The Final Winter: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel(34)

But Harry felt a hundred times worse when he realised that Old Graham was bent over at the bottom of the stairs, gathering cardboard, oblivious to the danger hurtling towards him.

The barrel picked up speed.

Chapter Nineteen

Jess couldn’t stop worrying about Peter. She also worried about her mum and dad, who would be in turn worrying about her. They were usually still awake now, despite the late hour, finishing off a bottle of wine and arguing. She hoped they were too drunk to notice that she wasn’t home yet, or that the world was slowly being swallowed up by an endless snowstorm. Jess old herself they would be fine, but still she worried about them all the same. Mostly though, right now, she was worried about Peter.

She looked down at her sleeping friend and was surprised to find that his injuries still had the ability to shock her. Peter’s left eye was caked in a thick veneer of canary-yellow, custardy puss. It wasn’t what disturbed her most however; it was the deep carvings sliced into his clammy flesh. Send out the sinner.

Whatever it meant, it was the work of sickos, for sure. Peter never did anything to hurt anyone. He was sweet and gentle, probably the nicest boy she’d ever known. Not like the usual football-obsessed dickheads she usually met online. She looked down at Peter’s gore-crusted face and saw that, despite the blood, she could still make out his gentle features and soft lips. Before tonight, she had sometimes thought about what it would be like to kiss them. She wondered if he’d ever thought about kissing her too.

Bloody Hell, Jess! Peter’s lying here, dying, and you’re thinking about making out with him. Jeez!

At that moment, Peter opened his eye. Jess didn’t notice at first, but when he started to moan it startled her. He continued moaning until the strangled noises eventually began to form words. “Jess…ica.”


Jess nodded and smiled, tears gushing down her cheeks. “Yes, yes, it’s me. I was so worried about you, Peter. What on Earth happened to you?”

Peter focused intensely on her for a moment, lips puckering as if preparing for some great speech. She hoped it wasn’t going to be a final one. “Jessica…” he grimaced, “listen…to me.”

She put a hand against his cheek. It throbbed heat like a radiator. “I am, Peter. I’m here.”

“Get away,” he said, “out of here.”

Jess blinked. “What do you mean?”

A hiss of air whistled in Peter’s nostrils as though forcing its way past a blockage. He repeated himself, but more weakly, like he was going to lose consciousness again at any moment. “Get away. They are…coming.”

Peter’s good eye rolled back in his head and then disappeared behind his drooping eyelid. He was gone again. Maybe forever, Jess contemplated sadly. Before she had time to consider what Peter had been trying to tell her, she was alerted by a crash.

Followed by cries of pain; screams of agony.

What is happening now? I don’t think I can take any more.

Jess felt numb and moved sluggishly. Making her way over to the bar area, she could see that a commotion had already begun to take place. Harry, Damien, and the old man were missing, but Lucas, Steph, and Nigel were milling around the bar looking concerned. She searched for Jerry and found him on his own, sitting at a table in the corner. He was shivering and didn’t seem to be paying much attention to anything that was going on. She made a mental-note to check up on him later. Kath sat nearby too, also seemingly uninterested in anything that was going on. When Jess reached the bar she found herself face to face with Lucas, who was making his way through the bar hatch to the staff side. He stopped when he saw her.

“What’s going on?” she asked him.

“Dunno, lass. The menfolk went downstairs to get us something for a fire. Next thing we know there’s a load of caterwauling.” Lucas moved into the doorway behind the serving area that led into the back of the pub, leaving the candlelight of the bar and fading into the shadows. Before disappearing completely, he turned back to her. “You coming or not, lass?”

Jess stood for a moment then nodded. She followed after Lucas into the unlit corridor, groping against the wall to keep herself steady. Further on down, the sounds of someone in pain became clearer, and so did other sounds…people bickering. It sounded like Harry and Damien. She hoped everyone was alright, but worried that Damien had lashed out and hurt somebody; broken Harry’s nose or worse?

Lucas sparked his lighter and the corridor lit up in a flood around them. He reached out to stop Jess before she bumped into him. “I think they’re down there,” he said.

To their left was an open doorway leading to a narrow staircase. A breeze seemed to wisp up from the cellar and tickle Jess’s cheeks and the inside of her nostrils.

Lucas placed his hands either side of his mouth and shouted down the stairs. “You fellas okay down there? We heard yelling.”

After a few seconds a voice that Jess recognised as Harry’s floated up the stairs. “We need help. Graham is hurt. It was my fau-“

“Just get some light down here and some blankets.” The new voice was Damien’s, cutting off Harry mid-sentence. “We’ve had a slight f*ck-up but everything’s going to be sound.”

Jess couldn’t help feeling that things were most definitely not going to be ‘sound’. Peter was on death’s door and now the old man was injured.