Skye City: The Darkness of Emmilyn

Return to the Base

In the morning I wake to discover the bonfire is somehow still smouldering and the sun has not quite risen in the dim sky. The others are sleeping so I throw junk onto the embers, warming the room to a comfortable level and increasing the brightness. The nearby snow has turned to sludge and the air is barely breathable. I can feel the toxic smoke residue clogging my throat and nostrils.

I sit before the flames, then peer through the doorway to the frozen ruin which provokes vague memories of a happier time. A more innocent time. And then I realise the past can come to life.
Venturing into the cold, I place my hands in my sleeves and roll two balls of snow, placing the smallest on top of the largest. I enter the nearby alley and find an old coat inside a garbage can, then I remove the buttons by unpicking the threads. This proves difficult because numbness stops my fingers from moving properly, but I manage to collect six buttons which is all I need.
Upon return to the ruin, I place the buttons onto the smallest ball, giving my new friend big black eyes and a smiling mouth, and then I wrap the coat around his body. He looks so handsome I could hug him... Well, if not for the smelly coat.
'Hey, Emmi, what you doing?' Scoop sneaks alongside me, admiring my handiwork.
'The last time it snowed like this, we were still in school. Do you remember? I still had my mother,' I murmur. 'Seems such a long time ago. This is one of my few memories from back then – building snowmen.'
'I remember. And I can remember having a huge snowball fight too. That day was a lot of fun,' Scoop says.
'I remember wishing it would snow every day... It makes everything so pretty, dresses everything up, and suddenly it's like you're in a faerie tale,' I say and Scoop bends forwards, scrunching a handful of snow into a ball which he rolls along the ground so it grows into a body.
The others emerge from their bedroom yawning, and do the same, leaving trenches in the snow as they roll their balls. We build a family of snowmen, finding sticks for arms, old rags for scarves, even a flat cap for mine. Our creations could not be more perfect and suddenly I am flooded with emotion. I think the correct word is nostalgia. Or sentiment maybe. The magical frozen scene blurs in shimmering fire-light as I sob, feeling embarrassed but unable to stop myself.
'Hey, what's wrong?' Bex rubs my shoulder.
'I-I don't know. It's just so beautiful, it makes me... happy.' I wipe my warm tears with icy fingers.
'You're crying because you're happy?' Scoop says.
'Yeah, I know it doesn't make sense... Hey, I have an idea.' I crouch to collect a handful of snow, squeeze it together and throw the ball splat into Scoop's face. The others roar with laughter as he brushes the white powder from his lips, gasping.
The gang take up tactical positions in the ruin and we have a snowball fight until my hands are so cold they actually burn. And then I just fall back into the snow and spread my arms, tuning out the distant but relentless crackling of gunfire.
We remain in our smoky shelter for a couple of days, waiting for conditions to improve and our strength to return. The sun shines pretty much the entire time, almost as though the blizzard never happened, but its rays are not strong enough to clear the ground. The snowmen melt gradually, depressingly, and grey sludge spills into our room. We find cardboard boxes to sit on, but they get damp so we find more and layer them up, and we continue to raid the bins for bonfire fuel.
The snow is now less than knee-deep and compacted, making walking a damn sight easier. Therefore we grudgingly opt to move on, resuming our search for the rebel base. Our journey is exhausting, not least because we are no longer following tank tracks, and we continuously loop back on ourselves. I swear we are now in the general area, but we cannot pin the place down. Most buildings are at least several stories tall, meaning we could be just around the corner and none-the-wiser.
I am tempted to find another resting place, but then I spot barb-wire fences at the end of a long road, glimpsing what appear to be factory buildings. This is definitely an industrial estate. The only question is: Is it our industrial estate?
We hurriedly follow the road, and as we get closer to the factories, the business signs become familiar, but then I spot broken windows. We enter the gate which is wide open, following the road past building complexes until our destination comes into view. Or what remains of our destination...