The World's Last Breaths: Final Winter, Animal Kingdom, and The Peeling

by Iain Rob Wright

  Harry gazed in the direction of the stranger’s voice, over by the pub’s entrance, and found himself at a loss. The cheery Irish accent was not what he’d been expecting. In fact, when Harry had first realised the presence of the stranger in the darkness, he’d felt something else, something…ominous. That seemed silly now.

  “Hey, who is that?” asked Steph from behind the bar. “Anyone we know?”

  A hearty chuckle floated over from the doorway. “No Lass, I do not believe we’ve had the pleasure. The name’s Lucas Fergus and I am on a vital quest to get some beer down me neck.”

  Steph laughed and Harry found himself amused too. It wasn’t often the pub was graced with such colour beyond old men and their tall tales of the past.

  “Well,” said Steph, “I can only offer you bottles and shots at the moment. As you can see the power is off, and that means the electric pumps are dry. Cash only, too, no tabs”

  “Cash is the only way an honourable man pays for anything in my mind, so there be no worries there, and I don’t care whether the beer comes from bottle or tap neither. It all ends up in the same place.”

  “No arguments there,” said a voice Harry recognised as Old Graham’s.

  Over by the fireplace the flickering silhouette of Damien shifted and stirred. Damien didn’t like strangers. People he didn’t know were usually unaware of his reputation, and he did not appreciate that at all. Several months back, Harry had witnessed Damien carve his initials into some poor lad’s forehead with a nasty-looking blade, just so people would know he was to be respected. The young man had screamed the entire time and nobody was able to do a thing as Damien’s cronies took up guard.

  The police never came. No one even called them.

  Thankfully, Damien had been uncharacteristically quiet tonight, almost as if he was dealing with some internal issue, but Harry worried that might be something bad.

  “Can we bear some light in here, you reckon?” Lucas asked, flicking open a glinting, metal lighter and illuminating his face with the flame. He looked about Harry’s age, yet boyishly handsome with a cheeky grin to match. Wild tussles of mousy brown hair crept beneath his ears and halfway down his neck. Harry thought the guy looked like a handsome traveller from the front cover of one of the trashy Mills and Boon novels his wife used to buy at the car boots they went to.

  “In weather like this I’m surprised you’re not all round that lovely fireplace.” Lucas moved toward the bar, his flame-lit face a disembodied ghost as it crossed the room. “Or does that wee fella on the sofa not play well with others?”

  “The less said about that the better,” warned Steph in a hushed voice.

  Harry cringed, worried about the response the newcomer’s comment could elicit from Damien, and was thankful, if a little surprised, when the young thug merely turned away and returned to whatever he was doing. It really wasn’t like Damien to be so reserved. He was preoccupied with something. But what?

  Confident that no trouble was going to occur, at least for the time-being, Harry decided he would join the newcomer at the bar. Sitting alone in the dark wasn’t awfully appealing and he needed a refill anyway. His current beer smelt like bad eggs.

  “So, Lucas?” Harry said, arriving at the bar and propping his elbows against its gnarled surface. “Where have you come in from?”

  Lucas turned to Harry, the lighter still illuminating his face. “I’ve come in from the bloody cold fella, but before that I come from down south.”

  Harry raised an eyebrow. “South?”

  “That’s what I said now, ain’t it? Been here-there-and-everywhere in my time – up and down, upside down – but originally I hail from the North. Been spending a lot of time in the South more recently though, after a falling out with me father. Suits me just fine, warmer climate, you know?”

  “You mean Southern Ireland?”

  “Where is that drink I heard a rumour about,” Lucas said, ignoring the question. “This is a pub, is it not?”

  Steph shouted from the backroom behind the bar. “Hold your horses! For a complete stranger you’re pretty demanding.”

  “I’m a growing lad, and if ye make me wait I may just fade away. Or, worse than that, I may sober up.”

  Steph came back through to the bar holding a wooden tray full of mismatched candles. The flames danced around her breasts and Harry tried not to stare at them. Carefully, she placed the candles evenly along the bar and the heady smell of burning wax wafted into the air. The first candle she had placed in front of Old Graham, whilst the last went in front of Nigel. In between, Harry and Lucas got candles too.

  “That’s better,” said Steph. “Now, who wants a beer besides our new friend here?”

  “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 pumps. 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?”

  “My name is Nigel.”

  “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 you?”

  “Huh, I wish.”

  “Get your mardy britches down here then! A fella shouldn’t be lonesome on a night like this. The cold out there could kill a man stone dead, no word of a lie.”

  “Okay, okay,” Nigel conceded. He slid down the bar and joined the rest of them, dumping his heavy mass down onto a creaking stool beside Lucas. Harry nodded hello. Lucas certainly had a knack for bringing people together. Magnetic personality was the phrase that came to mind.

  Lucas spoke again. “You know something, fellas? I don’t think that snow is gonna let up any time soon.”

  “Great,” said Steph. “We’ve all got to try and get home tonight somehow.”

  Lucas put down his beer with a clink! “What? Are you 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?

  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 merrily in the dark. Everyone except Damien, who remained alone, staring into the fire like he was looking for answers.

  4

  “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 h
is key ring torch into his own face and contorting his skeletal features into a ghoulish grimace. The DVD cases on the cluttered shelves behind him shone with every movement of the light. “You need to stop worrying about your old man. It’s not like he ever does anything for you. I can’t believe he made you come in today. As if anyone is going to come out and rent a movie in this weather. This place is the Video Store of the Damned even on a good day.”

  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. It’s not every day that Dad trusts me to look after Blue Rays on my own, so the last thing I need is you making my life difficult, 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.

  Sometimes Ben didn’t know why he put up with his friend. They’d known each other since they were peeing in pre-school sandpits, but for some reason his friend had never seemed to mature like he had. Ben had gone to college, whilst Jerry sponged off his mom and stepdad. Ben started dating girls, whilst Jerry bought an Xbox. Eventually, Ben had started to shoulder some of his dad’s business responsibilities, ready to one day take them on as his own, and Jerry…? Well now Jerry spent most his days hanging around Blue Rays Rentals bothering him and making fun of his beard or his ‘jelly-belly’. Still, they were best friends and Ben knew that if it ever came down to it, Jerry would do anything for him. There was something comforting about that. Not like anybody else cares. Besides, deep down, Ben liked having Jerry around. Despite the odd annoyances, they had a lot of fun together. Even the Ben and Jerry jokes didn’t really bother him too much anymore. Tonight however, Jerry was stretching his patience paper-thin.

  “When you gunna get the lights on again?” Jerry asked. “It’s like Saturday Night Fever in here.” He swept his penlight around the room, illuminating the low-hung, suspended ceiling like a disco ball. A movie poster of a disgruntled De Niro and an awkward looking Ben Stiller lit up and disappeared as the light passed over it.

  “If it is,” said Ben, “then you’re no John Travolta!” He walked across to the far side of the office, behind the IKEA computer desk and towards the fuse box. He didn’t know anything about electrics and he was hoping to flick a switch and be done with it. Likely, it would be more complicated than that.

  Before the power went off, Ben had been watching the news with Jerry – well, to be more honest, Jerry was waiting for a re-run of The Matrix to come on. The reports had said that the country’s infrastructure was expected to be affected by the snow for several more days and that blackouts were likely as people’s heating usages rose to monumental levels. It didn’t bother Ben too much, so long as nothing happened to his father’s store whilst he was in charge of it. Business came first.

  Before anything else.

  Before silly little friendships with that imbecile, Jerry.

  Ben shook his father’s words out of his head and pulled out his keys from his pocket, sifting through them one by one. Earlier, he and Jerry had become concerned by the amount of snowfall – and more than a little anxious that the bad weather was spread throughout most of the globe. Having watched so many disaster movies, Ben couldn’t help but get the heebie jeebies about how the snow seemed to be falling so endlessly. When it had piled knee-deep, Ben and Jerry had hurried to the supermarket on the corner, to stock up on snacks and beers in case they got stranded in the store. They were willing to wait things out if they had to. Ben just hoped Jerry kept his exuberance under control during. His best friend had a knack for breaking things. Ben called it the Jerry effect.

  Ben swung open the fuse cabinet and flicked open his monogrammed lighter. He’d stopped smoking months ago but it had been a present from his father – and they were too few and far between to discard. His eyes glazed for a second as they adjusted to the light, and once they did he was confused by what he saw. The fuse box appeared to have burned and melted.

  It made no sense. Wasn’t the whole point of having fuse boxes to prevent electrical fires?

  There wasn’t anything Ben could think of that could cause such severe heat damage on the fuses, while leaving the surrounding cabinet completely untouched. Ben plucked at his scruffy brown beard rhythmically as he tried to find a thought that fit, a thought that didn’t worry him. But all that came to mind was…

  Das is going to blow a fuse of his own when he finds out about this.

  At that moment, Jerry shouted out from the shop floor. “What’s happening, Gandalf? You stroking the salami back there?”

  Ben shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Dude, I swear, not now, okay!”

  “Okay, okay,” Jerry said. “Don’t get your beard in a twist. It’s not like it’s the end of the world – although we are missing The Matrix.”

  5

  Kath wasn’t prepared to stay there all night in the dark. She tried her mobile phone again and hissed when it still refused to dial out.

  Everyone else in the country had been skiving off and throwing sickies since the snow started; why hadn’t she? It would have made life a lot easier. Because I have integrity, she told herself. Unlike most people these days. Luckily, Peter and Jess lived within walking distance of the store and had had no excuses not to come in. They knew she wouldn’t stand for any absence.

  Kath glanced toward the fire exit. The doors were closed, but she could see the drifting snow outside, piling up against the glass.

  It was beginning to feel more like the North Pole than the West Midlands.

  Shivering, Kath pulled her arms away from her sides and groped around the cashier desk for the phone again. The thought that someone may have been responsible for the power going off still worried her and all she wanted to do was talk to someone in authority. Mr Campbell. The power company. The police. Anyone.

  Peter stood nearby, she’d insisted on it, and the intermittent glow of his mobile phone made her feel a little safer, but it was only enough to take a slight edge off her nerves. She plucked the phone from its cradle and prodded the keypad.

  Still no dial tone.

  Kath slammed the handset back down.

  “Is okay?” Peter asked in his horrible broken English.

  “Everything is fine. I just dropped the phone. Do you know where Jessica is yet? I need to close up, but not before I’ve done a staff search. Its night’s like tonight when things go missing.”

  There was silence for a moment and Kath’s heart rate rose. A few seconds later Peter made himself known again. “I not know where she is. Do you?”

  Kath sighed. “Would I have asked you, if I did? Last I knew she was out front checking if anyone knew why the power was off. I don’t think she’s come back.”

  “Should I go look for her?”

  The thought of being alone made Kath shout out. “No! Stay here. The last thing I need is you both getting lost.”

  Pete began walking back toward the counter. “You think she is lost?”

  “That girl would lose her head if it wasn’t sewn on. I’m sure whatever she’s doing out there, she’s managed to find her way into trouble. Just lea-”

  Kath’s body was suddenly wracked with shivers, cutting her words off mid-sentence. It hadn’t seemed anywhere near as chilly just an hour ago when the power had first gone off. Without the heating things were going to become
freezing. She glanced at the fire exit again. The snow outside swirled intently. The wind picked up and started to howl.

  Kath wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “For God sake, Peter, will you hurry up? We need to leave.”

  We need to leave right now.

  Jess could barely see an inch in front of the freckles on her nose. The snow whipped her face relentlessly, filling her nostrils and blurring her eyes. It felt like she was going to suffocate, yet she had no choice but to persevere and find her way back to the supermarket. It was embarrassing that she’d managed to get herself so disorientated – it could only have been been ten feet before she’d found herself turned around and lost - but every direction led to a white, blossom background that seemed to creep on endlessly. She shivered, partly from anxiety but mostly from the fact she was freezing.

  Really smart, Jessica. A+ for common sense.

  She cried out for help and was unsurprised when she was met with near silence – the only other sound being the shrill whistle of the increasing wind. Despite the lack of reply, Jess called out again, lacking other ideas. Still silence. Jess paused to gather her thoughts. The biting cold was worse when standing still.

  Jess fumbled amongst her loose change and pulled out her mobile phone. It was slender and metallic, painted pink with silver sequins. Her intention was to use it to call Peter at the supermarket and get him to shout out of the doorway. She’d follow his voice, feeling like a fool, but as long as it was only Peter she wouldn’t mind too much. He would keep things to himself and not tell the super-bitch, Kathleen.

  The phone lit up as soon as she pressed its keypad, but it became immediately apparent that something was wrong with it. It still had power, but the display was garbled, distorted by vertical lines and random squiggles. She tried making a call but was unsuccessful. She put the phone away and resumed her directionless searching.