The Final Winter: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel(54)
“You got a better idea?” Kath queried.
“Don’t suppose anybody has a fire extinguisher?” Lucas asked, fanning his hands against the fire behind them.
Harry took several steps forwards. It was probably a stupid idea. “What do you want from us?” he demanded. The hooded figure stopped moving, still too far buried by the blizzard for Harry to make them out clearly. Despite that, he could feel the stranger’s stare boring into him, digging out the corners of his soul. “I said, what do you want?”
Silence.
Then: “WE HAVE COME FOR…THE SINNER.”
Harry shook his head. What the f*ck is with this guy? Did he overdose on bible studies as a kid?
“Who exactly is the sinner?” he asked.
More silence.
Then: “YOU ARE, HARRY JOBSON.”
Harry fell down, for no other reason than his knees had ceased function. He flopped, face-first into the snow like an awkward clown, dreading he would never get up again. He was the sinner? He was the cause of this madman wreaking havoc tonight? It seemed insane, but…
He knows my secret; knows what I’ve done. He’s right…I am a sinner. But how did anybody ever find out?
“Come on, Harry Boy, time to go.” Lucas lifted him up, and at first Harry thought it was to turn him in to the hooded stranger, but it wasn’t. Lucas gained assistance from Jerry and the two of them dragged Harry through the snow, aiming for a small gap between the semi-circle of fire and the hooded figure. Harry had every confidence that Kath was not part of his attempted rescue, yet he could hear her crunching footfalls following beyond.
Trying to keep her safety in numbers.
“What are we doing?” Harry asked wearily as they dragged him along by the armpits. His legs trailed along behind him like boneless chickens and he felt dazed.
“Running for our lives,” said Lucas. “What in the blazes do you think?”
“The supermarket must be nearby,” said Jerry, struggling with Harry’s weight. “At least I hope so.”
“It is,” said Kath. “We’re here.”
Harry looked up to see the dim shape of a building present itself through the snow, only twenty yards away.
We’re going to make it…
Harry craned his neck to look back behind him, but his joints would not allow sufficient movement to see anything clearly. “Where is that…thing?”
Lucas and Jerry continued to drag him, their speed increasing as the sight of the supermarket spurned them on. Kath overtook them all and started searching her pockets frantically, no doubt for the building’s keys.
Harry repeated himself. “I said, where is it?”
They reached the supermarket’s locked fire door and dumped Harry down. Lucas stared down at him and offered his hand. “I don’t bloody know where it is. We lost it on our way here and I was in too much a hurry to keep looking back, so get up and get ready in case it comes back.”
Kath pulled her keys from her pocket and started sifting through them. “I can’t see a thing out here.”
Harry managed to stand, his legs solidifying from jelly to gradually-setting cement, not yet firm but getting there. He looked back in the direction they’d come from, and found his heart stopping in his chest. “You best hurry up and get us inside, Kath. I mean right NOW!”
Harry waited anxiously while the others turned and saw for themselves. Coming through the snow, with a steady and methodical purpose, was the hooded figure again; only this time, on either side of him, were others. Dozens, in fact. Their ghostly visages seemed to melt into the background of the thick, whirling blizzard that could have hidden an endless legion of them for all Harry knew.
Kath frantically tried keys on the lock. Lucas fell to his knees, muttering. Harry thought he heard the Irishman say something about ‘an army of Christ’, but there was no time to ask about it; the hooded figures were approaching. Urgently, Harry turned to Kath at the door. “How’s it going?” he asked her.
The chinking of keys. Kath fumbled with the lock. “I’m trying,” she said, sounding close to tears. “I’m sodding trying.”
As if things could get any worse, Harry heard a sound that chilled his blood several degrees beyond the ice that already flowed through it.
Growling.
The sound was so guttural that it could have emanated from a pack of rabid wolves. Or a dozen beasts from hell, thought Harry. Alongside the hooded figures appeared several other beast-like shapes, moving faster and more erratically than their two legged companions. They seemed like over-sized dogs, just as Jerry had described them. Harry wished he’d paid more attention
“It’s the hounds of hell,” said Jerry. “The ones I saw earlier with Jess. Believe me now?”
Harry clutched the chef’s knife tightly in his hand, but had a horrible feeling that it would prove to be as useful as a handful of wet spaghetti. “Jerry,” he said. “If we live through this then I will be the first in line to apologise for not believing you, but now’s not the time for humble pie.”
Jerry seemed buoyed by the vindication and actually began to smile. He moved over to Kath and picked up the baseball bat that she had propped against the supermarket’s door.
Lucas was still on his knees, but had stopped his incoherent rambling. He fixed his gaze on Jerry. “What the b’jaysus are you doing, lad?”