The Day is Dark

by Yrsa Sigurdardottir

  Chapter 6

  20 March 2008

  Thóra woke up exhausted, having repeatedly jolted awake in alarm during the night. She didn’t know why; the stillness had been absolute. Perhaps that was precisely the reason, perhaps she was unused to such overwhelming silence. This explanation was more to her liking than the idea that she had been woken by a noise or movement from someone – or something – that had fallen silent when she stirred. She felt tired and stiff after a night on the lumpy mattress of the single bed she’d shared with Matthew, although at least her hangover was gone, leaving her with a clear head and a tongue no longer puffy and fuzzy. She vaguely recalled Matthew nudging her and saying he was going to get an early start. It was probably an hour since he had left the room and it was still only seven o’clock. By Thóra’s criteria, even that was too early – to get up at six in the morning she considered madness, only excusable if one had to catch a morning flight. She threw on yesterday’s clothes; although her hangover was gone, she did not want to start the day by opening her suitcase and discovering what she had packed. That could wait.

  The weather had not got up to much overnight, and the murmur of the wind outside now did not suggest that the much-anticipated storm had arrived. She hoped it would stay like this, since hardly anyone in the group wished to be here any longer than necessary. Thóra shuddered at the thought of being in close confinement with these people for days and days. She actually had nothing against her fellow travellers – except perhaps Bella – but being isolated with strangers was a recipe for trouble. Especially if the doctor’s ban on drinking the coffee wasn’t lifted. Matthew had, understandably, not had the brainwave of bringing any bottled water to Greenland. When the doctor asked him about water supplies he replied shamefacedly that he had assumed they could melt snow if they ran out. He then added that he had brought a considerable supply of milk, fruit juice and other soft drinks. Shortly afterwards Thóra had made her own contribution to the reduction of those supplies, and this morning she was dying for a coffee rather than a Coke. Hope flickered in her heart when she encountered the aroma of coffee as she approached the kitchen, but her joy was tempered somewhat when she saw Bella sitting in the cafeteria. Thóra engaged in a brief internal struggle about whether to turn around and eat a handful of snow on the way out of the office building or break the doctor’s ban and have a cup of coffee in Bella’s company. Her craving for caffeine had the upper hand.

  ‘It’s impossible to sleep here,’ muttered Bella after Thóra bade her good morning on her way to the coffeemaker. ‘My bed is completely knackered and it’s fucking freezing.’

  ‘I was wondering how you could be out of bed so early when you have so much trouble making it to work for nine,’ said Thóra, reaching for a cup. ‘You may want to consider getting a similar bed at home, and installing air conditioning.’

  ‘Or enlarging a photo of you and hanging it on my wall,’ replied Bella, her mouth full of cornflakes. ‘It’s all the same.’

  Thóra refrained from responding to this, mainly because she couldn’t come up with anything clever to say. ‘Do you know what you’re supposed to do later?’ she asked instead.

  ‘Type some stuff up. Something like that, anyway,’ drawled the secretary. She was thumbing through a worn-out old book lying on the table before her and looked up as Thóra sat down with a steaming cup. ‘I just hope it’s warmer in the office – I can’t type much wearing gloves.’

  ‘It’s much better there,’ replied Thóra. ‘It’s only so cold here because it takes time to heat up the building. The heating never went off in the offices.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘What are you reading?’

  ‘Some crap about Greenland,’ said Bella, flipping a page. ‘I found this on the table along with all the papers here and although it’s not exactly exciting reading, it’s a bit better than an out-of-date newspaper or magazine.’ Looking at the book, Thóra had her doubts. Judging by the hue of the colour photos on its pages the book was a few decades old, and it was incredible how quickly guidebooks passed their sell-by date. ‘Do you know, for example, what the name of that miserable little town over there means?’ asked Bella, finally looking up from the book.

  ‘Kaanneq?’ said Thóra in an inquisitive tone. ‘I would hazard a guess at the ends of the earth or something along those lines. It would at least be fitting.’

  ‘No, it means hunger,’ said Bella, as she reached for the packet of cornflakes. ‘The story goes that the first settlers there all starved to death. Maybe that’s what happened here?’

  ‘I doubt that the employees of Berg Technology starved to death, if indeed they are dead,’ replied Thóra. ‘There’s enough food in the kitchen, even though we’ll have to make do with our own supplies.’ The doctor had not only banned them from drinking the coffee, but also from eating anything except what they had brought with them to the camp. Thóra had made sure to mark all of the food and drink that came out of the boxes so that no one would become confused and consume anything that had been there before their arrival. It wasn’t just helpfulness that inspired her to label everything, but also her desire to be close to the soft drinks, as well as to see what Matthew had purchased. She had to hand it to him, it seemed the most sensible of inventories.

  ‘In any case, something happened to the residents,’ said Bella, turning the book towards Thóra. She had turned it to the relevant page, with the heading Kaanneq appearing over several photographs and a short text. The photos were all black and white except for one that was clearly much newer, and in it the village looked similar to how it was today, a collection of colourful wooden houses. The other, older photos showed far fewer houses. They were taken from the same angle and the village looked pretty much the same; both the cold and barren landscape in the background, as well as the modest harbour in the narrow fjord, looked roughly unchanged. All the images had been taken in winter and showed the area covered in snow. The villagers had not always been so reluctant to be seen outside; in the old photographs people were out and about, dressed warmly in traditional protective garments made of sealskin. However, none of the photos dated back further than 1940, so the book did not show the original settlement that Bella had mentioned.

  Thóra skimmed over the text. It didn’t surprise her that it was thought that those who first settled in Eastern Greenland around two thousand years ago had all died out. One migration and settlement followed another, but it always ended the same way: no one managed to survive for long in this harsh region. It wasn’t until the eighteenth century that settlements started to thrive on the east coast, but in the nineteenth century the population started to decrease. One village after another fell to ruin after the villagers died from hunger or other hardships, or found themselves forced to move to the west coast, where conditions were better. First the northernmost villages disintegrated, then one settlement after another southwards along the coast. Eventually Angmagssalik had been the only settlement remaining on the entire east coast. Thóra shuddered involuntarily at the thought of all the people that had lived and died there. Of all the troubles that they had had to endure, it hurt her most to think of the women who had raised children there, suffering bitter cold and extreme hunger on top of everything else.

  The struggle for existence there had been enormously hard. When a Danish explorer came to Angmagssalik in 1830, only around four hundred people lived there. Sixty years later, another explorer calculated that the population had dropped to three hundred, and he speculated that if nothing changed, the area would eventually become uninhabited. Subsequently, the Danes decided to set up a colony in East Greenland, in spite of the difficult land and sea connections. Angmagssalik was chosen and a missionary and trading colony established there in 1894, leading to a sharp decline in infant mortality and malnutrition. Twenty years later the population had doubled, and from the First World War onwards the settlement’s population grew larger and larger, until it could no longer accommodate itself. The decision was then made to build a new town, Scores
bysund, nearly a thousand kilometres to the north, and to encourage a percentage of the residents to move there. Shortly before this organized resettlement occurred, ten families gave up on the dwindling supply of game for hunting in the Angmagssalik region and decided to pack up and move north. Why they decided to go north instead of south was never explained. This was the start of the story of the little village of Kaanneq.

  Ten families set off in the summer of 1918 and little was heard of them until the autumn. They were doing fine, the hunting was good and they had constructed shelter. A Danish physician who visited the tiny settlement recorded in his report that the residents were fit, the children and adults were healthy, and two women were pregnant – one about to give birth, the other more than five months along. The doctor saw no reason for particular concern but nevertheless recommended that the group be checked on twice during the winter. The same physician and a native guide made the first trip by dogsled. They stayed for two days in the new settlement and the doctor reported that everything was still fine with the people there, although they had somewhat lower food supplies than he had reckoned on in the autumn. One of the babies, a boy, had been born and was doing quite well. The other woman was due shortly. How that child would fare would come to light in the second trip.

  However, this never came to pass. Three months later, in mid-February, an assistant physician set out to visit the village, accompanied by the same guide. They were never heard from again. It wasn’t known whether they’d met their fate on the way to or from the new settlement, and hence whether they had made it there at all. Neither hide nor hair of the men or dogs was ever found. Admittedly, a search for them was never conducted, as there was no point; no one could survive there without shelter in midwinter.

  A group of hunters from Angmagssalik said they had seen two men from Kaanneq fishing out on the ice in an area midway between the village and the new settlement, but the men from the north retreated from the group, who made no contact with them. It was their opinion that the men had fled from them and wished to avoid associating with their former neighbours. Apart from this incident, none of the residents of Kaanneq was ever seen alive again. In the spring three men went there to buy sealskins, but found all of the residents dead from hardship and hunger, or so it seemed. Some of the bodies were found in large tents, but upon closer inspection a number were found to be missing and were thought to have been buried before the famine crippled everyone and everything. However, their graves were never discovered, despite extensive searches. The majority of those lying dead around the village were women and children, suggesting that the men had gone out farther and farther to hunt as their prey became scarcer, and one after another had perished in the unforgiving wilderness. Then, when the women and children were left almost entirely alone, starvation set in. Stories of the ugly sight awakened dread and lived on in the memories of the natives, not least due to the photographs that were taken to document the horror. The natives’ explanation of events was completely different to the Danes’, in that the Inuits believed that something called a Tupilak had killed them all. A definition for this word was not provided, but Thóra thought it might be a storm or something else related to violent weather. In addition, the book mentioned stories circulating among the natives about the spirits of people that roamed the area, hungry, and ate anyone they met. The one constant in the history of the region was fear of starvation, and when a new village arose on the same site, the effects of the old events were still being felt and the village was named Kaanneq, or Hunger.

  ‘Well, now,’ muttered Thóra, feeling somewhat depressed after what she had read. ‘Is there anywhere harder to survive than here?’

  Bella shrugged and stood up. ‘Maybe in a burning desert. But at least you can get a bit of a suntan there.’ She took her plate and stood up from the table. ‘I just hope we get out of here as soon as possible.’

  Thóra was unable to agree with Bella out loud and further destroy her morale. It was better to roll up their sleeves and get to work – then they could go home all the faster. She closed the book and found herself face-to-face with a young Greenlander, staring at her from the cover. The man smiled sincerely at the photographer and deep laughter lines framed his slanted eyes. He was a splendid sight to behold, and from his expression the circumstances described in the book certainly didn’t seem to have diminished his happiness. She finished her coffee and listened to the wind growing stronger outside.

  It was only a short distance to the office building, but Thóra was glad when she shut the door behind her. Outside gusts had stirred up the snow, in the worst moments making it seem as if she and Bella were in a sandstorm. As they put on their coats the weather had deteriorated instantaneously. Naturally, the wind was against them, and Thóra would have bet everything she owned that when she went back over to her sleeping quarters the wind would have completely changed direction and would again be blowing in her face. She had come to know the vagaries of the winds well, living on the peninsula of Seltjarnarnes just outside of Reykjavík. However, it had never been this cold there, and she had never needed to protect her face against stinging frost and biting horizontal snow.

  It sounded like Matthew was alone in the office. Finnbogi, Friðrikka, Alvar and Eyjólfur were probably still sleeping, or else had gone out either to try to find the men or check on the status of the project. Given the weather, Thóra hoped this was not the case. She was not happy about the thought of having to form an ad hoc rescue team with Matthew and Bella. She took off her shoes and hung up her coat. ‘Matthew,’ she called into the corridor. ‘We’re here.’

  ‘Who’s with you?’ he called back from one of the office’s rooms.

  ‘Bella,’ replied Thóra, following his voice. What a funny question, she thought. ‘Are you naked or something?’ She smiled.

  ‘Do you know where the doctor is?’ called Matthew, ignoring her joke. He spoke unnecessarily loudly, given that Thóra was standing in the doorway.

  ‘No.’ Thóra leaned against the doorpost. ‘He’s either sleeping or he’s gone out. But you would have noticed it if he had driven away. He could hardly have walked away.’ Matthew said nothing and continued to stoop over one of the desk drawers. ‘Why are you asking about him? Did you find something?’

  Matthew straightened up. ‘I’m no expert on bones but these are clearly from a person,’ he said, pointing down into the deep drawer. ‘Whether this is connected in any way with the two men who disappeared I couldn’t say, but hopefully the doctor can tell us.’

  Thóra drew closer out of curiosity. ‘I see,’ she said when she saw what was in the drawer, and turned quickly from the desk. ‘I guess we’d better wake him.’

  Chapter 7

  20 March 2008

  ‘The bones aren’t from either man.’ The doctor took off his glasses and straightened up. He had examined the skull as Thóra and Matthew watched. ‘In fact, they’re probably female.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ asked Thóra. There didn’t seem much that looked female about the skull and jawbone. ‘Are our heads smaller?’

  ‘Yes, but without knowing what race this individual belonged to it’s impossible to determine anything from its size.’ He put his glasses back on and showed them the jaw. ‘I base my opinion on the fact that women’s jawbones are much rounder than men’s. If this had been a male, the front element, or the chin, would be squarer than this.’ He put down the jawbone and picked up the skull, running his index finger above the eye sockets. The skull creaked slightly when his latex gloves touched it. ‘The brow bone is not protrusive enough for it to be a man’s. It’s more pointed, so more likely to have been a woman.’ He put the skull down carefully and took his glasses back off. ‘Of course, bones are not my speciality; I’m simply recalling what I learned at medical school. An expert might come to an entirely different conclusion.’ He smiled and added: ‘Although I doubt it. I was first in my graduating class.’

  That was good enough for Thóra. Until more evidence
proved otherwise, she would consider this skull to have belonged to a female. ‘Then aren’t these the bones of the woman who disappeared from the camp? The geologist?’

  The doctor looked surprised, so it was obviously the first he’d heard of her. ‘Well, I don’t know about that. Who was she, and when did she disappear?’

  ‘She was here working for Berg Technology,’ said Thóra. ‘It’s thought that she wandered off, got lost and died in a storm. That was about six months ago, and since she was never found it just occurred to me that these bones might be hers.’ Thóra stared into the lifeless shadows of the eye sockets. ‘Of course, now I’m wondering how her skull made its way into one of her co-worker’s desk drawers.’

  ‘You don’t have to wonder about that,’ said the doctor confidently. ‘This skull can’t belong to someone who died of exposure six months ago. Under these conditions the bones wouldn’t have been stripped clean in such a short time, and the woman’s co-workers would hardly have gone to the trouble of cleaning the skull. That would be pretty cold. I also think the bones would be whiter if they were from someone who died recently.’

  ‘Where did the skull come from, then?’ asked Matthew. He was regarding the remains warily, and Thóra noticed that his lips were pursed.

  ‘Well, I think it could have come from a grave, or from open ground. The surface is covered with little scratches and impurities that couldn’t have occurred while the individual was alive. They could be marks made by the teeth or claws of small animals.’ The doctor shrugged. ‘I don’t know whether whoever left it here found the skull outside somewhere or simply bought it on the Internet. As unbelievable as it sounds, there’s a market for such things. The first theory is somewhat negated by the fact that the jawbone is here as well. If the corpse had been lying somewhere out in the wilderness, large animals would have got to it and scattered the bones. I would guess that the skull was either exhumed or purchased online.’