The Final Winter: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel(62)

Harry got closer and wondered what to do. Did Lucas really expect to take on this army with just a broom and some salt shakers? They were going to die; any other outcome seemed impossible. Still, Harry wasn’t going down without a fight. If they wanted him, they would have to take him down, biting and screaming.

Once he was within a dozen metres of the hooded figures, the hounds at their feet became agitated, hackles rising as they paced back and forth.

“Ready with the salt?” asked Harry.

“Bring it on,” said Lucas, taking hold of Kath and bringing her forward. Together, the two of them hurled salt into the air. It caught on the wind and dispersed in a thousand directions, disappearing into the blizzard.

Harry watched and waited as nothing happened. Then hounds began to squeal, their skin smoking and burning, dripping into the snow and turning it a dark, mottled brown. The beasts began to edge away, colliding with their masters who were still unmoving. After a few moments, the hounds managed to weave between the hooded figures and flee into the night.

Satisfied, Harry looked at Lucas, who nodded at the broom he was holding. Really? Should he really be so willing to trust his survival on a domestics implement? Harry decided it was time to find out. The three of them lined up and marched forward, meeting their attackers head on.

Harry raised the broom like a pike, images of naked women fluttering in the wind. The hooded men remained motionless, their seven-foot frames like stone statues. When one of them finally moved, Harry thought he was going to soil himself.

The tallest figure, at the centre of the wall, stepped forward and flung out a hand. Harry curiously noticed that the creature’s outstretched arm was human, yet twisted and talon-like. It pointed at Lucas as its owner hissed the word, ‘WORMWOOD’.

Harry turned to Lucas who was grinning ear to ear, not out of good nature, but seemingly out of defiance. Lucas winked at the figure addressing him. “How you doing there, Mickey? Been keeping well?”

“You know this…this thing?” asked Kath, the disgust in her voice not even slightly hidden.

“Aye, but now is not the time.”


“It never is with you,” said Harry.

“Harry,” Lucas whispered over his shoulder, “now would be a good time to sweep up the trash.”

Harry didn’t understand at first, until, finally, a light bulb went off in his head. He rammed the broom forwards, aiming for the hooded man’s head. The blow missed by a mile and that seemed impossible. The intended victim had gone from motionless stone to dodging the blow in an unearthly blur of speed; a glowing wisp of light that didn’t actually seem to move so much as simply disappear and reappear somewhere else.

Harry cursed out loud. “Damn it! I missed.”

“No, you didn’t,” said Lucas. “Get your bloody arse moving.”

Harry realised that his attacker’s evasion had left a gap in the wall of hooded bodies. The three of them ran, stumbling through the deep snow and almost having to claw themselves along. Despite their early lack of movement, the hooded men were now giving chase, screeching and wailing as they did. As one got close, Harry swung out with the broom. It blinked out of existence and reappeared out of harm’s way just as his brethren had before. Harry didn’t mind if the swings were making contact or not, they were warding off the danger regardless.

As he clambered through the snow, Harry came side by side with Lucas. He turned and looked at him. “What the hell are they, Lucas?”

Lucas looked back and smiled. “Angels.” He said it casually, as if the explanation was not completely insane.

Harry almost fell, just about managing to right himself with his next steps. “Angels?”

“Like I said, Harry Boy. Now’s not the time.”

The three of them continued making their way forward, not really knowing where they were heading other than away from danger. As Harry looked back, he saw that they were no longer being pursued. The ‘Angels’ were apparently in no rush to get their ‘sinner’. But, despite the lack of pursuit coming from behind, Harry could clearly make out something ahead of him.”

“Something’s up ahead,” said Kath.

Harry nodded. “I know, I can see. Ready with the salt?”

“Yes. Ready with broom?”

The three of them slowed down (not that they were making particularly great speed anyway). The shape in the distance began to come clearer into view. It was a person, heading towards them quickly.

Kath stated the obvious. “They’re coming right at us.”

Harry focused as much as he was able to in the blustering snow. “It’s…”

“Nigel!” Kath shouted the word gleefully. “Are we glad to see you!”

Nigel came up to them, huffing and puffing. Harry noticed that the man had dried blood on his clothes as well as terrible burns on the left side of his face. He looked like something out of a horror film.

“Are you...okay?” Harry asked him.

Nigel looked feral, like an injured fox. When he answered, his words were slurred. “I’m fwine. Jush hash an asshident.”

Lucas stepped forward placed a hand on the Nigel’s shoulder. “You don’t look fine, fella. In fact you sound worse than a chorus of drunks. And that head wound don’t look none too pretty. We should get you back to the pub.”