Thin Ice

by Mikael Engström

  A SWORD OF ICE

  A black, round hole. Shiny ice and an eye in the middle of Lake Selet. He slithered carefully to the edge. It could just as easily have been the end of the world. Or a black hole in the universe with an endless magnetic pull. The surface swayed.

  Bengt came by on his sledge, on the way home from his pike fishing.

  ‘Mik, what the hell are you doing out there? Get away from that ice hole.’

  ‘No. They’re here.’

  A group of people staggered out onto the ice. It was Mik’s class. And their teacher. And two policemen. And then Parrot Earrings and Gold Tooth. Bengt understood the situation very clearly. The policemen came first.

  ‘Stop’ yelled Bengt. ‘The ice is very thin.’

  He got them to stop at a safe distance and explained how treacherous the ice was.

  ‘And out there, where the boy’s standing, the ice is only a few centimetres thick.’

  Confusion followed and the situation became deadlocked. Nobody knew what they ought to do. They called to Mik, but he didn’t answer.

  Lena came out onto the ice. She was distressed and angry and had a good mind to strangle Parrot Earrings. They looked at each other and then Parrot Earrings turned her head away. Mik’s classmates pointed and people talked on their mobiles. The fire service was on its way, and a helicopter too, they were saying. Pi started to cry.

  Lena took hold of Bengt’s arm.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Well, no one can get out there. The ice won’t hold them.’

  ‘What shall we do?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Bengt, and he looked at Lena.

  She saw the flash of a smile on his face. ‘He’s not stupid. This will give them time to think a little. To freeze and think. That’s good.’

  Now Parrot Earrings and Gold Tooth were talking with the policemen. Bengt looked at them out of the corner of his eye and saw the policemen shaking their heads.

  ‘You’re Erik Pål’s boy, aren’t you?’ called Bengt.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A good man, he is,’ said Bengt.

  ‘What shall we do?’ asked the policeman.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Bengt, and, turning towards Mik, he made a funnel with his fingers and shouted, ‘Have you got the knife?’

  Mik slapped his side, where his belt was.

  ‘Good.’

  Bengt took a sighting on Mik against the mast on Granberget. Travelled a bit to the left and took a sighting again from the church tower towards Tallåsen and then further on towards the southern end of the lake. Looked back and calculated again, taking a new sighting towards the boathouse. Then he tested the stretch to the south, down the lake. At full speed with his kick sledge. Twice. It was actually quite strange to look at.

  He breathed heavily and muttered breathlessly, ‘It might be all right. But that current’s bloody strong.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Lena.

  ‘In case. There’s good visibility through the ice. Shiny, clear and good all the way from the ice hole and down the lake.’

  ‘In case?’ said Lena.

  ‘Yes, in case.’

  Parrot Earrings was nervous and tugged at the policemen.

  ‘You’re really going to have to do something now.’

  ‘Such as what?’

  Bengt glided up to them on his kick sledge and said quietly, ‘It’ll be your fault if he falls through. Just so you know. Everyone here knows that.’

  He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Parrot Earrings.

  ‘Here. A petition. The whole village has signed it. Even Gustavsson: 163 residents.’

  ‘But the decision is –’

  ‘Obviously you don’t understand,’ said Bengt. ‘It’s a strong current. If he falls in he’ll go under the ice and if we’re lucky we’ll find his body in the autumn. That’s if the river doesn’t sweep him out to sea. Then we’ll never find him.’

  ‘But …’ attempted Parrot Earrings. ‘But we –’

  Bengt interrupted her. ‘It’s impossible to be closer to death than he is now. But you don’t seem to get it. Go back to Stockholm! You’re murdering him. Bloody child murderers. I’ll –’

  Bengt grabbed his axe from the pike box. Lena dragged him away from Parrot Earrings. Bengt swore and muttered about authorities and bureaucrats but then calmed down, put away the axe and looked silently across the ice at Mik.

  Mik saw all the people. There was a cold wind and he was only wearing a thin jumper. His knees shook. His jaw quivered. How stupid not to have grabbed his jacket. But even if he had been standing here in only his underpants, he wouldn’t have left the ice hole.

  More and more people gathered. The whole village, perhaps. He couldn’t hear what they were saying. Someone slipped over. The ice creaked.

  Lena held her jacket closed tight against the wind. An hour had passed without anything happening. Should this kind of thing really be allowed to happen?

  ‘Why aren’t I good enough?’ she said out loud to the wind. ‘He’s been fine here. He’s been cared for. Ask anyone. He’s been fine here. I’ve been fine too. Should it really be allowed to happen like this? All you need to do is say he can stay.’

  The policeman who was called Roland made it clear that they were not going to help with the care order, that it felt very uncomfortable and that they were probably going to have to report this, however it turned out. A child should not be treated like this.

  ‘It’s possible you do this kind of thing in Stockholm, but up here we don’t chase children out onto thin ice. You’re going to have to resolve this now.’

  More people walked onto the ice. These people were unfamiliar. One had a camera and was a photographer. The other was a journalist. Someone had phoned the local newspaper. A fire engine with its flashing blue light pulled up on the road. The firemen untied a small dinghy that they had on a trailer and pulled it out onto the ice. They spoke to the policemen and to the teacher.

  Mik saw that something was happening. Changing. His teacher gathered together all the pupils and took them back on land. But Pi remained, standing next to Lena.

  The journalist spoke with Parrot Earrings and then with Lena and Bengt. The photographer took pictures. Was that good or bad? The firemen shook their heads. Two of them began to struggle into their wetsuits and air cylinders up by the fire engine.

  Bengt broke away from the group and travelled towards him, slowly and cautiously. He stopped some distance away. The ice swayed and there were dull cracking sounds.

  ‘Are you cold?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You can come now.’

  ‘Can I stay?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Forever?’

  ‘There’s some damned stupid authority that has to look at the situation again. No one can promise anything here and now on the ice.’

  Mik did not move from the hole.

  ‘I want to know now.’

  ‘Please, Mik. When it comes to authorities, you can never get a sensible, straightforward answer. To ask these idiots to be able to answer here on the ice is just not possible. But the local paper’s here and I’ve told them what to write. Those Stockholmers will be worth nothing. You’re as good as home now. It’s all right. The paper’s having a go at Parrot Earrings now. She won’t have a feather left. They did the same thing to the leader of the council last year, when the paper mill bribed him with a trip to Dubai.’

  Mik took a step towards Bengt.

  The ice broke. A slight creak and a small, dull explosion.

  Mik fell in among clinking ice floes. The cold shot like a frozen sword up through his backbone. A sword of ice. His lungs emptied of air.

  ‘The knife,’ shouted Bengt. ‘The knife.’

  Mik got a hold on the edge of the ice but the current swept under his legs and dragged at his body. He looked for the knife. Fumbled with no feeling in his fingers. Got the knife out of the sheath and dropped it. He was sucked down, sucke
d away, glided with his hands against the underside of the ice. Scraped it with his nails. Tried to swim up against the ice but was dragged further and further away.

  His body turned numb and was carried gently through the water. He saw all the beautiful patterns in the ice, all the air bubbles which hovered inside. The frozen planets in a wall of dark blue glass. The water wanted him, and now it was going to get him. The whale sang in his ear. Long, mournful notes. The whale in Lake Selet. He saw it. He followed it. Would it show him the way?

  Lena cried out and Pi started running towards the ice hole but was held tight by the policemen. Bengt followed Mik’s journey under the ice. He could make out the boy’s pale hands, which pressed against the underside and glided along with the current.

  ‘Don’t drown,’ shouted Bengt. Even though he knew Mik couldn’t hear. ‘You mustn’t drown.’

  Mik’s face shimmered, diffuse as through a frosty pane of glass. Bengt travelled fast over the lake. Cast the sledge from him and hacked a hole in the ice with his axe.

  The ice shards whirled. There wasn’t much time; never had it been so urgent.

  Bengt hacked wildly. Water and ice flew about. He made the hole bigger and at the very last minute made it big enough.

  Mik felt it getting warmer and warmer. It was lovely, but odd. He had run off without his jacket. It got lighter. He saw the light. Was he there? I can see the light. Where would he get to now? And who was lifting him? Who was struggling with his legs?

  Mik came gliding under the ice. Bengt plunged his arms into the water and heaved him out.

  Mik coughed and threw up. Bengt took off his overcoat and wrapped it around him.

  ‘Where am I?’ said Mik.

  ‘Home.’