After a few moments of confusion, Damien grabbed a hold of himself, dropping his hands out to his sides and straightening up his body. His nose dripped a viscous meld of blood and mucous; it ran down the light-blue shirt inside his puffer jacket.
“You just shot yourself in the head, mate,” said Damien. “If I were you, I’d go in those toilets, take off that cheap-ass belt around your cock-less waist, tie it round your alcoholic neck, and hang yourself. Cus I’m going to kill you. I’m going to slide a knife in your belly and laugh in your face while you die. I’ll be the last person you see and I’ll be laughing my ass off.”
Harry’s soul deflated as he realised the seriousness of his actions. What had made him act so violently? That wasn’t him at all. Was it? Either way, he’d chosen a course of action and he would stick to it – there was no other choice.
Harry spat defiantly. “Try it, you little fuckweed!”
Damien nodded and started towards him, taking each step casually as if he had all the time in the world. Harry tried to swallow but found a lump of coal blocking his throat. He raised his fists and prepared for his first ever bar fight.
Lucas jumped between the two of them and placed a hand across Damien’s chest. “Calm down there, fellas. Thought we had an agreement? We’re all going to play nice tonight.”
Damien sneered. “Try telling that to your man here; wrecked a perfectly good designer shirt. He’ll pay for it though, so don’t worry.”
Lucas sighed. “You gentlemen can settle up another night. There’s no time for it now. There’s some lass screaming out there and our Harry was about to do the noble thing and go offer assistance. You should do the noble thing and let him.”
Damien shook his head. “You were the one telling him not to go out there two minutes ago.”
“Well,” said Lucas, “that was before he was in as much danger here as he will be out there. Besides, there’s a chance he might freeze to death so you should be all for it.”
Damien backed off slightly, waving an arm towards the door. “We’ll finish this later. That is, if you don’t freeze your tiny balls off out there first. Good luck!”
Harry was unsure what to do, not wanting to lower his fighting stance until he knew the situation was defused. He looked at Lucas who nodded at him reassuringly. Harry lowered his arms and moved back towards the pub’s exit.
“Wait!” It was Steph. She sounded worried. “Let me find you a torch or something.”
“Yeah,” Old Graham agreed from under his blanket by the fire. ”At least take a blanket with you.”
Nigel added the final voice of concern. “Or maybe you should try calling out the door before you go trekking off. See if anyone shouts back and gives you directions.”
Harry waved a hand dismissively. “I’m sure someone’s just slipped over. I’ll be straight back.”
Damien sniggered from the back of the room. “Then you and me can pick up where we left off.”
Harry’s stomach churned. He decided to put Damien out of his mind for the moment; there were other things to worry about. Whatever was going to happen would happen. Life had taught him that a long time ago. Harry stepped towards the door…
Clonk!
…before falling to the ground clutching his head. The door had swung inwards, clubbing him in the forehead. The world was cast into darkness as the wind swept in from outside and extinguished all the candles on the bars. Harry moaned in pain.
“Are you okay?” asked Steph from somewhere in the darkness.
“What’s going on?” asked Nigel, who was just about visible beside the flickering fireplace. The flames fought back against the darkness but failed to light more than a small semi-circle at their base.
Harry ceased his moaning and tried to get up. He could feel the pressure building in his skull as a swelling began to form above his left eye. Reaching forward onto his hands, he planted his knees on the floor and prepared to get back to his feet. It was then that he realised someone stood in front of him in the darkness.
“Who’s there?” he called out.
For a few moments everyone stood still and listened for an answer. Eventually one came: “My name’s Kath. I’m the manageress of the supermarket across the road.”
A collective sigh of relief filled the room, more so from Harry than anyone else. “Try knocking next time. You almost had my head off.”
Kath laughed nervously. ”I’m so sorry. I guess the weather has put me in a bit of a panic.”
“Were you the one screaming?” Steph asked as she started relighting the candles on the bar.
Kath moved away from the doorway and towards the light. “Oh, that’s better. I was starting to forget what it was like to be able to see properly.” She offered her hand to Steph.
Steph shook it. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Steph. So, was it you that was screaming?”
“Huh? Screaming? No, that wasn’t me. It would no doubt be that silly girl.”
“Silly girl?” Harry moved over to the bar to join the woman. The others in the bar started moving too. “What silly girl?”
“Jessica. She’s just some ditsy teenager that works for me. She went wondering off into the snow when the power went off.”
“We should go look for her then,” Harry insisted.
Kath sighed. “Don’t bother wasting your time. Peter Pole went after her, so she’ll be fine. I’m sure they bumped into each other out there and that’s what startled her.”
“You sure she’ll be okay?” Steph asked. “We should check to make sure.”
Kath’s response was abrupt. ”If she needed help there would have been more than one scream, wouldn’t there?”
“Guess that makes sense,” said Lucas, taking the top off a newly defrosted beer with his back teeth. “I say we top that fire up and get ourselves warm under the blankets. It’s cold enough to freeze beer in here after all.”
“Good idea,” said Old Graham, already making his way back to the fire. The rest of them took suit and gathered around him. They spread their blankets into a line and got under them side by side, tucked in like sardines.
Steph brought over a crate of bottled beer and placed it by the fire to keep it from freezing. Harry passed a recently thawed one to their new arrival, Kath, and she took it gladly. “My saviour,” she said, sipping the beer. “After the day I’ve had I could see myself becoming quite the alcoholic just to cope.” The comment brought a stiff silence and Harry wondered if it was because of the comments that Damien had made about him ten minutes earlier. “Did I say something wrong?” Kath asked. “It was just a joke.”
Despite Harry being certain that Damien would have used the opportunity to revisit their earlier animosity, nobody said anything. For some reason the lad stayed quiet and drank his beer.
“So,” Steph asked, “what exactly have you been through tonight then, Kath?”
“God, if only you knew. The whole world has gone crazy tonight. The electricity went out, my phone stopped working, and at one point I was worried I was going to freeze to death. Thank heavens you’re still open, because I don’t know how on earth I would have gotten home.”
“Your phone isn’t working?” said Damien.
Kath shook her head. “No, it doesn’t work at all. The landline either.”
“Mine stopped working too. Weird.”
“Guess the power affects the towers, or whatever you call ‘em,” said Old Graham.
“Maybe,” said Nigel, “but don’t the landlines work even when the powers out?”
Harry nodded in the dark and rubbed at the smooth lump growing on his forehead. “I think you’re right. Don’t they work off static signals?”
Lucas laughed. “Any telephone technicians in the house? Anybody?”
“What’s your point?” Harry asked.
“My point is that none of us really know how the phone lines work and maybe they do rely on power the same way everything else does.”