The Final Winter: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel(10)

“Yeah, that’s it,” she said to herself, hoping it would calm her nerves to hear a voice, even if it was just her own. “It’s just faulty.”

Somehow, she didn’t believe it.

When she spotted something in the snow up ahead, she knew for certain that she was wrong.

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It was almost thirty minutes before Peter was done. Kath heard the boy’s footsteps coming from the BOOZE & SPIRITS aisle. “Is everything secure?” she asked him.

“Yes, Ms Hollister.”

“Let’s get going then.”

“But we still not know where Jess is.”

Kath grunted. “She’s responsible for her own well-being. I can’t afford to wait around for that silly girl any longer. If you’re so concerned, go wondering around in the snow for her yourself.”

“Thank you, Ms Hollister. I will go now.”

Kath listened to the boy’s footsteps retreating towards the supermarket’s exit. He was about to leave her alone; in the darkness.

“Peter, wait!” she shouted. “You’re right. We shouldn’t just leave Jess to her own devices. We should go find her then all get home together.”

Peter’s footsteps halted. “Okay, Ms Hollister. Hurry!”

The fact that she was being given orders by a staff member made Kath furious, but the increasing howls of the snowstorm made her feel uncharacteristically subdued. “Coming,” she said.

Chapter Six

Harry shivered as he started his next beer. It was getting colder and the scar on the back of his hand started to ache in response, reminding him of things he’d rather forget. Things he drank to forget. He swigged deeply from his beer bottle.

The Irishman, Lucas, turned his attention to Old Graham at the end of the bar. “So, Father Time, you must have been around a fair few turns of the world? You ever see snow like this before?”

“Well,” Old Graham began, visibly delighted at being the centre of attention. “There was a time in the fifties where things got a little chilly as I recall; and of course me old man told tales of winter in the Ardennes that sounded far more hellish than this.”

Nigel piped up from the opposite end of the bar. “Yeah, well that’s the Ardennes. It’s normal to have snow there. The amount we’ve had here the past couple days isn’t natural. Not to mention that it’s snowing everywhere. All over the world. In every country. Maybe it’s because of the ozone layer or something?”

Lucas chuckled. “Give over, man! You think a couple of cow farts has the ability to change the weather?”

Harry joined the debate. “What do you put the snow down to then, Lucas? I mean I haven’t known it to ever snow half as much as this. It certainly seems like something made the weather mad.”

“The world is a gazillion years old,” said Lucas, putting his beer bottle down on the bar as if to make a point. “I bet there’s been weather like this before – just not in your lifetime. It’s a tad unusual, no doubt, but I don’t believe in all that ozone layer nonsense.”

Nigel seemed disgruntled in the light of his candle, maybe even angry. “That’s your opinion, isn’t it?” he said. “Don’t mean I’m not right. We’ve been abusing this planet for decades and it can’t go on forever.”

Lucas put up his hands. “Calm down there, fella, no need to get your hackles up. It’s just the beer talking, you know? Makes me feel a thousand times older and wiser than I should ever admit to. You’re probably right though, humanity has been abusing God’s green earth for a fair few years now, and maybe it can’t go on forever. But, right now, my only concern is having a good time with a wee tipple to keep me warm.” He looked at Steph and winked. “And maybe a good woman wouldn’t go amiss either.”

“You’re an alcoholic letch,” said Nigel, a candle-lit half-smile on his face.

As I said before, I’ve come to the right place then.” Lucas laughed out loud, hoisted his bottle up into the air and said “cheers!” The others joined him in the toast, although the word alcoholic being bandied around made Harry feel uncomfortable. It was such a dirty word that encompassed so many types of people. Not everyone drank for the same reasons. Not everyone had to deal with the same burdens.

Sometimes a beer is just a beer.

Harry took another swig from his bottle and sighed at the burning satisfaction it left in his chest. When he pulled it away from his lips it was two-thirds empty.

For some reason, Lucas had begun staring at him inquisitively from inside the flickering cocoon of his candle-light. “So what’s your story, fella?” he asked Harry. “What’s the meaning of your life?”

Harry swigged the last of his beer then pushed the bottle toward Steph, who was already on the case with a replacement. “My life,” he said, “has no meaning. Not anymore.”

Lucas frowned. “Come now, everybody’s life has meaning. We all have a purpose.”

“Really? Then why don’t you tell me what mine is, because I sure as hell don’t know.”

“I can’t tell you that.” Lucas smiled. “Every man has to find his own path and his own destination. Who knows though, maybe you’ll find yours tonight.”

Harry started on his next beer with a hearty swig, gasping for breath afterwards. He looked Lucas square in the face. “Sorry, but I find that hard to believe.”