“I think that’s sensible,” said Ben. “Where is it you live, Jess?"
“Costers Lane. You know it?”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, it’s on our way. I live just past it.”
Jess pulled away from Jerry’s grasping arm and clapped her hands together. “Great. We should probably get going then.”
Ben got the keys from the shelf below the counter and quickly locked the rear fire exit. It was not possible to set the burglar alarm, but seeing as it was half-ten at night and freezing, he was pretty sure his father would let him off this one time.
Pretty sure…
Ben inserted the key in the lock and turned it. “Ready?” he asked.
Jess and Jerry nodded.
They made their way out into the snowfield that had been a public footpath only hours before. It now seemed more like arctic tundra. Ben locked the door and they set off.
The wind continued picking up plumes of snow, which gathered in the air like wispy spirals. Ben’s jacket had no hood. He had to cover his face with a hand to keep the newly falling snowflakes out of his nose and mouth. His feet immediately went numb inside his boots as he kicked and heaved through the thick snow. “I can’t believe how bad it’s got,’ he said.
Jess replied. “I know. It’s really scary! The snow was bad last year, but this is like the end of the world or something.”
Jerry’s expression lit up. “Like The Day after Tomorrow. I totally said that earlier.”
“I wasn’t being literal. I don’t really think it’s the end of the world.”
Ben laughed.
Jerry blustered. “Yeah, well, I was just kidding. Just saying that the snow is pretty bad, that’s all. Most movies are totally based on science, so The Day After Tomorrow could happen.”
Ben wiped his face clean of snow and let out a sigh. “The world isn’t ending, Jerry. You thought Jurassic Park was based on science too, remember?”
Jerry jumped up and down in mock outrage. “Dude, don’t even get me started on Jurassic Park. That shit could happen, too.”
“No, it couldn’t.”
“Dude!”
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; 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 cool, and it would be nice to have more than just one friend. All they had to do now was make it home, which at the moment 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 in front of them.
Jess raised her hand and pointing a trembling finger. “It’s him. The man I saw earlier.”
Jerry put his arm around her. “It’s cool. Nothing to worry about.”
Ben stepped towards the stranger. “Sir? Are you trying to get home? We are too. Perhaps we could help one another?”
The shadowy figure stayed still, obscured by the veil of blustering snow and darkness.
“Let’s get the hell out of here, Ben,” Jerry urged. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Me too,” said Jess. Although she could not make out any of the stranger’s features, she knew it was the hooded figure from earlier. She felt it.
The stranger remained silent, not speaking or moving, but undeniably there.
“Come on, dude. This is the type of situation where somebody ends up on the end of the meat hook.”
Ben shot Jerry an angry look. “Jerry, do you always have to be so annoying? There’s no such thing as monsters. This isn’t one of your stupid horror movies. I’m sick and tired of-.”
Ben’s speech was derailed by an explosion, not of sound but of light. Behind the shadowy figure, a palisade of flames ignited, rising from the very snow itself, blotting out the darkness and drenching their freezing bodies in intense heat. The sudden change in temperature made Jess’s skin pop and tingle, but her legs were still numb, buried by the snow.
The flames behind the stranger were mesmerizingly bright, illuminating his features in all their glory. He wore magnificent silver robes that almost seem to sparkle against the blazing backdrop of vertical fire. The hood over his head showed nothing but the red hot swirls of his eyes.
Jess laughed as the inappropriate image of a Vegas magician presented itself in her head. Maybe she was losing her mind.
Jerry shouted at Jess from behind her, but she couldn’t move, her legs paralysed by fear. Her eyes remained fixed on the hooded figure and the flames behind him. Whatever she was seeing, it couldn’t be real.
The lurching figure finally started to move. From beneath the silver robes came a crooked hand, all bony fingers and bulbous knuckles. It began to draw something long and grey, a slither of sharp metal.
Jess flinched. Is that a sword?
“He’s about to get stabby,” said Jerry. “Who is this guy?”
Ben made mumbling sounds, like he was trying to say something, but couldn’t find any words.
Jess regained the use of her legs and started backing away. “Ben,” she said, “I think you should back away and come over here with us.”
Ben turned and stared at Jess with wide, fearful eyes. “No shit!”
The three of them ran for it.
“Who the hell is it?” 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 hurried away from the hooded figure. The snow slowed their escape down to a stumbling crawl and Jess couldn’t help but worry that if the creature pursued them they had slim hopes of getting away. “Is it thing following us?” she asked, trying to move faster, despite her clumsy snow-bound strides.
“I don’t know,” said Ben. He looked back over hi
s shoulder. “I think-”
While Jess tried to catch up with Jerry a few yards in front, she waited anxiously for Ben to finish his reply. After several seconds, her heart surged with so much panic that she had to turn around herself.
When she looked back, she saw that Ben had stopped several yards behind her. He was still following after her and Jerry, but he was making slow, almost laborious progress. Beyond him, Jess could see nothing except snow and darkness. The burning palisade and the robed stranger were gone.
“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, his face disappearing.
Jess panicked. She had to go back and help Ben, but that meant heading back towards the stranger with the sword. .
Up ahead, Jerry stopped in his tracks, swaying and tottering like he couldn’t gain control of his knees. He looked confused as to why everyone had stopped.
Jess trudged her way over towards Ben, who was still down on his hands and knees, face buried in the snow. Within a few minutes, she managed to make it back to him.
“Hey, what’s wrong,” she asked, getting frantic.
Ben managed to roll onto his side and looked up at her. The sight made her stomach churn. His face had turned white as the snow, except for his lips, which were bright red with blood.
Jess swallowed a lump in her throat. “Jesus, Ben, are you ok? What’s happened?”
“I…I don’t know.”
Jerry came rushing up beside her, and immediately dove down into the snow. “Ben! Ben, what’s wrong, buddy? Shit, dude, you’re bleeding.”
Ben managed to laugh meekly at his friend’s arrival. Scattered specks of blood flew from his mouth and covered the snow in pinpricks of red.
“Oh my god,” said Jess, covering her mouth. “One of your fingers is missing!”
Ben stared down at his hand like he didn’t recognise it. The strangest thing of all, Jess noticed, was that the finger stump wasn’t bleeding. It was capped by a glistening patch of red, but it wasn’t moist at all. The wound seemed more like the surface of sandpaper than raw flesh.
Jerry reached out a hand to his friend. “Come on, B-Dog. Let’s get you out of here.”
Ben reached out to take Jerry’s hand, but when their hands made contact his arm crumbled away at the shoulder as though it were made of sand. The stump bled for a few seconds then appeared to glaze over. It left Ben staring at them with the same look Jess imagined soldiers wore when they realised they were holding their own intestines. Ben’s glistening eyes dried up until they looked like two lumps of clay set into his face. His lips cracked.
It took a moment for Jess to realise that Ben was dead.
It took several more moments for Jerry to understand it too, but when Ben’s entire body crumbled away to ashes and melted into the snow, he was finally forced to accept that his friend was gone. How and why made no sense at all.
Jess allowed herself the luxury of screaming, and she didn’t stop until she was completely out of breath.
Chapter Thirteen
Harry’s world felt better from beneath the snug security of the thick quilt. Despite the fact the cold was a little more tolerable, Harry still eagerly awaited the power to click on. It’d been almost three hours now and closing in on midnight.
“Come on, old man,” Damien shouted. The lad had declined one of Old Graham’s blankets, as it would probably ruin his hard man image, so he was instead closer to the fire than everyone else. He also had on his thick 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 and fiddled with his radio. It hissed and crackled. “I’m trying,” he grumbled. “Nowt’s happening.”
“When was the last time you even used that thing?” 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. “Give it here, old timer. I know my way around a puzzle.”
Old Graham obliged and handed over the crackling radio. Lucas immediately set about twiddling its knobs and pressing buttons. A frown filled his face gradually like liquid filling a beaker. “I think the thing’s a dud, fella.”
“Nonsense! I’ve used it a hundred times.”
Lucas gave it a whack. “Well, it’s gone on strike tonight.”
Harry was curious. “I’ve never known a radio to switch on and not pick up anything at all. They usually get something, even if it’s only faint.”
“Not if the antenna’s faulty,” Lucas said. “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. “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. “I suppose 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 off 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?”
“I don’t know,” Old Graham said without turning his attention away from the radio. “I can’t make it out, but something’s definitely there.”
Everyone gathered around 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 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. “Damien’s right. It said: 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, wondering who was broadcasting it. “Does anybody know what Pillars of Salt and Sin actually means?” He 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 mumbo jumbo if you fiddle about enough. Either way, I need to go and visit the latrine again, so I’ll leave you folks to ponder.” Lucas got up from the sofa’s armrest and headed towards the toilets again, 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. I need to get warm.”
Nigel nodded and pulled up his own blanket. “Yeah, it’s getting a little too nippy for my liking. Do we have any more wood for the fire?”
Steph nodded and headed off towards the bar, but before she got there the sound of screaming made her turn back around.
“What the hell was that?” said Nigel
Harry up from the sofa quickly and placed his beer bottle down on one of the nearby tables. “Someone’s outside.”
Steph stepped away from the bar. “Harry, where are you going?”
“To help them.”
“I’d advise against that, Harry Boy.” Lucas was returning from the toilets. “You go out in that weather and you might not come back.”
“We can’t just do nothing,” said Harry. “Someone is screaming.”
Lucas walked over to him by the pub’s exit and pointed to the frost-covered window. “Look out there, fella. You’ll be blind the second you step outside, and trying to make it in a straight line for ten steps will leave you a disorientated sot. You’d probably struggle to walk ten steps in a straight line on a normal night.”
Harry scowled. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
Damien stood laughing by the fire. “He means you’re a worthless drunk, Harry, and everybody knows it.”
The hackles of Harry’s neck rose. “What did you just say to me?”
Damien stepped towards Harry, but was still a good nine feet away. “I said that you’re a no-good, stinking drunk, and that if someone is hurt out there, screaming for help, the worst person that could turn up to help them would be you.”
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