“When you gonna get the lights on again?” Jerry asked. “It’s like Saturday Night Fever in here.” He swept his penlight around the room, strobing the low-hung, suspended ceiling like a disco hall. Movie posters of a disgruntled-looking Deniro and an uncomfortable-looking Ben Stiller lit up and disappeared as the light passed over them.
“If it is, you’re no John Travolta!” Ben 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 had gone 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 amounts. It didn’t bother Ben too much, so long as nothing happened to his father’s store whilst he was in charge of it; that was the main thing. The way he saw it, people just loved an excuse to panic, and the snow was their most recent fixation. You wouldn’t catch him freaking out though. Ben’s father had taught him better than that; taught him about being a man, and about how 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.
There must be twenty keys here! I don’t even know what Dad uses most of them for. I’m sure one of them is for the fuse box though. It’s a little silver one if I remember correctly…
Earlier, he and Jerry had become concerned by the amount of snow that had been falling throughout the day – especially as it seemed to be worldwide (was that even possible?) – and, when it had started to pile up above knee height, the two of them had gone across to the supermarket down the lane – which was also, surprisingly, open – to stock up on snacks and beers in case they got stuck there. They were willing to wait it out if they had to, but Ben hoped Jerry could keep his exuberance under control during that time. 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 just go discarding them. His eyes glazed for a second as they adjusted to the light and, when his vision finally compensated, he blinked, unsure of what he was seeing. From the look of things, the entire fuse box had burnt out and melted in a flash of intense heat. It was a mess and smelt like singed rubber. It made no sense at all. Wasn’t the whole point of having fuses to prevent things like this? Power surges and whatnot? There wasn’t anything he could think of that could cause such severe heat damage, especially without burning anything outside of the fuse box. It was entirely localised to the area within the metal frame and not a speck of paint was damaged beyond that. It was strange, for sure. Ben plucked at his scruffy brown beard rhythmically as he tried to find a thought that fit, a thought that didn’t worry him. A thought that wasn’t insane. But all he could think was…
Dad will 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 squeezing one out in there or what?”
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.”
Chapter Five
Kath wasn’t prepared to stay here all night in the dark. She tried her mobile phone again and hissed when it still refused to dial out.
Knew I should have stayed home this morning.
Everyone else in the country had been skiving off and calling in sickies due to the unprecedented snowfall, so why hadn’t she? Because I have integrity; something most other people sadly lack in this day and age. 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. If I can make it in then so can they. Most people who drove could have gotten to work if they really wanted to, but they were lazy degenerates that worked only when they had no choice or social benefits available. Not many people would have come in for a ten hour shift like she had that day.
Where has it gotten me though? Nowhere!
Kath looked toward the exit doors. They were closed but she could still see the drifting snow outside, pilling up against the glass. Peter had cleared it away only two hours before and it was already rising back again. She’d have to have the lad shovel it away again if they didn’t get going soon. It was starting to feel more like the North Pole than central England.
Shivering, Kath untucked her arms away from her sides and felt around the till-area for the phone. 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 Kath feel a little safer, but it was only enough to take a slight edge off her nerves. She plucked the phone off its cradle and typed in a number.
There was 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 as the emptiness poked at her anxiety. A few seconds later Peter made himself known again. “I do 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.”
Peter started heading off towards the exit. “Should I go look for her?”
The thought of being alone made Kath shout out. “No! Stay here. The last thing I, uh, need is you both getting lost.”
Pete began walking back toward the counter. “You think she is lost?”
Kath sniggered. “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-”
Her body was suddenly wracked with shivers, cutting her words off mid-sentence. It was getting colder. It hadn’t seemed anywhere near as chilly just an hour ago when the power had first gone off. Perhaps the temperature had dropped so rapidly because the heating was out? It made sense, but for some reason didn’t seem right. It had gotten too cold too fast; unnaturally so.
She looked out through the glass doors again. If the doors didn’t open inwards as well as out, Kath was certain they would have been jammed inside. She watched as the top layer of snow began to jitter, swirl, and flow; lightly at first, but then more intently. The wind was picking up and starting to howl.
Kath wrapped her arms around herself. “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 hit 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 have been only 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. When she was once again met with silence, Jess paused to gather her thoughts. The biting cold was worse when standing still.
What did they teach us at school about being stranded in the snow? That’s right – Nothing! People in England aren’t supposed to get stranded in the snow. That’s for places like Russia, or the North-freakin-Pole. In this country all we’re meant to face is a bad case of drizzle and maybe a hosepipe ban in the summer.
The brightest thought Jess could come up with prompted her to reach into her trouser pocket. Fumbling amongst her loose change and clock-in swipe card, she pulled out her mobile phone. It was slender and metallic, painted pink with silver sequins, and her intention was to use it to call Peter at the supermarket; get him to shout out of the doorway so that she could track his voice. She’d be back in moments, no doubt 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. Peter was trustworthy.
The phone lit up at once when she pressed its keypad, but it became immediately apparent to Jess that something was wrong with it.
This isn’t supposed to happen, she thought, shaking her head. Not in England.
But she didn’t get upset about it; it was too weird to register in her brain and form that emotion. Her phone still had power, but its display was garbled – distorted by vertical lines and random squiggles. She tried making some calls but was unsuccessful. The phone lacked even a dial tone.
She put the phone away and resumed her aimless wandering. The snow had been trampled down where she was heading and she assumed that it was the main path, so she followed it.
As a child, Jess had loved the winter and wished for snow every Christmas – her favourite time of year – but this worldwide inclement weather made her nervous. There was a sense of foreboding to the howling wind that made Jess wonder if it would ever stop snowing at all. She’d heard on the radio that people had already begun to perish from the crushing cold, and it had only gotten worse since then. Now that her mobile phone wasn’t working – something she’d never known to happen, except for one New Year when too many text messages were sent simultaneously – it left Jess feeling even more uncertain. Of course her phone may just have been faulty.
“Yeah, that’s it,” she said to herself, hoping it would calm her nerves to hear a voice, even if it was just her own. “It’s just faulty.”
Somehow, she didn’t believe it.
When she spotted something in the snow up ahead, she knew for certain that she was wrong.
###
It was almost thirty minutes before Peter was done. Kath heard the boy’s footsteps coming from the BOOZE & SPIRITS aisle. “Is everything secure?” she asked him.
“Yes, Ms Hollister.”
“Let’s get going then.”
”But we still not know where Jess is.”
Kath grunted. “She’s responsible for her own well-being. I can’t afford to wait around for that silly girl any longer. If you’re so concerned, go wondering around in the snow for her yourself.”
“Thank you, Ms Hollister. I will go now.”
Kath listened to the boy’s footsteps retreating towards the supermarket’s exit. He was about to leave her alone; in the darkness.
“Peter, wait!” she shouted. “You’re right. We shouldn’t just leave Jess to her own devices. We should go find her then all get home together.”
Peter’s footsteps halted. “Okay, Ms Hollister. Hurry!”
The fact that she was being given orders by a staff member made Kath furious, but the increasing howls of the snowstorm made her feel uncharacteristically subdued. “Coming,” she said.
Chapter Six
Harry shivered as he started his next beer. It was getting colder and the scar on the back of his hand started to ache in response, reminding him of things he’d rather forget. Things he drank to forget. He swigged deeply from his beer bottle.
The Irishman, Lucas, turned his attention to Old Graham at the end of the bar. “So, Father Time, you must have been around a fair few turns of the world? You ever see snow like this before?”
“Well,” Old Graham began, visibly delighted at being the centre of attention. “There was a time in the fifties where things got a little chilly as I recall; and of course me old man told tales of winter in the Ardennes that sounded far more hellish than this.”
Nigel piped up from the opposite end of the bar. “Yeah, well that’s the Ardennes. It’s normal to have snow there. The amount we’ve had here the past couple days isn’t natural. Not to mention that it’s snowing everywhere. All over the world. In every country. Maybe it’s because of the ozone layer or something?”
Lucas chuckled. “Give over, man! You think a couple of cow farts has the ability to change the weather?”
Harry joined the debate. “What do you put the snow down to then, Lucas? I mean I haven’t known it to ever snow half as much as this. It certainly seems like something made the weather mad.”
“The world is a gazillion years old,” said Lucas, putting his beer bottle down on the bar as if to make a point. “I bet there’s been weather like this before – just not in your lifetime. It’s a tad unusual, no doubt, but I don’t believe in all that ozone layer nonsense.”
Nigel seemed disgruntled in the light of his candle, maybe even angry. “That’s your opinion, isn’t it?” he said. “Don’t mean I’m not right. We’ve been abusing this planet for decades and it can’t go on forever.”
Lucas put up his hands. “Calm down there, fella, no need to get your hackles up. It’s just the beer talking, you know? Makes me feel a thousand times older and wiser than I should ever admit to. You’re probably right though, humanity has been abusing God’s green earth for a fair few years now, and maybe it can’t go on forever. But, right now, my only concern is having a good time with a wee tipple to keep me warm.” He looked at Steph and winked. “And maybe a good woman wouldn’t go amiss either.”
“You’re an alcoholic letch,” said Nigel, a candle-lit half-smile on his face.
As I said before, I’ve come to the right place then.” Lucas laughed out loud, hoisted his bottle up into the air and said “cheers!” The others joined him in the toast, although the word alcoholic being bandied around made Harry feel uncomfortable. It was such a dirty word that encompassed so many types of people. Not everyone drank for the same reasons. Not everyone had to deal with the same burdens.
Sometimes a beer is just a beer.
Harry took another swig from his bottle and sighed at the burning satisfaction it left in his chest. When he pulled it away from his lips it was two-thirds empty.
For some reason, Lucas had begun staring at him inquisitively from inside the flickering cocoon of his candle-light. “So what’s your story, fella?” he asked Harry. “What’s the meaning of your life?”
Harry swigged the last of his beer then pushed the bottle toward Steph, who was already on the case with a replacement. “My life,” he said, “has no meaning. Not anymore.”
Lucas frowned. “Come now, everybody’s life has meaning. We all have a purpose.”
“Really? Then why don’t you tell me what mine is, because I sure as hell don’t know.”
“I can’t tell you that.” Lucas smiled. “Every man has to find his own path and his own destination. Who knows though, maybe you’ll find yours tonight.”
Harry started on his next beer with a hearty swig, gasping for breath afterwards. He looked Lucas square in the face. “Sorry, but I find that hard to believe.”
Lucas stared back, his face unflinching like a handsome slab of sculpted granite. He patted Harry on the back. “Well, Harry Boy, perhaps what you need is a little more f
aith.”
“Faith? You think I should believe that there’s some almighty-being up there responsible for everything that happens?”
Lucas shook his head. “Like hell I do! Everything that happens down here is because of man and man alone. The Good Lord’s not here to babysit us. We can only blame ourselves for the things that happen in our lives. Well, we can blame ourselves or other people.”
Harry felt his blood heat up, fighting back against the chill in his veins. He took offence to a stranger offering him ‘life-advice’. No one could understand what he’d been through. Harry looked down at the scar on his hand, shaped like a star, and thought about the events that led to it; thought about Julie and Toby twisted and shattered in the remains of the bright-red Mercedes he’d been so proud to buy. Only 8,000 miles on the clock. Good as new! That night Harry had discovered that material possessions meant nothing, as the only truly important things in his life slowly bled away from him. There had been so much damage that he couldn’t tell where his wife and child’s broken bodies ended and the crumpled metal of the car began. It looked like some abominable piece of modern art sculpture. Harry had fallen from the car with nothing more than a bad headache and a scratched nostril; he was free to watch as his family died in front of him, one laboured breath at a time. Where had the justice been in that?
Ultimate Supernatural Horror Box Set Page 130