The Final Winter: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel

by Iain Rob Wright

  “You know this…this thing?” asked Kath, the disgust in her voice not even slightly hidden.

  “Aye, but now is not the time.”

  “It never is with you,” said Harry.

  “Harry,” Lucas whispered over his shoulder, “now would be a good time to sweep up the trash.”

  Harry didn’t understand at first, until, finally, a light bulb went off in his head. He rammed the broom forwards, aiming for the hooded man’s head. The blow missed by a mile and that seemed impossible. The intended victim had gone from motionless stone to dodging the blow in an unearthly blur of speed; a glowing wisp of light that didn’t actually seem to move so much as simply disappear and reappear somewhere else.

  Harry cursed out loud. “Damn it! I missed.”

  “No, you didn’t,” said Lucas. “Get your bloody arse moving.”

  Harry realised that his attacker’s evasion had left a gap in the wall of hooded bodies. The three of them ran, stumbling through the deep snow and almost having to claw themselves along. Despite their early lack of movement, the hooded men were now giving chase, screeching and wailing as they did. As one got close, Harry swung out with the broom. It blinked out of existence and reappeared out of harm’s way just as his brethren had before. Harry didn’t mind if the swings were making contact or not, they were warding off the danger regardless.

  As he clambered through the snow, Harry came side by side with Lucas. He turned and looked at him. “What the hell are they, Lucas?”

  Lucas looked back and smiled. “Angels.” He said it casually, as if the explanation was not completely insane.

  Harry almost fell, just about managing to right himself with his next steps. “Angels?”

  “Like I said, Harry Boy. Now’s not the time.”

  The three of them continued making their way forward, not really knowing where they were heading other than away from danger. As Harry looked back, he saw that they were no longer being pursued. The ‘Angels’ were apparently in no rush to get their ‘sinner’. But, despite the lack of pursuit coming from behind, Harry could clearly make out something ahead of him.”

  “Something’s up ahead,” said Kath.

  Harry nodded. “I know, I can see. Ready with the salt?”

  “Yes. Ready with broom?”

  The three of them slowed down (not that they were making particularly great speed anyway). The shape in the distance began to come clearer into view. It was a person, heading towards them quickly.

  Kath stated the obvious. “They’re coming right at us.”

  Harry focused as much as he was able to in the blustering snow. “It’s…”

  “Nigel!” Kath shouted the word gleefully. “Are we glad to see you!”

  Nigel came up to them, huffing and puffing. Harry noticed that the man had dried blood on his clothes as well as terrible burns on the left side of his face. He looked like something out of a horror film.

  “Are you...okay?” Harry asked him.

  Nigel looked feral, like an injured fox. When he answered, his words were slurred. “I’m fwine. Jush hash an asshident.”

  Lucas stepped forward placed a hand on the Nigel’s shoulder. “You don’t look fine, fella. In fact you sound worse than a chorus of drunks. And that head wound don’t look none too pretty. We should get you back to the pub.”

  Nigel seemed dismayed by the suggestion and lashed out. “Get sh’fuck offsh me.”

  Harry didn’t like the way Nigel was acting. “What happened to you? Is Steph okay?”

  Nigel’s face scrunched up in a snarl at the mention of her name. Harry tried to understand why. Then he saw the bloody knife in the man’s hand and wondered why he hadn’t spotted it sooner. Harry’s eyes widened. “Did you hurt her?” Harry went to approach Nigel, but the man raised the knife at him.

  Lucas put his hands out in front of him placatingly. “Whoa, whoa, there, fella. We just want to know the lass is safe.”

  Nigel spat blood into the snow and began backing away as he spoke. “You tell that bitch, I’ll be back to finish what I started. I’ll slice her fucking fingers off and keep them in my truck with the other pathetic sluts I’ve killed.”

  Harry’s entire body contorted with rage as he realised what the man’s words meant. He began to wonder whether that knife in Nigel’s hand had been used on Steph, and if Damien had been innocent all along. Harry found both questions too hard to think about. “I’m going to kill you.”

  Nigel continued backing away, holding the knife out in front of him in defence. Harry went to get after him, but Lucas stopped him. “No need, Harry Boy. Look!”

  Harry looked past Nigel and saw the shapes behind him. Gathering in the distance was a group of hounds. Nigel was walking directly at them. Harry relaxed and waited for the inevitable to happen.

  It took about three minutes for Nigel to realise he’d been surrounded. The things attacked him as one, enveloping him as they had done Jerry. Harry watched with grim satisfaction as Nigel swiped impotently with his flick knife, managing to take a chunk or two of flesh from one hound, but failing to keep away the other dozen. Although it was hard to see past the writing bodies of fur, Harry could clearly make out Nigel’s intestines being fought over in a macabre tug of war. But once the grim satisfaction begun to wane, the scene merely made Harry feel sick. He turned away and continued on into the snow, back towards The Trumpet.

  Back towards Steph.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Despite the three of them being huddled together, Jess felt no warmer. Damien managed to get the fire going again by setting fire to some of the surplus duvets. They wouldn’t burn for long, but they were better than nothing. Now the three of them lay shivering beneath a dozen sheets and blankets, trying to hold on to as much warmth as possible.

  “Poor Old Graham,” said Steph, still upset but past the worse of it. She’d wailed for almost twenty minutes when she first discovered the old man had expired. Jess knew that Steph felt responsible for it, but the truth of it was that it was all because of Nigel.

  Pervert. Hope he’s frozen to death out there or being eaten alive by one of those monsters.

  Jess thought about the things she’d seen outside with Jerry and found it hard to imagine them clearly. With the hours that had passed it all seemed like some absurd hallucination. Monsters under the bed did not exist, she’d told herself, but she could not deny the death and bloodshed that she had occurred tonight. Ben. Peter. Old Graham. They were all good guys. She prayed that the others would make it back safely. She’d do anything, right now, to sit and listen to Jerry’s inane pop culture references.

  “How long did you know Old Graham?” she asked Steph.

  Steph let out a huff that was almost a laugh. “Whole time I worked here. Eighteen months, I guess. He could bore you to death something awful, but he didn’t have a bad bone in his body. Complained a lot; but never about anyone, or anything, in particular. I think he was a lonely old man that just wanted to be around people.”

  “Least he lived a long life,” Damien chimed in, his voice jittery from the chill that affected everyone’s lungs.

  “He didn’t deserve to go like this though. He survived a war and this is how he dies? It’s such a waste.”

  Jess squeezed Steph’s hand under the blankets. “I think he went the way he would have liked. Drunk as a skunk and the centre of attention.”

  Steph and Damien laughed.

  “So, Damien,” Jess moved on, “are you really as much of a hard-knock as you like to make people think?”

  Damien was silent for a moment, but eventually answered. “Who says I want people to think that?”

  “Guess it’s just the impression you give off. It confuses me though because, after tonight, I’m starting to think it’s all bullshit.”

  Jess didn’t know why she felt the need to goad Damien, but she wanted a serious conversation to keep her mind occupied. Plus, she was intrigued about the kind of person Damien actually was.

  Dami
en cleared his throat. “You reckon?”

  “Yeah,” said Jess. “I actually think you’re a nice guy. You just don’t want people to know it.”

  “I agree,” said Steph.

  Damien was silent again for a moment. Jess could feel him rustling beneath the sheets. When he finally spoke up, he sounded tired. “Maybe the only reason I’m not a nice guy is because people think bad of me no matter what I do.”

  “But you make people think like that. You chose to make people think you’re a thug.”

  Damien laughed. “You think I made people see me this way? I had no chance of ever being anything other than a thug.”

  Jess sighed. “Is this the part where you say your daddy never hugged you enough?”

  “No,” said Damien. “This is the part when I tell you my dad had me selling drugs for him at eight years old. No one would ever expect a kid, huh? Or how about how my dad put a lad in a coma a couple years ago and made me take credit for it around the local estate. ‘It will make people fear you’, he said. You’re absolutely right; my dad never hugged me because that’s not what monsters like him do.”

  “Are you shitting me?” Steph asked. She sounded mortified.

  “No, Steph. I’m not shitting you. Truth is I was glad the day he went to Jail. Thought it would set me free from his fucked-up demands, but I was just wishing on a fucking star. He called me at least once a day, making sure I was running his little empire for him ‘til he got back. Selling the merchandise and bringing in the dough.”

  “You can’t blame everything on your dad,” Jess told him. “I saw you cause enough trouble to see that you enjoyed being the big man.”

  “Yeah, course I did. The only love and respect I got was from the guys I hung with. If people on the estate don’t fear me then I’m nothing. I’m alone with nothing.”

  “Why didn’t you get out?” asked Steph. “You could have done something, I’m sure.”

  Damien was quiet once more but the sound of his breathing was heavy and distinct, laboured. “I was getting out tonight. I had a bunch of money stashed and I was going to stay with an old girlfriend that moved to Edinburgh a couple years back. I just had one last thing to do tonight and then I was out of here.”

  “One last thing?” asked Steph.

  “Warn someone.”

  “Who?”

  “The guy who gave evidence on my old man and sent him down. Took over a year but my dad’s mates finally managed to find out who it was. My orders were to kill the guy tonight; take him outside and stick a knife in him. Guess my dad was beginning to doubt my loyalty.”

  “Jesus,” said Jess, not believing her ears. “You weren’t going to do it though, were you?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you.” Damien raised his voice and it seemed to cause him pain. “I was…going to warn him, tell him to get the hell out of…town. Soon as the snow stopped I was going to get on a train and never come back. Maybe go to college and do business or something.”

  No one spoke for a while. It was a revelation, for sure, and not one Jess had expected. She felt sad that Damien might not get the chance to fulfil his plans for atonement; such things were important. Jess closed her eyes, feeling more tired than she’d ever felt in her life. The cold was no longer bothering her as much; in fact she was starting to feel quite numb. Maybe now she could finally rest for a while.

  So tired...

  ###

  Harry’s legs ached and he wasn’t sure how much further they would take him. He didn’t know whether the pub was two yards away or two thousand. All he could see was snow, and although he could see nothing following, angry growls and wailing from unseen beasts filled the air all around him.

  Harry could no longer feel his feet from the cold and it felt as though he was walking around on nerveless stumps. Kath was obviously suffering too. She hadn’t spoken since they’d watched Nigel die. Lucas however seemed fine, unaffected by the cold for reasons that Harry was eager to find out. Was the man any more human than the hooded figures?

  “So,” said Harry. “If the things wearing hoods are Angels, what are the dog things?”

  Lucas continued looking forward as he walked, but answered the question promptly. “Hounds of Hell.”

  Harry scratched his chin. “But don’t Angels come from Heaven.”

  “Aye, they do, Harry Boy, but Angels have dominion over both heaven and hell during certain circumstances.”

  Harry felt himself confused already. “Circumstances such as what?”

  “You know, family reunions, birthdays, The Apocalypse.”

  Harry spluttered. “The Apocalypse?”

  “Aye, you know, Armageddon and all that, but it’s not as dramatic as you might think. There’re no horsemen, none of that fire and brimstone nonsense. The old man upstairs likes to do things a bit more efficiently. Biblical floods and such are more His style.”

  “Or biblical snow storms,” Kath added glumly.

  Lucas smiled. “Indeed, lass.”

  Harry was trying to follow, but things still didn’t add up in his mind. If this really was the end of the world, and God intended to simply freeze the world to death, then why did he need…?

  “The Angels,” said Harry. “Why are they here?”

  “Call them overseers if you will. God can’t just make the snow fall unendingly without having a presence on earth. He needs vessels to channel his power through - conduits. That’s why the Angels have come down here, to exercise His will.”

  Harry nodded, an idea forming in his head. “So if we take out the angels, we can stop this?”

  Lucas laughed, loud and hearty. “Do you know how many of them there are? We’re talking tens of thousands, and they don’t play nice. You can’t kill an Angel anyway.”

  Harry sagged. “I still don’t understand why they are doing this. It can’t be because of me?”

  “I already told you Harry Boy, it’s not just because of you, strictly speaking. It’s because of everyone, really. God gave Noah a second chance, but that’s all the big man had in his pocket of goodwill. He vowed that if the human race threw it in His face one more time then they wouldn’t get another reprieve. But that’s what you all went and did anyway, with your sinful ways and what not. Fucking, murdering, raping, stealing, cheating, Facebook. You name it; you people have over indulged in it. Over time, you all tipped the scales way past the point of no return.”

  “But not everyone is like that. Why can he not just punish the bad?”

  Kath sighed. “Because there were probably too few to make it worthwhile.”

  Lucas nodded. “Aye, there are a few decent souls, admittedly, and He took that into consideration. He allowed man to pass judgement on man.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Harry.

  “I mean, that he decided to judge mankind by its own values. Harry, after your wife and son were mowed down you made the choice for everyone.”

  Harry spat. “I had no choice. The guy had lost his license a year before, but got behind the wheel anyway. He was a lousy, fucking drunk and had probably mowed down a dozen children before he killed my son. He was an alcoholic. No good to anyone.”

  “Sounds like you, Harry,” said Kath, spitefully.

  It made Harry angry, but what was the use in arguing? “Maybe it is,” he conceded. “What would you have done after losing your family?”

  “That’s the point,” said Lucas. “You had a choice. Did you get on with your life and make the memory of your family proud or did you give in to vice, rejecting the gifts God gave you? Did you know that the reason Thomas was a drunk was because he too lost a son in a tragic accident? Just like you, Harry. Ironic, no? Have you really behaved any differently than him?”

  “No,” said Harry, understanding the hypocrisy. “But I never drove drunk. I never let my problems endanger anybody else.”

  “No, you just got hammered one night and murdered the chap who accidently killed your family. Understandable, I guess, but definitely not the righ
t path. God decided to judge humanity by your actions and your choice was vengeance. Now vengeance has been reaped upon you all. You committed man’s final sin – the last one that counted anyway - and you picked a gem: Though shall not kill.”

  Harry thought about the night he’d murdered Thomas Morris; the night he crept into the hospital ward where the man had been admitted for a simple hernia operation. Getting past the lone prison guard was easy. It wasn’t as if they were going to place a highly-paid special detachment outside the door. It was just one guard who didn’t want to be stuck at a hospital at 3:00AM on a Friday night. Harry easily snuck past him and entered Thomas’s room. The man was in a deep sleep. Even after Harry shoved the plastic bag over his head.