Jess began laughing. “Is this what you two are like all the time? You crack me up!”
They both blushed. Ben hated when Jerry got him involved in one of his asinine nerd-fiction routines. It had been embarrassing him his whole life. It was his own fault though; sometimes he just couldn’t resist winding Jerry up. It was one of life’s few pleasures.
“You know what?” said Jess, still giggling. “If we stop by my house, I can leave a note for my parents. I’ll crash at yours like you said. It could be fun.”
Jerry’s face lit up and, if Ben was honest, he too was pleased at the thought of having Jess back to his place; she seemed pretty cool. All they had to do now was make it home – which, right now, seemed easier said than done.
###
Ten minutes later, Jerry had to stop. Jess wasn’t thrilled about it because somewhere in the snow was the tall, hooded man that had frightened the life out of her earlier. She was certain of what she’d seen.
Well, pretty sure anyway.
“Dude, I can’t see two inches in front of me!” Jerry bumped into the back of Ben, sending them both into a stagger, the deep snow making it hard to keep balance.
Jess laughed at them. “Come on, Ant and Dec. I’m freezing my tits off here.”
Jerry regained his balance, pushing against Ben’s shoulders to steady himself. Ben huffed, most likely irritated that he was being used as a steadying post.
“Hey, if you want me to warm them up for you,” said Jerry with a smirk, “just let me know.”
“Nice try,” she said. “But I’m not as easy as that.”
Ben chuckled and pointed at his friend. “Wounded!”
“Hey, she said she wasn’t easy – not impossible.”
“Well, I must admit that’s closer than you get with most girls.”
“You ain’t so hot yourself, Gandalf.”
“I told you to stop calling me tha-“
“Children, children,” Jess interjected. “Put away the testosterone and try to remember I’m not a Star Wars figurine. I don’t like being fought over, and my packaging stays on.”
“Worth more like that anyway,” Jerry muttered. “Besides, I thought most girls liked being fought over.”
Jess stopped walking and put her hands on her hips. “Well, I’m not most girls.”
The three of them shared a laugh and they continued struggling onwards, crunching their footprints into the twinkling snow. The increasing blizzard made it difficult to see – and to hear – but they all saw clearly the shadowy silhouette standing before them.
Jess froze at the sight. Earlier, when she had been pounding on the door of the video shop, begging to be let in, she had been terrified, but during her time with Ben and Jerry she’d come to the conclusion that perhaps she had just been spooked – or maybe even a little bit insane. Now though, she was certain that what she’d seen earlier was very much a reality; not a figment of her imagination. The same hooded figure now towered over her like a prison wall, making escape seem impossible. Beneath its grey cowl, the same glowing white eyes were studying her once again. The figure must have cleared seven feet – maybe even eight – and was looking down at them all like children. A long, tattered cloak covered its entire body from head to snow (its feet were not visible).
Jess screamed.
Jerry chipped in with what he probably felt was an apt expression for the situation. “Dude!”
Jess quickly quieted down however as she witnessed Ben step forward towards the stranger. Obviously he was stark raving mad.
“Sir? Are you trying to get home?” Ben spoke to the stranger without any sign of fear, apparently oblivious to their unnatural size. “We are too. Perhaps we could help one another?”
Jerry started backing away, clutching at Jess’s arm and pulling her with him. She didn’t resist – it was the right idea given the situation.
“Let’s get the hell out of here, Ben,” Jerry shouted. “People that make nice with the bad guys end up on the end of meat hooks.”
Ben shot Jerry an angry look. “Jerry, do you always have to be so stupid? There is no such thing as monsters. This isn’t one of your pathetic movies. I’m sick and tired of-.”
Ben’s speech was derailed by an explosion, not of sound but of light. Behind the hooded figure, a towering palisade of flames rose up, growing from the very snow itself and blotting out the night sky as it drenched their freezing bodies with intense heat. The sudden change in temperature made Jess’s skin pop and tingle, but her legs were still numb and buried by the snow. Her limbs lacked feeling so much that she felt as if she were floating in place. The flames behind the hooded figure were mesmerizingly bright and, for the first time, Jess could make out the stranger in clear detail. The robes were not the drab, weathered grey that she had first thought. They were magnificent silver, sparkling in the flickering backdrop of liquid fire that now illuminated them. Jess laughed as the inappropriate image of a Vegas magician presented itself in her head.
I think I’m losing my mind.
Jerry shouted from behind her, but still she could not move, her legs paralysed by fear. Her eyes remained fixed on the hooded figure and the flames behind him. The lurching figure started to move and from beneath the silvery cloth came a talon-like hand, all bony fingers and bulbous knuckles. Jess gawped, wide eyed, as the creature begun to draw a long slither of grey from inside its flapping cloak.
Is that…a sword?
Finally, Jess found control of her legs, the sight of the lengthy, sharp-edged blade helping her to take charge. “Ben, I think you should back away and come over here with us.”
Ben seemed to snap awake, as if suddenly he had been released from a temporary lobotomy. Maybe he’d noticed the sword as well – or maybe it was the flames. He turned and stared at Jess, ballerinas of fear pirouetting through his eyes. “No shit!” he said before starting to run. Not a single second passed before Jess and Jerry were doing the very same thing.
“Who the hell is that?” Jess managed to ask mid-run, the words coming out in huffs and puffs.
Jerry answered in the same out-of-breath way. “You mean what is that, don’t you? It ain’t no man.”
The conversation went no further as the three of them carried on their rapid retreat from the hooded creature. The snow slowed their running down to less than half its normal speed and Jess couldn’t help but worry that if they were being pursued each of them had slim hopes of getting away. “Is that thing following us?” she asked, trying to increase the speed of her clumsy, snow-bound strides.
“I don’t know,” said Ben, looking back over his shoulder. “Let me see.”
While Jess tried to catch up with Jerry a few yards in front, she waited anxiously for Ben to reply from behind her about whether or not they were being pursued. After several more, exhausting strides, Jess’s racing heart surged with panic and she could wait no longer for Ben’s answer. She stumbled to a stop and looked back.
For some reason, Ben had stopped several yards behind. He was still following after Jess, but was making slow, almost laborious progress. Beyond him, she saw nothing but snow and darkness. The crisp, bright flames that had held her mesmerised were now gone. So too was the hooded figure.
“Ben,” she called out. “What are you doing? Get a move on!”
It was a few moments before he replied to her. “I…I don’t feel right. I…” He fell down in the snow.
Jess panicked. She had to go back to help Ben – she knew that without even thinking about it – but going back to help him meant going back towards the creature with the sword. She had to go, she decided, but sure as hell wasn’t going alone. Jess turned around and yelled.
Up ahead, Jerry stopped in his tracks, swaying and tottering like he couldn’t gain control of his knees. When he came to a stop finally, he immediately understood something was wrong and started running back towards her. Not waiting for him to catch up, Jess trudged her way over to Ben, who was still down on his hands and knees, face bur
ied against the snow. Her feet found the tracks they had flattened when they’d run in the opposite direction and moving became a little easier.
Within a few moments she had reached Ben. “Hey, what’s wrong,” she asked him, getting frantic. He looked up at her and the sight immediately made her stomach churn. His face had turned white as the snow he lay in, except for his lips, which were bright red with blood. “Jesus, Ben! Are you ok? What’s happened?”
Jerry came rushing up beside his friend and instantly dove into the snow. “Ben! Ben, what’s wrong? Shit, man, you’re bleeding.”
Somehow, Ben managed to laugh meekly at his friend’s arrival. Scattered specks of blood flew from his mouth, covering the nearby snow in pinpricks of red.
Then Jess saw something that made her stomach churn even harder. “One of your fingers is missing!”
Ben stared down at his hand as though he didn’t quite recognise it. Jess thought that he looked mildly stoned, and, instead of looking at his dismembered digit, he was looking at a vase of multi-coloured flowers. The strangest thing of all, Jess noticed, was that the finger stump was not bleeding. It was capped by a glistening patch of red, but it wasn’t moist. The wound seemed more like the surface of sandpaper.
Jerry put out a hand towards his friend. “Come on, B-Dog. Let’s get you out of here.”
Ben reached up to take his friend’s hand, but when he made contact something terrible happened. His arm crumbled away at the shoulder as though it were made from ragged clumps of brittle clay. The stump bled for a few seconds before seeming to glaze over. Ben looked up at them with the same look Jess imagined soldiers had when they realised they were holding their own intestines: Mortal panic. Now she saw that Ben’s face had taken on the same sandpapery quality that his finger wound possessed. In fact, she noticed with increasing dread, he was dead.
It took several more moments for Jerry to understand, unwilling to believe that his best friend was gone, but when Ben’s entire body crumbled away to blood-coloured dust in his very arms, Jerry finally seemed to get it. When the scene was finally over, with only a fading pile of red sand against the white snow to suggest anything had ever existed of Ben, Jess allowed herself the luxury of screaming. She didn’t stop until she was completely out of breath.
It went on for some time.
Chapter Thirteen
Harry’s world felt better from beneath the snug security of a plush blanket. It was still freezing inside the pub but at least the thick quilt prevented the loss of what little body heat he had. Despite the fact he was now able to keep his temperature at a more tolerable level, Harry still eagerly awaited the power to click on. It’d been almost two hours now.
“Come on, old man,” Damien shouted. The lad had declined one of Old Graham’s blankets – it would no doubt ruin his hardman image – but he was closest to the fire and probably just as warm as the rest of them in his padded coat.
“Yeah,” Nigel joined in. “Haven’t you picked anything up on that piece of junk yet?”
Old Graham sat on a footstool by the fire, fiddling with the radio. It hissed and crackled, almost harmonising with the crackling spit of the fireplace. “I’m trying,” he shouted. “Nought’s happening.”
“When was the last time you even used that antique?” Damien asked.
“It’s been a while, but I knows how to work a bloody radio, lad. My generation grew up with the things.”
Lucas reached out a hand from his perch on the armrest of the two-seat sofa (Harry and Steph still occupied the cushions and her thigh was still touching his). “Give it here, old timer. I know my way around a gadget or two.”
Old Graham obliged and handed over the crackling device. Lucas immediately set about twiddling the knobs and pressing buttons. A frown filled his face gradually like liquid filling a beaker. “The thing’s a dud, old man.”
“Nonsense! I’ve used the thing a hundred times.”
“Well it’s gone on strike tonight, fella.”
Harry was curious and scratched at his chin. “I’ve never known a radio to switch on and not pick anything up. They usually get something, even if it’s only faint.”
Lucas shrugged. “Not if the antenna’s faulty; you’d get nothing but static. Let’s say you’re right though. Let’s assume the radio is working and still we’re getting nothing. What does that mean?”
Harry started to think about it, but couldn’t come up with an answer. “Well, I guess it would mean that nobody’s broadcasting, or that the radio waves aren’t getting through.”
“Exactly,” Lucas said, as if he was revealing the most obvious fact in the universe. “So those are two options. The third and final one is that the radio has popped its little electrical clogs. What’s the most likely, Harry Boy?”
Harry felt silly but worried at the same time. “Well I guess it is just the radio, or the weather affecting things.”
Lucas smiled as if he’d successfully explained algebra to a monkey. “There you go! No need to assume the wor-“
Old Graham cried out. “Got something!”
Harry and Lucas broke their discussion and turned to the old man; so did Steph, Nigel, and Damien. Old Graham waved his hand at them all and ushered them closer. His left ear was half an inch from the radio’s speaker. At first, all Harry could make out was more hissing and crackling, but as he got closer…
“What is that?” Harry asked, finally hearing something.
“I don’t know,” said Old Graham without turning his attention away from the radio. “I can’t make it out, but something’s definitely there.”
Everyone gathered round and listened to the radio pop, hiss, and crackle, but behind those noises was something else. At first it sounded like horns blowing – trumpets even – but then there was…
Voices? Garbled, disembodied speech that made sense to Harry for only mere seconds: …Pillars…Salt…Sin…
Nigel straightened his back and stepped away from the radio, which quickly returned to giving out nothing but empty static again. “Did anyone else hear that? Could anyone understand it?”
Old Graham shook his head. “Not really. Something about salt?”
Nigel shook his head. “Pillars. It was pillars.”
“Pillars of salt,” Steph added helpfully.
Damien turned his back on the group, walked back over to the other side of the fire, and then turned back around to face them. “Pillars, Salt, Sin; that’s what it said.” He pulled at his earlobe. “Guess my hearing’s better than you old farts.”
Harry felt like screaming ‘shut up’ at the top of his lungs, but refrained due to the fact that Damien had actually been helpful before his snide remark. “He’s right; it did say that. Pillars. Salt. Sin.”
Lucas sat back down on the perch of the armrest. “What in heaven does that mean then? Sounds downright biblical.”
Harry didn’t disagree and thought about it for a moment, finally wondering: Who’s broadcasting it?
“So does anybody know what Pillars of Salt and Sin actually means?” Harry asked the question earnestly because he had no idea.
Steph was the first to offer an opinion: “Isn’t it from a Coldplay song?”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “You think we just caught part of a song playing?”
Steph shook her head and seemed to doubt her own answer. “It didn’t sound like singing, and the line in the song goes quite quickly. The words on the radio were drawn out and slow.”
“Plus that song doesn’t contain the word, sin,” Damien added.
“No, it doesn’t.” Steph agreed.
“Okay,” Harry said. “Anybody else got ideas?” He looked around and raised his eyebrows. “What about you, Lucas?”
“Can’t help you there, fella. It’s probably nothing but Prayer Time with Father Bob for all I know. You can find all kinds of religious stations if you fiddle about enough – especially at times like these. Either way, I need to go and visit the latrine again, so I’ll leave you folks to pon
der.” Lucas got up from the sofa’s armrest and headed towards the toilets while the rest of them continued their conversation.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” said Old Graham wrapping a wool blanket around himself and pulling it tight around his shoulders. His words still fluttered slightly as the cold strangled his central nervous system. “No point worrying about it now. I’ll put the radio on the bar if anyone wants to have another go, but my only concern right now is keeping me bones from turning to ice.”
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