The Last Vikings

#TrySomethingNewEveryDay

"We gotta get out of here," Ruben said, his voice shaking.

Suddenly, the darkness around us felt very big, and the hotel very far away.

We turned towards it and ran.

This time we didn't hold hands.

The whole way there, my lungs burning, nose and fingers freezing, feet slow in the heavy snow, I was convinced something was behind me.

Something snapping at my heels, about to tear off my clothes, ready to do God knows what else to me...

I whimpered through my gasping breath as I ran.

We rushed through the hotel door and crashed into the reception, Ruben just slightly ahead of me. A few other influencers were in the ice lobby, and looked up at the disturbance. We ignored them.

Ruben was already explaining what we'd seen to the receptionist when I got to the desk.

"Come with me," she said seriously, in what sounded like an Eastern European accent. "Quickly."

We slid behind the desk and followed her through a small ante-room, then an ice corridor, then a curtain of thick plastic strips, like you might get in some chilled warehouse.

We were then in a small yard, surrounded by tall ice walls all around. Behind us was the hotel. In front of us was a different structure, which I realised was another portacabin, disguised by a thick layer of snow packed all around it. The receptionist led us inside.

There was an office inside, similar in decor to the other portacabins, though more businesslike and much cleaner. Framed pictures of skiers, ice climbers and snowboarders lined the walls, all with the InTrepid logo.

The receptionist knocked hurriedly on another door, and a man opened it. Behind him I could see some sort of living quarters, the edge of a sofa.

"Yes?" he said, coming out, frowning at the receptionist as he took in Ruben and I. "Joanna, you know guests shouldn't be in here."

The receptionist shook her head at him and nodded to the room he'd just appeared from.

"We need to talk," she said, then turned to us and said "Excuse us for a moment."

The door closed behind them, and I turned to Ruben.

"Fuck," he said, blowing air out of his nose.

I shook my head.

"Was that... Sam?"

I nodded. I couldn't bring myself to speak.

"What the fuck happened to him? Why was he naked?"

I just shook my head again. Ruben shook his too, then gazed round the office, eyes wide.

It was much warmer in here than outside. I was shaking, but it wasn't because I was cold.

The door opened and the man appeared again, now zipping up a large parka.

"Can you take me there?" he said to Ruben. "Now?"

"Yeah." Ruben nodded. "You bringing... back-up?"

"Not right now, no," the man said. "We just need to sort this out as quietly as possible. I don't want the guests..." He looked from Ruben to me, unsure.

"It's okay, man," Ruben said. "We're not out to cause a ruckus. We won't say anything to the others."

The man nodded and led us to the portacabin's door, telling the receptionist to go back to her post.

"Watch your phone," he said. "I'll ring through with instructions."

We circled back to the hotel's door, trying to avoid any of the other guests, then trained our head-torches on Ruben and my footprints so we could retrace our steps.

It felt a very bad idea, to be going out there again. I gingerly pushed my cold gloved hand towards Ruben's, and he took it and squeezed it, slotting it into his pocket with his own.

His parka really was warm.

Ruben and I stopped a few metres from the body, unwilling to look at it again.

The man from the office moved forward, bending down to inspect it.

"Shit," I heard him say under his breath. In a flash, I realised he was the man from the Cleaver, the one who'd scowled at the infomercial girl for mentioning their setbacks.

I realised then what the setbacks were.

"Is this what happened before?" Ruben asked.

The man nodded. He took out his phone, and gave orders on it for two others to be sent to join us.

"We'll have to move the body," the man said. "Try and work out what happened. You guys can go now. I'd appreciate if you didn't tell anyone about this... unfortunate accident. We don't want to worry anyone unnecessarily."

"No, problem, man," Ruben replied. "Our lips are sealed."

"Thanks," the man said, sounding like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "Look, go back to the bar, okay? Order a meal, some nice wine. Tell the waiter Luca said it's on the house."

"Okay, man," Ruben said. "We will."

We turned back to the hotel, my hand still slipped in Ruben's pocket.

"So what do you think?" I said. "Will we all get evacuated now? Is the trip off?"

"I dunno, man," Ruben shivered. It would be if the others knew about this, but that Luca dude seemed pretty keen to keep it on the down-low. He's in our debt, it's fair to say."

"Yeah," I said. "Thus the free meal."

Even though the trip was free, the restaurant here was painfully expensive, and we were trapped into using it—it's not like there were any other shops. Suffice to say, my credit card had been taking a beating.

"Yeah, and whatever else we can get out of him," Ruben said. "Like info. I say we go eat our fill, drink that fuckin' nasty mental image out of our minds, then call on our new friend Luca again to see what's what."

I nodded, and Ruben squeezed my hand.

I'd just seen my first dead body, and here I was, strategising.

Perhaps I was a Viking, after all.