The BIG Horror Pack 1

by Iain Rob Wright

  “Yeah,” Charlotte replied. “What are they doing?”

  Richard’s best guess was that they were migrating. They were common visitors to the lake and they always seemed happy to bask and feed in a group, so seeing them all bunch together now was not all that interesting. What was a little more unordinary, though, was the fact that they were currently fighting their way from the lake, pushing and burrowing through the snow banks that towered over them. “Looks like they’re leaving the lake,” Richard guessed. “I’m not surprised with the water as cold as it is.”

  “But where would they go?” Charlotte asked. “Surely they wouldn’t be any better off in the snow?”

  Richard shrugged. “I expect they’re just as confused as everyone else is in Florida right now.” His wife was nearby and he smiled at her so she knew there was nothing to worry about. “Go get that tea on, sweetheart. We can settle down and try to watch a film.”

  His wife smiled back and quickly departed, leaving him alone with his daughter. Charlotte was still looking out of the window, enthralled with the alligator’s behaviour.

  “There must be at least fifty of them out there, all in a group,” she said.

  “Will you just get away from that window? I want to close the curtains and keep the heat in.”

  Charlotte sighed and turned away from the window. Richard took her place and prepared to close the curtains. He took one last look outside at the departing alligators and let out a chuckle. It really was something to behold. He stretched out sideward and grasped the curtain and started sliding it across the window, but, before he got it all the way across, something made him stop.

  “What the…?”

  Charlotte came back over to the window and looked out through the small gap that still remained through the curtain. “What?”

  Richard didn’t turn to face his daughter. His eyes were too transfixed on what he was seeing. “There’s someone out there in the snow.”

  “You’re joking,” said Charlotte. “They must be mad. It’s freezing.

  “Mad or not,” said Richard, “they’re there.”

  Richard left the window and marched across the lounge towards the French doors at the rear of the house. They led out to a veranda which doubled as a smoking shelter for his wife’s habit. As soon as he pulled open one of the doors, the cold hit him like a punch in the face. His nose started burning almost immediately as the chill bit at his extremities.

  He stepped out into the snow nevertheless, but wishing he was wearing something more substantial than trainers – snowfall was not something he’d packed for. The growing wind also made him wish hard for a winter coat.

  “Who’s out here?” he shouted into the floodlit night. “This is private property. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

  There was no answer and Richard took it as a threatening sign. He stepped cautiously as he approached the front of the house where he had seen the stranger. He couldn’t be sure, but it had looked to be a man; a tall one wrapped in a billowing coat – or maybe a cloak.

  When Richard reached the side of the house that faced the lake, he was surprised to find the stranger was still standing there, quite assumedly. The man seemed to care little about his trespass.

  “I said you need to leave,” he reiterated. “You’re worrying my family.”

  “Their worry is well-founded,” came the stranger suddenly with a baritone voice.

  Richard took a step towards the man. “Is that a threat?”

  “A threat would imply uncertainty. There is none of that here.”

  Richard examined the stranger with suspicion that was beginning to border on concern. The figure towered above the snow and was tall enough that Richard would not fancy his chances if the stranger attacked him. Unsettling too was the unusual cloak covering the man from head to feet – it was not something an ordinary person would wear in the 21st Century.

  “Look,” said Richard. “What do you want?”

  The stranger seemed to move very slightly to face him as he replied. “I desire nothing. His will is my will and I do only as requested.”

  Richard didn’t understand. He was cold and extremely confused. “Who is he? What are you talking about?”

  “You ask of Him? You should know your Lord and revere him with the love and respect he demands. Perhaps if you had, your fate would be less perilous.”

  Richard had had enough. He took the final few clumsy steps towards the stranger and pointed a finger right at his face. “You get out of here, right now. I love America, I really do, but you don’t half have some bloody nutcases here. Leave, or I will call the police.”

  The figure let out a laugh that rattled Richard’s very bones. “You demand nothing of me, mortal. Your threats are puny. Your insolence, maddening.”

  Richard was lost for words. This person was obviously a madman, just by the way he spoke, but so too was he huge and menacing. What the hell should I do? Richard decided that lowering his tone would be best. Steering away from any animosity seemed far safer than inciting any. “I’m sorry to offend you. Could you just tell me who you are, please?”

  The stranger lowered his head as if to focus on Richard more clearly. The cowl was too tightly wrapped to give anything away about the man’s face; not even the eyes could be seen. To Richard’s surprise, the cloaked stranger raised both hands and began to pull away the hood. Slowly the cloth fell away to reveal a face of utter beauty and a head full of mahogany-streaked hair.

  Richard took a breath and struggled to let it back out again. “Jesus!”

  The beautiful man shook his head and seemed angry at the word. “You do not speak of The Son without reason. I am not Jesus.”

  Richard was in awe. “Then who are you?”

  The stranger’s face was without emotion as he answered. “I am Mika'eel. I am the first Harbinger of this world’s demise.”

  “I-I’m sorry? Demise?”

  Mika'eel nodded. “Your time of decadence has ceased. This world is to be no more.”

  Richard shook his head. “Are you…are you a terrorist?”

  The man showed no expression – in fact he seemed incapable – but he did shake his head. “I am no terrorist. I spread not terror, but extinction. I bring snow and ice to freeze further the cold hearts of man. It is an honour for you to meet me, an Angel of the highest order.”

  Richard choked. “An Angel? Are you crazy?”

  “Crazy is a state of mind beneath me – as are you, Richard Pointer.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “I know all names, all fates, all journeys. Yours is a particularly interesting one. Your true mother abandoned you, but this you do not know. Yet that nagging feeling of rejection has spurred your every decision. You are a callous businessman, a competitive being, and a domineering husband. Your wife dreads you.”

  Richard’s heart throbbed at the accusation, causing him actual pain. Perhaps the reason it hurt so much was because, deep down, he knew it was true. He was a control-freak and always had been. The fact that he allowed himself to control his lovely wife made him feel wretched.

  “Do not fret, Richard Pointer. There are many men worse than you. Despite their dread, your family loves you. Go to them now. Comfort them as the end draws near. You have an opportunity that many will not. You know that the end is coming; you can say the things that need saying and die with an unburdened soul.”

  Richard looked at the…Angel… and knew that it was all true. The world was truly ending and this being before him was its deliverer. Life was an inconsequential mess and it was now coming to an abrupt finish. Despite the fear that knowledge brought, Richard was indeed grateful for the gift of knowing. He would enjoy his final evening with his family; enjoy the final winter of man’s existence. Richard turned around and headed for the house, to be with his family and wait for the end of the world.

  SPECIAL EDITION BONUS CONTENT

  COLD SHOULDER

  “Any more wine?” asked Amanda.

/>   John turned to his wife and sighed. “Haven’t you had enough tonight?”

  “Just go get another bottle and stop giving me grief. It’s not like I have work tomorrow. Maybe not all week if it keeps snowing like this – Whoop!”

  John shook his head. He knew his wife was drunk because he was too. They’d polished off a bottle of red each and the heavy feeling it left him was dragging him towards sleep. Amanda was different though – she never quit while the night was still young. There was no point arguing with her, so John diligently went and got another bottle of Shiraz from the kitchen cabinet. There was another three bottles after this one and he worried. His wife would never drink them all – nowhere near in fact – but she may well keep going until she passed out.

  Or turns nasty.

  John re-entered the living room and unscrewed the bottle cap. He leant over Amanda’s glass and started pouring until the glass was almost full. He then topped up his own glass halfway.

  “Sit down, honey. Never Mind The Buzzcocks is coming on. You like that.”

  He did and was grateful that his wife was in an accommodating mood. He sat down beside her and put a hand on her lap. It was a struggle to focus on the television, however, because something was on his mind. “You think Jess is going to make it home from work okay?”

  “Yeah,” slurred Amanda. “Why wouldn’t she?”

  John shrugged. “The snow’s gotten pretty bad. Have you seen it recently?”

  “Couple hours ago. Wasn’t that bad.”

  “It is now. I’m starting to get a bit worried. You think I should try and walk down and meet her from the supermarket. Her shift finishes in ten minutes.”

  Amanda turned the TV up slightly and frowned. “She’ll be fine. If you leave now you’d only end up missing her.”

  John thought she was probably right. The weather was close to a full-blown blizzard now and it was difficult to see beyond a couple of feet. Unless he knew the exact path that his daughter took home, they would miss each other. He didn’t fancy going out in the cold pointlessly.

  On the television, the programme began and John and his wife watched it. It was funny, but John couldn’t find it in him to laugh. The same wasn’t true of Amanda who was cackling at every joke, even if it was only mildly funny.

  How the hell did we end up like this, he thought to himself secretly. Amanda hadn’t always been like this. The underlying edge of aggression she now possessed seemed to grow more volatile each year, and her drinking was becoming more commonplace. His own drinking had gotten much worse than it used to be too. After twenty years of marriage, an unspoken resentment had begun to take control of their relationship. John didn’t know how to stop it and was unsure if he even wanted to. It felt like something needed to change.

  He wouldn’t change the past though. Most of those twenty married years had been joyous, moving down to contentedness in the latter half. And of course they had a beautiful daughter. Jess being born was the proudest moment of John’s life and he never stopped feeling that way about her. She was a strong girl with a character he admired. In fact she seemed to have many of her mother’s good points – he just hoped that she lacked some of the worst.

  “You paying attention?” Amanda asked him, breaking him away from his thoughts.

  He nodded to her. “Just tired. Think I might go to bed soon.”

  Amanda huffed. “God, when did you become such a fuddy duddy? It’s not even ten yet.”

  “I just can’t hold my wine like some people.”

  Amanda scowled at him and leant away on the sofa. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  John sighed and got up from the sofa. “Nothing. Nothing at all. You just do whatever you want, while I go to bed. Think that would suit both of us.”

  “Would suit me better if your bed was somewhere else.”

  Amanda often said nasty things when she was drunk, but that one was uncalled for. He turned around and faced her. “You keep saying things like that and you may just get your wish.”

  Amanda stood up and came at him. “Don’t you threaten me.”

  He took a step away from her. “You’re the one who bloody said it! Just sit back down. I’m not in the mood.”

  He tried to walk away, but Amanda followed. “What’s your problem, John?”

  He carried on walking. “What’s my problem? I’m fine. I just want to go to bed.”

  “No,” said Amanda. “I want to know what your problem is.”

  John hadn’t been aware that he had voiced a problem, but rationality was never a key component of one of Amanda’s arguments. He was starting to feel angry, but he had to keep a lid on it. The last thing the situation needed was two drunken people going at each other.

  “Stop walking away,” Amanda shouted after him.

  He did so, turning to look at her. He tried to stay calm. “Look, honey, I’m sorry if I upset you. I don’t want to fight. I’m just worried about Jess.”

  Amanda huffed. “You needn’t be.”

  Something about the way she had just said that raised the hackles on John’s neck. He felt a sudden stone of dread in his guts. “What do you mean by that?”

  Amanda laughed and walked away. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  “No,” said John, following back after her. “What are you talking about? Why would I not worry about my own goddamn daughter?”

  Amanda spun around and looked at him with a hatred that John hadn’t realised she’d had for him. Their marriage really was over, he realised. The suffocating sadness that he felt was lessened slightly by the relief that also took root inside of him. He didn’t care about any of that right now though. He wanted to know what Amanda had meant. She told him.

  “She’s not even your daughter,” she shouted at him. “She never has been. I was shagging one of the neighbours when we lived in Burnley.”

  They’d lived in Burnley at the start of their marriage, almost twenty years ago and left five years later. Jess was seventeen. Amanda sat back down on the sofa and stared at the television as though she hadn’t said anything. John felt a loathing for his wife now that was almost boundless.

  He stood in front of her, blocking the television. “Say that again, and if you’re lying…”

  Amanda scowled upwards at him. “If I’m lying, what? What you going to do about it? Just get out of this house and don’t come back. Jess isn’t your daughter so you’ve got no reason to be here.”

  Rage took a hold of John as if his entire body was merely a marionette on a flimsy set of strings. Without thinking about it, or even realising he was about to do it, John picked up the half-full bottle of red wine and walloped it over his wife’s head. Amanda fell back, stunned, blood already seeping from a crack on her forehead. The bottle had not broken, so John swung it again, hitting her in the temple. The shock left Amanda’s face and was replaced by a look of bewilderment. Still the bottle did not break. Infected with an unbridled rage, down to his very soul, John swung one last time with all his might. This time the bottle shattered, smashing off Amanda’s forehead with an almighty crack!

  John had never seen a dead body before, but he knew he was looking at one right now. He was glad. Now his wife would not become the full-blown monster she was threatening to become. The decaying rot of her spirit had been halted by death and she would pass on with her memory intact. A tear escaped John’s eye as he realised he would get to remember his wife as the woman he had loved for so long.

  John picked up the wine-soaked dead body from the sofa and started dragging it to the front door. The plan was to dump her somewhere, close by, on the estate. Later he’d call the police and claim she hadn’t come home. Until then, he would dump the body and return, sit back and wait for his daughter to get home. He looked forward to raising Jess alone.

  WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER

  The snow was really falling now. A nervous person might even say that the weather had become unnatural. With every minute that passed, the temperature dropped and water f
roze. The cold was enough to kill a man stone dead – but not the man that currently stood beneath a blinking streetlight on a desolate council estate.

  Although, in all honesty, he wasn’t really a man.

  Lucas looked up at the moon and saw that it was full. There was something happening tonight, that much was clear. He just hoped it wasn’t the thing he was starting to suspect. Four-thousand years of existence was a long time, but Lucas wasn’t ready for it to end yet.

  I haven’t watched the latest series of Dexter, for one.

  Lucas walked forward, feet resting on the surface of the snow as if he were weightless. He’d never visited this particular town, it was without any notable history, but there was a lot of supernatural energy suddenly leaked into the world and he had traced it to here. Now he just needed to find out the source.

  It wasn’t long before he found it. Lucas stopped walking across the snow and turned around. Behind him was an old friend, from long long ago.

  “Gabriel?” Lucas raised an eyebrow. “I take your being here to be a bad sign.”

  The Angel Gabriel stepped forward to approach Lucas and shook his head. “On the contrary, Lucifer. I would say that my presence is an extremely good sign. It signals the end of the decadent cesspool of this humanity. The Lord’s patience has worn thin and He has sent forth his armies to-”

  “Still towing the company line, huh?” Lucas interrupted without his Irish accent. It was unnecessary in the current company. “You don’t seriously buy into the whole apocalypse thingy-majig, do you?”

  “It is His will.”

  Lucas sighed. “So it’s really happening then? I’d worried as much.”

  “The scales have tipped. A sinner was chosen and failed to redeem himself…and therefore his species.”

  Lucas took another step towards Gabriel. It wasn’t confrontational – the war between Angels was a one-time event never to be repeated – he just wanted to read the other Angel’s expression. “I always hated that contingency – from the very day Michael dreamt it up. It’s perverse to pin the world’s hopes on a single individual. So who is it anyway?”