Nightblind Read Online Free Page B

in a low voice. ‘It’s going to be all right.’ His words were sent spiralling away on the wind. It occurred to him that he was probably speaking to nobody but himself.
    Just then an uncomfortable thought occurred to him, and he tried unsuccessfully to cast it from his mind, to stifle it before it grew any larger. If Herjólfur could not return to duty, then the inspector’s position was undoubtedly his.

 
     
     
     
    July 1982
     
     
    At last they gave me a pencil and a notebook.
    It’s an old yellow pencil, badly sharpened, and an old notebook that someone has already used, the first few pages untidily ripped out. Had someone else already tried to put into words their difficulties and their helplessness, just as I’m doing? Maybe there were some pretty doodles there, the unchanging view of the back garden rendered in artistic form, if that could be done. Some things are so grey and cold that no amount of colour on a page could ever bring them to life.
    I feel a little better now that I can scribble a few words on paper, but I can’t explain exactly why. I’ve never taken any particular satisfaction from writing. It’s only now that I have the feeling that this might save my life.
    It probably doesn’t even matter what I write here in this notebook. Maybe something of the background to my being here, my feelings and the monotonous existence in this place. Whatever it takes to maintain my sanity.
    I’ve had practically no sleep for the last two nights. There’s bright sunlight pretty much day and night, and these heavy curtains don’t do much good. The sun sneaks its way past them to keep me awake. The brightness doesn’t seem to bother my roommate and he’s sound asleep all night long. He’s just as quiet during the daylight hours, doesn’t say a lot, the type who is sparing with words. In my innocence, I thought that I’d be happy with that, but on reflection I reckon there’s a lot to be said for having someone to talk to.
    I suppose I could have talked more to the nurse, but I don’t really want to. She was the one who found the pencil and the notebook for me, that was good of her. But there’s something about her that discourages me from coming closer. There’s something about her eyes I don’t like, something that tells me not to trust her. Not that I’m claiming my judgement is flawless right now, but I have to go by what my guts tell me.
    It’s a good while since the lights went out but I’m still sitting here writing in the half-dark. I pulled the curtain aside to let in a little light. It doesn’t appear to disturb my roommate, any more than the scratching of my pencil does on these pages.
    I can feel the weight of my own fatigue growing with every word that I write. At last. It’s a familiar and long-awaited feeling. Maybe I can overcome the night-time brightness by simply embracing it.
    No more now. Now I’m going to close the curtain and try to rest.

3
     
     
    Gunnar Gunnarsson had pulled a good few strings to get this job.
    A few months ago he had been appointed as the new mayor of the joint municipality of Siglufjördur and Ólafsfjördur, and so far he hadn’t committed any serious howlers. He had cultivated an image of himself as a reliable, youthful and energetic official, and he came across well, dressed smartly, and on the job every day, devoting all his energy to running this small community. It went without saying that he had managed to upset a few of the vested interests of the local big shots, but that was only to be expected. The financial wellbeing of individuals and companies don’t always coincide with those of the community, and planning issues often became battlegrounds.
    Through the innocent eyes of his own children, Gunnar had seen that there are clear dividing lines between good and evil, right and wrong. People are either bad or good. Then as the years pass, those lines become steadily less clear.
    On a fundamental level, he was a good guy, although there