The World's Last Breaths: Final Winter, Animal Kingdom, and The Peeling

by Iain Rob Wright

  Or maybe Steph is just a master of getting blood out of a stone.

  Or feelings from a torn heart.

  “Oh Harry,” Steph patted him on the shoulder. “You do make me laugh! I’m really going to have to get to know you better when this is all over, but trust me it won’t be while we’re skiing. Give me sand and sun, so that I never have to see another flake of snow again.”

  “Okay, deal. Anyway, do we have a plan on what to do next?”

  Steph nodded. “Damien said the dustbin was just too heavy to get up the stairs, so we’ll have to come down here and start a fire. He said a small windowless room like this would be easier to heat anyway. We just need to leave the door at the top of the stairs open so we can breathe. He’s not as stupid as he looks, you know?”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed that,” agreed Harry, wondering why Damien hadn’t condemned him for dropping the dustbin from the top of the stairs. The lad knew it had been Harry’s fault, yet for some reason, he was making out as if it had been an impossible task to begin with. Tonight had muddled Harry’s entire opinion of the Damien. He wasn’t ready to trust the lad, but he was at least starting to consider it.

  “Everyone’s upstairs,” said Steph, “gathering stuff to burn. We’re going to leave Peter in front of the fire. Jess said she’d stay with him, but there’s not enough room for anybody else.”

  Harry nodded. “We’ll have to keep an eye on them both. It may not be safe for her to be alone. I’ll go see if she needs anything and then go help the others.”

  “Okay, Harry. I’ll get Old Graham nice and comfy, then get this place lit up. See you in a bit. Mind yourself in the dark.”

  Harry moved aside to let Steph past with her candles and then he started to climb the stairs. He was taken back to earlier when he’d tried to climb up with the dustbin. He had a lot of making up to do to Old Graham, that was for sure, but at least Damien had turned the disaster into a sustainable plan B. It would be warmer in the cellar once they got the fire going and Harry started to feel far more hopeful about their situation.

  The corridor at the top of the stairs was pitch-black, but Harry could make out a dim, flickering light coming from the bar’s candles at the far end of the hallway. He felt his way towards them and found Lucas standing at the bar. The Irishman was busy gathering beers and a large bottle of Famous Grouse whisky into an empty crisp carton.

  “Getting essentials, I see?” said Harry as he re-entered the bar.

  Lucas held up an uncapped beer and swigged from it, letting out a lip-smacking sigh at the end. “Don’t ya know it! I asked the old fella what he needed and all he said was beer and plenty of it. Can’t deny an injured war hero now, can I? What kind of man would that make me?”

  “Never thought of it like that.” Harry fired off a mock salute. “Keep up the good work, private.”

  Lucas returned the salute. “Will do, Major Jobson, sir!”

  Harry continued on from the bar and over to Jess at the fireplace. She flinched, as though he’d startled her. It wasn’t surprising, really; sounded as if the poor girl had been through it worse than anyone else tonight. Other than Peter of course.

  “You okay?” Harry asked her.

  “Fine.” She stroked Peter’s forehead with a damp cloth she’d no doubt warmed in front of the fire. “I can’t leave him here alone, and I don’t think it would be right to move him either. Jerry has gone to find us some snacks. He’ll be back soon to keep me company. Anyway, I have this if I get into any real trouble.” Jess reached down beside the sofa and came up with a great shiny piece of metal.

  Harry nodded. “The last call bell. Good idea. Not a single man whose ears won’t prick up at that sound. Just ring if you need help, okay?”

  Jess seemed proud for a moment, but her sombre expression soon returned when she went back to nursing Peter. When she spoke again, she did so without looking Harry in the eye. “How’s Graham doing? I heard his leg’s pretty painful.”

  Painful wasn’t a good enough word to describe the result of Harry’s stupidity. “Luckily, there’s no bleeding,” he said. “I think it’s broken, but he’s okay for now. Chipper as ever, long as he has us bringing him beer all night.”

  “He seems like a nice old man. I hope he’s okay.”

  Harry nodded. “Me too.”

  He thought Jess was going to speak again, but instead of replying he caught her looking over his shoulder. Her eyes grew wide as if something concerned her.

  Why is she staring like that? Harry wondered. Is something behind me?

  Harry spun to find Damien standing close behind him. As usual the lad’s face was a syrupy mixture of frowns and scowls, but there seemed to be something else in his expression too.

  “Come with me,” Damien said simply, before walking off in the opposite direction and leaving Harry wondering what to do.

  Should Harry follow? Or should he grab a weapon and prepare to fight? It was hard to tell when it came to Damien. After the last few hours, Harry decided the lad had earned the benefit of the doubt, so he followed.

  Damien had headed over to the pub’s rear corridor, which led to the male and female toilets, the rear fire door, and the seldom-used dance floor at the back of the pub.

  “Take a look,” Damien said to Harry as he caught up. He was pointing at the exit door. “Look through the window at the top.”

  For a second Harry had visions of doing as he was told and having his head rammed through the glass. Wasn’t that the kind of thing gangsters do? Made you dig your own grave? Harry sighed. If something was going to happen, it was going to happen. He stepped toward the door.

  “Look through,” Damien ordered again.

  Harry moved up against the door and put his face against the glass. There was no prompting necessary on where to look or what to focus on. It was clear for him to see.

  “We have big problems,” Damien said.

  Damn right they did!

  Outside, towers of flame seemed to rise from the snow in all directions – ten, maybe even twenty feet high. The fire formed a wall around the pub like a fiery prison.

  But was it intended to keep them all in? Or to drive them out?

  What terrified Harry most, however, was the three giant crucifixes standing in the centre of the inferno. Each of them possessed a struggling victim being roasted alive by the flames. Their screams held no sound, but Harry could feel their agony as their flesh blackened and peeled from their bones, leaving behind charred husks of flesh.

  “This nightmare just got worse,” said Harry. “I think I’d like to wake up now.”

  20

  Damien had gone while Harry had been staring out the window.

  Was the horror show outside not interesting enough for him?

  Harry took another glance outside, blinking so that he knew what he was seeing was real. The fires still burned high, whipping back and forth in the growing blizzard while sizzling snowflakes filled the air like locusts. It was bizarre and unsettling to see both flames and snow mingle together in the same space; like two separate nightmares merging into one.

  Harry started to feel like he was in a Salvador Dali painting, with the world melting away around him. He needed to make sense of the situation, but should he tell the others? He wasn’t sure, but was astounded by the fact that he wanted Damien’s advice about the matter. He couldn’t deny that the lad was calm under pressure.

  But where had he gone? And why?

  Harry glanced out the window one last time before moving away. It seemed like a bad idea to take his eyes off the flames outside, but he couldn’t stay there all night. It was freezing next to the fire exit, and an aggressive draught snuck under the door and rattled the wood on its hinges.

  Back in the main pub area, the others members of the group were travelling back and forth, seeking out fuel for the furnace. Nigel was busy tearing cushions from the chairs and snapping the legs into kindling. Kath was gathering up beer mats half-heartedly.

  “Hey, Kath
,” he said to her. “Maybe we can find something bigger to burn? I don’t think those will last very long.”

  The woman shot Harry a look that made him feel like she wanted him to die. Harry shivered, but a second later it was as if the look hadn’t happened, as Kath was now smiling at him politely.

  “I guess you’re right,” she admitted. “I’ll go search for something else.” She threw down the pile of beer mats and they hit the table with a slap! Then she walked off towards the bar like a stroppy teenager.

  Kath was an odd lady.

  There was still no sign of Damien. Harry tried to figure out where he’d gone, and why so suddenly? And why had he chosen only Harry to lead into the exit corridor? It didn’t seem that anybody else knew about the flames outside yet. With the windows barricaded and the pub up on a hill, it was impossible to see anything outside other than darkness. So the question remained: did Harry tell the others what Damien had shown him.

  Harry made the decision. He clapped his hands together. “Everybody listen!”

  Lucas and Nigel turned their attention to Harry. Kath reappeared from behind the bar. At the far end of the room, Jess stood up from the sofa, leaving Peter asleep under the watchful eye of Jerry. Harry moved into a spot where they all could see and hear him. He clasped his hands together and tried to find the right words. “I think there’s something that we all need to be aware of.”

  “And what would that be, Harry Boy?” asked Lucas, lifting himself up onto a bar stool. “Please tell.”

  “It’s not easy to explain, but I think we can all agree that tonight is a strange night.”

  “No argument there,” Nigel said. “I’m starting to get a bad feeling.”

  Harry pushed himself to continue, his were palms sweating. “I think we can agree that there are dangers tonight, more than just the cold.”

  “You mean what happened to that stupid boy, Peter?” said Kath. “I’m sure whatever trouble he has gotten himself into was something he deserved. That doesn’t mean that we’re in any danger.”

  “You bitch!”

  Harry turned to see Jess storming toward Kath from the other end of the pub. Jerry seemed unsure whether or not he should be following after her or remaining where he was.

  Lucas moved away from the bar to intercept Jess in the middle of the room. “Calm down there, lass.”

  “I swear to God, Kath!” Jess bunched her hands into fists. “If you say one more thing about Peter – and I mean, one more thing – I’m going to scratch your goddamn eyes out. This happened because of you, because you allowed him to wonder off alone.”

  Kath snorted. “I’m not his babysitter. He’s a grown man, and if he can’t look after himself then he should have stayed in Poland. God knows we don’t need his kind here.”

  “You…you racist!”

  “Call me whatever you like, dear. I’m only saying what most of the country thinks. Peter was probably a petty criminal like the rest of them. Tonight he got his comeuppance.”

  To everyone’s surprise, Jess’s small frame managed to escape Lucas’s grasp. She leapt towards a nearby table, snatching at the nearest thing she could find, which happened to be an empty pint glass. Harry watched in horror as Jess flung the glass through the air, pitching it with all the aggression of a baseball player.

  It hit Kath’s forehead with an almighty thonk!

  Immediately, the woman hit the floor, clutching at her face and screaming. A second later she was back on her feet and furious, like a champion boxer rising after a fluky haymaker. She was not happy. Her bloodstained forehead was testament to it.

  “I’ll kill you!” Kath growled, as a line of blood trickled down the side of her nose.

  “Nobody is going to kill anybody!” Everybody turned to see Steph storming out from behind the bar. Damien was with her. “What the hell is going on? Why is Kath covered in blood?”

  “The little bitch threw a glass at me. She’s insane.”

  Steph turned to Jess with such ferocity that the young girl flinched and took a step back. “Is that true? Are you causing trouble in my pub?”

  Jess nodded and took another step back.

  Steph pointed a finger. “Go look after Peter – NOW! – and if I see you move for the rest of the night, I’ll throw you out in the snow myself.”

  Jess moved so quickly it was almost a sprint.

  Then Steph turned to Kath. “There’s a little kitchenette with a sink in the back. Take a candle from the bar and clean yourself up.”

  Kath still bristled with fury, but she was beginning to simmer down. Slowly. “That girl should be locked in a padded cell.”

  Steph sighed. “Well, for now we don’t have that luxury, so the best I can do is keep you two separated. Jess will be staying up here with Peter, so you come downstairs with the rest of us. Now, go get that blood cleaned up before it freezes on your face.”

  Kath nodded unhappily and left the room, while Lucas and Nigel went back to their tasks. Steph and Damien approached Harry.

  “What happened?” Steph demanded. Her breath fogged in front of her.

  Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I was trying to get everyone together so I could tell them something and it all kicked off. Those two really don’t like each other!”

  Steph shook her head wearily. “Tell me about it. I’d call the police if I could. There’s no excuse for that kind of violence.”

  “It wasn’t just Jess’s fault,” Harry told her. “Kath doesn’t seem to have much respect for anyone else.”

  “I don’t doubt it. But violence is violence, and on a night like this things are tense enough.”

  “Speaking of tension,” said Harry. “There was something I was trying to tell everyone before it all went Pete Tong. Come with me.”

  Steph followed. Damien too.

  The three of them made it over to the exit door in the rear corridor. Harry pointed to the fire exit. “Look through the window, but try to stay calm.”

  “What do you mean?” Steph said. “You’re worrying me.”

  “Just look, and then we’ll talk.”

  Anxiety etched itself across Steph’s face, but she obliged nonetheless, moving up against the door and peering through the glass for several seconds. “Jesus Christ,” she said finally.

  “You see! You see what we’re up against?”

  Steph turned back around to face Harry. “Of course I do. The snow out there is getting insane. We need to get that fire going right now or we’re all going to freeze. I don’t like this at all. This is bad.”

  Harry didn’t understand. He pushed Steph to one side and peered through the glass again for himself.

  The fire was gone. In fact it was as though it’d never even been there. The snow was deeper than before and there were no shallow areas where the heat of the flames would have caused it to melt. Everywhere Harry looked was cold, bleak, empty, and white.

  But there was no fire. No fire at all. Nor were there three crucifixes or burning bodies.

  “There were flames!” Harry mumbled. “Flames everywhere.”

  Steph looked confused.

  Harry looked at Damien, who was stood silently with his arms folded. “Tell her. Tell her what we saw.”

  Damien shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

  Harry blinked, then shook his head in disbelief. “What am I talking about? You saw it! In fact it was you that showed me!”

  “Think there’s a stripe missing off your Adidas, mate. I dunno what shit you’re chatting.”

  “No, no, no. You saw the flames too! Why are you doing this, Damien?”

  Damien didn’t answer. He just walked away, leaving Harry alone with a confused-looking Steph

  “I swear it!” Harry told Steph adamantly. “Damien’s playing games. I don’t know why, but he is.”

  Out of the blue, Steph hugged Harry and whispered in his ear. “If you say there was a fire outside then I believe you, okay? Just don’t get yourself work
ed up, because I need you tonight. I would have gone insane if you weren’t here helping me.”

  Harry eased her back and looked at her. “Y-You really believe me?”

  Steph nodded. “Yes! Now go make yourself useful. Old Graham was asking for you, so go see him. I’ll get all the toilet paper and hand towels. We’re going to have to get that fire going soon.”

  Harry nodded and Steph left him in the cold corridor, wondering why Damien had not backed him up. Just when I thought we were finally getting along, he makes me look like a lunatic, right in front of Steph. Stupid, Harry. Real stupid! You should never trust a snake.

  But Damien wasn’t worth the time right now, not when Steph had made it clear she needed Harry’s support. She was playing nursemaid, host, and leader, all at the same time. She was putting everyone else first, while all they did was bicker. Harry wanted to take some of the strain off of her, and he would, but first he was being summoned to attend to other business. Old Graham wanted to speak to him and Harry wasn’t about to keep the old guy waiting. He owed him too much already.

  Before Harry left the corridor, something caught his eye. At the far end of the rear corridor was a light, coming from the pub’s unused dance floor.

  Was somebody in the back room?

  Harry stepped forward cautiously. It was probably just one of the others, looking for something to burn, the light coming from their candles.

  “Hey, who’s there?” Harry asked.

  No reply. The light seemed to get brighter, pulsing rapidly.

  Harry continued down the corridor, creeping anxiously as he awaited a response. When none came, he called out again. “I said who’s there?”

  Still no response. Harry was left with the decision whether or not to investigate. Tonight was a night where strange things were happening and wandering off alone was a bad idea. Nevertheless, his feet carried him forward.

  Harry had to shield his eyes with his forearm as he took the final few steps towards the backroom. The pulsing light was blinding.