The Final Winter: An Apocalyptic Horror Novel(7)

“I’m ready for one,” said Harry. “This one has gone bad.”

“Mine too,” said Old Graham, pushing his own pint forward. “I’m going to have to have a dozen more just to make up for it.”

Steph scrunched up her face. “Strange…Maybe there’s a problem with the taps. Not surprised, the amount you lot drink. They probably couldn’t take the strain.”

Lucas chuckled. “Looks like I’ve come to the right place. You’re men after me own heart, and now that I can see a little bit better, I can also admire what a fine young wench we have ourselves behind the bar.”

“Hey, less of the wench!” Steph objected. They all laughed and she got to work handing them their bottled beers, each of them swigging deeply as though it was their first of the night. Perhaps for Lucas it was.

The Irishman pointed a finger. “So who’s the beefy fella down the end of the bar that doesn’t talk?”

“My name is Nigel and I can hear you.”

“Well, Big Man, come and suck ale with the rest of us.”

“Maybe later.”

“What’s wrong with you, man? There a gal down there with ya?”

“Huh, I wish,” said Nigel.

“Get your moody arse down here! A fella shouldn’t be lonesome on a night like this. The cold out there could kill a man stone dead.”

“Okay, okay!” Nigel conceded, disturbing the shadows as he raised his hands in front of his face. He slid down the bar to join them all, dumping his heavy mass down onto a creaking stool beside Lucas. Harry nodded hello at the man and he nodded back.

Lucas certainly had a knack for bringing people together. Magnetic personality was the phrase that came to Harry’s mind.

Lucas spoke again. “You know something, fellas? I don’t think that snow is gonna let up tonight. No word of a lie but it’s like the feckin end of the world out there.”

“Oh, very nice,” said Steph. “You walk into my pub and start worrying everyone. We’ve all got to try and get home tonight.”

“What? Are ye drunk, lass? Ain’t no man getting anywhere in that winter blanket.”

Steph’s face dropped slightly, the dull candle-light making her expression seem grim. “How did you get here then?”

Lucas smiled knowingly. “I was nearby and realised things were bad, so I thought to meself, ‘where’s the best place to be stuck on a night like this?’ Well of course there was only one answer, wasn’t there?”

“The boozer!” Old Graham shouted gleefully, clearly delighted by the Irishman’s philosophy. “Anyway,” the pensioner added, “don’t you worry, young Stephanie. There’s always room upstairs at my place to keep warm.”

Cheeky sod, thought Harry. Wonder if the old guy even has enough lead in his pencil to get it up these days? If he does, then fair play to the old bugger.

Steph laughed defiantly, the air from her nostrils slanting the flames of the nearby candles. “The only way you’ll get me up there, old man, is if you’re sleeping on the roof.”

Everyone cackled and swigged their beers. Everyone except Damien, Harry observed. The thug was scowling at them from the shadows of the fireplace, watching their every move. No one else seemed to notice though, and the giggling chatter amongst the group at the bar continued.

Yet, despite the light-heartedness, Harry couldn’t help but notice that the snow outside continued to fall…

And it seemed to be getting worse.

As did Damien’s scowling.

Chapter Four

“Dude, just sit the hell down! If you break something my Dad will freak.” Ben didn’t need this from Jerry tonight. Not with the power going out and such shitty weather. It was like a dozen winters rolled into one and he was stuck in his father’s video store not knowing what to do for the best.

“Chill out, B-Dog!” said Jerry, shining his key ring torch into his face and contorting his skeletal features into a ghoulish grimace. The DVD cases on the cluttered shelves behind him shone with each movement of the light. “You need to stop worrying about your slave-driving old man. It’s not like he ever does anything for you – other than work you to death, that is, and make you come in on a day where everything else is closed. An important meeting, my arse! He just couldn’t be bothered to waste another day at the Video Store of the Damned.”

Ben frowned, though it was too dark in the store’s dusty back-office for Jerry to see it. “Stop calling it that! The place is doing just fine. He really did have a meeting, and it’s not every day he trusts me to look after Blue Rays on my own either, so the last thing I need is you making my life hard, okay? Just behave and don’t mess anything up.”

“Okay, okay,” Jerry conceded. “What would you like me to do with myself, oh wise Gandalf?”

Ben threw his head back and cursed. “I told you to stop calling me that!”

“Get rid of that gay beard and I will. Either that or I’ll get some hairy-assed Hobbits in here so you can feel more at home.”

“Just…” Ben took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Sit down will you, while I try to get the power back on.”

Thankfully, Jerry complied, hoisting his stick-like figure up onto the service desk and remaining quiet. Ben could still hear him fidgeting away for anything to get his spindly fingers on, but at least for now he was rooted in one place; his area of recklessness limited.