City Under Ice (Into the White, #1) Read online

  City Under Ice

  TE OLIVANT

  Copyright © Tania Scott, 2017

  Shuna Publishing

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1: Lisanne

  Chapter 2: Kyrk

  Chapter 3: Lisanne

  Chapter 4: Kyrk

  Chapter 5: Lisanne

  Chapter 6: Kyrk

  Chapter 7: Lisanne

  Chapter 8: Kyrk

  Chapter 9: Lisanne

  Chapter 10: Kyrk

  Chapter 11: Lisanne

  Chapter 12: Kyrk

  Chapter 13: Lisanne

  Chapter 14: Kyrk

  Chapter 15: Lisanne

  Chapter 16: Kyrk

  Chapter 17: Lisanne

  Chapter 18: Kyrk

  Chapter 19: Lisanne

  Chapter 20: Kyrk

  Chapter 21: Lisanne

  Chapter 22: Kyrk

  Afterword

  Chapter 1: Lisanne

  It’s kind of hard to do your hair in a power cut.

  “Need some help?”

  My mother stood in the doorway, barely lit by the sickly green of the emergency lights.

  “No thanks.”

  “Nonsense. Let me do it.”

  The light above us flickered back on, but my mother sat down beside me anyway. She took the comb from my hand and started tugging at my hair.

  “Are you excited?”

  “No.”

  She pursed her lips, showing the tiny wrinkles around her mouth.

  “That is not the attitude of an eighty on her interview day, darling.”

  I stared at her for a second. Her dark silky hair reflected the light that flickered above us. My mother, the Historian, the eighty-seven, could never understand the knot of nerves in my stomach. I didn’t think she’d ever had a moment of doubt in her entire life.

  “You must look perfect today.”

  “Of course.” I didn’t even flinch when she ripped through the knots without pausing. The old comb had half its teeth missing. It had been my grandmother’s and I could never ask for a new one, even when the sharp edges bit into my scalp.

  “Shall I tell you about when you were born?”

  “Again?”

  Mother laughed. It was a sweet sound, one I hardly heard anymore, and I leaned my arms on the dressing table. If it made her happy I didn’t mind her telling the story, even though I was hardly a child anymore.

  “Well, your father and I always knew we only wanted one child. We could have had two – our genes gave us that choice, of course, but we only wanted one. So you were extra special.”

  I nodded. All eighties were special, but it was nice to hear her say so.

  “When you were born you screamed for the first ten minutes. What a fright it gave me. I thought they must have hurt you when they cut you out of my belly.”

  I grimaced at the thought.

  “As soon as you stopped hollering the nurse came in to take you for the grading. We were so nervous in the weighing chamber.” So powerful was this memory for her that my mother’s hands shook a little and the comb shuddered in its rhythm.

  “Of course, you looked perfect. But there’s always the worry, there could have been something that hadn’t shown up on the scans. There hasn’t been less than an eighty in my family in generations, nor your father’s, but he was just as nervous. He couldn’t keep still, pacing up and down the delivery room. It was sweet really.”

  “But you would have kept me anyway wouldn’t you?” I asked, as I had asked a hundred times before. And as always, I told myself I imagined the slight hesitation in my mother’s reply.

  “Of course, darling, we keep anyone over a sixty. But isn’t it so much nicer to be an eighty.”

  I smiled at her in the mirror. Everything she said was right, but somehow I wished I hadn’t listened to the story, it was like picking at an itchy scab. It might leave a scar.

  “So anyway, the Doctor came back with this wide smile and I knew everything was okay. He said you were an eighty-three, only four less than me. Eighty-three percent pure human. Your father muttered something about looking more like a late eighty, but of course that was just his pride in such a perfect daughter.” She kissed me on the top of my head. Suddenly the light flickered out again.

  “Third time today,” my mother said quietly. I frowned in the dark. Maybe she was more nervous about my interview than she was letting on. She normally pretended the power cuts didn’t happen. We waited in the pitch dark for the light to return. I could hear the hum of the generators far below us.

  “Just a glitch.” My mother’s confident voice said the moment the light came back on. I blinked in its harshness. “And today you’ll have your chance to show everyone just how perfect you are.”

  I gave her a quick smile, although my stomach clenched. Today I would give up my childhood for ever. Today I would be judged, and I just had to hope I would not be found wanting. I felt a strong hand under my chin and my mother tilted my face up to hers. The tenderness that she had shown when she brushed my hair had disappeared.

  “Show them your strength, Lisanne, and you will have nothing to worry about.” I pulled away from her grip and forced my face into a confident smile.

  “Of course, mother.”

  “Let’s go get breakfast, you can’t have your interview on an empty stomach.”

  As soon as we entered the canteen I knew that something was wrong. Whispers ran around the room like a virus, each person running to another group to spread the word. I wanted to ask someone what was happening, but my mother touched my arm.

  “Eighties do not engage in idle gossip,” she said, but her eyes flickered with interest just as mine did. We ate our food in silence while the room pulsed with talk around us. I felt hot pangs of anger at my mother, but I knew there was no point in arguing with her. I would just have to wait.

  When my mother walked over to talk to a man from her office, I finally plucked up the courage to ask someone and sidled over to an old friend.

  “Didn’t you hear already? I thought everyone knew.” Bright Honey wouldn’t normally have talked so boldly to a high rank like me. But today was different.

  “It’s a Walker.”

  “What?”

  I couldn’t believe it, but the pale, shocked faces around me showed that it was true. Someone had Walked. My first thought was this would delay my interview, but then I shook myself, appalled at how selfish I was. A Walker affected us all, it was like an open wound in the heart of the city.

  The last Walker had been two years ago, but I remembered it like yesterday. I had run all the way home from school to find that my father was already home. He sat at the kitchen table, poking a box meal with a fork but not eating any. I gave him a hug and I hid my tears in his chest.

  “You’ve heard then. Come on, let’s have some tea.” He took down two cups and made some tea from his private stash. It was hidden on top of the cupboard where mother couldn’t see it. She didn’t approve of the black market, but father said that sometimes it was necessary for the odd treat. That day the tea didn’t really feel like a treat. It felt like trying to put a sticking plaster on a gaping wound.

  “The Walker, it was Angel Sam’s dad,” I whispered.

  “Angel Sam?” My father frowned.

  “The boy in my class. The sixty. The one that mother said I wasn’t to sit beside.”

  “Oh yes. Him.”

  The tea was bitter but warm and I shut my eyes and breathed in the steam. I didn’t understand the Walkers. It was suicide, as simple as that. How could you just decide to go out into the White, never to come back? Out into that endless cold...

  “Why do they do it?”

&nb
sp; My father paused for a moment, then looked down into his cup.

  “You are too young to understand. There is no temptation when you’re young, but when you’re older... Well, the White is always there and sometimes it calls to you.”

  The tone in his voice frightened me and I was glad when he stopped talking when my mother entered the room. She avoided the subject all together. Instead she talked about her work, asked me about school and made me start my homework. But even she could not hide the brittle edge in her voice and after I went to bed I could hear my parents whispering in the darkness.

  I looked at Bright Honey and saw the same fear in her eyes that had been in my father’s that day.

  “Who was it?” I asked.

  “The Physician. Just a few hours ago.” Bright Honey shook her head so hard that her white-blond hair flew around her like a halo.

  The Physician! I stared at Bright Honey but couldn’t find any words to say. There were several doctors in the city, but only the head was known by the name Physician. He was the heart of our world. How could he have Walked?

  “He didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t turn up for work this morning and one of the nurses went to look for him. He took a suit and some supplies and just... Walked.” Bright Honey’s cheeks were flushed with excitement. I felt a tingle in my own chest. Not much happened to break the routine in the city, so even a dreadful event like this held a thrill.

  “And no one knew he had gone,” I muttered. It was so sad: imagine no one else noticing you had taken the walk to your death. I was glad that the same would not be true for me. Not that I would ever walk up onto the frozen White anyway.

  I was about to leave the canteen to head to my interview when a crackling noise made us all look to the view screen. The Leader had decided to make one of his rare announcements. Every head in the room turned around to peer at the imposing figure on screen. The Leader was shown from the waist up, seated in front of a large picture of the Vitruvian. The lighting flattened out his features, so that he looked both handsome and strange, like some sort of powerful doll. I stood up to see better but my mother pulled me down sharply. She seemed more tense than usual, and her eyes were ringed by dark circles. I quickly turned back to the screen.

  “You will all have heard our sad news.” The voice boomed out from the speakers. “The Physician left us yesterday, and like all of you I am pained by his loss.” The Leader’s mouth turned down a little, but his eyes stayed the same, hard and piercing. “We have already appointed a new chief medic, so there is no reason to be concerned. There will be no break in service.” He paused, and we dutifully applauded. There was probably no one with authority in the canteen, but it was important to always show loyalty.

  “I have chosen to speak to you today as I am saddened by the Physician’s loss, but I am also angered.” There was a surprised mutter in the room. “I am angered at the waste of his life. This Walker was weak; he gave up what was most precious and for nothing more than oblivion. Our community cannot continue on a weak foundation; we must focus on our strengths.”

  “Consider your history. Only by knowing what we were can we understand what we are now. A thousand years ago our fathers and mothers created this sanctuary to protect us from the White. We owe a debt, not just to them, but to ourselves, and to our children. If we allow this fear into our hearts, then we might as well all join him out on the ice.”

  Was it just me that thought there was an edge of threat to his words? The speaker’s expression, caring but stern, never changed.

  “From the moment we are born we begin to learn our histories. You have learned that in every age of man we have destroyed one another through war. Every age until our own. Since the City was built we have seen no war, men no longer kill each other in anger. Our system works, it protects us, it leads us away from temptation, out of the path of evil.”

  I let my eyes roam around the room, knowing how the speech would continue. I couldn’t help but think that the Leader had not answered the real question - why had the Physician done it? Why did any of them do it? But then the speaker went on to a familiar subject.

  “A great storm came, and the ice began to creep. It crept over our world until there was nothing left. Oblivion.” The leader paused for effect and I leaned forward, drawn in despite myself. “But our ancestors refused to go quietly into the cold. They built our home far beneath the ice and snow and kept us warm. They had the foresight to provide for us, imagining our every need. And since then generations of brave men and women have worked together to keep our city alive. I will not let anything happen to it.” He beamed a smile out across the screen, and some people even cheered.

  “We must remember our principles: Food, Shelter, Warmth. Forever unchanged. Remember.” I saw my mother mouth along with these familiar words, as did most people in the room. For some reason, I kept my mouth shut.

  “These values have helped us to survive all these years, and they will ensure our future. History tells us that every so often someone will Walk, someone will abandon us. But it also tells us that these desertions make us stronger.”

  “I blame myself for the Walker,” the leader shook his head sadly. There were angry exclamations in the room and I heard my mother gasp in horror. “But I make my promise to you now that I will protect you all. You are all my children, and I will not let the White take you.”

  I fixed my face into a smile and applauded with everyone else. Was it wrong that I found the leader’s speeches boring and predictable? My mother had genuine tears falling down her face, but I couldn’t help but feel that that showed her weakness, not her strength.

  “It’s nearly time, Lisanne.” My mother said and reached over and squeezed my hand before pulling hers back as quickly as she could. Was it my upcoming Interview or the Leader’s words that had made her soften? As people began to file out of the canteen I turned my mind back to the day’s task. One interview, one moment to decide the rest of my life. I told myself that even an assistant Historian in the archives would be okay, but really I knew that I would be a little disappointed. What I really wanted, what I had not dared mention even to my best friends, was to be right in the heart of things, working in the Leader’s office. Hardly anyone got to see the Leader apart from on the screen, so to work there would be an incredible achievement. Historical was the key though. That was where all the high graders went. I would follow in the footsteps of my mother, the best Historian of her time.

  “Sit down please Lisanne”

  I sat down in front of the interviewer and crossed my legs. The pale little woman clicked away on her keyboard for a while. I stared around the office. What a miserable place to spend your days. The metal struts were bare in the wall, not like the smooth white wall-coverings of my home. On the woman’s desk were pictures of what were presumably her children: squat, large eyed little creatures, probably sixties at best. Be charitable, I reminded myself, she couldn’t help how she was born.

  “Do you have all your documentation?”

  “It should be on the system,” I replied. I had of course checked a thousand times that everything had been sent through the net, but I still felt a little tremor of nerves.

  The fingers tapped for another few seconds. “I have them here.” I tried to give my best, most confident smile, but the woman’s robotic manner was starting to irritate me. She hadn’t even said hello, just typed away at the machine. My mother had often told me how envious some of the lower grades could be, but I had rarely experienced someone so open in their dislike.

  “Confirm your final year grades for me?”

  “History: A, Science: A, Language: A, Statistics: B.”

  “Was that a B for Statistics?” the woman asked, and I was sure I hadn’t imagined the sneer that time.

  “Yes” I said, and I felt the start of a blush rise up my cheeks. I remembered bringing home my results, the pride that I had felt in coming top of the year instantly dented with one glance at my mother’s face when she had seen the B grade.
I resented the question from a woman who had probably barely passed anything, if her current job as a number cruncher was anything to go by.

  “And I have your parents’ records here.”

  This at least I had no reason to worry about. My parents’ achievements could not have been more impeccable. My mother was the Head Historian, probably the most important person in the city next to the Leader, and my father was a scientist, specialising in medical research and psychology. I could have never turned up to a single lesson and my future would still have been assured.

  “It will take a few moments for the computer to run the programme.” If the assistant had been friendlier I would have tried to make small talk, but instead we both stared at the bare walls of the office.

  The computer beeped and the women leaned forward, a strange expression on her face.

  “Congratulations Lisanne. You have been chosen to be a Technician.”

  The world seemed to screech to a halt. My mouth opened but I couldn’t make any words come out. Had she really just said technician? They were sending me to Tech!

  “You will report to the Technology Room after breakfast on Monday. Tardiness will not be permitted. You will take home forty-seven tickets a week. This will be paid...” Her voice droned on and on, like she was reading from a script. In fact, as her face was fixed on the screen in front of her, that was exactly what she was doing.

  I felt the blush start from her chest and rush up to her cheeks. It felt like my heart had exploded.

  "But my mother was a Historian. So was her mother. Do you know who my grandfather was?"

  "According to our analysis you are better suited for life as a Tech." The woman’s voice droned on evenly. I grabbed the desk in front of me, I was feeling dizzy on top of everything else. I breathed slowly in and out to try to calm my mind, but it wasn’t working.

  “I don’t want to be a Tech.” I whispered.

  “A Tech is a very important job! Many people would love to be in your position.”

  The administrator’s cheeks were also flushed now, and her ample chest trembled with suppressed rage. I had questioned the system, and that was not allowed. But I couldn’t help it. Even though I knew it was futile I needed the woman to change her mind.