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Forty
BROOKE
Walking through the packed snow archway was like striding straight into a dream. Huge pillars of translucent ice leapt upward on either side of us, disappearing into a vaulted snow ceiling. An overarching lattice of snow-covered beams made up the walls and decorated the upper portions of the hotel’s lobby, which was dominated by a shimmering, glimmering desk in the form of a tremendous block of ice.
“This… this is…”
“Utterly amazing?” Noah smiled, finishing one of the Ninjas’ sentences for her. “Breathtakingly gorgeous? Totally incredible?”
“Yes,” the woman answered, still awestruck and turning in circles. “I—I guess.”
“Glad you like it,” the host winked.
One by one we were handed large, fur-lined coats for us to wear during the duration of our stay. And that’s when it hit me:
Our stay…
We reallyweresleeping here. All of us. Every single team.
Ice beds.
My mind wrestled to wrap itself around Noah’s words from a few minutes earlier. They made perfect sense now, as my tired, foggy brain caught up to my already-exhausted body.
“The bottom three teams will sleep in the bunkhouse,” Noah announced from atop a snow platform at the front end of the lobby. “On fur-lined blocks of ice.”
A groan went up from behind us, which only served to widen Noah Frost’s smile. I still wasn’t sure if it was for the benefit of the cameras, or the man actually derived a certain measure of glee from watching his contestants suffer. In truth, it was probably a little of both.
“The top two teams are lucky enough to split off into private rooms,” Noah went on. “Two each to a room, for a total of four rooms. You’ll sleep on fur-lined ice beds as well, but you’ll also have the added benefit of sleeping bags.”
I noticed he was wearing the flashiest of all the coats, though I suspected he didn’t need it. The cold didn’t seem to bother him one bit.
“They’re preparing your rooms now, for better or for worse,” Noah grinned. “But until then, let’s have a toast!”
He waved an arm, and one by one the teams filed after him. In the meantime I marveled at the hotel itself. The place was a feat of modern architecture built entirely from blocks of the clearest ice, gorgeously back-lit by silver and blue LED lights. All throughout, it was peppered with snow art. Ice sculptures. Designs and carvings so beautiful, so breathtaking, it made me feel sick to think about it all melting away.
Yet melt away it did, at the end of each and every spring. Noah was sure to tell us that along the way. Come the cold season the people of Sweden would dutifully build it again, always new, always different than the previous year. The designers would sculpt all new rooms and chambers. They’d give the place an all new theme and overall feel.
But the Jukkasjärvi ice hotel always,alwayscame with an ice bar.
Two minutes later we were standing in that bar, bellying up against ice-block tables while sipping champagne from clear, translucent flutes made entirely of ice. The whole thing was surreal. Like something out of a Disney movie.
“Here’s to the final five!” Noah toasted. “May none of you wake up tomorrow stuck to your beds!”
Twenty arms went up, slowly but surely. All the teams were hurting now, including ours. Some were worse than others. The fighter pilots from Need for Speed seemed to be doing alright, but the Slow-Motion Ninjas were practically frozen in place. Think Tank had withdrawn to one corner of the bar, huddling together. All four members’ teeth were chattering.
“You know,” Devin sighed, “if we don’t get some sleep soon…”
“In a few,” said Reese. “I want another round, first.”
He came back with four vodkas, in little square shot glasses made of blue-tinted ice. The liquid inside looked almost fluorescent. Like some kind of futuristic, space-age drink.
“Dream Team!”
Noah preceded the walk over by calling our name theatrically, while the cameras followed his every step. Once within earshot he waved them away, making a cutting motion with one hand. Almost instantly the boom mics dropped away, and the crews peeled off to the left and right.
“Neat trick,” Reese quipped. “Can I try that one?”
“Only if you’re running the show,” Noah grinned smarmily. He turned abruptly to face me. “Look, in splitting your teams into private rooms you were randomly paired up with him.” Leveling a finger, he pointed it directly at Devin. “This means either you’re okay with bunking alongside him, or we can send him to the bunkhouse — sleeping bag and all.”
