Chapter Thirty-Five
Despite the three of them being huddled together, Jess felt no warmer. Damien managed to get the fire going again by setting fire to some of the surplus duvets. They wouldn’t burn for long, but they were better than nothing. Now the three of them lay shivering beneath a dozen sheets and blankets, trying to hold on to as much warmth as possible.
“Poor Old Graham,” said Steph, still upset but past the worse of it. She’d wailed for almost twenty minutes when she first discovered the old man had expired. Jess knew that Steph felt responsible for it, but the truth of it was that it was all because of Nigel.
Pervert. Hope he’s frozen to death out there or being eaten alive by one of those monsters.
Jess thought about the things she’d seen outside with Jerry and found it hard to imagine them clearly. With the hours that had passed it all seemed like some absurd hallucination. Monsters under the bed did not exist, she’d told herself, but she could not deny the death and bloodshed that she had occurred tonight. Ben. Peter. Old Graham. They were all good guys. She prayed that the others would make it back safely. She’d do anything, right now, to sit and listen to Jerry’s inane pop culture references.
“How long did you know Old Graham?” she asked Steph.
Steph let out a huff that was almost a laugh. “Whole time I worked here. Eighteen months, I guess. He could bore you to death something awful, but he didn’t have a bad bone in his body. Complained a lot; but never about anyone, or anything, in particular. I think he was a lonely old man that just wanted to be around people.”
“Least he lived a long life,” Damien chimed in, his voice jittery from the chill that affected everyone’s lungs.
“He didn’t deserve to go like this though. He survived a war and this is how he dies? It’s such a waste.”
Jess squeezed Steph’s hand under the blankets. “I think he went the way he would have liked. Drunk as a skunk and the centre of attention.”
Steph and Damien laughed.
“So, Damien,” Jess moved on, “are you really as much of a hard-knock as you like to make people think?”
Damien was silent for a moment, but eventually answered. “Who says I want people to think that?”
“Guess it’s just the impression you give off. It confuses me though because, after tonight, I’m starting to think it’s all bull.”
Jess didn’t know why she felt the need to goad Damien, but she wanted a serious conversation to keep her mind occupied. Plus, she was intrigued about the kind of person Damien actually was.
Damien cleared his throat. “You reckon?”
“Yeah,” said Jess. “I actually think you’re a nice guy. You just don’t want people to know it.”
“I agree,” said Steph.
Damien was silent again for a moment. Jess could feel him rustling beneath the sheets. When he finally spoke up, he sounded tired. “Maybe the only reason I’m not a nice guy is because people think bad of me no matter what I do.”
“But you make people think like that. You chose to make people think you’re a thug.”
Damien laughed. “You think I made people see me this way? I had no chance of ever being anything other than a thug.”
Jess sighed. “Is this the part where you say your daddy never hugged you enough?”
“No,” said Damien. “This is the part when I tell you my dad had me selling drugs for him at eight years old. No one would ever expect a kid, huh? Or how about how my dad put a lad in a coma a couple years ago and made me take credit for it around the local estate. ‘It will make people fear you’, he said. You’re absolutely right; my dad never hugged me because that’s not what monsters like him do.”
“Are you shitting me?” Steph asked. She sounded mortified.
“No, Steph. I’m not shitting you. Truth is I was glad the day he went to Jail. Thought it would set me free from his demands, but I was just wishing on a bleeding star. He called me at least once a day, making sure I was running his little empire for him ‘til he got back. Selling the merchandise and bringing in the dough.”
“You can’t blame everything on your dad,” Jess told him. “I saw you cause enough trouble to see that you enjoyed being the big man.”
“Yeah, course I did. The only love and respect I got was from the guys I hung with. If people on the estate don’t fear me then I’m nothing. I’m alone with nothing.”
“Why didn’t you get out?” asked Steph. “You could have done something, I’m sure.”
Damien was quiet once more but the sound of his breathing was heavy and distinct, laboured. “I was getting out tonight. I had a bunch of money stashed and I was going to stay with an old girlfriend that moved to Edinburgh a couple years back. I just had one last thing to do tonight and then I was out of here.”
“One last thing?” asked Steph.
“Warn someone.”
“Who?”
“The guy who gave evidence on my old man and sent him down. Took over a year but my dad’s mates finally managed to find out who it was. My orders were to kill the guy tonight; take him outside and stick a knife in him. Guess my dad was beginning to doubt my loyalty.”
“Jesus,” said Jess, not believing her ears. “You weren’t going to do it though, were you?”
“That’s what I’m telling you.” Damien raised his voice and it seemed to cause him pain. “I was…going to warn him, tell him to get the hell out of…town. Soon as the snow stopped I was going to get on a train and never come back. Maybe go to college and do business or something.”
No one spoke for a while. It was a revelation, for sure, and not one Jess had expected. She felt sad that Damien might not get the chance to fulfil his plans for atonement; such things were important. Jess closed her eyes, feeling more tired than she’d ever felt in her life. The cold was no longer bothering her as much; in fact she was starting to feel quite numb. Maybe now she could finally rest for a while.
So tired...
###
Harry’s legs ached and he wasn’t sure how much further they would take him. He didn’t know whether the pub was two yards away or two thousand. All he could see was snow, and although he could see nothing following, angry growls and wailing from unseen beasts filled the air all around him.
Harry could no longer feel his feet from the cold and it felt as though he was walking around on nerveless stumps. Kath was obviously suffering too. She hadn’t spoken since they’d watched Nigel die. Lucas however seemed fine, unaffected by the cold for reasons that Harry was eager to find out. Was the man any more human than the hooded figures?
“So,” said Harry. “If the things wearing hoods are Angels, what are the dog things?”
Lucas continued looking forward as he walked, but answered the question promptly. “Hounds of Hell.”
Harry scratched his chin. “But don’t Angels come from Heaven.”
“Aye, they do, Harry Boy, but Angels have dominion over both heaven and hell during certain circumstances.”
Harry felt himself confused already. “Circumstances such as what?”
“You know, family reunions, birthdays, The Apocalypse.”
Harry spluttered. “The Apocalypse?”
“Aye, you know, Armageddon and all that, but it’s not as dramatic as you might think. There’re no horsemen, none of that fire and brimstone nonsense. The old man upstairs likes to do things a bit more efficiently. Biblical floods and such are more His style.”
“Or biblical snow storms,” Kath added glumly.
Lucas smiled. “Indeed, lass.”
Harry was trying to follow, but things still didn’t add up in his mind. If this really was the end of the world, and God intended to simply freeze the world to death, then why did he need…?
“The Angels,” said Harry. ”Why are they here?”
“Call them overseers if you will. God can’t just make the snow fall unendingly without having a presence on earth. He needs vessels to channel his power through - conduits. That’s why the Angels have come down here, to exercise His will.”