Damien had headed over to the pub’s rear corridor, which led to the male and female toilets, the rear fire door, and the seldom-used dance floor at the back of the pub.
“Take a look,” Damien said to Harry as he caught up. He was pointing at the exit door. “Look through the window at the top.”
For a second Harry had visions of doing as he was told and having his head rammed through the glass. Wasn’t that the kind of thing gangsters do? Made you dig your own grave? Harry sighed. If something was going to happen, it was going to happen. He stepped toward the door.
“Look through,” Damien ordered again.
Harry moved up against the door and put his face against the glass. There was no prompting necessary on where to look or what to focus on. It was clear for him to see.
“We have big problems,” Damien said.
Damn right they did!
Outside, towers of flame seemed to rise from the snow in all directions – ten, maybe even twenty feet high. The fire formed a wall around the pub like a fiery prison.
But was it intended to keep them all in? Or to drive them out?
What terrified Harry most, however, was the three giant crucifixes standing in the centre of the inferno. Each of them possessed a struggling victim being roasted alive by the flames. Their screams held no sound, but Harry could feel their agony as their flesh blackened and peeled from their bones, leaving behind charred husks of flesh.
“This nightmare just got worse,” said Harry. “I think I’d like to wake up now.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Damien had gone while Harry had been staring out the window.
Was the horror show outside not interesting enough for him?
Harry took another glance outside, blinking so that he knew what he was seeing was real. The fires still burned high, whipping back and forth in the growing blizzard while sizzling snowflakes filled the air like locusts. It was bizarre and unsettling to see both flames and snow mingle together in the same space; like two separate nightmares merging into one.
Harry started to feel like he was in a Salvador Dali painting, with the world melting away around him. He needed to make sense of the situation, but should he tell the others? He wasn’t sure, but was astounded by the fact that he wanted Damien’s advice about the matter. He couldn’t deny that the lad was calm under pressure.
But where had he gone? And why?
Harry glanced out the window one last time before moving away. It seemed like a bad idea to take his eyes off the flames outside, but he couldn’t stay there all night. It was freezing next to the fire exit, and an aggressive draught snuck under the door and rattled the wood on its hinges.
Back in the main pub area, the others members of the group were travelling back and forth, seeking out fuel for the furnace. Nigel was busy tearing cushions from the chairs and snapping the legs into kindling. Kath was gathering up beer mats half-heartedly.
“Hey, Kath,” he said to her. “Maybe we can find something bigger to burn? I don’t think those will last very long.”
The woman shot Harry a look that made him feel like she wanted him to die. Harry shivered, but a second later it was as if the look hadn’t happened, as Kath was now smiling at him politely.
“I guess you’re right,” she admitted. “I’ll go search for something else.” She threw down the pile of beer mats and they hit the table with a slap! Then she walked off towards the bar like a stroppy teenager.
Kath was an odd lady.
There was still no sign of Damien. Harry tried to figure out where he’d gone, and why so suddenly? And why had he chosen only Harry to lead into the exit corridor? It didn’t seem that anybody else knew about the flames outside yet. With the windows barricaded and the pub up on a hill, it was impossible to see anything outside other than darkness. So the question remained: did Harry tell the others what Damien had shown him.
Harry made the decision. He clapped his hands together. “Everybody listen!”
Lucas and Nigel turned their attention to Harry. Kath reappeared from behind the bar. At the far end of the room, Jess stood up from the sofa, leaving Peter asleep under the watchful eye of Jerry. Harry moved into a spot where they all could see and hear him. He clasped his hands together and tried to find the right words. “I think there’s something that we all need to be aware of.”
“And what would that be, Harry Boy?” asked Lucas, lifting himself up onto a bar stool. “Please tell.”
“It’s not easy to explain, but I think we can all agree that tonight is a strange night.”
“No argument there,” Nigel said. “I’m starting to get a bad feeling.”
Harry pushed himself to continue, his were palms sweating. “I think we can agree that there are dangers tonight, more than just the cold.”
“You mean what happened to that stupid boy, Peter?” said Kath. “I’m sure whatever trouble he has gotten himself into was something he deserved. That doesn’t mean that we’re in any danger.”
“You bitch!”
Harry turned to see Jess storming toward Kath from the other end of the pub. Jerry seemed unsure whether or not he should be following after her or remaining where he was.
Lucas moved away from the bar to intercept Jess in the middle of the room. “Calm down there, lass.”
“I swear to God, Kath!” Jess bunched her hands into fists. “If you say one more thing about Peter – and I mean, one more thing – I’m going to scratch your goddamn eyes out. This happened because of you, because you allowed him to wonder off alone.”
Kath snorted. “I’m not his babysitter. He’s a grown man, and if he can’t look after himself then he should have stayed in Poland. God knows we don’t need his kind here.”
“You…you racist!”
“Call me whatever you like, dear. I’m only saying what most of the country thinks. Peter was probably a petty criminal like the rest of them. Tonight he got his comeuppance.”
To everyone’s surprise, Jess’s small frame managed to escape Lucas’s grasp. She leapt towards a nearby table, snatching at the nearest thing she could find, which happened to be an empty pint glass. Harry watched in horror as Jess flung the glass through the air, pitching it with all the aggression of a baseball player.
It hit Kath’s forehead with an almighty thonk!
Immediately, the woman hit the floor, clutching at her face and screaming. A second later she was back on her feet and furious, like a champion boxer rising after a fluky haymaker. She was not happy. Her bloodstained forehead face was testament to it.
“I’ll kill you!” Kath growled, as a line of blood trickled down the side of her nose.
“Nobody is going to kill anybody!” Everybody turned to see Steph storming out from behind the bar. Damien was with her. “What the hell is going on? Why is Kath covered in blood?”
“The little bitch threw a glass at me. She’s insane.”
Steph turned to Jess with such ferocity that the young girl flinched and took a step back. “Is that true? Are you causing trouble in my pub?”
Jess nodded and took another step back.
Steph pointed a finger. “Go look after Peter – NOW! – and if I see you move for the rest of the night, I’ll throw you out in the snow myself.”
Jess moved so quickly it was almost a sprint.
Then Steph turned to Kath. “There’s a little kitchenette with a sink in the back. Take a candle from the bar and clean yourself up.”
Kath still bristled with fury, but she was beginning to simmer down. Slowly. “That girl should be locked in a padded cell.”
Steph sighed. “Well, for now we don’t have that luxury, so the best I can do is keep you two separated. Jess will be staying up here with Peter, so you come downstairs with the rest of us. Now, go get that blood cleaned up before it freezes on your face.”
Kath nodded unhappily and left the room, while Lucas and Nigel went back to their tasks. Steph and Damien approached Harry.
“What happened?�
�� Steph demanded. Her breath fogged in front of her.
Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I was trying to get everyone together so I could tell them something and it all kicked off. Those two really don’t like each other!”
Steph shook her head wearily. “Tell me about it. I’d call the police if I could. There’s no excuse for that kind of violence.”
“It wasn’t just Jess’s fault,” Harry told her. “Kath doesn’t seem to have much respect for anyone else.”
“I don’t doubt it. But violence is violence, and on a night like this things are tense enough.”
“Speaking of tension,” said Harry. “There was something I was trying to tell everyone before it all went Pete Tong. Come with me.”
Steph followed. Damien too.
The three of them made it over to the exit door in the rear corridor. Harry pointed to the fire exit. “Look through the window, but try to stay calm.”
“What do you mean?” Steph said. “You’re worrying me.”
“Just look, and then we’ll talk.”
Anxiety etched itself across Steph’s face, but she obliged nonetheless, moving up against the door and peering through the glass for several seconds. “Jesus Christ,” she said finally.
“You see! You see what we’re up against?”
Steph turned back around to face Harry. “Of course I do. The snow out there is getting insane. We need to get that fire going right now or we’re all going to freeze. I don’t like this at all. This is bad.”
Harry didn’t understand. He pushed Steph to one side and peered through the glass again for himself.
The fire was gone. In fact it was as though it’d never even been there. The snow was deeper than before and there were no shallow areas where the heat of the flames would have caused it to melt. Everywhere Harry looked was cold, bleak, empty, and white.
But there was no fire. No fire at all. Nor were there three crucifixes or burning bodies.
“There were flames!” Harry mumbled. “Flames everywhere.”
Steph looked confused.
Harry looked at Damien, who was stood silently with his arms folded. “Tell her. Tell her what we saw.”
Damien shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
Harry blinked, then shook his head in disbelief. “What am I talking about? You saw it! In fact it was you that showed me!”
“Think there’s a stripe missing off your Adidas, mate. I dunno what shit you’re chatting.”
“No, no, no. You saw the flames too! Why are you doing this, Damien?”
Damien didn’t answer. He just walked away, leaving Harry alone with a confused-looking Steph
“I swear it!” Harry told Steph adamantly. “Damien’s playing games. I don’t know why, but he is.”
Out of the blue, Steph hugged Harry and whispered in his ear. “If you say there was a fire outside then I believe you, okay? Just don’t get yourself worked up, because I need you tonight. I would have gone insane if you weren’t here helping me.”
Harry eased her back and looked at her. “Y-You really believe me?”
Steph nodded. “Yes! Now go make yourself useful. Old Graham was asking for you, so go see him. I’ll get all the toilet paper and hand towels. We’re going to have to get that fire going soon.”
Harry nodded and Steph left him in the cold corridor, wondering why Damien had not backed him up. Just when I thought we were finally getting along, he makes me look like a lunatic, right in front of Steph. Stupid, Harry. Real stupid! You should never trust a snake.
But Damien wasn’t worth the time right now, not when Steph had made it clear she needed Harry’s support. She was playing nursemaid, host, and leader, all at the same time. She was putting everyone else first, while all they did was bicker. Harry wanted to take some of the strain off of her, and he would, but first he was being summoned to attend to other business. Old Graham wanted to speak to him and Harry wasn’t about to keep the old guy waiting. He owed him too much already.
Before Harry left the corridor, something caught his eye. At the far end of the rear corridor was a light, coming from the pub’s unused dance floor.
Was somebody in the back room?
Harry stepped forward cautiously. It was probably just one of the others, looking for something to burn, the light coming from their candles.
“Hey, who’s there?” Harry asked.
No reply. The light seemed to get brighter, pulsing rapidly.
Harry continued down the corridor, creeping anxiously as he awaited a response. When none came, he called out again. “I said who’s there?”
Still no response. Harry was left with the decision whether or not to investigate. Tonight was a night where strange things were happening and wandering off alone was a bad idea. Nevertheless, his feet carried him forward.
Harry had to shield his eyes with his forearm as he took the final few steps towards the backroom. The pulsing light was blinding.
Inside it felt like a sauna, humid and hot. After hours of freezing, the aura of warmth was heavenly, but it was unnatural as well. There was no rational explanation for the backroom of The Trumpet to feel like the Brazilian rainforest, especially when it was snowing outside.
Rather than retreat, Harry stepped out onto the stiff wood of the dance floor. It creaked beneath his weight. From the end of the room, the bright light continued pulsing. It was coming from behind the elevated DJ booth erected against the far wall, but as Harry got closer the light began to weaken. He hopped up the three steps at the edge of the dance floor and hurried towards the booth. The light continued to fade. Harry had the feeling that if he didn’t get a look inside the DJ booth quickly, he would miss something important. Harry unlatched the door and rushed inside.
His heart skipped a beat.
It was the most wonderful and the most painful thing Harry could ever have hoped to see. He choked back a sob. “Toby?”
Cowering before him, engulfed by a rapidly fading glow, was Harry’s son. Toby hadn’t aged at all since the crash. He peered up at Harry with the same deep, soulful eyes he had always had.
“Daddy.” Toby’s voice was an echo, seeming to come from the walls themselves. “Daddy, I’m scared.”
It was impossible, an evil trick. Yet, somehow, Harry found himself speaking only affectionately. “It’s okay, Toby. Daddy’s here.”
The light around the Toby died, returning the room to near darkness. He looked just like a normal six year old boy now. “You promise you’ll keep me safe, daddy?”
“Yes, son. I’ll keep you safe.” Harry reached down to Toby, but the boy shuffled backwards out of his grasp.
“No, you won’t,” Toby said spitefully. “You can’t keep anyone safe. My daddy was strong. He taught me to ride a bike and would buy me chicken nuggets whenever I wanted. You’re not him! You’re weak. Weak and pathetic!” The words hissed and crackled from Toby’s mouth, not at all like the voice of a child.
Tears fell from Harry’s eyes. I am weak, he thought to himself. I failed you, Toby. I let you get hurt, and all I’ve done since is feel sorry for myself. But you’re not my son.
The apparition of Toby was so accurate that it sent a chill through Harry’s bones. But it wasn’t perfect. Harry could see the lack of humanity in its malignant eyes.
“I have to go now, Toby,” Harry said, backing away slowly. “I think you should go back to wherever you came from.”
The malice in the creature’s eyes gave away its age. There was something ancient and inhuman bubbling away beneath the surface as it cackled at Harry. The piercing sound filled the room.
“Running away is all you’re good for, maggot. You watched your family die and have been running away ever since. You are pathetic, wasting the life that He gave you. Death will embrace you soon. Leave this place Harry Jobson and be done with it. Your time is over. Reckoning is here.”
Harry didn’t understand, but he knew he had to get away. By taking Toby’s form,
the creature had specifically targeted Harry, plucking at his grief like strings on a guitar.
Harry didn’t take his eyes away from the DJ’s booth as he sidled backwards along the dance floor, but it didn’t stop him noticing the light source growing behind him.
Harry spun around.
His heart stopped all over again.
Thomas Morris stood by the exit to the pub’s backroom. The man who had taken everything from Harry was here, and smiling at him like an old friend.
“Long time no see, Harry,” the apparition hissed. “You’re looking…older.”
Harry said nothing.
“You really gunna ignore me? With the history you and me have? Thought you’d have more to say.”
Harry’s fists clenched. “I have nothing to say to you!”
The apparition of Thomas Morris laughed again. “You never were much of a talker. You prefer to let actions speak for you, right?”
Whatever this thing was, it was not Thomas, and it could do Harry no harm. If it could, they why hadn’t it done so already? Harry stepped around the image of his old enemy and headed for the door.
Harry was thrown backwards and hit the floor hard.
Thomas immediately loomed over Harry. His inhuman eyes were filled with the same malignance that Toby’s had been. “You will pay for your actionsss,” it hissed at Harry. “Everyone will pay. It is time for…retribution.”
Harry cowered on the dance floor. The apparition had hit him; but how? Harry decided not to hang around to find out. He leapt to his feet and rushed for the door.
The apparition shouted after him, words both wicked and baleful. “You will die tonight, Harry Jobson. Death’s cold embrace awaits you. Go outside and face your end. Do not delay what is already certain.”
“Fuck you!” Harry shouted back. He reached the door to the pub’s corridor and glanced back one last brief second. It slowed him down, but he couldn’t help it.
Thomas Morris was nowhere to be seen.
Harry realised he was shaking. He took a series of deep breaths but still couldn’t relax. He needed to get out of that room right now, return to the others and tell them what he’d seen. Not that they would believe him.
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