The Day is Dark

by Yrsa Sigurdardottir

  ‘And it’s not really necessary to spell out what Naruana did,’ said Matthew. He seemed to sense that Thóra had had enough of talking.

  ‘No, you’re right.’ The policeman tried to determine what his next question should be. Apparently he wasn’t finding this any easier to digest than Thóra had. ‘But how did the video get made of Naruana cutting up the bodies, and what was that singing in the background?’

  Thóra shrugged. ‘As I said, Bjarki was going to position Dóri in front of the webcam in the hope that a doctor would be able to diagnose him by looking at his symptoms. Whether that was a good idea or not, he was too weak to finish the task. When Naruana returned to the camp he brought along a helper. A child, in fact.’

  ‘He brought a child with him to cut up corpses?’ Matthew couldn’t hide his disgust. Since Thóra had given him only an overview of Arnar’s story, he hadn’t been aware of this particular detail.

  ‘He took along a girl who lived in the house next door. Again, I should say that I don’t know what motivated him, and he will have to tell you himself. I just know what Arnar told me, that this girl had been in an accident and never recovered properly; she doesn’t speak, for instance. Maybe that was the reason he took her along – she can’t tell anyone about it. Anyway, it’s so fucked up, I can’t even imagine what he was thinking. But in any case, the girl must have messed with the webcam and either knew how to work it, which is doubtful, or started it by accident. Bjarki had already set it all up, so she would only have needed to press maybe one or two buttons. You can check it yourself, because we didn’t touch the camera or anything else on the table. The original plan was to take the bodies out to the ice, as Arnar had suggested, but Naruana found his sister’s necklace on the bulletin board that I showed you, and flew into a rage. He was convinced that she had arranged this from the other side and was provoking him. So he hacked the men to pieces. That way they couldn’t do anything to him if they woke up while he was moving them.’

  The policeman nodded. ‘This is going to take some sorting out.’ He looked up from his notes. ‘What about Naruana’s sister? If she died in a similar way to the drillers, it’s possible they had the same disease. I think we should drop all the talk about a curse and spirits. What did Arnar say about it?’

  ‘I simply didn’t think to ask him about it. He actually told me that Oddný Hildur was specifically interested in Usinna, or rather, her research, because Oddný Hildur wanted to convince herself that she wasn’t putting the health of her future children at risk by being there. He took her to visit Naruana and she got Naruana’s phone number, so she could call him and see if he’d discovered anything of interest to her among his sister’s things. Nothing came of it, because Oddný Hildur disappeared soon afterwards. I know that Usinna’s research involved taking blood samples; maybe she found this same body and took blood from it.’ Thóra didn’t want to make something out of nothing, but surely this was connected to the drillers’ illness in some way? She’d become a little unsure of what she’d told the officer and what she’d missed out, and there could very well have been some holes in her story. ‘What I mean is that flesh, or bits of it, even blood, got onto the drill . . .’ Thóra straightened up. ‘And bits of lung. They must have got some of it on them. According to Arnar, Dóri stood next to the body and directed Bjarki on the drilling rig, and Dóri was the one who fell ill first. I suppose he could have breathed it in?’ When she glanced at Matthew, he looked as though he felt that her theory made sense. ‘I don’t know whether viruses or bacteria can survive in such cold weather but I feel like it must be worth looking into it. Who knows, maybe Oddný Hildur was also infected and died from that, rather than from exposure.’

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting her head injuries? I’m no doctor, but those weren’t caused by a virus. And besides, no one else appears to have been infected, even though many others have come near the body.’ For the first time the police officer’s expression had changed; he now looked worried.

  ‘I wonder if we might not have already been infected? Dóri was bedridden the very next day, so hopefully it hasn’t affected us. It would be a good idea to make arrangements for the corpses to be autopsied, though, on the understanding that the disease might be transmittable even if the body is frozen.’

  The police officer smiled bleakly at Thóra. ‘Don’t worry. Everything is secure at the crime lab. However, I think it’s advisable that you all undergo a medical examination before returning home.’ Still looking at her, he continued, ‘Did this Arnar give any explanation as to why he’s telling us about all this now? He’s had enough time to come clean.’

  Thóra gazed back at him. ‘He said he decided to sacrifice himself for Naruana. When the investigation is finished and he has taken responsibility for his part in the case, he intends to commit suicide. Not before then.’

  Chapter 34

  24 March 2008

  Thóra still hated injections just as much as she had at primary school. The only difference was that nowadays she was better at hiding it. She was thankful that progress in medical equipment meant she could be sure that the doctor wouldn’t have the same kind of giant-sized syringe that they had found in the drilling rig (and that had probably belonged to the long-gone doctor who had – in all likelihood – carried into the settlement the disease that killed all the original inhabitants). She exhaled heavily when the needle was withdrawn and all that remained was a little drop of blood that was gone shortly afterwards. She smiled happily but couldn’t see the doctor’s reaction, since his mouth and nose were hidden behind a mask. Thóra resisted the temptation to cough in his face. ‘And when do I find out the results?’ She pressed a cotton wool ball against the puncture wound made by the needle.

  ‘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. T
hey 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.

  ‘It was someone from the village.’ Friðrikka made this assertion like a stubborn child. ‘Anything else is out of the question. None of us would have wanted to do her harm, even if she did complain to the boss.’

  Eyjólfur ignored her. ‘Maybe it was an outsider, but not someone from the village. Tourists who wandered into the area. A hiker, one of those fresh air freaks.’

  ‘Excuse me, but I doubt this woman was killed by a “fresh air freak”.’ Thóra couldn’t help but smile at his description.

  ‘Why not? The weather was bad and visibility was poor; maybe he thought she was a polar bear. She was wearing Arnar’s furry boots and hat.’ Eyjólfur appeared determined to convince himself of his own hypothesis.

  ‘Yes, that could be it,’ blurted out Friðrikka, in agreement with Eyjólfur for the first time. ‘The murderer will probably never be found, but that’s a possible explanation. She could very well have looked like some kind of animal.’

  ‘That explains it.’ Eyjólfur surveyed the group smugly.

  ‘No, come on, stop that.’ Alvar clearly didn’t appreciate the silence, or perhaps he thought it his duty to defend hikers. ‘She was attacked from behind, and people don’t try to sneak up on polar bears from behind. Nor are fresh air freaks, as you call them, prone to wandering about in a whiteout. They dig themselves down into the snow and wait for the storm to subside. They’d be even less inclined to start attacking polar bears under such circumstances.’

  ‘Does anyone know why she was dressed like that?’ Thóra hadn’t had time to ponder this point.

  ‘The weather was good that day and stayed that way into the early evening. Wouldn’t she have been wrapped up well enough when she went over to the office? Maybe she needed something a little more protective. Arnar would hardly have made a big deal out of her borrowing some of his clothing.’ Eyjólfur looked sad. ‘Just think – if only she hadn’t been wearing someone else’s clothes she would never have been mistaken for a polar bear. Those were the only garments on site that would have made her look like an animal.’

  Thóra bit her tongue, wondering if his dramatics were going to extend to singing a sad song in Oddný Hildur’s memory. She allowed Alvar and Eyjólfur to continue debating the merits of the polar bear theory while she tried to get her thoughts in order. ‘Isn’t it more logical to assume that whoever came at Oddný Hildur from behind during the snowstorm actually thought she was Arnar?’ Friðrikka, Alvar and Eyjólfur stopped arguing and looked in surprise at Thóra.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Eyjólfur stupidly, but then quickly added: ‘You mean the man intended to kill Arnar?’

  ‘Yes. Isn’t that more likely than your theory about the polar bear? Arnar wasn’t short of enemies, and his popularity hardly increased when management were informed about the harassment.’

  Alvar was quick to agree to this.

  Eyjólfur frowned. ‘I don’t know. He wasn’t s
o awful that people would have thought about killing him.’ He looked awkwardly at Friðrikka in the hope of support. ‘Right? It wasn’t like that, was it?’

  Friðrikka looked from him to her lap. ‘No. Definitely not.’ She abruptly fell silent. It was as if all the air had gone out of her.

  Thóra moved over next to Matthew and waited for him to finish speaking to the Danish doctor, who was packing up his things. ‘Do you still have the phone number for Oqqapia, Naruana’s partner? I need to have a word with her.’ Matthew found the slip of paper with the number on it, and Thóra stuck it in her pocket. While doing so she felt to make sure she had her mobile phone. Once she was certain she did, she asked the doctor whether she could go to the ladies’.

  A young police officer followed her out into the corridor and informed her along the way that the toilet would need to be disinfected thoroughly after they left. Thóra thanked him for the information and shut the door behind her. She dialled the number and prayed silently that the woman was home. She was relieved when she heard her voice. ‘Hi, Oqqapia, this is Thóra from Iceland. I visited you a short time ago with my friend, whose name is Matthew.’

  Oqqapia said she remembered her well. It sounded to Thóra as if she were completely sober. She seemed to be in a state of shock as she told Thóra the whole story of how Naruana had been arrested, and said that a group of men had come to the village to tell them that they’d possibly been infected with a serious disease. They were to remain in their homes while the investigators examined them, house by house. Thóra could hear clearly that she was frightened; the men had been wearing masks and strange outfits. It hadn’t crossed Thóra’s mind that perhaps all of the villagers had been infected by the hunter’s son. ‘Oqqapia, I’ve got to ask you to do me a favour that will probably help Naruana, and could even save his father as well.’

  ‘Anything. I know Naruana hasn’t killed anyone. He’s even stopped hunting.’