The Final Winter: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel(51)

Nigel rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. His gold pinkie ring glinted in the fire light, the image of a dolphin shining for a split-second. “Yeah, course…I’m sorry. I’m just so angry that I wasn’t there to stop him sooner.”

“You stopped him soon enough,” Jess told him. “He never got to hurt Steph. Well, not in that way, you know?”

He nodded and smiled, yet something about the gesture made Jess feel uncomfortable. It felt as though she were being looked at through a mask. That perhaps Nigel’s smile was just a way of hiding something else.

But what?

“Do you mind holding down the fort for a couple minutes?” Jess asked. “I just want to see if Steph needs anything.”

Nigel’s smile never faltered. “No problem,” he said, looking her in the eye.

Jess shivered again; she was certain it wasn’t because of the cold. She stood up and hurried away, glancing back over her shoulder to check that she wasn’t being followed. Past the bar, she approached the darkness of the staff corridor. Jess felt even more then that something wasn’t right about Nigel, but her final glance back showed that the man was still seated in front of the fire. He wasn’t following. Jess felt stupid and paranoid. Nigel didn’t seem like he could hurt a fly.

Neither do frogs until they shoot out their slimy tongues and pull you in and swallow you whole.

When Jess stepped into the cellar doorway at the top of the stairs, she immediately felt the warmth from the fire below, flowing up and over her face. She shuddered at the pleasant feeling and started to take the steps downwards.

At the bottom, Steph sat near the barrel-fire with Old Graham. The two of them were chatting away like they didn’t have a care in the world. Steph looked up at Jess as she approached and asked, “Everything good up there?”

Jess shrugged. “I wouldn’t describe anything as good at the moment, but things are…stable.”

“How’s Peter?”

“Bad. I don’t know what to do for him. I’m hoping that the others come back soon with medicine or something to help.”

Steph bit her lip. Her face was swollen on one side where she’d been attacked and her right eye was half-closed. Jess wondered quite how much Steph had been affected by tonight’s earlier incident. It was obvious she was trying not to show her emotions, but the feisty barmaid didn’t seem quite as tough as usual. “Are you okay?” Jess asked her.

Steph seemed to snap out of a trance. “I’m fine. Just a bit worried, I guess, but that’s to be expected, right?”

“Hell yeah. You’d have to be made of stone not to be worried tonight. Speaking of which, how well do you know Nigel?”

Steph looked confused. “Nigel? Pretty well, I guess. Why?”

“He just makes me feel a bit uncomfortable.”


Steph shook her head. “He’s never caused any problems in the eight or nine months I’ve known him. Keeps to himself, more or less.”

“A nice guy…f-from…what I seen…tonight.” Old Graham had fallen into a drunken haze, but still managed to fade in and out of the conversation. “A nice…guy.”

“Maybe, I’m just being silly,” said Jess.

“I’d say so. The guy saved me from being raped tonight!”

Jess nodded. There was a good chance she was just paranoid as she’d suspected earlier. Having Steph confirm it made her feel much better. She would go back upstairs now and look after Peter, thinking no more about it. But first she wanted to check on Steph’s injuries. Someone needed to look after her too, especially after what had happened. “Let me have a quick look at your face, before I go back upstairs. You look pretty beat up.”

Steph waved a hand. “Don’t worry. Just a bruise.”

“I’d feel better all the same.” Jess slid down onto the floor besides her.

Half-asleep, Old Graham murmured something from the floor. “Let the girl…have a…look.”

Steph sighed and leaned forward. “Fine, just keep your hands away. It hurts bad enough as it is.”

Jess leaned forward slowly and cringed at the sight of Steph’s bulging cheek. Her misty blue eye above the injury was bloodshot and teary. A second injury on her forehead seemed just as painful. A throbbing, aggressive bump that was already turning purple. “Jesus, you really took a whacking.”

“Think I fell against the toilet bowl. Don’t really remember much more than that. Someone came out of the dark and hit me.”

“You don’t remember anything at all?”

Steph sighed. “No.”

She went to move her head away, but Jess stopped her. “Hold on a sec.” She looked closer at the wound on Steph’s cheek, suddenly noticing something as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the cellar. It was something at the centre of the bruise, lighter in colour than the surrounding tissue. It formed a shape, maybe matching the surface of whatever had hit her. The outline seemed to resemble a…

…

Jess’ eyes went wide.

A dolphin.

The image was familiar and Jess scratched at her head while she tried to understand why. What could have hit Steph in the face that featured a small dolphin shape?

A ring with an engraving on it, maybe?

Jess’s breath caught in her throat at the realisation. “Holy shit! Nigel!”