sat up again, rubbing the back of his neck where his sudden reaction had put a crick in it.

  Jóhann kept speaking as if nothing had happened. “A real man, who was tough enough to be in the line of fire without pissing and shitting himself. Somebody who would fire back if attacked,” he said, brandishing the gun and firing another shot into the wall.

  “Three o’clock last Thursday morning, I went to Ártúnshöfdi and waited,” he said. “I knew hunters would show up soon. I’d seen them there before, buying gas and provisions, when I was security-checking the place. What I was looking for was a guy, wearing camouflage, alone in a car. He would be my opponent. My mark arrived at four o’clock on the dot in a big SUV, and bought gas and a sandwich. Just as if we’d arranged it beforehand. When he drove on up the Ring Road, I followed him and tried to be inconspicuous. I guessed he was making for somewhere near Borgarfjördur, but of course it could have been anywhere. All around Kjalarnes it was pitch-dark, but I turned off my lights and drove almost blind, following the yellow marker posts about a kilometer behind him. It was a bit difficult, because the guy drove really fast. But my car is quite powerful, so I can put my foot on the gas when I need to. If anybody came from the other direction I turned the lights on in good time while we passed one another, but turned them off again after.”