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

by Iain Rob Wright

  “What point?”

  “That anyone who goes against God’s will are destined to fall.”

  Harry laughed.

  “Why do you laugh, Harry Boy?”

  “Nothing. I just find it amusing that the Devil is benevolent and God is wrathful.”

  Lucas laughed too. “Well, I hope it teaches you not to believe what the media says. Especially the ancient Aramaic right-wing media. The bible got me all wrong, I tell you.”

  The two of them shared a laugh and finished their beers. After a few moments, Harry put his empty bottle on the bar. “Time to go, I guess, but before I do, can I ask you a question?”

  Lucas shrugged. “You’ve done little else for the past few hours. Why stop now?”

  Harry took that to mean ‘yes’, so he asked his question: “You mentioned the levels of Hell, earlier?”

  “Aye, I did.”

  “Which is the worst?”

  Lucas didn’t seem comfortable at the question. “Well…it’s all relative, really. The punishment fits the crime.”

  “I know that.” Harry could feel his body shutting down under the constant attack of the cold. He had to finish this before he gave in to hyperthermia. “But surely some layers are worse than others. Where do the very worst go, like Hitler? People like that?”

  “Well, if you listen to Dante Alighieri then there are just seven levels, but in truth the regions of Hell are never ending and infinitely wide. Time and space is eternal and there are an unfathomable number of planes of existence, but the deepest deepest level is reserved only for pure, irredeemable evil. Light doesn’t exist there and neither does hope of any kind. It is suffering and despair without beginning or end, a place where agony reigns and flays the skin of any soul unfortunate to end up there. It is a Hell beyond human understanding, and no human, not even the vilest, has ever committed sin harsh enough to be sent there. It is deserving of no man. It was created to hold one being: me.”

  Harry raised an eyebrow. “A Hell so bad that it was made to torture the Devil himself?”

  Lucas nodded and seemed upset by the thought of it. “Aye, they call it…The Abyss.”

  Harry took that information in and held onto it. The Abyss. The darkest, most desperate level of hell that is fit only for the Devil himself. A place of torture beyond anything a man could imagine.

  “Lucas,” Harry said. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you and I sincerely hope that the Abyss never claims you. Sounds strange to say, but I think you might actually be one of the good guys.”

  Lucas laughed. “I have many names, but that’s a first.”

  Harry shook the Devil’s hand and walked away, leaving his candle on the bar and entering the darkness outside.

  35

  The blizzard had finally begun to die down, its job almost completed. The world had been rendered featureless. Everywhere Harry looked was buried beneath giant snow banks. Across the street, the tops of buildings were just about visible, but their doorways were covered up past their lintels. Lucas might have had something to do with the fact the Trumpet was not yet being buried.

  At the bottom of the hill stood the angels, forming a line that seemed to stretch on forever.

  Harry hailed them. “I’m coming down. I give up, okay?”

  Archangel Michael nodded. He raised his arms out in front of him and shot fire.

  “Hey!” Harry protested. “I said I’m coming down.”

  But burning him wasn’t Michael’s intention. The stone steps leading down from the pub appeared beneath the rapidly melting snow as the fires quickly burned out.

  Harry cleared his throat. “Oh, eh…cheers.”

  He took the newly uncovered steps slowly, in no rush to test out the theory brewing in his head.

  Michael was patient. Time probably meant little when you were eternal

  When Harry eventually reached the bottom of the steps, he saw that Michael was smiling at him reassuringly, like a Dentist about to perform a root canal.

  “Welcome, Sinner,” said Michael in a voice far milder than he’d used in previous instances. His presence was no less awesome because of it.

  “It’s Harry.”

  “As you wish, Harry Jobson.”

  “Just Harry is fine…you know what, don’t even worry about it.”

  “Are you ready? It is time.”

  “I just have a couple of questions first.”

  Harry thought he saw irritation stream through the archangel’s eyes. Obviously, The Angel of Death didn’t appreciate being delayed by a mere mortal. He probably found it ‘impertinent’.

  “Ask your questions quickly, Sinner.”

  There’s that word again. Fucker!

  Harry decided not to let it bother him. He would have far worse to endure.

  “After what I did, after I committed the….final sin, or whatever it is; it condemned everyone to Hell, right?”

  Michael nodded.

  “Do you think that’s fair?”

  “It is His will.”

  Harry nodded. “Right, right, didn’t think appealing to your better nature would work, so I guess I should skip straight to plan B.”

  “Plan B?” Michael repeated without feeling.

  “Yeah, I want to make a deal.”

  Michael exploded, but managed to do so without moving an inch. He seemed to oppress the air around him. “YOU DO NOT MAKE DEALS WITH AN AGENT OF HEAVEN. YOUR WILL IS INCONSEQUENTIAL TO HIS DECISIONS. YOU WILL OBEY, SINNER.”

  Harry swallowed, tried to gather himself, and continued. “Okay, okay, but my final wish is that you hear me out. If He ignores my offer then so be it. I will take what comes to me. Just, please, allow me to at least amuse you. I have given myself up willingly, after all.”

  “Speak your deal. Amuse us.”

  Okay, here goes.

  “Send me to the Abyss.”

  Michael actually seemed to flinch at the suggestion and Harry hoped that it was a good sign.

  “Don’t send me to whatever Hell I deserve, send me to the Hell that no man deserves. Send me there and leave me there forever.”

  Michael seemed to soften, no longer angry. It almost seemed like he was suddenly in awe of Harry. His sparkly eyes were wide and fixed. “You speak of things you can never hope to understand, Harry Jobson. The Abyss is a punishment befitting no man. Why would you ask for such endless suffering?”

  “I’ll tell you, but first let me know, can it be done? Can you send me there?”

  Michael nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then my offer is that you send me to the Abyss in exchange for all of the souls that have been damned to Hell since I murdered Thomas Morris. Save Steph, Jess, Jerry, and all the others who don’t deserve Hell. Send me to the Abyss to pay for humanity’s sin. Will my torture there outweigh the debt needed to spare these people?”

  Michael shook his head and began to be sob. The sight of it was almost heart-wrenching – the very act of an angel crying seemed to be the embodiment of the word ‘tragedy’. “The debt of suffering would be a thousand times more than that which is owed. You cannot imagine such suffering. You should not make such frivolous suggestions without knowing the full consequences.”

  Harry stepped forward and was amazed to see Michael wince. Apparently, talk of the Abyss was enough to make the archangel anxious. “Then show me. Show me and let me decide. If I can still make the same decision afterwards, then you can decide if you will honour my proposal.”

  “So be it,” said Michael, placing both of his hands upon Harry’s head.

  What happened next was indescribable. Images and feelings shot through Harry’s very soul, showing him inhuman tortures at the hands of even more inhuman creatures. It was a place of endless and unimaginable pain and suffering. A place where every second lasted centuries and was enough to break a man’s mind into a million agonised pieces. It was the heart and soul of Hell itself.

  Harry reeled backwards from Michael’s grip, falling onto his back and panting in the snow. T
ears fell from his eyes and already his soul felt damaged just from seeing mere fleeting images of the Abyss. His soul was bleeding.

  Yet, Harry forced himself back to his feet, weak, broken, and terrified. Taking a breath was hard, almost impossible, but he made himself speak. He had to speak.

  “Spare their souls,” he said. “Send me to…send me…send me to the Abyss.”

  Michael seemed sad, in fact the archangel’s very being seemed to turn melancholy. “So be it, Harry Jobson.”

  God’s Angel of Death reached forward to place his hands on Harry’s forehead, but before he made contact, Michael took a step backwards and looked up at the sky. All the other angels did too. All of them gazed upwards in a never ending line. Harry looked upwards too, but saw nothing but empty, black sky.

  Michael began to smile. In fact, joy itself seemed to cascade from the archangel’s body in bright, incandescent waves. He looked at Harry and nodded, as if he knew something that he did not. “Goodbye, Harry Jobson.”

  Michael placed his hands on Harry’s skull.

  The pain of his soul being ripped from his body was exquisite. Like having a thousand fish hooks dragged through the insides of his veins. Harry’s final thought was about how much worse it could possibly get.

  Epilogue

  A news reporter came onscreen. She was enveloped by an over-sized pink ski-jacket. “Good evening, I’m Jane Hamilton, reporting for Midland-UK News. Fortunately, after nearly 19-inches of snow, the weather in Britain finally seems to be improving. Temperatures have begun to rise and the snow is predicted to end soon. Roads are in the process of being reopened while train links are expected to resume within the next few d-“

  Harry found himself at the bar of The Trumpet. It didn’t happen instantly and it felt as though he had flowed back into his body like gravy through a sieve. At first he remembered nothing…

  Until the person next to him spoke.

  “How you feeling there, Harry Boy?”

  Harry almost choked.

  “Calm down there, fella. You made it. All is well for now. The big guy gave you lot another chance.”

  Harry was stunned. “He…he did?”

  Lucas sipped the pint in front of him. “It’s what you planned, isn’t it?”

  “Well…yeah, but I didn’t expect to be back at the bar. I thought I really would go to the Abyss, or maybe, best-case-scenario, God would let me into Heaven for my good deed. I didn’t expect…this.”

  “Well, as it turns out the man-upstairs loves a little sacrifice, here and there, and yours was a biggy. Reminds me of another fella who died for humanity’s sins once upon a time. The big guy decided your final deed was enough to convince him that maybe humanity still has a fighting chance. Good on ya, lad! Though you’re the only one that can remember any of it, so don’t expect a fanfare.”

  Harry shook his head, blinking like he’d just awoken from a dream. “So why are you here? Here now, I mean?”

  “I wanted to say goodbye. I like this crazy, fecked-up world as much as anyone, and without it I wouldn’t have a thing to do but sit around in an overcrowded Hell. Truth is I knew there was a chance you might turn things around.”

  “That’s why you were here wasn’t it? To help me?”

  Lucas hushed him and looked left and right shiftily. “Keep your voice down. If Michael and his choir of pansies hear that, they’ll come after me with their self-righteous wings all in a flap. I didn’t come to help you. I just wanted to make sure you were…properly informed of all the options.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lucas nodded. “Just enjoy your life while you can. You may have gotten a reprieve, but there’re are dark times coming. Just because God isn’t going to destroy you all, doesn’t mean you won’t somehow manage to do it yourself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just don’t plan on any cruises.”

  Harry didn’t understand. He looked around the brightly-lit bar and still struggled to believe it. Everything was as it should be. The lights were on, the room was warm. “Well, Lucas,” he said, turning back around, “if you don’t fill me in on what’s going to happen, how can I know what to expect? Lucas?”

  The Prince of Hell had departed, disappearing without Harry or anybody else in the bar noticing. Old Graham sat at the end of the counter, drinking by himself and staring into space. Harry found it ironic to be so happy to see the old codger. He made his way over to say hello.

  “Hey, Harry,” Old Graham said when he saw Harry approach.

  “Hey, Graham. You’re into History and all that, aren’t you? Weren’t you in the army?”

  The old man beamed proudly. “That I was, twenty long years. Royal Signals I was. Hit the Falklands a full hour before the SAS did. Yet they got all the glory.”

  “Brilliant,” said Harry. “I wanted to find out more about the past, and about brave men like you. I was thinking about going to the Imperial War museum this weekend. Would you come with me and be my guide? I’ll pay, of course. You’d be doing me a favour.”

  For a moment, Harry thought the old man was going to fall off his stool, but he gathered himself and nodded enthusiastically. “You know, I haven’t been out of this bloody town in eight years. I would love to come, Harry. Thank you, I mean it.”

  Harry patted him on the back. “Good. We’ll have to make a regular thing of it. Right now, though, I’ve got to go, so I’ll come by tomorrow night to see you. You’ll be here right?”

  Old Graham laughed. “Does the Devil have horns?”

  “I think you’d be surprised.”

  Old Graham obviously didn’t understand and Harry was glad about that. Knowledge of the night’s previous events was a burden he was more than happy to shoulder alone. He walked over to the centre of the bar. On the other side was someone he wanted to talk to very much.

  Steph smiled when she saw him. Harry couldn’t forgive himself for ever ignoring how beautiful she was.

  “Harry,” she said to him. “Another drink?”

  Harry shook his head. “No thanks, I’ve given up.”

  Steph looked at him in bewilderment. “What since five minutes ago?”

  “It seems like longer, but, yes, I have. Time to start living my life in better ways. Who knows when it will end?”

  “Good for you, Harry. Does that mean you won’t be coming in here anymore? Cus that would make me sad.”

  “Maybe,” said Harry. “Which is why I wanted to know if you’d come to dinner with me on your next night off.”

  Steph’s seemed confused at first, but then she smiled. “I’m free Thursday night.”

  “It’s a date then. You can tell me all about this pet grooming business you’re going to start up. I used to have a business myself. Perhaps I can help.”

  Steph was surprised. “How did you know about that?”

  “I don’t know, but I want to hear all about it, and about you. Right now I have to go, so I’ll be back tomorrow night to arrange with you.”

  Harry left Steph in a fluster behind the bar and moved towards the exit. Damien was lying across the sofa, hogging the fire

  “The fuck you looking at?”

  Harry smiled. Finally he could see through Damien’s hard man disguise and see the lost boy beneath. “I just wanted to ask you something, Damien.”

  “What?”

  “I was thinking of starting up a carpentry business, like the one I used to have, but I need a partner – someone young and smart. An apprentice, really. I don’t have a son to teach what I know. I used to but he died just over a year ago. His name was Toby. You would have liked him.”

  Damien’s eyes flickered back and forth, as if he expected a sneak attack to come at any moment.

  Harry continued, not giving the lad too long to think. “I know you’re a busy guy, Damien, but I don’t think you enjoy selling drugs. You’re better than that and I’d really like to help you be successful in a less dangerous way. I need someone like you. I think we can make a lot
of good honest money together. If your dad tries to make your life hard, he’ll have me to answer to.”

  For a while it seemed like Damien was going to strike out and hit Harry, but then his eyes moistened and his lower lip trembled. “Y-You’re serious?”

  “Extremely.” Harry went for a handshake. “Do we have a deal? A new start for both of us.”

  Damien smiled and shook Harry’s hand vigorously. “Yeah, man. Yeah, deal.”

  “Great, I’ll speak to you about it soon.” Harry walked away, but Damien stopped him.

  “Harry?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks. You know, for the opportunity and everything. Most people just think I’m a thug.”

  “You and I are going to change their opinion.”

  Harry headed over to the exit and prepared to leave. There was a lot to do in order to get his life back on track, but first he needed to find a phone. He had a call to make to the Police about a sicko named Nigel who liked to keep women’s fingers in his lorry.

  Harry was going to start living his life again, putting the world right and making things better, one thing at a time. For the first time in a long time, he was finally looking forward instead of back.

  The only thing to worry about was whatever Lucas’s final warning had meant. Dark times are coming.

  Don’t plan on any cruises.

  Harry shook the warnings from his mind and smiled. Whether humanity had one day left or one million, he had at least bought himself some time to die with dignity and pride. He had time to get his life back. Whatever happened next was up to God.

  When Harry left the pub, the snow had stopped and the sun was shining.

  Special Edition Bonus Content

  Tales From The Final Winter

  Chance Of Snow