The Mist

and this is how he repays us!
Mentally, she rehearsed the conversation with the police, trying to envisage which officer would come to see them. The inspector, perhaps? Yes, probably. A middle-aged man who she’d never much cared for.
‘Erla! Come here!’ Einar’s shout penetrated the mist that surrounded her. ‘Come and see what I’ve found!’
Apprehensively, she started towards the spare room, feeling her heart fluttering against her ribcage.
‘Hurry up.’
She peered round the door and saw Einar holding up a compass with a look of triumph.
‘He did have a compass, the lying bastard. So he can’t have been all that lost. Which means he lied to us about having no idea which way he was going. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he sabotaged the phone line as well. If you ask me, it’s a bit bloody suspicious that the line went down right about the time he turned up.’
‘Do you think … Are you serious?’ Actually, Einar’s theory wasn’t that far-fetched. The phone had been working fine the day before Leó arrived and the line usually held out whatever the weather, even when the electricity went.
‘We’d better take a look at it. I’m no telephone engineer, but I’m going to check it out anyway.’ Einar went on rooting around in the visitor’s rucksack.
Erla retreated a few steps. She stood there, slightly stunned, watching her husband behaving as if he’d been seized by a fit of madness, shaking the rucksack and roughly pulling the contents out of it.
Einar was normally a placid man, but she had seen this side of him before. Not often, but a handful of times; enough to know what he was capable of. Luckily, he’d never taken his temper out on her. No, he’d always treated her well, but when he felt he’d been pushed too far, he could fly into terrifying rages. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that he turned into a completely different person.
‘Hey, look at this, Erla!’ Einar held up a wad of five-thousand-krónur notes. ‘Cash, lots of it. You were right, his story doesn’t add up.’
Erla’s mind flew to Anna again. The man had lied to them, repeatedly. ‘All right, go on looking,’ she said. ‘But God help us if we’re wrong, Einar. God help us.’
The blows on the door upstairs were violent enough to shake the house. ‘Open the door this minute!’ Leó bellowed. ‘You can’t do this to me!’

XVIII
‘Erla, come back. You have to see this!’ Einar shouted urgently. She was poised in the doorway, unable to move, wishing with all her heart that she was somewhere else. Anywhere but here, caught up in this awful situation.
What if she gave up now, slipped out of the house and ran away, in no particular direction, just to escape? But she knew it was no good. She felt suffocated by the oppressive weight of the snow surrounding them and shutting them in.
At this time of year, in this weather, there was no way out.
However loudly she screamed, however fast she ran, all she could look forward to was a slow death from hypothermia. It was no wonder she often thought of their home as a prison.
‘Erla, are you listening? Come here.’
‘I heard you,’ she said, controlling her voice. ‘But I don’t want to come in, Einar. I don’t want any part in this. It … it feels wrong. We’re committing a crime against this man. We can’t keep him locked up like this. We have to let him out.’
‘But you were the one who was scared of him, Erla! Not me. You know, sometimes I don’t understand you. You’ve got to stop this nonsense. This is real, Erla, this is what reality is like. This man is real, and I reckon he’s got something to hide. In fact, I’m sure of it. And this is proof!’ He was brandishing a battered wallet.
‘I’m not coming in!’ Erla shrieked, feeling herself starting to shake.
‘Well, then, take a look at this.’ He opened the wallet and held it up towards her. She took a wary step into the room, as if trespassing in a stranger’s house. Obediently, she examined the man’s ID.
‘Look at his driving licence,’ Einar said. ‘The picture’s of him but Leó’s only a middle name. It’s like he didn’t want to tell us his real name.’
‘Maybe he goes by his middle name,’ Erla countered. She wasn’t sure what to think. She’d been racked by doubts ever since Leó arrived. ‘What’s going on, Einar?’ she asked, her voice trembling.
‘I don’t know, love, but I’m going to find out.’ He sounded tough, determined. In a way, Erla was relieved that Einar had taken the matter in hand, but at the same time she couldn’t help feeling apprehensive. When he lost his temper like this, there was a danger he’d do something rash.
Grabbing the rucksack, he upended it, tipping the rest of the contents out in a heap on the floor – clothes, toiletries: nothing immediately suspicious. Einar shook the bag, then peered inside it. ‘Empty. We’ll have to go through his stuff; see if we can find any clues about who he is and what he’s up to. For all we know, he could be a criminal on the run.’
‘You don’t think he’ll break the door down, do you?’ she asked.
‘I hope not, but if he does, I’ll deal with him. I’m not scared of a wimpy city boy. I reckon I could take him.’ Erla had no doubt he could. Einar was powerfully built, as if he had inherited the accumulated energy of all his forefathers, who had fought such a bitter battle against the elements to keep this remote patch of land inhabited. They had been successful right up to the present day, but now the omens were gathering, suggesting that the farm’s days were numbered, as was obvious to everyone except Einar himself. If only they could move away … set up home somewhere else. But Erla knew it wasn’t that simple. All their worldly goods were more or less tied up