The Final Winter: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel(29)

Steph stepped forward and nodded. “There’s one in the back. I’ll go get it.”

Harry smiled, glad to have her help. When Steph rushed off, he turned to address the others. “Jess and I are going to carry Jerry over to the couch by the fire. While I’m doing that I need the rest of you to get that window covered up before we all freeze to death.”

There was a mumbling of agreement and everyone got to work. Harry slid his right arm underneath Peter’s shoulders and instructed Jess to get his legs. She did so without argument. “We need to move slowly,” he told her. “We don’t know what kind of damage has been done, so easy does it.”

Jess nodded agreement and the two of them shuffled their way across the bar, being careful to avoid twisting or jerking the patient in their care. In the corner of his eye Harry was aware that the others in the pub were upending a table and pushing it up against the broken glass. He was surprised to see that Damien was also amongst the group; in fact he seemed to be the one taking charge.

Maybe he’s not as selfish as he tries to show people he is.

“Okay, Jess,” said Harry, coming to a stop gradually besides the sofa, “you lower Peter’s legs and I’ll lower his body. Carefully does it.”

The two of them lowered Peter down, an inch at a time, until finally, he was resting securely on the sofa. Amidst the glow of the fireplace, the severity of the boy’s wounds became evident. Shards of glass protruded from deep gashes all over his body, poking through his torn clothing like alligator teeth. Harry also noticed that one of the boy’s eyes had been mangled beyond repair. It looked like a squished cherry tomato and dripped blackish-red gunge down his cheek. Harry felt his stomach tighten.

Who the hell did this? Who could make such a mess of another human being?

“Peter, everything is going to be fine now.” Jess spoke soothingly, stroking a hand across the boy’s forehead. “You’re safe and I’m going to look after you.”

Peter muttered something in reply but it made no sense, more of a gurgle than discernible speech. Harry continued to examine his body and was shocked to discover yet more wounds, more cuts, and more blood. Not to mention a broken ankle that seemed like it had been attached to the boy’s shinbone back to front, sticking out at a gruesome angle.

Harry placed a hand against Peter’s clammy cheek and shook his head. “Who did this to you?”

Peter opened his remaining good eye and seemed to concentrate. He tried focusing on Harry but his eyeball kept flicking left and right as if it had a mind of its own. His mouth formed the words, “Skrzdlaty Diabel.”

Harry frowned. “Peter, can you tell me in English?”

The boy took a wheezing breath. It seemed to take every ounce of strength for him to form another sentence, but he managed to utter one more word: “Winged…“

“Winged what?” asked Jess, tears streaking her cheeks.

Peter gazed at her and almost managed a smile, like he had only just realised she was there. “Winged…Demon.”

Peter lost consciousness.

Jess went to put her hands on him, perhaps to shake him back awake, but Harry prevented her. “Let him rest.”

Jess leaned up against Harry. He could feel her shaking as she looked up at him. “What do you think he meant?”

“I don’t know,” said Harry honestly. “Probably just shock.”

Jess shook her head. “If it wasn’t for all the other things that have happened tonight I may have believed you.”

Harry hated to admit it, but he was inclined to agree with the girl. Something most definitely was wrong tonight. The thing that worried him most, however, was when he tried to imagine what and why?

“Harry?”

Harry spun around to find Steph holding a green plastic box. A first aid kit. He took it and thanked her, but she didn’t hear it, too busy looking down at the bleeding casualty on the sofa.

Eventually, her attention turned back to Harry. “Is he going to be okay?”

Harry glanced down at his shoes, then straightened up and took Steph to one side. He didn’t want Jess to hear what he was about to say. “I don’t know. He’s been ripped to shreds and I think he’s blind in one eye. I honestly don’t know what could do this to a person….or why.”

Steph’s expression grew dim, her skin becoming ashen even in the orange glow of the fire. “Are we in trouble here, Harry?”

“I can’t answer that; but I can tell you one thing, I’ve never wanted out of this pub so bad.”

Steph nodded. “I’ll go check on the others. Just do what you can for him, yeah?”

Harry nodded and turned back to the sofa. Jess was perched on the armrest, looking sick to her stomach. He wondered how close she was to Peter. Obviously they were co-workers, but were they more than that?

Isn’t Jerry her boyfriend?

“How’s he doing?” Harry asked her.

Jess shook her head and didn’t speak.

Harry knelt down beside Peter. The heat of the fire pinched at the flesh of his back, making it itch. He placed the first aid box down on the ground and popped open the lid. Inside were the things one would expect to find: gauze, bandages, tape, alcohol wipes, and plasters. He also found an eye dressing which he plucked out of the contents first.

After applying the dressing to Peter’s damaged, oozing eye and securing it around the back of the boy’s head, Harry moved on to the other wounds. He unbuttoned Peter’s supermarket work shirt to get a clearer look.