"Kim Wilkins - Giants of the Frost" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilkins Kim)

still had his hand resting in the small of my back. We approached the assembled buildings of Kirkja
Station, which all sat on a concrete slab abutting a dense pine forest on two sides. The fjord curved
around the other two. The impression was one of civilization vainly making a stand against the deep
waters and the ancient trees.

"Come on, Victoria. I'll introduce you to the others," Magnus said. "They're all at the mess hall having
Wednesday afternoon drinks. It's one of our traditions."

I met all eight people at Kirkja that afternoon, andтАФsleep-deprived, bewilderedтАФforgot their names as
soon as they were spoken. I know them all now, of course, and it was Frida Blegen who made the
biggest impression on me. Like me and Gunnar, she was in her twenties (everyone else was well past
forty), and she had spiky hair, a swarthy complexion and eel-like lips. As Magnus stood there pointing
out faces and assigning them names, I determined to try out some of my beginner's Norwegian. I said, "
Hyggelig ├е treffe deg," which means something like "Nice to meet you." Frida snorted with laughter and
I never spoke another word of Norwegian in my whole time on the island.

Finally, Magnus showed me to my cabin, one of nine laid out three-by-three behind the station. Mine was
in the farthest corner to the northeast, crowded on two sides by the dark forest. I put down my suitcase
at the front door.

"I assigned you this cabin as it's quieter here," Magnus explained, extracting the key from his pocket and
unlocking the door. "In light of the sleeping problem you mentioned on your employee information form."

"Oh. Thanks for that." I'd had to fill out a four-page document about myself and had listed my chronic
insomnia in the box headed "psychological disorders for which you have received treatment."

"The rec hall can get very rowdy at night." He opened the door and stood back to let me through, giving
me six inches of distance from him for the first time since I'd arrived. "I'll leave you to it. You probably
want to unpack and settle in."

I peered into the cabin. The words "chilly" and "dingy" sprang to mind. "UmтАж yes."

"I'll see you in the office at 8:00 a.m. sharp. It's downstairs in the admin building." He gave me a charming
smile along with the key to the cabin. "I hope you'll like it here at Kirkja. Sleep well." With a wave of his
hand, he left me alone.

The cabin had clearly been designed with scientists, not artists, in mind. Four perfectly square rooms, all
of precisely equal size, stood left and right off a narrow hallway. Left, kitchen; right, lounge; left,
bathroom; right, bedroom. There was a pleasing regularity about it. At least I wouldn't be awake at night
shaving off imaginary percentages to make it even in my head. I dropped my suitcase on the dusty
gingham bedspread.

The back door stood directly in line with the front door at the end of the hall. Outside, two moldy deck
chairs sat on the slab.

Then the forest.

Spring rain fell lightly. I still wore my anorak, so I pulled up the hood and headed a little way into the
trees. The smell was wonderful after the diesel and fish smells on the boat (just thinking of that brought
back an echo of the nausea). I was about a hundred feet in when I realized I was counting footsteps. I