Ice Diaries

by Lexi Revellian

“He could stay with us,” Archie volunteered. “We’ve got more space than Greg, and I’m sure Nina would be happy to nurse him. Though he really needs a doctor …”

  “Neither of you need bother,” said Morgan. “Bastard set fire to Tori’s flat. I’m going to take him to the Elephant and Castle and dump him. Where’s your sled, Eddie?”

  Eddie had sat apathetically while we discussed his immediate future, and now flinched and gave Morgan a hangdog look. There was no fight left in him. “South of here, low building with an overhanging roof.”

  Morgan turned to go.

  “I’m coming with you,” I said quickly. “You need me to drive one of the sleds.” I didn’t want to stay in the remains of my flat, particularly with Mike around somewhere.

  Morgan smiled at me. “I wasn’t going to leave you behind.”

  Archie said he’d stay with the others till we got back.

  “Hang on.” I ran and got the champagne bottle out from under my bed and gave it to Greg, just in case. “If Eddie looks like getting aggressive, hit him with this.”

  For a few minutes I didn’t say anything. I’d definitely had enough of walking, and my leg muscles were protesting, but at least the snow was falling less thickly than before.

  After a while I said, “I’m glad Eddie’s okay. I was afraid he’d be dead.”

  “He can’t have been unconscious very long. Archie must have turned up just after we left, Greg soon after that. He was lucky.”

  There was a pause, while I tried to put my muddled thoughts into words. All I came up with was, “Doesn’t it worry you, beating people up when it may kill them?”

  “Yes and no. It’s different in the cage where there are rules and a ref and a medic standing by. D’you think I should have let Eddie carry on throwing petrol on the fire, or given Hong what he came for?”

  “No … I just wasn’t sure how I’d feel if you’d killed him.”

  He glanced at me. “I probably killed a few people when I was in the army.”

  “That’s different …”

  “I’m not so sure. A life is a life. You’ve taken a man’s future away from him.”

  We’d reached what had to be the right building, barely one storey sticking out, long and low with a pagoda-like flat roof. We walked down its length, turned right at the corner and there they were, two sleds side by side half-covered in white drifts. There was a Snowmobile Fairy after all, and she’d smiled on us. My heart lightened and I did a little dance in the snow. Morgan picked me up and whirled me round – his foot slipped and he fell into the soft powder with me on top of him. We kissed, a thorough kiss that belonged indoors with fewer clothes and plenty of time. I felt warm and tingly right down to my toes. Eventually he released me and we got up, brushing off snow and gazing at each other.

  “What was that for?”

  “Because we’re the best. And we’ve got transport again.”

  He flipped me a key, and we each rode a sled back to my flat. It was nice not to be walking. Greg and Archie helped Eddie over the balcony railing and on to the back of Morgan’s sled, then Greg went home. Archie got on behind me so I could drop him off at the Barbican. After that we headed through the driving snow and the dark towards the Elephant and Castle.

  Ice Diaries ~ Lexi Revellian

  CHAPTER 25

  Strata

  Strata won three awards when it was built; the 2010 Carbuncle Award, ‘for the ugliest building in the United Kingdom completed in the last twelve months’, and two rather more favourable ones, the names of which I’ve forgotten. It used to be referred to locally as Isengard after the fortress in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, or the Razor, though it more resembles an enormous electric shaver. I’d never seen it in real life. It’s triangular in section, with two walls curved and one flat, and a 45 degree slice off the top. At the apex, three wind turbines sit in round holes, designed to provide 8% of the power consumed by the building. Much was made of this green aspect at the time; now London consumes no power at all and has the carbon footprint of an unwashed ant with sedentary habits …

  As we approached, thirty-odd storeys loomed over us, and I noticed lights shining all along the snow line, with lit windows here and there for six or seven levels above – I got quite excited, not having seen electric lights for a year. Morgan circled the building and stopped next to a huge brightly-lit window, one of a row divided by white panels. Two sleds were parked outside, Serena’s and what must have been BJ’s. Peering through the condensation trickling down the glass, I recognized the communal hall Serena had described. You could see where walls had been removed to make it into a big open L-shaped space. People sat around tables chatting, or milled at the bar, or played table football. Some had laptops. Two women behind a counter served steaming food. A man strummed a guitar. There was an area with sofas and violet Arne Jacobsen swan chairs, children running about, and three people juggling in a corner.

  “That’ll do,” said Morgan. “We’ll leave him there.”

  We parked the sleds outside and walked to the only entrance, an incongruous panelled door fitted into a window space blocked with boards. It wasn’t locked, and led to a small room leading on to the Hall. We passed a noticeboard with handwritten cards, and I hung back to take a quick look. You could have a hot bath for 60g (how I’d love that) or a professional wash, cut and blow dry for 20g. What was a ‘g’? Gold something? Water cost 3g a litre. Among offers of babysitting, odd jobs and things for sale were adverts for Indian Head Massages 5g, hand-made jewellery, weed at 8g a gram, and Tarot or rune readings, 3g. I saw what Serena had meant when she called the people here time-warp hippies. I caught up with the others.

  Inside was warm, with smells of cooking and humanity and a buzz of music and conversation. Faces nearest to us looked up. David sat on a far sofa talking to a woman in a red top I guessed must be Katie. She was okay-looking, a bit big on the hips, with the expression of one who knew her own mind. Though I was no longer keen on David, I can’t say I felt much enthusiasm towards her. A carrycot lay on the seat beside them. Morgan headed purposefully in their direction. Eddie shuffled behind making horrible sniffing and snorting noises, with me bringing up the rear.

  Morgan stopped in front of David. “Hi doc.” David glanced up and as he recognized Morgan his smile disappeared. “I’ve brought you your patient back.”

  David’s gaze moved to Eddie, whose pulped face and bloody clothes looked much more striking in the bright light, and his expression morphed from suspicion to outrage. He jumped to his feet. “Did you do this?”

  “Yes,” said Morgan, simply.

  David’s voice went up. “What kind of Neanderthal are you?” People nearby stopped talking and turned to listen and stare. “D’you know how much damage you did to his nasal bones and septal cartilage the first time and just how tricky it was to align? Without anaesthetics? The one thing he didn’t need was more trauma to the same site.”

  Morgan turned to study Eddie. “Yeah, he does look a mess, doesn’t he? I guessed he might need a bit of medical attention. That’s why I brought him back to you to sort out. Plus if I’m honest, we’d had enough of him.”

  David looked at him with revulsion. “Mike was right. You’re a psycho.”

  Morgan took a step forward and said amiably, “If I am, what are you going to do about it?”

  Katie got to her feet and grasped David’s arm. “Don’t talk to him.”

  I felt it was time I joined this conversation. “Eddie threw Molotov cocktails at my windows. If Morgan hadn’t hit him I’d have done it myself. Less efficiently, obviously.”

  “Are you Tori?” Katie took a firmer hold of David’s arm, apparently more worried I might whisk him off and have my way with him than that Morgan would resent being called a Neanderthal psycho and beat him up.

  “Yes. And I am now homeless because of what Eddie did to my flat.”

  “Hi guys!” A voice behind me made me turn. “What are you doing here? D’you fancy a drink?” Serena,
wearing jeans and a sloppy sweater. I was quite pleased to see her. I realized I liked her a lot better than anyone else I knew in the room, apart from Morgan. But hanging around where Mike lived was asking for trouble.

  “That would be nice, but we have to go – we only came to drop Eddie off.”

  Serena did a double-take at Eddie’s face; I could see her decide to say nothing about the state he was in. Avoiding our eyes, David took him away, Katie following with the carrycot. I’d failed to tell him about Mike threatening Morgan. I’d also missed the opportunity to check out little Tessa’s sweetness rating. Probably lower than my godchild-elect’s.

  To my surprise, Morgan said, “We’ve got time for a quick one, Tori.” He smiled at Serena. “Beer for me.” He was up to something.

  “I’ll have white wine, then. Thanks.”

  “Stay put and I’ll get them for you. D’you know where Mike is?”

  “On his way here, probably.”

  As soon as we were alone, I hissed, “Why are we hanging around? At any moment Mike could walk through that door and we’d be trapped. It’s the only door to the building, and the windows don’t open. And for all we know, he’ll have thought of putting plasticene in his ears and will shoot you on sight.”

  “This is too good an opportunity to miss. I want to get the spares for the sleds while we’re here and he’s not. We need trailers, too.”

  “But we don’t know where his stuff is.”

  “No, but Serena will. You just ask her casually which flat they’re staying in, without making a big thing of it, then I’ll snoop around while you keep her talking. We’ll only have one drink, it won’t take long. On the way out we’ll look for their trailers.”

  I wasn’t totally convinced, and the thought of meeting Mike again made me shake; but remembering the ACE not working, I could see spares were important for our journey. Morgan said we should hide the sleds just in case. On the way out he detoured to the queue at the bar. Waiting for him by the counter, I noticed that besides packets of peanuts and biscuits, priced 1g, the glass shelves held sandwiches made with real bread, 5g, white and thickly cut. I hadn’t eaten bread for a year. Someone must have a bread machine. My mouth watered. Then I saw bowls of fresh green salad, 4g. My eyes widened. Morgan touched Serena’s arm, making her jump.

  “We’ll be back, there’s something we’ve got to do.”

  The only building nearby was the top of a scruffy sixties high rise, spotted with satellite dishes; the snow lay conveniently a metre above the balconies, so we were able to tuck the sleds under cover, round the back where they weren’t too conspicuous. Snow was falling more heavily again; I was not keen on the idea of travelling through it on a sled. We might get stuck out in the open. Back in Strata we took off our jackets and made ourselves comfortable on the sofa vacated by David and co. Anxious though I was, it was bliss to sit down in the warm. I unlaced my damp boots so I could curl my socked feet beneath me. Morgan stretched then put his arm around me, rubbing my shoulder, and kissed my cheek quickly.

  Serena wove between the sofas, carrying three drinks and packets of peanuts. She no longer had the gloss that had been so evident when we first met; she looked more ordinary, as if the effort to be well-groomed had become too much for her. “Sorry to be so long.” She put the tray on the low table in front of us and plonked herself down next to me. “It’s ridiculous, the bar is the only place here you can get a drink, and it gets crowded evenings. There aren’t any local shops, not that you can get at anyway, so they do regular trips to the nearest supermarket but everything they bring in belongs to the commune and you have to buy it from the shop.” She waved in the direction of an open door at the far end with a home-made sign above in multi-coloured letters, STRATA MARKET.

  Morgan said, “What’s the currency?”

  “Credits.” She fished a green plastic disc out of her pocket and handed it to me. Waitrose was embossed on one side. I passed it to Morgan. “They call them greenies. There’s only so many in circulation, and you have to earn them from other people. It’s quite a clever system, because it makes everyone work because they need money to stockpile stuff. You never know how long something’ll be available in the shop. There’s not much I can do, except babysitting. I refuse to dig rubbish pits or empty latrines and Mike doesn’t like to see me scrubbing the floors. I wouldn’t mind a bar job, but he’s against that too. One hour’s work gets you three credits, and a glass of wine costs two.”

  Serena had just spent the equivalent of three hours’ babysitting on us. I gave her back the greenie, and sipped my wine more slowly. If I’d known, I’d have brought her some of my bottles from Bézier.

  As if reading my mind she added, “I’ve got a few bottles in the flat, but you can’t drink them in here, it’s not allowed and they make a terrible fuss. You wouldn’t believe how many rules they’ve got.”

  “You ought to dig down to another Waitrose and get loads of discs then you’d be rich. Of course, it would cause rampant inflation. Prices would rocket.”

  She laughed. “They’d have to go on the gold standard. Mike’d be pleased.”

  “So do you have a flat here?”

  “Yes, on the sixteenth floor, that’s seven above snow level.” I couldn’t help glancing quickly at Morgan. “It’s only occupied up to there. The committee has to approve anyone wanting to stay. They have a meeting where they ask all sorts of questions to see what you have to offer, whether you’ll fit in and if they like you. They liked Mike all right,” she gloomed. “Predictably. Then they allocate you a flat sort of on probation and Ginger wires it up for you so you’ve got underfloor heating and electricity. You have to pay rent.”

  I opened a packet of peanuts. “Who’s Ginger?”

  “He’s a genius mechanic who got the turbines working. He lives right at the top in the penthouse so he’s on hand to keep them going. Sometimes they freeze or get snowed up. Other times the wind blows too hard for them to work. He’s fixed up a load of car batteries for when the turbines stop, but they only last twenty-four hours. The committee gives you a list of instructions about not using too much electricity.”

  Morgan said, “Who’s in charge?”

  “Randall Pack. He set the place up originally.”

  Morgan got to his feet. “Back in a minute.”

  Serena pointed. “They’re through that door, on the left.” She watched him stroll away and sighed. “He’s a dish. You’re so lucky, Tori. Imagine what it’s like, living with Mike.”

  “Why don’t you leave him? You’ve got the keys to your sled. Just pack up a trailer and clear out. Go south.”

  She looked as wistful as a puppy by a dining table. “I wish I could … the thing is, I know I couldn’t do it alone. I’m hopeless at organizing stuff. I’d get lost or realize in the middle of nowhere I hadn’t brought the right kit.”

  “Couldn’t you find some reliable man and offer him a lift south on your sled in exchange for him sorting out all the logistics? There must be someone suitable here.”

  “If there is I haven’t met him yet. I’d trust Ginger, but he’d never leave his turbines. No one else could keep them going. I say, d’you want to meet him? If the lift’s working, that is. I often go up there to smoke. The view’s amazing, though of course you can’t see it now because it’s dark. But he’ll be there. He doesn’t come down much.”

  “I don’t think we’ve got time. We can’t hang about in case Mike comes back.”

  I told her everything that had happened after she’d left Bézier. It took a while. Her eyes got rounder as the story went on.

  “God, how lucky you thought of saying that! I couldn’t quite believe Mike really meant to kill Morgan. So as soon as he gets hold of earplugs, he’ll take a pot shot at him?”

  “Seems likely. D’you know how long he’s planning on staying here?”

  “He hasn’t said. I’d like to know, because I haven’t got much money and if we’re staying I seriously need to get round to earning some. You
have to pay for everything here.”

  “How did you manage when you first arrived?”

  “The Welfare Committee gave us a loan – sixty greenies between us, and believe me, that doesn’t last long. They’re like some Victorian charity, expounding the virtues of hard work, telling you the community can’t be expected to support you. They suggest things you can do to make money. There’s always work melting snow for water – the inside set-up’s not bad, they have an immersion heater you feed snowballs into, but you can end up outside feeding fires under bathtubs and lugging buckets of snow. You have to be on your last legs before they give you a handout. It’s all right for Mike, the man he did the swap with for the gun paid him a load of greenies as well. He’s only given me a few now and then. I had to sell a pair of boots, my best ones. Boy, am I fed up with him.”

  At that moment Morgan reappeared looking pleased with himself, a small backpack he hadn’t had before slung over one shoulder. “Snow’s getting worse. We’d better wait a bit before we leave.”

  Serena said, “Hey, Morgan, d’you want to go to the top of the building and meet Ginger?”

  He didn’t answer at once. Something outside had caught his attention. I swivelled to look through the windows. Two round lights were visible through a swirling veil of snow, gradually getting larger; approaching snowmobile headlights. I shoved my boots on and tied the laces hastily, pocketed the peanuts, grabbed my backpack and leaped up. The lights swept across the steamy windows and stopped right next to the other sleds. Three dimly-visible figures got off.

  Serena turned to see what we were looking at. “Oh God, Mike’s back.”

  Morgan said, “I’ve got a sudden crazy urge to see turbines. Let’s roll.”

  The three of us walked fast, back the way Morgan had just come, hurrying without seeming to.

  Ice Diaries ~ Lexi Revellian