Then Harry noticed a third body beneath the blankets. He was paralysed, not wanting to move because that meant he would have to acknowledge whatever he would find beneath the final blanket.
Steph lay, swaddled up to the eyeballs by a lasagne of sheets and blankets, half-a-dozen layers deep. She looked as delicate and as beautiful as Harry had ever seen her and he finally allowed himself to cry. He reached out and touched her face. Like the other’s it was ice cold. She was wearing Damien’s puffer jacket. Probably knew he was dying with or without it. He must have wanted her to have it instead. It wasn’t enough though.
Harry shook his head, a deep darkness spreading throughout his soul. There was nothing else left. “I’m sorry,” he said to Steph’s unmoving form. “I’m sorry that I caused all this and that I never got to say goodbye. I used to think I came here every night to get drunk and forget about the past, but tonight I realised that I kept coming back to see you. You were the only person that allowed me to see that there would be a tomorrow and that it would be easier than today. It was you that took away my pain, not the booze, but thanks to me there will be no more tomorrows.”
“…Harry?”
The word was soft, below even a whisper, but he heard it. A few moments passed and Harry started to think that his crippled mind was perhaps just playing tricks on him.
But then he heard it again.
“Harry,” Steph whispered again, louder this time.
She’s alive!
“Steph! Steph, can you hear me?”
It didn’t seem like she could, but she knew he was there. It was obvious by the look in her eyes. “Harry…I…missed you.”
“I missed you too, Steph.”
She smiled. “I knew you’d come back. I always knew you were a good man. That you…would end up being my hero…one day.”
Harry was stunned. “I wish that were true, Steph. I really do, but I let you down. I let everyone down.”
Steph shook her head, eyes still closed as though she were reciting a dream. “No, Harry. The only person you ever let down is yourself. You’re a good man, but you don’t…you don’t see it.”
Harry wiped the tears and snot from his face. “You know what I wish, Steph?”
“No, Harry. What do you…wish?”
“I wish that instead of killing Thomas Morris that night, I’d have met you instead. Maybe you could have saved me…saved everything.”
Steph’s face lit up in a smile, but then went still. She didn’t reply.
“Steph,” Harry said, softly. “Hey, Steph, I just realised that you were my second chance. I’m sorry I blew it, but I’m going to put it right.”
Harry moved forward and kissed Steph on her lips. He wanted nothing more than for her to be alive a moment longer so that she could kiss him back, but he knew that she was gone. At least I got to say goodbye.
Harry stood up straight, tensing his cold muscles and testing each one to make sure they were still working and not completely frozen yet. Despite taking the steps two at a time on the way down, he took them individually on the way up, taking his time to digest just what he intended to do. He lit the corridor above with his candle and made his way to the bar. Lucas was already there waiting for him
Just the man I want to speak to.
“Harry Boy,” Lucas’s normal chirpiness was gone and he sounded solemn, like a guard on death row. He handed over a beer and took one for himself, lids already removed. Harry decided whatever happened, it would be the last beer he ever drank. One for the road.
“Lucifer,” said Harry, sipping the beer. “It’s time isn’t it?”
Lucas nodded. “It’s up to you, lad. To be honest I’m only here tonight because I’m duty-bound. The apocalypse and all that, you know? It’s kind of traditional.”
“That can’t be the reason.”
Lucas laughed his charming Irishman laugh. “No, you’re right. The truth of it is that Michael summoned me here to see the destruction of mankind. I guess they think I had a hand in bringing down the ceiling – in leading men astray and all that.”
Harry shrugged. “Well, didn’t you?”
Lucas swigged his beer down to the bottom third. “Well, yes and no. When I first fell from Heaven I hated you all – God’s most prized creation – and I sought to corrupt you all. I wanted to spoil God’s work and his image that lived in all of you, but you know what I found out?”
“What?” said Harry.
“I realised that I was wasting my time. Men were doing a fine thing of fucking stuff up on their own. I had a hand, here and there, sure, but Hitler, Bin Laden, Bundy, the nuclear-fuckin-bomb? All that shit was on you. The worst, most corrupt men that ever lived are mostly people I’ve never met.”
“Then why does Heaven blame you? Why have they brought you here to watch us die?”
“Because I fell in love with humanity. At first I rebelled against God because I wanted to live by my own rules and I sought about destroying you all, but after a while I realised that man wasn’t in God’s image, he was in mine. Men have spent hundreds of years fighting for their freedom just the same way as I and some of my brothers did against Heaven. Few hundred years ago, I stopped trying to destroy you and started living amongst you. I buried my anger with God and stopped being the bogeyman you write about in your religious texts. I’m no different to you all and just as sad to see that the party’s all over. The only reason I’m forced to witness it all end is for them to make a point.”
“What point?” Harry asked.
“To prove that anyone that goes against God will not be tolerated. Me included.”
Harry laughed.
“Why do you laugh, Harry Boy?”
“Nothing. I guess I just find it amusing to find out that the Devil is benevolent and God is wrathful.”
Lucas laughed too. “Well, I hope it teaches you to not always believe what the media says. Especially the ancient Aramaic right-wing media. The bible got me all wrong, I tell you.”
The two of them shared a laugh and finished their beers. After a few moments, Harry put his empty bottle on the bar.”
“Time to go, I guess, but before I do, can I ask you a question?”
Lucas shrugged. “You’ve done little else for the past few hours. Why stop now?”
Harry took that to mean, yes. “You mentioned the levels of Hell, earlier?”
“Aye.”
“Which is the worst?”
Lucas didn’t seem comfortable by the question. “Well…it’s all relative, really. The punishment tends to fit the crime.”
“I know that!” Harry was becoming impatient. He could feel his body shutting down under the constant attack of the cold and he had to finish this before he gave in to hyperthermia. “But surely some layers are worse than others. Where do the very worst go, like Judas Iscariot and Hitler? People like that?”
Lucas thought before he answered. “Well, if you listen to Dante Alighieri then there are just seven levels, but in truth the regions of Hell are never ending. Time and space there is eternal, but there is a deepest level reserved only for pure evil. Light does not exist there and neither does hope of any kind. It is suffering and despair without beginning and without end; a place where Evil reigns and flays the skin of any soul that dare venture there. It is a Hell beyond human understanding and no human, not even the vilest, has ever committed sin harsh enough to be sent there. It is deserving of no man. It was created to hold me.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “A Hell so bad that it was made to torture the Devil himself?”
Lucas nodded and seemed upset by the thought of it. “Aye, they call it…The Abyss.”
Harry took that information in and held onto it. The Abyss. The darkest, most desperate level of hell that is fit only for the Devil himself. A place of torture beyond anything a man could imagine. Okay, got it.
“Lucas,” Harry said. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you and I sincerely hope that the Abyss never claims you. Sounds strange to say, but I
think you might actually be one of the good guys.”
Lucas laughed. “I have many names, but that’s a first.”
Harry shook the Devil’s hand and walked away, leaving his candle on the bar and entering the darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Harry opened The Trumpet’s door and looked out over the landscape. The blizzard had finally begun to die down, its job almost completed. The world had been rendered featureless. Everywhere Harry looked was pure-white and buried beneath giant snow banks. Across the street, the tops of buildings were just about visible, but their doorways were covered up past their tops. Harry had a feeling that Lucas had something to do with The Trumpet not yet being buried.
At the bottom of the hill stood the Angels, lined up and stretching on forever like the Great Wall of China.
Although that’s probably buried along with everything else. The world’s greatest achievements reduced to featureless, white, nothingness.
Harry hailed them. “I’m coming over. I give up, okay?”
The blond Angel in the centre – Michael? – nodded. Then he lifted his arms out in front of him and shot fire.
“Hey!” Harry protested. “I said I’m coming!”
Harry thought he was about to get fried but soon realised that wasn’t Michael’s intention. In front of him the steps had been cleared of snow, melted by a rapidly disappearing river of fire. “Oh, er…cheers.”
Harry took the newly uncovered steps slowly, in no rush to test out the theory he had in his head.
I guess time doesn’t mean much when you’re eternal
The Angels stood patiently, seemingly happy to wait for him. Michael had taken a step forward, exiting the line. When Harry reached the bottom of the steps, he saw that Michael was smiling reassuringly, like a Dentist about to perform a root canal.
“Welcome, Sinner,” said Michael in a far softer voice than he had in the previous instances when Harry had heard him speak. His presence was no less awesome.
“Can we just use ‘Harry’ for now, yes?”
“As you wish, Harry Jobson.”
“Just ‘Harry’ is fine…you know, don’t worry about it.”
Michael bowed his head at Harry as if there was a great pity that he was forced to acknowledge. It made Harry angry, but he couldn’t let it distract him.
“Are you ready? It is time.” said the Angel.
“I just have a couple of questions to ask first.”
Michael looked at him and something that Harry thought was anger streamed through the archangel’s eyes.
Obviously, The Angel of Death doesn’t appreciate being delayed by a mere mortal. I bet he thinks it’s ‘impertinent’.
Harry wanted to laugh in the Angel’s face.
Michael seemed to calm himself as he spoke again. “Ask your questions quickly, Sinner.”
There’s that word again. Fucker!
Harry nodded, also wanting to hurry things along, before he lost his nerve. “After what I did; after I committed the….final sin, or whatever, it condemned everyone to Hell, right?”
Michael nodded.
“Do you think that’s fair?”
Michael was visibly annoyed. “It is His will.”
Harry nodded. “Right, right, didn’t think appealing to your better nature would work, so I guess I should skip straight to plan B.”
“Plan B?” Michael repeated, confused.
“Yeah, I want to make a deal.”
Michael exploded, but managed to do so without moving an inch. He seemed to oppress the air around him. “YOU DO NOT MAKE DEALS WITH AN AGENT OF HEAVEN. YOUR WILL IS INCONSEQUENTIAL TO HIS DECISIONS. YOU WILL OBEY, SINNER.”
“Okay, okay, but my final wish is just that you hear me out. If He ignores my offer then so be it and I will take what comes to me.”
Michael begun laughing and Harry was disturbed by how much like a child it sounded. “Okay, mortal, I will allow you to amuse me. Speak your deal.”
Okay, here goes.
“Send me to the Abyss.” Michael actually seemed to flinch at the suggestion and Harry hoped that it was a good sign. “Don’t send me to whatever Hell I deserve, send me to the Hell that no man deserves. Send me there and leave me there forever.”
Michael seemed to soften, no longer angry. It almost seemed like he was suddenly in awe of Harry. “You speak of things that you could never hope to understand, Harry Jobson. The Abyss is a punishment befitting no man. Why would you ask for such endless suffering?”
“I’ll tell you, but first let me know, can it be done? Can you send me there?”
Michael nodded. “Yes.”
“Then my offer is that you send me to the Abyss in exchange for all of the souls that have been damned to Hell since I murdered Thomas Morris. Save Steph, Jess, Jerry, and all the other people that don’t deserve Hell and instead send me to the Abyss to pay for humanity’s sin. Will my torture there outweigh the debt needed by sparing these people?”
Michael shook his head and began to be sob. The sight of it was almost heart-wrenching – the very act of an Angel crying seemed to be the embodiment of the word ‘tragedy’. “The debt of suffering would be a thousand times more than that which is owed. You cannot imagine the suffering. You should not make such frivolous suggestions without knowing the full consequence of what you suggest. It would be forever and you wish to make that decision on a romantic whim. You are a fool, Harry Jobson.”
Harry stepped forward and was amazed to see Michael wince. Apparently, talk of the Abyss was enough to make the Angel very anxious. Harry knelt down. “Then show me what I seek and then let me decide.”
“So be it,” said Michael, placing both of his hands upon Harry’s head.
What happened next was indescribable. Images and feelings shot through Harry’s very soul, showing him inhuman tortures at the hands of even more inhuman creatures. It was a place of endless and unimaginable pain and suffering. A place where every single second lasted centuries and was enough to break a man’s mind into a million horrified splinters. It was eternal agony in a place where only evil and sadness existed. It was the heart and soul of Hell itself.
Harry shot back from Michael’s grip, falling onto his back and panting. Tears fell from his eyes and already his soul felt damaged just from seeing images of the Abyss.
Can I do this?
Harry dragged himself up off the floor, weak and terrified. He took the steps needed to take him toe to toe with Michael. After what he had just witnessed, Harry found it hard to breath and even harder to talk.
But he had to do this.
“Spare their souls,” he said. “Send me to…the Abyss.”
Michael seemed sad, in fact the Angel’s very being seemed to turn to sadness itself. “So be it, Harry Jobson.”
God’s Angel of Death reached forward to place his hands on Harry’s forehead, but just as he expected to feel the touch of the Angel’s fingers searing his soul from his flesh, something else happened.
Michael took a step backwards and looked up at the sky; so did all of the other Angels, forming a never-ending line of stargazing figures. Harry looked up at the black sky too, but could see nothing but stars and a full moon. Harry wasn’t happy about the delay because it gave him an opportunity to back out of his crazy request for eternal damnation.
No Harry, you decided to do this, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do. Steph and the others don’t deserve to go to Hell because of my crimes.
Michael was smiling and a feeling of joy seemed to cascade from the archangel in bright, colourful waves. He looked at Harry and nodded, as if he knew something that he did not. “Goodbye, Harry Jobson,” said Michael as he placed his hands on Harry’s skull.
The pain of Harry’s soul being ripped from his body was exquisite. Like having a thousand fish hooks dragged through the insides of his body. The pain’s already starting, Harry feared as his soulless husk of a body fell to the floor.
Epilogue
A news rep
orter came onscreen. She was enveloped by an over-sized pink ski-jacket. “Good evening, I’m Jane Hamilton, reporting for Midland-UK News. Fortunately, after nearly 19-inches of snow, the weather finally seems to be improving. Temperatures have already begun to rise and the snow is predicted to end soon. Roads will soon be in the process of being reopened while rail links are expected to be resumed within the next few d-“
Harry found himself at the bar of The Trumpet. It didn’t happen instantly and it felt as though he had flowed back into his body like gravy through a sieve. At first he remembered nothing…
The Final Winter: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel Page 23
