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

by Iain Rob Wright

  Jess made a grab for the poker, diving to the floor and reaching out with her hand. Her fingers closed around the metal and her heart skipped a beat as she realised she’d actually succeeded in getting the weapon. Now she just had to use it.

  Jess leapt to her feet, poker in hand, ready to let Nigel have it.

  But Nigel was gone.

  Jess did a double take of the room. She knew Nigel was hiding somewhere, waiting to pounce. But from where? With the poker held out in front of her, she took a tentative step forward, expecting an attack to come at any moment. Her nerves were tattered and frayed by the constant jolts of fear. Moving past the sofa, she prepared to swing with all her might, sure that Nigel would jump out at her any second. She moved carefully, watchfully, deciding that the most effective hiding place for a killer would be behind the bar. There was only one entrance to the area behind it so, if she was quick enough, she could take Nigel out before he could manage to do anything to her. Jess slowed her pace, not relishing an encounter that was life or death.

  The bar loomed closer, lit by a collection of dwindling candles. The struggling light shone on the liqueur bottles that lined the shelves, making them look like rows upon rows of crocodile teeth. The final few steps were nerve-wracking. Deep breaths, Jess. You’re ready for him. Armed and ready. Jess squeezed the poker in her right hand. Okay, here goes.

  She took the final steps towards the bar and quickly sidestepped to see behind it. As she suspected, Nigel was crouched and waiting for her. What she hadn’t expected was how quick the big man would be – and how much it would hurt having a vodka bottle smashed over her head.

  Jess felt the blood cascade from the top of her head in an instant. It ran into her eyes and into her mouth. She teetered backwards, legs folding as she hit the floor. Her ears picked up the heavy clunk of the poker skittering across the floor. Nigel was on her like a shot, pinning her arms down with his knees and straddling her chest. Held to her throat was the broken remnants of the Vodka bottle.

  “Time to die, bitch.”

  “See you in hell, you small prick mummy’s boy!”

  The comment seemed to hurt Nigel and Jess started to laugh. Right now, the over-sized, sexual predator looked like an insecure little boy and she would take that satisfying image to her grave happily. Even as the jagged bottle descended towards her throat, Jess continued to cackle out loud, closing her eyes and waiting for it all to be over.

  Jess had expected pain, but instead was jolted by a heavy force hitting her. She opened her eyes tentatively, and at first could not understand what had happened. Nigel had collapsed forward. Her face now buried in his fat belly. She punched and prodded at his lumpy body, trying to shove it off of her, but it wouldn’t budge. Nigel was unconscious.

  What the hell had happened?

  Jess finally managed to slump Nigel over to one side and slide out from underneath him. She still didn’t understand what happened, not until she saw…

  “Peter! You’re okay?”

  Her friend was standing over her, gripping a thick length of firewood which dripped gobbets of blood onto the floor. He smiled at her, although his ruined face made the expression look ghoulish and grim. He released the length of wood and dropped to his knees. From the floor he spoke to her. “You okay…Jess?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Thanks to you, that is.”

  Peter nodded and his smile widened. Then he lost consciousness, pitching forward and hitting the floor. Jess felt like doing the same.

  31

  When Harry found a pile of children’s sledges, he thought that things were looking up, but only a little. Sure it would make getting the coal and other supplies back to the pub easier, but it didn’t change the fact that the supermarket was surrounded by monsters. To make matters worse, Harry had realised that Lucas was not who he said he was, but he decided to complete the task at hand before he confronted the man. Between the three of them they had managed to pile up more than enough coal to keep the pub fires going for a week, along with a bag full of over-the-counter painkillers. They’d even found a couple of torches and two dozen packets of batteries. Now that they were done and ready to leave, Harry was ready to confront Lucas about the secrets he was keeping.

  “Lucas?”

  “Yes, Harry Boy?”

  “How do you know my surname?”

  Lucas turned to Harry, confusion on his face. “What’s that now?”

  “I said how do you know my surname? I didn’t tell you.”

  Kath huffed. “Do we really have time for this, Harry? We need to get going.”

  Lucas shrugged. “I didn’t realise it was such a secret, fella.”

  “It’s not,” Harry admitted, “but I never told it to you.”

  “The demon monks outside said it, didn’t they? They said, HARRY JOBSON YOU ARE THE SINNER. Or something like that.”

  Harry thought for a moment. “No, Lucas, you knew before. You called me Major Jobson earlier at the pub.”

  Kath looked pissed off, but at the same time seemed interested also. It appeared she wanted to see what Lucas’s answer would be.

  But he gave none.

  Harry took a quick breath, trying to stay calm. “Lucas, I asked you a question. Answer it, please.”

  “Do you really want to do this now, Harry Boy?”

  Harry’s stomach churned as he wondered whether he really did want to do this now. He had no idea who Lucas was, what he was planning, or what he was capable of.

  Harry swallowed. “Yeah, I want to do this right now. Who the hell are you and how do you know me?”

  Lucas walked over to the cash register and hopped up onto the desk. He took a long, deep breath. “Who I am is something we really don’t have time to get into right now, but how I know you is a little easier to explain.”

  “Get started then,” Harry demanded.

  Lucas shrugged. “I know you, Harry Jobson, because you’re the sinner. Same reason them outside know you – who, might I add, have nothing to do with me.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “Not really, but you have my word, for what it’s worth. What happened tonight was going to happen whether I turned up or not.”

  Kath stepped towards Lucas. “Who are you? What’s going on?”

  Lucas looked tired of the questions already, but he still gave answers, despite sounding like he was doing them a favour. “Both are questions we don’t have time for. All I can say is that the fellas outside came for Harry. Does the ‘what’ or the ‘why’ really matter?”

  “It fucking does to me,” said Harry. It felt like his stomach was going to burst open and spill his organs onto the floor. The scar on the back of his hand throbbed. It always did when he was losing control. It reminded him to keep his temper. “Why me? Why do they want me?”

  “B’Jaysus, we’re going around in circles here, man. Because you’re the sinner.”

  Kath shook her head. “Why is Harry ‘the sinner’?”

  Harry sighed. “Because I murdered a man.”

  Lucas acted as though he knew it all along – perhaps he did – but Kath recoiled in horror.

  “Calm down, lass,” Lucas told her. “I’m sure he’s not intending to kill you.” He looked at Harry. “Are you?”

  “No, of course not! The man I killed destroyed my life. It was revenge. There’re far worse people in the world than me,”

  “I agree,” said Lucas. “In the grand scale of things, you’re pretty low down on the sin scale, but murder is murder.”

  “But why did my sin cause all this? If that’s what you’re suggesting?” Harry felt dizzy. This morning he’d woken up expecting the day to end in a drunken stupor just like the 365 days preceding it. He’d never expected it to end like this.

  Lucas stared at Harry intensely. His blue eyes seemed to light the darkness around him. “Because yours was the final sin. The sin what tipped the scales.”

  Harry was about to demand what the hell that meant, but before he could
grab Lucas around the throat and force him to speak sense, the doors blew inwards. Not a gust of wind swinging them open, but a concussive force that ripped them from their hinges and flung them across the room. The wind and snow flew in through the gap like the breath of a dragon.

  Harry grabbed Lucas by the arm. “What the hell is happening?”

  Lucas had to shout to be heard above the howling wind. “They’re coming to get you, Harry.”

  Something didn’t make sense. “But we were safe inside the pub, they left us alone. Why?”

  “They couldn’t enter the pub, but they can get at you in here. Don’t worry, though. I’m going to help you out.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Lucas raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Go and get all of the skin mags.”

  “What?” Kath joined them over at the cash desk. The wind had blown her dark hair into a freakish mess of tangles. “This is no time for perversions.”

  “Just go and get all the smutty magazines,” Lucas reiterated. “You’ll see why.”

  The monsters would be inside any minute. Harry almost slipped on a Gardening Annual as he raced over to the magazine display. On the top shelf was a long row of bikini clad women stacked three deep. Harry saw little choice but to do what Lucas had asked. He grabbed a copy of Nipples, then quickly gathered up several more rags of ill-repute, clutching the pile to his chest.

  “Set the pornos down on the counter, fella,” Lucas yelled, “and pass me that broom.”

  Harry did as asked. “Okay, now what?”

  Lucas took the broom and placed it on the counter along with the pile of magazines. He began tearing out the pages, piling up shiny images of naked men and women.

  Kath had her hands on her hips. “What are you doing? We need to hurry. I can hear them out there. They’ll be in any second.”

  Lucas ignored her and continued tearing pages. Eventually he stopped and grabbed a roll of Sellotape from a display. To everyone’s confusion, he then began to wrap the broom with the naked pictures before fastening them with tape.

  Harry couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay, Lucas, I’m all for arts and crafts, but how is this helping?”

  Lucas shoved the porn-wrapped broom into Harry arms. “You’ll see. Right, that sorts out the choir. Now something for their lapdogs.”

  Harry raised an eyebrow. “The choir?”

  “Aye, the choir. Somebody get me some salt.”

  “Salt?” said Kath.

  “It’ll deal with the growly fellas, trust me. Stop asking questions and get me some.”

  Kath returned ten seconds later with a plastic tube of salt. She tried to offer it to Lucas, but he told her to keep it. “You’ll know what to do when the time comes,” was all he would tell her.

  The sound of howling wind merged with the sound of growling.

  Harry clutched the broom tightly. “Let’s just get out of here while there’s still chance.”

  “Too late.” Lucas pointed over to the doorway as one of the hell hounds padded inside. Its ears flattened against its skull as it stalked towards them, snarling.

  “What should I do?” Kath was holding the salt tube in front of her with a shaking hand.

  “Give us a pinch,” said Lucas. He offered his open palm and waited while Kath sprinkled a pile of salt into his hand. Then he closed his fist and strolled, almost casually, towards the snarling hell hound.

  The beast lowered his head, its rippling muscles tensing. Lucas carried on approaching.

  Harry swallowed in anticipation. Insane. The man’s insane.

  Lucas glanced back at them and nodded, as if to say ‘watch this’, then he flicked the salt from his hands, letting loose an arching stream of granules.

  The beast howled like a beaten puppy.

  The smell of burning filled the air, like sausages on a barbeque, along with something else...

  Eggs?

  No, something else.

  It was sulphur.

  The hound bolted, turning and running back out into the snow. It left behind a cloying puddle of dissolving flesh, sizzling like bacon on the grill.

  “Now we can go,” said Lucas. “We have a window.”

  “What about the choir?” Harry asked.

  “That’s what the broom is for. Make sure you use it when the time is right.”

  “And how do I know when that is?”

  “It’ll be when something starts trying to kill you.”

  “Okay,” said Harry, looking out into the freezing dark night. “Let’s do this.”

  32

  Jess held Peter in her arms, amazed he was awake. Steph was looking after Damien, who was doing okay, considering he’d been stabbed. The blade had lodged between his ribs but hadn’t gone in more than an inch or so. Damien said it hurt like hell but that he’d be okay. He was acting too macho to let anyone take a closer look, but he had bled an awful lot to begin with. Still, he was up and about.

  Nigel was out cold in the middle of the floor. They would tie him up once they’d caught their breath. For the time being she, Steph, and Damien were ready to beat him down if he dared make the slightest move. Damien was currently standing over him with the fire poker in hand.

  After having saved her and losing consciousness, Peter had eventually stirred back awake, semi-lucid again. Lying across Jess’s lap, his body-warmth pulsed through her clothing. He was burning up badly and she worried about his temperature being high.

  “Did the bad man…hurt you…Jessica?”

  “No, Peter. You saved me. You’re my hero.”

  Peter smiled a grim, broken-toothed smile. “I am…sorry I let you go out alone. I…looked for you.”

  “I know you did. It wasn’t your fault. No one could know what was going to happen tonight. I think it’s the end of the world. Nobody is saying it, but I don’t think the snow is going to ever stop.”

  Peter closed his eyes for a few seconds and Jess worried that he would not open them again. His breathing was uneven and shallow. Jess shook him gently. “Peter, are you okay?”

  He opened his eyes again. “I am…fine. The world is not ending, Jessica.”

  “No?”

  “No. As long as there are still beautiful things, we will be…okay.” He was looking at Jess and she realised that he meant her. “Can I…ask you…something?”

  “Yes,” said Jess. “Of course you can.”

  “Can I…kiss you?”

  Jess was taken aback. After all Peter had been through tonight, the only thing he wanted was a kiss. And from me? Had he had feelings for her before all of this? Or was he just delirious?

  “Yes, Peter,” she said, “you can kiss me.”

  She leant forward but then stopped.

  “Peter?”

  Jess looked down at her friend and realised that he was dead. She leant down the rest of the way and placed her lips against his soft, delicate mouth. “Goodbye,” she said.

  Damien noticed her tears and came over and asked if she was alright.

  Steph was the one who noticed Peter lying dead on the floor. She shook her head solemnly. “I’m sorry.”

  Jess nodded. “It’s okay. At least I got to say goodbye…in a way.”

  Steph sighed. “Can we do anything?”

  “No it’s…Shit, Nigel’s up.”

  Nigel leapt from the chair, staggering about like a wounded animal. His skin was blackened, making him look like some nightmarish monster as he headed for the door.

  “He’s trying to do one,” said Damien.

  “Let him,” Jess said. “He can go outside and freeze.”

  Nigel barged past the sofa and headed for the door. Then he was gone, disappearing into the night. Jess prayed never to see him again.

  Jess snarled. “Good riddance!”

  Steph put an arm around Jess. “Come on, sweetheart. We should get ourselves downstairs in front of the fire. The fire here’s about to go out and that broken window is going to freeze us to stone. Old Graham will be wondering what’
s going on. I’m surprised we haven’t heard him shouting.”

  “Probably still passed out drunk,” said Damien in a laboured voice.

  “We’d best get down there,” Jess said. She took two steps when Damien doubled over against the bar, taking in long, laboured breaths.

  “You’re still bleeding?” Jess said, spotting the blood dripping on the floor.

  Damien waved a hand dismissively and Jess saw that it was soaked with blood. “Just a flesh wound,” he said and then laughed. “I always wanted to say that.”

  “It’s not a joke, Damien. Are you okay?”

  “I’ll live.”

  Steph didn’t seem convinced. Jess wasn’t either, but what could they do? Jess suspected the wound was worse than Damien was letting on. “Let’s go downstairs,” she said finally, deciding there was nothing she could do.

  They gathered candles from the bar and entered the rear corridor. The air seemed no warmer there, even though it had been filled with a warm air current flowing up from the stairs for most of the night. Now it felt as cold as the rest of the pub.

  Steph led the way down. They reached the bottom and darkness greeted them. Both the fire and the room’s candles had gone out. Steph quickly re-lit them with her lighter.

  Old Graham’s body shone into view. Even in the poor light, the waxy blue tinge that travelled the lines of the old man’s face were clearly visible. His eyes were dull like stones.

  Steph fell to her knees, dropping her candle on the cement floor where it quickly extinguished. In the darkness, Jess and Damien had no choice but to listen to her scream.

  Outside it was as Harry had feared. They were surrounded. In all directions, the robed figures loomed over them, standing motionless, shoulder to shoulder, a towering wall of bodies. Their hounds sat in front of them obediently.

  “What do we do?” asked Harry.

  Lucas shoved him forward. “Just swing at the first bastard that gets near. Kath and I will handle the mutts.”