

### The Snow and the Darkness

By Matthew Warren Wilson

The Snow and The Darkness

By Matthew Warren Wilson

Copyright 2014 Matthew Warren Wilson

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to your favorite ebook retailer to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

This story is dedicated to Colin and Sawyer Best, for giving me a reason to visit Virginia. One day you'll be old enough to read this type of thing.

### The Snow and the Darkness

Jason didn't care if it was the worst snowstorm the east coast had ever seen. They'd already paid for the plane tickets, so they were going. If the flight had been cancelled, that would be one thing; then they'd have no choice. But since it wasn't, they were going, and if they had to spend four days sitting at Dulles because no one could get through the storm to pick them up, so be it.

There was no way he was going to just throw away eight hundred bucks because of some bad weather. He knew his brother would do whatever he possibly could to pick them up, and Frank wasn't a careless driver. He knew how to drive in snow and ice better than anyone Jason had ever known. Frank would be able to pick them up, he'd be able to get them back to his house in Winchester without any problems, and then it was just a matter of surviving. If worse came to worst, they'd have no electricity and spend four days playing cards by candlelight and eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. But Jason thought this so-called blizzard was a little too hyped up. It probably wasn't anything to be worried about at all. If it was, the airline would've cancelled their flight.

Jason and Valerie were due to arrive at Dulles International at 10:30pm, and Jason fell asleep just after takeoff, before the 'Fasten Seatbelts' sign was even turned off. It wasn't quite three in the afternoon, so he shouldn't have been sleepy, but something about settling down into a cramped airplane seat always knocked him out right away. It made Valerie jealous; she would spend the whole flight worrying about the weather and thinking every little sound was the plane getting struck by lightning. But Jason couldn't help that. She could always take a sleeping pill or something if she really wanted to.

The next thing he knew, Valerie was gently shaking his shoulder. "We're here," she said softly. He'd slept through the entire flight.

It took him a while to really wake up, and they'd already made their way to the baggage claim area before he felt he was fully awake, but once they'd retrieved their suitcase he was feeling refreshed and ready to go.

"See, we made it no problem," he said to Valerie.

"That's only half of it," she said. "Now there's the driving part. Which'll probably be worse."

"Let me call Frank," Jason said. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed his brother's number. They only spoke for a moment, the reception scratchy and full of static.

"He'll be here soon," Jason said to Valerie. She gave him an annoyed look but didn't respond.

'Soon' turned out to be a lot faster than Jason had expected. By the time he and Valerie sat down in the soft black chairs just inside the automatic sliding doors, he looked up to see the grinning face of his little brother walking in. Frank was a couple of inches shorter than Jason, with frizzy brown hair that stood up all over his head as if he'd just rolled out of bed. He was stocky, broad-shouldered, and he wore a black NorthFace jacket zipped up to his chin. He must've been right outside to begin with. It had only been two minutes since he'd hung up.

"J!" Frank held his arms out expectantly. "Glad you made it, bro. Seriously. It's a bitch out there."

Jason gave him a hug, patting his back. Before he pulled away he gave Frank a quick rabbit-punch to the kidneys. Not too hard, but hard enough. Big brother stuff.

"You're gonna pay for that one," Frank said, but he was still smiling. "Hey Val, how ya holding up?"

Valerie smiled at him warmly. "I'm okay. I'll be a lot better when we're safely back at your house. Are the roads really bad?"

Frank shrugged. "Not so much. Just gotta go slow, that's all. Nice part is, there's hardly any traffic." He laughed at his own joke. "But seriously, don't worry. Now c'mon, let's get moving. The sooner we head out, the sooner we'll be home with a cold beer, am I right?"

Jason couldn't help grinning. Same old Frank. "Right, little brother, yes you are."

Jason grabbed the suitcase and he and Valerie followed Frank through the automatic doors. The cold hit him in the face and he sucked his breath in quickly. Snow was falling. It wasn't heavy but the wind swirled it in spirals and circles that hindered visibility. It was like looking into a kaleidoscope with nothing but white crystals inside. He took Valerie's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Frank headed for a gold Acura MDX parked at the curb, directly in front of a sign that said 'Absolutely No Waiting'. Same old Frank. Ignore the rules, do what you want, there are no consequences. That had always been Frank's philosophy on life, ever since they were kids, and it seemed to work for him.

As they approached the Acura, Jason could see there was someone in the front passenger seat. A woman. He didn't recognize her. As Jason loaded the suitcase into the back he motioned toward the front seat.

"Is she new?" he whispered.

Frank nodded. "And you should see her..." He made cupping gestures in front of his chest and grinned. "Awesome."

Jason and Valerie climbed into the backseat while Frank took his place behind the wheel. The car was already running, the heater blowing a pleasant stream of warm air toward them. Frank wriggled around in his seat so he was facing them.

"This is Lucy," he said. "Lucy, this is my big brother Jason and his girlfriend Valerie."

The woman in the passenger seat turned to face them, too. Immediately, Jason saw what Frank had been talking about. Lucy wore a low cut sweater, her giant breasts smashed together, revealing so much cleavage that Jason had a difficult time drawing his eyes to her face. When he did, he was surprised to see she wasn't very pretty. Eyes too close together, nose too big. She wore too much makeup and her hair looked like she'd just stepped out of an 80's heavy metal video. He smiled anyway.

"Nice to meet you," he said.

"Same here."

Valerie mumbled something inaudible. She'd probably seen Jason's lingering look at Lucy's cleavage and was none too happy about it.

"Well folks," Frank said, turning back to face the windshield, "let's get this show on the road."

He pulled away from the curb slowly, merging with the cabs and shuttles that seemed to be the only other vehicles at the airport. Here, the road was cleared of snow and ice. They must've had a plow perpetually going over this area. Jason assumed it wouldn't be quite so nice once they got to less populated roads. He didn't know his way around DC or Virginia at all, but hoped they would only need to travel on major highways. Surely those would be cleared as quickly as possible.

Frank switched on the stereo and the grinding guitars of Guns N' Roses filled the car. Frank had always loved that kind of music, but it never really appealed to Jason. It just sounded like a bunch of noise and screaming.

The four of them made small talk as they made their way through the swirling snowflakes that gained intensity with every mile. They filled each other in on what was happening with their jobs—Frank hadn't been to work in three days due to the weather, Jason was fed up with his pencil-pushing cog-in-the-machine daily grind, Valerie was happy as could be in her low level administrative position, and Lucy mumbled something about money that no one could understand. It crossed Jason's mind that she might be a stripper. He wouldn't really be too surprised. They talked of their personal lives, but nothing too in depth. That would wait until they were back at Frank's house, all of them a few beers deep, getting philosophical and nostalgic. For now they stuck to superficial facts about what mutual friends were up to, the movies they'd seen recently, and the latest Olympics results.

The snowfall was definitely getting heavier as time passed, and the road they were travelling had built up a few inches. Jason saw the snowdrifts on the sides of the road, indications that a plow had been through here, but obviously they couldn't keep up with what was falling from the sky. Frank was forced to slow down to just over 30 miles an hour, even though they were on the highway.

As they passed the sign indicating the junction with State Route 7, Frank muttered, "Shit." A few seconds later, Jason saw why.

Flashing red and blue lights reflected off the snow. It looked like a Christmas scene and would've been pretty if not for the connotation of disaster those lights brought to mind. Frank tried to take the junction exit, then slowly rolled to a stop. He switched off the stereo. Three police cars were positioned across the exit, all at different angles, preventing anyone from taking that route. A policeman with a flashlight, wearing a parka and a heavy wool cap under his standard issue policeman's hat, walked slowly up to the driver's side window. Frank rolled it down, and a gust of freezing air forced its way into the car, overpowering the heater in a few quick seconds.

"Can't come through here, folks," the cop said. He had to shout over the wind. "We got a six car accident just up the road a piece and anyone tries to go that way's gonna make it seven."

Frank just nodded. Jason could tell he was already planning his alternate route. Jason felt a twinge of worry in his gut. They shouldn't be driving in this weather.

"I'd suggest you folks hole up at the nearest hotel," the cop continued. "This flurries 'sposed to blow over in a few hours, then it'll all freeze. Wait 'til morning, wait 'til the plows get another chance to come through and for some tow trucks to pull these cars out the way. No sense in puttin' yourselves in the same position as them poor folks up there."

"Any idea where the nearest hotel is?" Frank asked. Jason was more relieved than he'd thought he'd be by that question.

The policeman pointed ahead, back up the main highway. "Take the next exit on your right. Not the nicest place to stay, but it's warm and they got beds. Have a good night, folks." He tipped his hat and turned around, heading back to the three police cars serving as the roadblock.

Frank put the Acura in gear and slowly started rolling forward, off the exit junction and back to the highway. He was cutting across multiple lanes, but there wasn't any other traffic to mind.

"It might be a crappy hotel," Valerie said, "but it might be fun, too. We can make an adventure of it." Jason could see she was relieved, too.

"We're not stopping at any hotel," Frank said, and Jason felt his stomach drop again. "If we do, we'll be stuck there for days. I don't care what that cop said, this is only gonna get worse, and I'm not sitting in a hotel until they clean it up. I know how to get around that accident on 7. It's not even that long a detour, maybe twenty miles, maybe a little more, and we'll be right back where we want to be."

"Frank, seriously, I think you should reconsider." Jason had always been the voice of reason in their relationship, the older brother, the responsible one. It had never worked in the past, Frank always did what he wanted, and Jason had no doubt he would do what he wanted this time, too. But it couldn't hurt to try. "This is dangerous weather. We shouldn't be out here."

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing. I've driven in weather ten times worse than this. We'll be fine."

"But even if you do know how to drive in this," Valerie piped up, "what if someone else doesn't? If some idiot plows into you, there's nothing you can do about it."

"Not gonna happen," Frank said. He looked at Lucy in the passenger seat. "You worried, sugar?"

"Not a bit," Lucy said, grinning. "I say, hit the gas."

Jason grimaced. She was a real genius, that one.

Valerie squeezed his hand. He shrugged. What could they do? He leaned back in the seat and tried to relax. If he couldn't change the situation, there was no use in worrying about it the whole time. If something happened he would worry about it then.

They drove in silence for several miles before Frank took an exit, seemingly at random. At the bottom of the exit ramp he took a left, and they were in a world of white snow and nothing else. Jason couldn't see very far into the flurries and the darkness, but it looked like there was nothing out there at all. No streetlights, at least. Frank's headlights reflected off the falling snow, limiting visibility and forcing him to slow down even more. Jason leaned forward and peered over his brother's shoulder; they were only going about fifteen miles an hour.

So far, so good, though. Jason had to admit he hadn't even felt them slide yet. So maybe Frank was right. Apparently he _did_ know how to drive in this weather, and even if they were going slow, he was doing a fine job. And just as Jason was thinking this, of course, Frank hit the brakes. Not too hard, not enough to send them skidding off the road, but hard enough that Jason could tell something was wrong. He leaned forward again.

"What's the matter?"

"You didn't see that guy?" Frank asked.

"No." Jason glanced at Valerie but she shook her head. "No."

"There's a dude out walking in this. We just passed him. We gotta see if he needs a lift."

"What?" Jason thought that was a crazy idea. "Why?"

Frank rolled his window down. Snowflakes blew inside on a gust of icy, frozen wind. Jason shivered immediately.

"Does that answer your question?" Frank asked, rolling the window up again.

Actually, it did. If they opened the paper tomorrow and read about some guy freezing to death on the side of whatever road they were currently on, Jason knew he would feel awful. He would feel responsible. But he still didn't like the idea of picking up a random stranger in the middle of the night. But even as that thought came to him he realized how ridiculous it was. It was the product of too many movies and television shows. This was just some guy in need of help.

Frank was peering into the rearview mirror when he said, "There he is. He's coming up on your side, Lucy."

Lucy rolled her window down, chilling the inside of the car with another blast of wind, and poked her head out. "Hey," she called, "you need some help?"

The man who appeared in the passenger window wore a puffy parka with the hood up. Jason could see he had a full beard, not too clean from the look of it. His cheeks were pockmarked—what could be seen of them, anyway—and his nose was bright red. His eyes looked dark, mostly hidden by a thick wool cap pulled down over his brows.

"Hi-a!" the man said. His deep voice seemed to resonate off the inside panels of the car. "Lil' bit chilly out hee-ah." He laughed heartily at that. Jason thought he might be drunk.

"Where you headed?" Frank asked, leaning across Lucy so he could be heard over the wind.

"Just up yonder," the man said, pointing in the direction they'd been driving. He gave no more information than that, but Frank wasn't deterred.

"You need a lift?"

The man seemed to think about it for a moment, as if maybe he was enjoying his midnight stroll in the freezing snow and wind. Finally he said, "Uh-huh. If ya'll don't mind, that'd be a right nice gesture, I'd think." To Jason, this man's speech seemed forced, as if he were trying to sound like some good old local yokel, but trying just a little too hard.

Frank didn't hesitate. "Hop in the back."

Valerie glanced at Jason and he knew what the look on her face meant. "Come around to this side," Jason called. He unfastened his seatbelt and slid into the middle seat. A few seconds later the bearded man was hauling himself into the car beside Jason. He smelled of stale tobacco and even staler sweat. He was bulky, but that might've just been the parka. He smiled at Jason, then leaned forward and grinned lasciviously at Valerie.

"Hi-a," he said. His eyes were black and penetrating.

Valerie mumbled an almost inaudible hello.

Jason leaned forward and blocked the man's line of sight. He didn't like this.

"What were you doing out there," Jason asked. This wasn't friendly banter or small talk; Jason really wanted to know what he'd been doing.

"This and that," the man said, "this and that." He seemed to think it was a perfectly reasonable answer.

Frank put the Acura in gear and began to move forward again. "So how far you going," he said from the front seat, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Just up yonder a piece," the man said. "I'll let ya know when I need to be dropped off."

"How 'bout you let us know right now where it is you're headed," Jason said.

The man laughed again as if Jason had just told the best joke he'd ever heard. After a moment he directed his voice toward the front seat and said, "Yer boy back hee-ah ain't the most hospitable of folks, izzy?" Then he looked directly at Jason with those penetrating eyes and said, "You want I should get out right hee-ah?"

Before Jason could answer, Frank spoke up again.

"Lighten up, J. We're just helping the guy out. By the way, what do they call you?" he asked the bearded man.

"Call me Cliff, most times, when they ain't callin' me asshole." He waited for the others to laugh, and when no one did, he took it upon himself to laugh for them.

Jason put his arm around Valerie and squeezed. He had the feeling they were in for a long ride.

But to Jason's surprise, Cliff didn't say another word. Instead, he leaned his head back against the seat, his hood still up, and closed his eyes.

No one spoke for what seemed like ages. The only sound was the wind outside the car. Frank was plodding along slowly, making sure to stay on the road, but Jason knew it was going to take them hours to get home at this rate. And the snow just kept falling. Jason found himself wishing Frank would turn the Guns N' Roses back on.

Cliff seemed to be asleep. He wasn't snoring, thankfully, but his breathing was very slow and deep. His eyes were closed.

Jason snuggled up closer to Valerie, farther away from Cliff. He didn't like the man, got a strange vibe from him, as if he was somehow brewing trouble even while he was asleep. But Frank didn't seem to have a problem with him, and if he was just going to sleep, that was okay. He could sleep the whole way to wherever it was he was going and then he could get out. No harm done.

Jason tried to relax. Valerie was actually falling asleep beside him, too, and when Valerie was less wound up than he was, he knew he was overreacting. But he still couldn't shake the notion that something wasn't right about this Cliff guy. Who walked alone in the middle of the night in a snowstorm unless they'd had some sort of accident or emergency? And if that was the case, who didn't mention that there'd been an emergency and instead fell asleep in the car of the random strangers who'd picked him up? No one who was up to any good, that was for sure.

Another thirty minutes passed with nothing but white flakes to look at and Jason heard Lucy speak up very quietly from the front seat.

"I have to pee."

"How bad?" Frank asked, his voice just as low.

"Pretty bad," she said. "I can hold it for a little while, but we haven't seen anything out here forever."

"You want me to stop now? You can just run off on the side of the road. It'll be cold, but only for a minute."

"Not just yet," she said. "Let's hope we run into something soon."

Jason didn't particularly like the idea of stopping out here, but he had to admit he was feeling the need to relieve himself, too. It would be easier for him, of course, than for Lucy, but he wasn't looking forward to the cold.

After another twenty minutes Lucy said, "Okay, I think we'd better stop."

"Okay everybody," Frank said, his voice much louder. "Pee break. If you gotta go, go now, because we're not stopping again."

Valerie was rubbing her eyes beside Jason. "Is he serious?" she whispered.

Jason nodded. "And I've gotta go."

"Hell, I guess I better, too," Valerie said. She pulled her jacket tight around her throat as Frank eased the car to a stop. He didn't bother actually pulling off the road. They hadn't seen any other traffic since they'd left the highway.

"What're we stopped for," Cliff mumbled from the other side of Jason. "End of the line?"

"Just a bathroom break," Jason replied coldly. He didn't want to get into a conversation with the man.

"I reckon I could use a piss," Cliff said, almost to himself, and flung his door open. The cold air whipped into the car.

"No time like the present," Frank said, and then they were all piling out of the car at the same time.

The cold air bit into Jason's cheeks instantly, sucking the breath out of him. He held his jacket tight at the collar with one hand. The other he placed lightly on Valerie's back and guided her off the road.

Visibility was still poor but Jason could see more now than when they'd been in the moving vehicle with its headlights reflecting off the snow. There was probably a good five inches on the road now, and embankments of at least four feet on the shoulders where the plows had piled it. Beyond those embankments Jason could see trees. Nothing but trees and snow. He suspected they were pine trees of some sort but didn't have the botanical knowledge to be sure. Above the tree line the sky was dark.

Everything was perfectly silent. Only the humming of the Acura's engine broke the illusion that he had gone deaf.

Valerie walked away from the car in the direction they'd come, keeping to the embankment. She didn't go far; it was too cold. She turned her face to Jason.

"Here?"

"Good a spot as any."

They both looked behind them and saw Lucy just as she was climbing over the top of the embankment. She headed into the trees, out of their sight. Frank had walked over to the opposite side of the road. His back was to them and he'd already unzipped and let loose from the look of his posture.

"Is she crazy?" Valerie asked, obviously meaning Lucy. "It's freezing out here."

"Guess she doesn't want anyone to see her go," Jason said.

"Speaking of which..." Valerie looked around suspiciously. "Where did Cliff go?"

Jason looked around, too, but saw no sign of the bearded man. Perhaps he had also climbed over the embankment so no one would see him go, but that just didn't seem to fit his style. Jason was pretty sure, just from the little he knew about the guy, that Cliff would have no problem taking a piss in front of a whole army battalion.

"I don't know," he said, "but let's just get done and get back to the car."

He walked about five steps farther up the road and unzipped his jeans. His penis was shriveled so much from the cold that he had a difficult time pulling it from his underwear, but he had no problem urinating. He hadn't realized how much he really had to go.

He finished, zipped his pants, and turned to see that Valerie was already standing up, pants fastened. She had a tissue in one hand.

"What do you think I should do with this?" she asked.

Jason was about to tell her to just throw it on the ground, but before he could speak, the hushed silence of their surroundings was interrupted. At first Jason didn't let his mind grasp what it was. There was no conscious act of will, it just didn't compute. But then it came again and there was no denying it.

A scream.

High pitched, piercing. It cut through the cold air with an unsettling resonance and was then swallowed up. It came from within the trees, within the darkness that lurked between them.

It came from the direction Lucy had gone.

Frank was running toward them.

"What is it?" he shouted. "What happened?"

Jason shook his head. "Not us," he said and pointed off the road.

Frank looked at the snow embankment, looked beyond it. "Fuck," he said, and without another second's hesitation he was scrambling over it.

"Get back to the car," Jason said and followed Frank.

"I'm not staying here by myself!" Valerie shouted. She was close to panic already, Jason could tell. He didn't have time to argue, though, and when she followed him he didn't say another word.

Suddenly another sound erupted from the darkness. A wailing, keening sound. There was something else in it, too, something that didn't fit. To Jason it was the sound of someone gargling with mouthwash.

Frank ran straight toward the wailing, plunging his boots into the knee-deep snow, heedless of any danger that might be there, and Jason followed. It was difficult to move fast. Valerie kept up right behind Jason, plumes of breath coming from her nose and mouth, her cheeks somehow flushed and pale at the same time.

From the corner of his eye Jason saw a shape moving through the trees off to his left. He tried to focus on it but there was nothing there. Just shadows.

And then he saw Lucy, on her hands and knees in the snow. The bearded man was in front of her, shouting. She was trying to back up, away from him, but the snow was too deep for her to crawl. The wailing was coming from her.

"What happened? What happened?" Cliff was shouting, but Lucy didn't say anything, just kept on with that wailing, gargling sound.

"Get the fuck away from her!" Frank yelled, barging onto the scene and pushing Cliff hard enough to send him flailing backwards. He tripped and landed on his back.

That was when Jason saw the blood. It stood out starkly against the white of the snow, a bright puddle in front of Lucy. Droplets extended from that puddle in all directions, like an explosion might look in a comic book panel.

Frank squatted in front of Lucy. "Shh," he said. "It's okay. I'm here. What happened?"

Lucy looked up at him. Her face was smeared with blood, mostly around her mouth as if she'd been punched in the teeth. She opened her mouth to speak and more blood poured from it.

Valerie gasped.

"What did you do to her?" Frank demanded. He stood up again and stepped over to where Cliff was sprawled in the snow. "What did you do?" His hands were balled into fists. His body was obviously tense under his jacket. He looked like he might pounce.  
Lucy was whimpering now. Not a pleasant sound but better than the gargling wail.

"Didn't do nothin'!" Cliff shouted. "She was screamin', I ran to help. Found her all bloody, same as you."

Lucy shook her head vehemently, more drops of blood flying from her mouth and splattering the snow. Frank looked at her again.

"What happened, sugar?"

But Lucy didn't answer. Just opened her mouth again and more blood ran down her chin. She pointed at the center of the puddle of blood, already almost frozen. There were tears streaming down her cheeks. She said something unintelligible. Jason thought it might've been "Mom."

"What is it?" Frank said softly.

Jason peered at the spot she was pointing to. There was something there, in all that blood. Something not quite as red. A small pink piece of flesh.

Jason didn't have to see Lucy open her mouth again to tell what it was.

A tongue.

_Her_ tongue.

Jason gagged. He swallowed hard and managed to avoid throwing up. Valerie was not so lucky. She turned and retched into the snow at the base of a nearby tree.

It took Frank a moment longer to realize what had happened, but when he did he was on his feet in an instant.

"What the fuck! You sick bastard!" He stood over Cliff, still sprawled on his back in the snow, and kicked him hard, once, in the side. Cliff grunted and rolled away. "What the fuck!" Frank shouted again. He didn't seem to be able to say anything else.

"I didn't do nothin'!" Cliff said again. "Swear to God! It weren't me!"

Jason thought of the dark shape he'd seen moving through the trees. Despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins, he shivered.

"We've got to get her to a hospital," Valerie said quietly.

"I've gotta kill this bastard first," Frank said, and before anyone could say another word Frank was on top of Cliff, swinging his fists. He landed a solid punch to the side of Cliff's head and Jason could hear the dull thud, like a wet towel smacking a kitchen floor.

Jason stepped over to Frank and grabbed his wrist as he reached back for another punch. Physically they were pretty evenly matched, even though Jason had a few inches on his brother, and after just a few seconds of struggling Frank gave up and allowed Jason to pull him to his feet again.

"Listen, Frank, this is one sick son of a bitch right here, that's true, and right now I wanna kill him as much as you do, but we can't. You know that. We have to take care of Lucy." He hadn't finished speaking when he thought he saw Cliff grin, but when Jason looked directly at him he was shaking his head and there was no trace of a smile on his face. "We'll call the police, let them deal with this guy."

Frank was clearly not going to accept that, but then Valerie spoke up again.

"Frank, you're the only one of us that can drive in this weather, and we _have_ to get her to a hospital."

Jason could see the emotions passing over Frank's face—hatred, rage, bloodlust—and then concern. He turned away from Cliff and reached into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. He flipped it open.

"No fucking signal out here," he muttered. Then, a little louder, "Okay. Okay, let's get her back to the car."

"What should we do with him?" Jason asked.

"Tie him to a tree," Frank said.

Cliff shook his head. "No, please, I'll freeze to death out hee-ah. Lemmee come with you. I swear I's only comin' to help, I didn't do nothin' to her."

Jason was inclined to believe him. He didn't know if it was because of that elusive shape he'd seen or if it was just old-fashioned gullibility, but he felt a little stab of pity for the man. Then Lucy began to shake her head again.

"Uh-uh! Uh-uh!" she said, but that was the best she could do.

"If you freeze to death you'll be getting off lucky," Frank said, but he made no move to tie Cliff up. Besides, they had nothing to tie him with anyway.

"Let's get back to the car," Valerie said. She knelt down and pulled a small package of tissues from her coat pocket and handed them to Lucy. Lucy tried to wipe some of the blood from her face with them but it was a useless endeavor.

"Can you stand up?" Valerie asked.

Lucy nodded. She put one arm around Valerie's shoulder as she stood and the two of them started back in the direction of the car. Frank took one more long look at Cliff lying there in the snow, then he and Jason both turned and followed the women in silence.

"Please," Cliff said to their backs, but that was all.

It had seemed like they'd run for a long time on the way there, but they were back to the embankment on the edge of the road in only a couple of minutes. They all helped Lucy climb over it; even though it was her tongue that had been injured and not her arms or legs, she was a little unsteady on her feet. Once over the embankment, Jason helped her into the front seat. The car was still running and it was blissfully warm inside. Jason could feel a tingling sensation in his fingers and his ears as the warm air from the heater vents washed over him.

Valerie climbed into the back behind Lucy, and Jason ran around the car to the other side but stopped before he opened the door.

"Uh, Frank?" he said.

"What?"

"Uh, I don't think that's supposed to be like that." Jason pointed to the tire on the front driver's side. It was completely flat. Then he noticed the rear tire looked exactly the same. The car was sitting on its rims.

Frank ran around the front of the car, Jason around the back. Both tires on the passenger side were flat, too. Slashed. Jason could see the long gouges where the rubber had been torn. He looked over his shoulder, back into the trees and the darkness.

"That bastard!" Frank yelled, "He's really dead now," and before Jason could do anything, Frank had already scrambled back over the embankment and was heading back to where they'd left Cliff.

"You fucker! You're fuckin' dead!" Frank was shouting this as he moved away from the vehicle. Jason turned to follow, if only to prevent his brother from committing murder out in those woods, but Valerie swung the door open hard.

"What now?" she said.

Jason pointed to the rear tire. "Slashed. All four of them. We can't go anywhere." He turned again, but Valerie caught his arm.

"Don't leave us here by ourselves," she said. It sounded like a plea. "If he has to go, let him go, but you stay here with us."

Jason thought about it for a few seconds. What good could he do if he followed Frank? At best, he would get punched in the face for trying to intervene. At worst, he would be an accessory to murder. He nodded and climbed back into the car.

They locked all the doors.

They waited.

It seemed like forever. Lucy was whimpering in the front seat, holding her hands to her mouth and shivering despite the heater. Her chin, neck, and cleavage were covered with red gore. Jason remembered something he'd heard once about mouth injuries looking a lot worse than they really were. Could she bleed to death from a severed tongue? He didn't want to think about it. It made him nauseated. But he couldn't think of anything else. He wished Frank would hurry up and get back. Even if he really did kill Cliff, how long could that possibly take?

He realized that he suddenly had a very cavalier attitude toward murder.

But it was all relative. The man had chopped off Lucy's tongue. Or ripped it out, or something. Whatever had actually happened out there, Cliff probably deserved to be killed. Lucy was sitting in the front seat, shaking her head as if in denial, moaning and crying, and it was all that crazy bastard's fault. Jason hadn't liked him from the very start. But then, they didn't actually know if Cliff was responsible. Maybe he'd been telling the truth. Jason thought of that shape moving through the trees again. Had that been his imagination?

He leaned forward and broke their silence. "Lucy, _was_ it Cliff that did that to you?" For some reason they hadn't thought to actually ask her yet.

Lucy turned to face him, the lower half of her face a smear of blood as if she was wearing a red bandana. She gurgled something, and Jason thought she was nodding, but before he could be sure, they heard heavy knocking on the passenger window. Lucy whipped her head around, eyes wide. They hadn't been paying attention.

It was only Frank. Thank God.

He ran around to the driver's door and Lucy reached across and unlocked it. Frank climbed inside, shivering. "Can't find him," he said. "Asshole must've taken off, run out into the woods. I didn't wanna go too deep, 'fraid I wouldn't be able to find my way back." His teeth were clenched as he spoke.

"Can we drive away?" Valerie asked. Her voice was very quiet. "I know the tires are flat, but can we drive anyway? On the rims?"

"We're sure as hell gonna try," Frank said. "Any of you able to get any sort of service on your phones?"

They all checked their phones again, but nothing had changed. No signal.

Frank put the Acura in gear. He patted Lucy's knee delicately.

"Don't worry, sugar," he said, "we're gonna get you to a hospital, you're gonna be fine."

He pressed the gas slowly. Jason could hear the wheels turning beneath them, slicing the snow like a pizza cutter. Despite his doubts, slowly but surely they began to roll forward. Frank pressed the gas a little more. The wheels made a sound like a weak buzzsaw. They gained a little speed.

And then they were sliding sideways. It was slow. They couldn't have been moving more than 5 miles an hour, but as they all felt the car slipping across the road, moving past the centerline that couldn't be seen, it didn't matter that it was effectively in slow motion. Valerie screamed, short and loud. Jason gripped the armrest with one hand, Valerie's leg with the other. He also started to scream, but cut himself off before it escalated into the real thing. Lucy made a sound like someone sucking the last bits of a milkshake through a straw.

Only Frank was silent, a look of steeled determination on his face. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands, trying to turn into the slide, then trying to turn out of it when that didn't work.

But it was useless. The Acura made its slow track across the road, wheels still grinding beneath, and planted itself into the snow embankment on the opposite side. The jolt was minimal. They all breathed deeply.

The front left fender was embedded in the snow. Frank put the Acura in reverse and hit the gas but the wheels just spun. He threw it into drive with the same results. He tried reverse again. And drive again. And reverse.

Finally Lucy put her hand over his, on top of the gearshift. She shook her head and said something that sounded like "ohoosh." Frank got the point.

He put it in neutral and looked at each of them one by one. They each looked back blankly.

"What now?" Frank said.

"What now?" Valerie repeated, her voice still quiet. "What do you mean what now? You were the one that took us out here to this backwoods road because you couldn't stand the thought of staying in a hotel. You said you could drive in this shit! And you were the one that picked up that psycho!" Her voice steadily gained volume. "So you ask _us_ what now? Your fucking girlfriend is missing her fucking tongue and you ask _us_ what now?"

Jason put his hand on her knee. "C'mon babe," he said quietly.

"C'mon?" She turned her steely eyes to him. "I didn't even want to come here! Worst snowstorm in the history of the world, they said, and you said, waa waa waa, eight hundred dollars. Do you understand what's happening here?" She paused, looked from Jason to Frank and back again. "Her fucking tongue's been chopped off! Chopped! Off!"

And what more was there to say?

The four of them sat in silence for a few moments. The heater still blew warm air into their faces. Lucy began to sob quietly again. Fresh blood continued to run from her mouth.

Finally Frank said, "Okay, I'll go on foot." Before anyone else could say anything, he continued. "Look, we were driving out here for, what, 45 minutes? At about 15 miles an hour? That means we can't be more than 10 miles or so from where we turned off the highway. I'll head back the way we came, back up to the Route 7 junction. We know there are cops up there already. And we've got..." He glanced at the instrument panel. "...just over a half tank of gas right now. That'll keep you guys warm for the rest of the night if you're just idling here. And how long will it take me to walk ten miles? Maybe three hours in this snow?"

"But that guy is still out there," Valerie said. "Somewhere. What if he comes back? We're just sitting ducks out here."

"Then what do you want me to do?" Frank shot back quickly. His voice was hard, abrasive. He stared at Valerie with wide eyes. "If you've got a better plan, I'm all ears."

They waited.

Valerie shifted her gaze to her lap. No one spoke.

"All right then," Frank said. "I'm walking."

This time Valerie didn't object.

"Do you have the clothes for it?" Jason asked. "It's bitter cold out there. You better be bundled up."

"There's some extra stuff in the back, there." Frank pointed. "A ski mask, scarf and gloves. I'll be fine. As long as I keep walking I'll stay warm enough." He paused for a few seconds. "But I need to take care of Lucy first."

He looked at Lucy with despair. He didn't seem to want to make eye contact with her. "Listen," he started, then faltered. He tried again. "Sugar..."

He looked to Jason for help, but Jason didn't know what to say and only looked at his own hands resting in his lap.

"Lucy, I need to stop that bleeding," Frank began again. "You're losing a lot of blood. If it keeps up, you're going to pass out, or worse."

Jason knew what the "or worse" was. Frank obviously didn't want to say it out loud.

"There's no way we can get to a hospital fast enough, now," Frank continued.

Lucy whimpered.

"We have to cauterize the wound," Frank said. "It's going to hurt. But we have to."

Finally he looked up and met Lucy's gaze. They stared at each other for a moment or two and then Lucy gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Okay," Frank said. He looked around quickly through the windows of the Acura. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he opened the driver's door and jumped out. He bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, packed it into a quick snowball, then jumped back in the vehicle. "Put this in your mouth until it melts. We'll do that a few times. Hopefully it'll slow the bleeding, and also numb the wound."

Lucy took the snowball, broke off a chunk, and gingerly pushed it into her mouth. After just a few seconds she did the same with a second piece. The snowball itself was melting rapidly in the warmth of the car, and Frank jumped out and got another one.

No one spoke while Lucy continued to put more and more snow into her mouth. The blood that had been running down her chin turned a lighter red, almost pink, as it mixed with the melted snow. Lucy wasn't swallowing and made no attempt to prevent the watery blood from getting all over herself. Jason assumed she was in shock, at least to a certain extent.

After Lucy had melted four snowballs in her mouth, Frank turned off the Acura and took the keys from the ignition. A metallic, novelty license plate hung from the key-ring and he removed it with fingers that appeared to be trembling just a little. Jason thought maybe it was the cold causing that tremble, but he doubted it. He could see the license plate had Frank's name on it.

After he started the car again, Frank pulled a pair of black ski gloves from the center console of the vehicle. He put on the left glove and held the novelty license plate in that hand.

"One more snowball," he said, opening his door again.

When Lucy had her fifth snowball in her hands, Frank reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a cigarette lighter. Jason didn't think his brother smoked, so he couldn't help but wonder why the man carried a lighter with him. Those thoughts were dashed, though, as Frank turned the thumbwheel and an inch-high flame appeared. He held it under the little, metal license plate. His face was stony, concentrating.

Lucy sucked on the snow, chunk after chunk. Frank patiently held the flame of the lighter under the little rectangular piece of metal he held in his gloved left hand. Jason was pretty sure he knew what was about to happen and it made his stomach turn.

When the snowball was almost gone, Frank said, "Lucy, I'm going to need you to stick out your tongue." He didn't look at her. He just continued to stare at the flame in his hand. "And I need you to know that I'm doing this to help you. I don't like it, but I can't think of any other way." His voice was shaky. Jason wondered if he was on the verge of tears.

Lucy nodded her head slowly.

"Whenever you're ready," Frank said.

Lucy took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out. She took another one. Then she opened her mouth and stuck out what remained of her tongue. It was just a little pulpy nub, still oozing blood.

Frank let the lighter fall to his lap. He quickly palmed the little license plate in his gloved hand, and placed the other hand on the back of Lucy's head. He brought the two together.

When the severed edge of her tongue met the hot metal of the novelty keychain, Jason thought he would be sick. Lucy cried out in an inarticulate roar, but Frank didn't let her pull away. Underneath that roar, Jason could swear he heard a sizzle; the sizzle a raw burger makes when it's first thrown on a barbeque grill.

When the scent of cooking meat reached his nose, Jason threw the door open and retched into the snow beside the car.

Lucy was using her fists to ineffectually push against Frank, that throaty roar still emanating around the burning, severed tongue. It really only lasted a few seconds before Frank let go of Lucy's head. She slammed back into the passenger seat, her head rocking off the headrest. By the time Jason had closed and locked his door again, she was no longer screaming.

Jason could see tears running down her cheeks, but she was silent. She didn't look at Frank. Her face was a blank mask of determined detachment and blood.

After only a few more moments of silence Frank said, "I have to get going." His voice was soft now. "The sooner I start out, the sooner I'll be back. And the sooner we'll all be home again with a cold beer, am I right?" No one responded. Frank stared at Lucy for a few seconds. "I'm sorry, sugar. I know that was awful. But you'll be okay now. You won't bleed out. And when we get you to a hospital, they'll be able to fix you up, good as new."

Jason seriously doubted that was true.

Frank turned to face the backseat. "Grab me those clothes," he said. "They should be behind you."

Jason turned and rummaged around behind the backseat until he found the things Frank had mentioned earlier. He passed them forward and Frank put on the scarf and gloves. He leaned over and kissed Lucy on the cheek. The blood on her face was drying now. Only a little of it stuck to Frank's chin.

"I'll be back before you know it," he said. "You're going to be fine." He turned and faced Jason. "Take care of them, big brother."

Then he was out the door. Lucy's detached gaze broke and the three of them watched through the rear window as Frank walked away. The snow and the darkness swallowed him up after only a minute or two, but they all continued to stare as if maybe their combined concentration would make him visible again. Finally Valerie sighed, breaking the moment. They faced forward again.

"Make sure those doors are locked," Jason said.

Lucy leaned across the front seat and hit the switch on the driver's armrest that locked the doors.

Then they waited. It seemed like they'd been doing altogether too much waiting lately.

No one spoke. Jason wished they could listen to some music, and he considered his iPod or the car stereo, but knew it was a bad idea. If there was something he needed to hear, music would hide it. He tried not to think about what it might be that he would need to hear.

Time ticked by slowly. Snow continued to fall. Jason wondered what they would do if more than three or four hours passed and there was no sign of Frank. Maybe if they waited until dawn, a plow would come by. He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

It had been about an hour when, from out of nowhere – or maybe from out of heaven, Jason didn't know – they saw headlights coming toward them. The headlights of a big truck from the look of them. Maybe this was a plow already. But as the lights approached, Jason could tell they were moving too quickly to be a plow. Still, maybe they could get a ride out of here.

Jason was out of the Acura before either of the women could say a word and he ran around the back of it. All the snow on the ground now made it even more difficult to move quickly, but he was out in the road before the approaching vehicle reached them. He waved his arms in the beam of the headlights. He heard the motor racing, somehow out of place amidst all the eerie silence of the snow and the woods.

And then the truck was passing him. He had to jump back behind the Acura to get out of its way. It was moving far too fast for the conditions and it didn't even slow down as it drove by. It was a large pickup truck, black or dark blue. Maybe gray. Who could really tell in the dark? Jason continued to wave his arms at the back of it, shouting, jumping up and down. He watched its taillights disappear, just another victim of the darkness and the snow. It wasn't until he felt the sinking feeling of hopelessness in the pit of his stomach that he realized how much the sight of the passing truck had boosted his hopes.

He couldn't hear the truck's engine anymore, and the weight of the silence crashing back in around him was almost too much. He shivered. He climbed back into the Acura.

Valerie was wide-eyed, staring at him. "They just sped past! Who does that? Who doesn't stop when people obviously need help?"

Jason just shrugged. Lots of people, probably.

Again they waited. Again they sat in silence.

Only ten more minutes passed before Jason heard a thump from the passenger side. "What was that?" he asked.

Lucy whimpered in the front seat.

"What was that?" Jason repeated, but then he heard it again. A soft sound like something hitting the car.

"Oh god," Valerie breathed. "He's back. I know it's him."

"Can you see anything?" Jason asked softly, peering through the passenger window, trying to make out any movement out there besides the falling snowflakes. He saw nothing at all.

"No," Valerie whispered, "but I know it's him. I know it."

Another thump, this one directly on the front passenger window. Something had been thrown at the car. They weren't rocks – they were too soft. Snowballs? Was someone throwing snowballs at them?

"What do we do?" Valerie asked.

Lucy whimpered again and made another gurgling sound. She crouched down in the front seat, her head barely above the level of the window.

"I don't know," Jason said. Then, "Just wait, I guess."

Another snowball—if it _was_ a snowball—hit the hood of the Acura. It sunk into the snow that had accumulated there and left a little hole. Lucy tried to slide down further in her seat, but there was nowhere left to go.

Whatever was hitting the car was coming from the opposite side of the road. Jason peered around fervently, trying to see who or what might be throwing snowballs at them, but he saw nothing but snow and more snow and dark trees beyond that.

Something hit the roof.

Jason was frantically trying to look out all the windows at once. The silence between the snowballs was almost worse than if there had been a barrage of them. And it was just so _dark_. He couldn't see a goddamn thing.

He was sweating. He had the time to think how funny it was that he was sweating while it was absolutely freezing outside.

Another thump, this one somewhere near the rear passenger door. Valerie gasped. She tried the same technique Lucy had taken, slouching down in her seat, getting her head below the level of the window.

Silence.

Falling snow.

Darkness.

And then Jason saw Frank. He wore no ski mask now, and he stumbled over the snow bank on the far side of the road as if he'd been pushed. He fell to his knees in the road and Jason could see the splashes of red pattering the snow in front of him. Frank was hurt.

Jason was out of the car before it all even registered in his brain. He'd seen a hundred war movies where the enemy used this same tactic: use an injured man as bait to lure his allies into the open to be picked off. Jason had never been to war, but he was suddenly sure this was what he was involved in. And still he couldn't stop himself. That was his _brother_ out there. Bleeding. Did it matter if it was a trap? If he didn't try to help he would never get over the guilt. Better to be killed himself than to live with that.

Why was someone trying to kill them?

Jason only had a few seconds for these thoughts to run through his head. Then he was darting across the road, his feet slipping on the snow and ice, Valerie frantically shouting his name. Jason tried to look in all directions at once, but he didn't see anything other than Frank. Frank looked up at him, tears running down his cheeks.

The sight of Frank's tears drove the point home to Jason: they were in serious trouble. Frank didn't cry. Frank was the man's man, the tough guy. If Frank was crying, then they were dealing with something way beyond what Jason was capable of handling.

Frank made a gurgling sound in his throat and Jason immediately knew that Frank's tongue had been cut out, just like Lucy's. But no sooner had that thought registered in his brain than he realized there was no blood on Frank's face. His face was flushed from the cold, wet from his tears, and slack from shock, but the blood was coming from somewhere else. Then he held up his hands, palms facing Jason, as if he intended to worship his older brother, and Jason saw the blood.

Frank was no longer wearing any gloves. It would've been difficult for him to wear gloves now anyway; all ten of his fingers were missing. Each hand ended in five bloody, raw stumps.

Jason screamed. He didn't have any control over it, he just screamed. And even while he was screaming he was bending over and getting one of Frank's arms over his shoulder, dragging his little brother back up to his feet. They shambled back toward the Acura, Jason screaming the whole time, but Frank remained eerily silent except for the occasional hitching sob.

Jason tried to watch behind them as they made their way to the car. He saw nothing. Ahead of him he saw Valerie's pale face in the rear window. Her eyes wide, her mouth an O of shock. To Jason, she appeared to be as frozen as the ground all around them. But he was wrong. As Jason lugged Frank closer to the car, she opened the back door and stepped out. She looked shaky, unsure, but she was preventing them from having to go around to the other side of the vehicle.

Frank wasn't doing a very good job of supporting his own weight and he seemed to get heavier with every step. They were moving so slowly.

The lights didn't register with Jason until he heard the engine. When he did, he turned his head and was blinded. The headlights came rushing toward him and he couldn't see anything else, two glowing orbs radiating through the darkness.

If the truck hadn't stopped, Jason and Frank would've both been squashed flat right there in the road. But it did stop. It was the same pickup that had sped past them earlier. At least Jason _thought_ it was the same one, but there were probably a thousand pickups out here in the boonies that all looked the same. It didn't matter, though. Here was a working vehicle with four fully inflated tires. It was their salvation.

Jason had stopped moving when the truck pulled up, but as its driver's door swung open he began to pull Frank toward it instead of the Acura. The only thing on his mind was getting his little brother to safety.

A man stepped out of the pickup truck. He had a barrel chest wrapped in a bright red-and-black flannel shirt. His face was hidden underneath the rim of a baseball cap pulled down tightly on his head. With one meaty hand he reached up and pushed the ball cap off his brow, revealing nothing; the headlights were too bright for Jason to make out any features of the man's face.

"Looks like you folks done run into a bitta trouble," the man said, and laughed. His voice was deep and his laugh was deeper.

There was something about that laugh that caught Jason's attention. He disregarded it, though. The truck and what it represented—the chance to get the hell out of there—dominated everything else inside his head.

Jason dragged Frank closer to the stranger. Frank was moaning, gurgling, and just barely shuffling his feet. Jason wasn't sure if he was even still conscious.

"Mister, please, we need to get out of here. Now."

Valerie had paused for a moment when the truck pulled up, but now Jason saw that she had helped Lucy from the front seat of the Acura and the two of them were coming over to the truck as well. Lucy seemed to be doing a much better job of supporting herself than Frank was.

"Shoor, shoor, buddy," the stranger said in his deep voice. The sound was like gravel under tires. Perhaps that was only because Jason couldn't stop thinking about tires moving, moving, moving them out of there. "Shoor, I can help with that."

Jason and Frank reached the man. He stood only a foot in front of them, but still Jason didn't stop moving. This stranger didn't know how urgent the situation was, and Jason didn't intend to waste a single second. He pulled Frank toward the open driver's door of the truck.

And then time seemed to slow down as too many things happened at once.

The arm Jason held around Frank's back was wrenched loose. The stranger in the ball cap twisted it up behind Jason's back, almost to the point of breaking. The pain that surged through his upper arm and shoulder was excruciating.

Frank fell to his knees in front of the driver's door, then fell forward and hit his head on the running panel. A loud crack accentuated his fall. He rolled to the side and lay there in the snow, not moving.

Jason heard screaming. At first he thought it was his own screaming, but slowly turned his head and saw that it was Valerie. Lucy, too, from the look of it, but Valerie was the one he could hear. She was not looking at him and Frank; she had turned her back on them and was staring at something near the Acura. Jason couldn't see whatever it was she saw because she and Lucy were in his line of sight. But she was screaming, he knew that.

"What is _that_? What is _that_?" Frantic. Then more screaming, shrill and ear-splitting. "What the fuck is it?"

And then, coming from the other side of the road, Jason saw what he had feared: the bearded man in the parka. Cliff.

It was a strange sensation for Jason, seeing Cliff walking nonchalantly across the road, his hood up, and feeling a surge of fear that had nothing to do with the man currently twisting his arm behind his back enough to make his shoulder sing. All this had happened in the course of only a few seconds and there hadn't been time for the gravity of the situation to really sink in. Jason was held prisoner, Frank was clearly knocked out cold, and Valerie and Lucy were shrieking at some unknown horror that Jason hadn't even seen yet, but the sight of Cliff was what really pumped the fear through Jason's veins.

He wriggled in the grasp of the burly man holding his arm, but he achieved nothing for his efforts but more pain in his shoulder.

And Cliff approached.

Lucy was trying to drag Valerie away; not away from Cliff, but away from whatever it was Jason couldn't see. Valerie's screams had stopped, only to be replaced with a whimpering very similar to Lucy's. And she seemed stuck to the spot. Too shocked to move.

"Run!" Jason yelled at the top of his lungs. "Run!"

But Valerie didn't move.

And Cliff approached.

He moved up until he was about even with the front of the Acura.

"Hey Rodney," he said.

The man holding Jason's arm replied. "Hey Cliff."

And then the terror really sunk in. These men knew each other. Whatever kind of psycho bullshit Cliff was on, he had a partner. Jason could feel the sweat pop out of his pores, all over his body, and instantly freeze. His shoulder was throbbing and his head was pounding. Frank still hadn't moved. Valerie still hadn't moved. Lucy had stopped trying to pull her away.

Valerie didn't seem to even notice Cliff was there. She was still staring towards the Acura. Jason wished she would just turn around and run, get out of there on foot. She could outrun these guys, he was sure of it, but she just stood there making that whimpering sound.

"Didja find 'em all, buddy?" Cliff said.

At first Jason thought Cliff was talking to him. Find all what? Or was he talking to the man holding Jason captive—Rodney? It seemed pretty obvious Rodney had found all of them.

But then he saw movement by the Acura. Something on the other side of Valerie moved towards Cliff, coming into Jason's sightline. His eyes didn't want to see it at first; it was almost camouflaged in the snow. If not for the Acura acting as a backdrop, Jason didn't know if he _would_ have seen it.

The thing moving toward Cliff was about three and a half feet tall. It was a milky white color, blending in almost perfectly with the stark white of the snow, and it had rivulets of darker white throughout that looked like veins. Its lower half was bulbous, like a pot-bellied stove. It was dramatically thinner in the middle, where four strange limbs reached out like the points of the compass. These limbs scraped along the ground as the thing moved. They were knotty and crooked, ending in hand-like appendages that were all claw.

But what was above the thing's arms was what really drew Jason's gaze and elicited the shock and horror that he'd just seen Valerie experience. An involuntary grunt came out of his mouth.

The creature had a stubby neck of sorts, but no real shoulders. A few inches above its freakish arms, it bloated out again into what could only be its head. It was knobby and looked hard, with two deep black orbs, about the size of racquetballs, perched on top. They reflected the headlights from the truck. They were obviously the thing's eyes, and they were fully aware. Jason thought he could see a world of evil and malicious intent in the depths of those dark orbs.

Its eyes were on top of its head, as if it could see in all directions at once, but it clearly had a face. Two small holes adorned one side of its head, and they dripped with a clear viscous goop that ran down either side of the snout jutting out underneath. The snout resembled a pig's nose, slightly wider at the end, but it was no nose. On the flat end of the snout, where a pig would have nostrils, the creature had a circular maw of pointed teeth.

As Jason watched, the teeth began to spin.

A faint whirring noise reached Jason's ears. The teeth became a blur, spinning faster and faster. It was like looking into a circular saw. It defied all logic, but it was _happening_.

The thing moved one of its knotty arms, clenched its claws, and pulled something up out of the snow beside the Acura. With a quickness Jason would not have expected, it drew its arm up, bent at one of the bulging knots that must've been a joint, and pushed whatever it had grabbed into the center of those spinning teeth. The whirring noise intensified for just a second, then died down again as the teeth came to a stop.

Jason shuddered. It was not from the cold.

"Ah, that's a good boy," Cliff said.

And then, to Jason's utter shock, the creature spoke. Its voice was a gurgly, deep sound, almost like a cat's purr.

"Kiff."

"That's right," Cliff said, "and I got some more for ya, too." He tossed something in the air in the direction of the creature.

Again with more speed than seemed possible, the creature swung an arm up and caught what Cliff had thrown. The teeth whirred, the treat was inserted.

"Mmm," the creature purred.

From behind Jason, Rodney said, "Goddammit, Cliff, why you always gotta play these games? Showin' off and shit."

"Just havin' some fun," Cliff replied. Then, to the creature: "We like games, don't we, boy?"

"Kiff," the creature said.

"Fuck yer games," Rodney growled. "Let's just load up these folks before someone else comes along."

Cliff tossed another treat into the air and the creature caught it, shoving it into that churning maw.

Valerie turned and ran. Finally. It had taken her too long to regain her senses, though. Cliff took off after her. He was considerably slower than she was, but after only a few steps he called out a few words Jason couldn't understand. Whatever they were, they were obviously commands. And the creature obeyed.

It was uncannily fast. Jason couldn't even see how it moved. It had no visible feet, just that bulbous lower half that seemed to glide along the top of the snow. But it overtook Cliff in only a second and reached Valerie in just a couple more. It passed her, moved in front of her, and stopped. It mewled, that sound again like a cat's purr, but infinitely more vicious.

Valerie stopped in her tracks, eyes wide.

"Kiff," the creature said.

Cliff sidled up behind her and pulled both wrists behind her back, holding them with one of his large hands. "That's right, sweetie," he said. "Ya don't wanna miss the fun."

He pulled her back to the truck. She didn't resist, just moved with him docilely, eyes fixed on the veiny white thing that followed them.

"Cliff," Rodney said, "the other one's took off now."

Jason turned his head and saw it was true. He'd been too busy watching Valerie, praying she would escape, that he hadn't seen Lucy quietly slip away.

"And ya just fuckin' stood there?" Cliff said. "Ya didn't do nothin'?"

"Yer games, yer responsibility," Rodney replied. "I ain't runnin' through the snow just 'cause you can't act like normal folks. 'Sides," he added, "this is nuff food for a week or so."

Jason recoiled at the word food. He didn't want to think about what that meant.

"Fine," Cliff said, "let her go. She won't last long out hee-ah no ways."

Cliff reached inside the open door of the pickup truck. He was so close Jason could once again smell the stale sweat and tobacco that emanated from him. He pulled some thick nylon cord from the truck and bound Valerie's hands behind her back. Then he turned and did the same to Jason. It was actually a bit of a relief after having his arm twisted like it had been for the last few minutes.

Then Jason was shoved to the ground, face first. He hadn't been expecting it, and there was no way to keep his feet under him. He was able to twist to the side a bit, enough so that his shoulder partially broke his fall, and when he looked up he found himself only a few inches from the demonic creature. Now he was eye level with its bulbous belly. He could see the darker veins under the white skin. They seemed to move, coursing with some kind of evil life essence. It couldn't be blood; no, that would be too human. This thing's heart probably pumped battery acid.

Jason could hear it purring and growling. Every few seconds its teeth would whir, ever so slightly. It leaned over him, those knobby arms just inches from the back of his head.

Jason turned his head to the side, desperately trying to see what the creature was doing. He was terrified. He hardly noticed Cliff tying his ankles together, then tying them to his wrists. All his attention was focused on the _thing_. It hadn't touched him yet, but he could feel those claws moving around just below the base of his skull. He shuddered involuntarily.

He felt something wet spatter his right ear. It ran down the back of his neck before freezing there.

"I think Colonel Cuddles likes ya," Cliff said. He guffawed at that, loud and boisterous, as if he was having the time of his life.

"Hurry the fuck up," Rodney said, not amused. "And don't call him Colonel Cuddles. What are you, retarded?"

"He likes it," Cliff said. "Don't ya, boy?"

The creature snorted and looked up at Cliff. "Cuddas," it said.

"Good boy." Cliff reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out another one of the treats. This time, with his face in the snow, looking up at Cliff from the corner of his eye, Jason was able to see what the treats really were. He thought he would be sick again, right there, but he held it in.

What Cliff was holding was a finger. And Jason knew exactly whose finger it was.

Cliff threw it to the beast, who again caught it in one of its clawed hands and popped it immediately into its snout, its teeth churning and spinning. As Jason tried to hold back his revulsion he was able to wonder at how it was even possible for those teeth to spin like that. It seemed like the whole snout should just twist off like the cap on a bottle of beer.

Cliff bent down and grabbed Jason under both arms, hauling him up in the air. With his ankles tied to his wrists, Jason couldn't stand on his own. The tailgate of the pickup was down, and Cliff heaved Jason into the bed of the truck. A few seconds later he shoved Valerie in, too. She was tied up in the same way. And then Frank, also tied but still unconscious, was shoved in with them.

"All right folks!" Cliff said. "We're off to more hospitable parts than these." He moved to the passenger door and swung it open. He whistled sharply, once, and the little white beast glided up next to him and struggled its way up onto the running board and then into the cab. Jason didn't have a good view of it from his position in the truck bed, but he could see it wasn't easy for the creature to climb. He filed this away in his mind for future use, if there was ever a chance to use it. At least he knew if he climbed a tree he'd probably be safe from the thing.

Valerie was shivering beside him. He was shivering himself once he thought about it. With the way she was tied up it looked like Valerie might be having a seizure.

"It's gonna be okay," Jason said, even though he knew he was lying. "We're gonna get out of this."

Valerie didn't respond. Her eyes didn't even focus on him. She stared blankly at the back window of the truck cab as her whole body shook with the cold.

"C'mon, baby, say something. Help me out here."

She was silent, staring.

The truck engine fired to life and they were suddenly moving.

Lying in the bed of the truck blocked most of the wind, but the temperature was still well below freezing and the three of them were jostled around as the truck made its way through the snow-covered roads. Hog-tied as they were, there was no way to stop themselves from hitting their heads against the bed walls and wheel wells. After only a few minutes, Frank started to come to, moaning painfully. Valerie remained completely silent, even when her head hit the side of the truck bed hard enough for Jason to hear the crack.

Jason tried to count the number of turns the truck made, just in case they had the opportunity to run. There weren't many. After two rights and a left, they rumbled to a stop. Jason's view was still the same: trees covered with snow and darkness beyond. Although the fear and the adrenaline coursing through Jason's body, mixed with the bitter cold, had made time slow down, the whole trip had only taken maybe ten minutes. Probably more like five.

Jason's entire body was numb. He assumed if he lived through the night he would at least lose a few fingers to frostbite. Frank, of course, had already lost a few fingers to a different kind of bite. He was moaning louder now, but Jason couldn't tell if he was actually lucid or not.

The passenger door of the truck opened with a creak and then Jason heard Cliff saying, "C'mon Colonel, let's go." The man treated the monster like it was a dog.

A few seconds later and Cliff was grinning at them over the tailgate. "We're heee-aaahh," he said in a sing-song voice. "Didja enjoy the ride?" He laughed heartily.

"Goddammit Cliff," Rodney said, sidling along the driver's side of the truck, "do you ever stop? Oughta tell Mama and have her slap ya upside yer fool head."

"Only cuz yer 'fraid to slap me yerself."

Rodney didn't reply.

Jason couldn't see the bulbous creature, but he knew it was there, somewhere. Probably right beside Cliff's leg. He had a moment to think about the fact that sustained fear could make a person as numb as the cold. With both of them combined, Jason couldn't feel any part of his body.

Cliff opened the tailgate and grabbed the cord tying Frank's hands to his ankles. He pulled Frank along the bed of the truck. Frank grunted and made some semblance of a scream, but it still sounded like gurgling. When Frank had been pulled clear of the tailgate, Rodney moved in and did the same to Valerie. She didn't make a sound. It seemed impossible that these men—brothers, apparently—could lift Frank and Valerie with such ease. Well, Valerie, okay. But Frank had to weigh at least 200 pounds and probably a bit more. Cliff didn't even struggle. He acted like Frank weighed no more than a sack of sugar. Jason thought about what he'd seen in the woods earlier; Frank shoving Cliff to the ground, then beating on him. But from the look of things, Cliff had been acting. If he was strong enough to carry Frank like that, he also could've resisted the attack. Rodney was right; he really was just playing games.

"Let's get this over with," Rodney said. He carried Valerie toward the front of the truck, out of Jason's line of sight.

Before Cliff followed, he leaned over the side of the bed. "Don't go runnin' away on us now," he said. His laughter trailed off as he moved away.

Jason sat motionless for a few seconds, pondering the complete lack of feeling in all his extremities. Then he began struggling with his bonds. If he was too numb to feel anything then he shouldn't be able to feel the cord cutting into his wrists as he squirmed, but he still could. There was no slack in the knots. It only took a moment for Jason to realize there was no way he was going to get himself free of the cord. Instead, he began trying to inch his way along the truck bed to the tailgate, laying on his side, pushing with his toes, his only leverage in his ankles. He had no idea how long it would be before Cliff and Rodney came back, but if he could somehow get himself out of the truck and hidden, he would have more time to work on the knots. It was a weak option, probably futile, but he had to try something.

He could only imagine what they were doing to Valerie and Frank. After what they'd _already_ done, and after what he'd seen, the things Jason conjured in his head were too grotesque and dismal for him to allow them to fully form in his mind. He just kept pushing with his feet, bending at the ankles, scrabbling his way to the tailgate a few centimeters at a time. It was a goal, at least, something to keep his brain occupied for the time being. If he stopped he would see horrible things; he would panic, scream, cry, and that would be the end.

He would save his little brother. He would save his girlfriend. He had to.

With each passing second, Jason expected to hear Cliff's guttural laugh or to see Rodney's bulk emerge from around the front of the truck. With each second those things didn't happen, Jason silently thanked a god he hadn't spoken to in years.

And then he was there. At the tailgate. Right there. He just had to push himself out far enough to fall to the ground. He might hurt himself; he might crack his head wide open. But that was a risk he would have to take. Besides, he thought the snow would cushion his fall.

He continued pushing with his toes. His head was over the edge. Now his shoulders. If he could just leverage himself correctly he would topple.

And then he saw the creature.

It was off to his right, not more than ten feet away, and it was watching him. At least, he thought it was watching him. With the way those black eyes bulged out it wasn't really possible to tell what the thing was looking at.

Jason stopped moving, the top half of his body protruding over the edge of the tailgate. If he fell to the ground now, that creature would be on him in a second. Cliff had called it Colonel Cuddles, but Jason couldn't see a single thing about it that qualified as cuddly.

Jason's suspicions were affirmed when the creature began moving toward him. It glided up to the rear of the truck and stopped directly under him. He saw the veins lightly pulsing underneath its white skin. It cocked its head to the side, staring at him, like a dog might do. A quizzical expression. As if Jason was the one that looked strange. It raised one of those bony white arms and extended it, the razor sharp claw coming dangerously close to Jason's face. He held his breath.

"Food?" it said.

Jason didn't know if it was asking him to give it food, or if it was asking if he _was_ food. Both, probably.

How smart was this thing?

"I don't have—" Jason started, but stopped himself. He started again. "I can't reach the food right now," he said. "I'm all tied up." He waited.

The thing just kept looking at him, head cocked, one claw pointing at him. He could hear that weird purring noise again. After a few more seconds it lowered its arm. "Food?" it said again.

"Can't you see I'm tied up?" Jason hissed at it. He reflected for a moment on the complete insanity of the situation. He was trying to have a conversation with a monster that clearly ate human fingers like Milk Bones, and probably a lot more than just fingers. "If you can untie me, I can give you some food," he said. "Can you understand me?"

Silence. Head cocked a little further.

"Colonel Cuddles?" Jason said tentatively.

"Cuddas," the creature said. Then, "Kiff." It righted its head and moved a few steps away.

"Makin' friends, are we?" Cliff bellowed, coming around from the front of the truck, laughing. "Well, that's just darling. Hate to break up the party but it's time to warm up dinner." He reached over and grabbed the cord tying Jason's arms and legs together and lifted.

The pain in his wrists and ankles was excruciating despite the numbness. The way Cliff had lifted him, he was dangling face down, held by nothing _but_ the cords cutting into his flesh.

"You wasn't trying to run away now, was ya?" Cliff asked with a grin. "I mean, I don't remember leaving ya that close to the gate. Thought ya might just slither away like a snake, didja?" He laughed. "Well, I'm sure the Colonel hee-ah wouldn't like that very much, would ya?"

"Cuddas," the creature purred.

Jason clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry out. It felt like his hands were being severed off. When it dawned on him that the possibility of his hands literally being severed off was rather high, he regretted the comparison. Still, he couldn't bear it much longer.

With his eyes shut tight he couldn't see where they were going. He could only feel the cords dig in a little deeper with each step Cliff took, as he was roughly bounced along. When he felt he couldn't stand it a second longer, that he would either pass out or completely lose his mind, he felt a sudden change in temperature. It was _warm_. Hot, even. He opened his eyes. At the same time he was tossed, as if he weighed no more than a feather, onto the semi-soft ground.

It took him a moment to get his bearings.

He was lying on the ground, still hog-tied, but there was a thin layer of straw or hay underneath him. He was in a large building with concrete walls. To his left was a row of stalls that looked like horse stables. He could smell the distinct odor of animals, but he wasn't sure it was horse. More straw overflowed through the few inches beneath the doors of the stalls. To his right, along the far wall of the building, was a line of concrete stumps—pedestals, almost—that were about two feet high. He quickly counted ten of them, all in a row. On the two nearest him, Valerie and Frank stood. Their arms were at their sides, roped to the wall in some way so that they couldn't move more than a few inches. Suspended from the ceiling above each of them, a large metal yoke was attached under their armpits and around their necks. Frank was wide-eyed, glancing around furtively, his face smeared with blood, but Valerie still stared straight ahead as if she saw nothing at all.

And of course, the heat.

It was wonderfully warm after the prolonged cold of the back of the truck. Jason could feel the blood begin to tingle in the ends of his fingers and his face felt flushed. He didn't think it was really cold enough out there for frostbite to be a valid concern, but the thought still crossed his mind. He supposed if he did have frostbite, then maybe these freaks and their monster would be doing him a favor when they started chopping off his fingers.

But that was the kind of thinking that would get him killed. If he already saw himself defeated, he would be defeated. No matter how horrible the situation became, he had to continue to believe there was hope. That would keep him alert to any possible advantage he might be able to exploit. And it would keep him from simply breaking down and crying.

Cliff was at the concrete pedestal next to Valerie. He was preparing another yoke. Rodney was nowhere to be seen.

When he had secured the yoke to the ceiling, Cliff stepped over to where Jason lay on the ground. He pulled a large, serrated knife from a sheath on his belt, bent over, and cut the cord tying Jason's ankles and wrists together.

"There ya go," he said, "stretch 'em out."

At first Jason couldn't even move his legs. They had been bent behind him for too long and the blood wasn't flowing properly. Slowly, though, they regained their feeling and he was able to stretch them out straight in front of him. The stinging, tingling sensation was almost unbearable, but subsided into a dull ache after a few moments. Cliff stood over him the whole time, watching.

"That should do it," he finally said. He bent over and grabbed Jason under the armpits, dragging him to his feet. Although his ankles weren't tied to his wrists anymore, they were still tied to each other, so he was unable to walk. Cliff dragged him across the ground, leaving a trail through the scattered straw, and lifted him onto the pedestal with the empty yoke.

Jason wanted to resist as his head was guided through the opening in the center of the yoke, but there was nothing he could do. The heavy metal buckles came together under his arms and locked into place with an ominous click.

"What are you gonna do?" he asked. He thought he already knew, but any information he might be able to get from Cliff could potentially help them. "What are you doing with us?"

"Let's just say yer buddy down there is lunch," Cliff said with a smile, "and you're dinner." He paused. "And that pretty little thing," he said, pointing at Valerie, "we'll just call her dessert. Mmm mm."

"Why?" Jason said. "Why are you doing this?"

Cliff just looked at him for a few seconds.

"The Colonel's gotta eat," he said.

"But why us?" Jason asked. "What did we do?" He realized he was whining. It was pathetic, but he couldn't help it. With each move Cliff made, Jason felt more and more helpless. "Why us?"

"You were there," Cliff said. "Izzer any better reason?"

He moved behind Jason and deftly cut the cord tying his wrists together. He immediately looped new cords around each wrist and tied them off to a couple of iron rings set into the wall behind him. Jason was still immobile, but at least his arms were now hanging at his sides rather than pulled behind his back. It was slightly more comfortable that way.

"But don't feel special," Cliff said. "Ya ain't the first and ya ain't gonna be the last."

He cut the cords binding Jason's ankles, then quickly stepped back a few feet as if he thought Jason might kick him. And Jason might've, if he'd thought of it quickly enough. He knew it wouldn't have done any good, but a solid kick to Cliff's face would at least make him feel a tiny bit better.

"Fuck you!" Frank shouted from his pedestal on the other side of Valerie. His speech was slightly slurred. Probably a lingering effect of hitting his head on the truck's running board. Jason turned his head—he found he was actually able to look around without any difficulty, despite the yoke—and saw his brother's fingers had begun to bleed steadily again.

Apparently Cliff saw that too. "Keep talkin' tough, big guy," he said. "But we'll see how tough y'are. We don't want ya to bleed out. The Colonel likes his food fresh."

As if it had heard its name, the creature moved slowly into the barn from outside. It stopped in front of the three prisoners, only a few yards away. It was still impossible to really tell what it was looking at—those eyes might've been staring in the opposite direction—but Jason was pretty sure it was watching them.

"I'll be right back to take care of that," Cliff said. "Don't go nowhere." It was the second time Cliff had used that line, but he still laughed as if he'd just thought it up.

Jason paid no attention. He stared at the white monster. Inside this barn, out from the camouflage of the snow, it didn't seem as frightening. It was still hideous, still all bony joints and milky white veins, still that spinning maw of razor sharp teeth, but in here it looked weak. Almost pitiable. It was the same way Jason felt when he found a large spider in the bathroom sink. Sure, it was ugly. It didn't belong there. He always had an urge to squash it. But it was also helpless. It stood no chance against the destructive squashing power of the tissue in his hand or the flood of water from the faucet. And now, staring at this creature that was staring at him, Jason suddenly felt that if he wasn't restrained he would have no difficulty squashing it. It had no power. Jason could bash its head in with one well placed boot.

Cliff was the real threat.

Cliff and Rodney.

"Jason!" Frank whispered. "Jason! What are we gonna do, man?"

Jason didn't respond. He was looking at Valerie. She still hadn't made a sound since first being abducted. He didn't know what was wrong with her. Catatonia? Was that possible?

"Jason!" Frank hissed again.

But before Jason could say anything, Cliff reappeared through the doorway of the barn. He was carrying a portable blowtorch. "Don't ya worry, tough guy," he said, "I'm 'bout to fix ya up good as new." He paused, grinning. "Well, maybe not _exactly_ good as new, but ya get my drift."

He approached Frank, pulling a wooden box of matches from the front pocket of his pants. Jason could hear the faint hiss as Cliff turned the knob on the side of the blowtorch, releasing propane. Cliff struck a match under his thumbnail and held it in front of the torch. Immediately, a blue flame licked from its nozzle.

"No no no," Frank was repeating, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't move his hands away as Cliff brought the blowtorch closer. His face had gone a sickly pale, as if all his blood had been drained.

"This won't hurt a bit!" Cliff shouted over the sound of Frank's repeated denials.

When the flame actually touched his hands, Frank's scream was so ghastly that Jason thought his eardrums might burst. He had never heard his brother scream like that. It pierced into his brain, gouging at the soft core of resolve that still remained. Jason felt tears sliding down his face even though he hadn't realized he was crying.

After a few seconds, he smelled burning flesh. He wanted to gag, to be sick, but he wasn't. He didn't have the energy.

Cliff held the flame of the blowtorch on Frank's hands, not really concerned with the cauterization of the severed fingers. He was just reveling in the thrill of the pain he was causing. He made no attempt to keep the flame away from the rest of Frank's hands, and Jason could see the blackened flesh creeping up all the way to the wrist. Frank screamed and screamed. Somewhere behind that screaming, Jason could hear Cliff laughing.

All of Jason's hope had left him. What was he supposed to do? What options did he really have? His brother was being burned alive. His girlfriend was still speechless beside him. And Lucy was out there somewhere, probably frozen to death by now.

Cliff had moved over to Frank's left hand, but Jason looked away. He was powerless to stop what was happening and he didn't want to watch it anymore. As his view shifted, he saw the creature had backed away from the pedestals. It had two of its knotty arms raised above its head and folded across each other. It looked as if it was trying to cover its eyes. Or maybe it was trying to block out the sound of Frank's screams. Jason didn't know, but for the second time since it had entered the barn, he saw it as weak. Cliff was the one with the power. Cliff was the monster.

Frank's screams ended suddenly, and a few seconds later Cliff turned off the blowtorch. Jason looked back to see that Frank had passed out again. His body hung limply in the yoke, his head resting against the left side of the neck restraint, the metal buckles under his arms digging deeply into his armpits. Both of his hands were charred stumps, barely resembling hands at all. Jason thought he could see little wisps of smoke rising from them, but that might have been his mind playing tricks.

Cliff was still grinning as he headed back across the barn in front of Jason.

"You bastard," Jason croaked. He didn't have the energy to yell. "You fucking bastard, that's my brother."

"Izzy?" Cliff asked as he stepped past. "Interesting." He looked like he might say more, then changed his mind and left the barn.

"Kiff?" The mewling was quiet, questioning. Fearful? Yes, Jason thought so.

Slowly, Colonel Cuddles followed Cliff out of the barn.

Jason looked at Valerie. "Val?" he whispered. "Baby, can you hear me?"

Valerie stared straight ahead, her eyes glazed over, acknowledging nothing.

"Please, Val. Please? Say something."

Nothing. Not so much as a twitch.

"Oh God. Val? Val!" Jason was fully bawling now. Tears ran down his cheeks in streams and mucous hung from his nostrils in long runners. He had no way to wipe it away. "Frank!" he shouted. "Can you hear me?"

Nothing from Frank either.

"Oh God, Val, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry I brought us here. I didn't know. I didn't. Valerie? Talk to me!" Jason had slumped against the buckles under his arms. His feet held none of his weight. He looked very much like Frank did. "I'm sorry," he sniffled. "I'm sorry."

Valerie was the only one of them that still stood upright on her own feet. She stared straight ahead, at nothing at all, a vapid husk, but somehow she still supported her own weight.

"Val? Baby?" Jason had resorted to sniffling and whimpering. The words coming from his mouth were barely decipherable. "Frank? Anybody?"

The tears in his eyes made prisms of everything, but he thought he saw movement to his left. He swiveled his head around, expecting to see Cliff again, but it wasn't Cliff.

It was Lucy.

Jason tried to shake the tears from his eyes to get a better look at her. Her skin was very white with a bluish tint. She only had one shoe on. On the other foot was a soaking wet sock. Her hair hung in damp clumps across her face and Jason could see ice crystals glistening in it. They melted as he watched.

She stepped towards him cautiously. Her eyes darted around her in all directions.

"Code," she said. "O code."

Jason understood. She was cold. No shit. But here was his chance. Possibly his only chance.

He spoke quietly. His tears had stopped as adrenaline once again surged through his body. "Lucy. Untie me. Get me out of this thing."

Lucy came nearer and he could see she was shivering, even in the heat of the barn. It would take her some time to warm up. It was a wonder she was here at all.

"My hands are tied, Lucy. Untie me."

She moved around behind him and he could feel her pulling on the cords that bound him. After a few attempts she stopped trying.

"Kat," she said. "Oo code."

"See if there's anything sharp around here that you can cut it with," he whispered. "Look in those stalls. Hurry. There has to be something."

The look on her face said it was a useless endeavor, but she obediently shuffled off towards the nearest stall. She swung the door open on hinges that were surprisingly quiet, and disappeared inside. She emerged just a few seconds later and shrugged her shoulders in Jason's direction. Nothing there, the gesture said.

"Keep looking," Jason hissed. "Hurry."

She moved to the next stall.

She had just stepped inside when Jason saw white from the corner of his eye. Colonel Cuddles had returned. Jason looked at it. He knew it had seen Lucy. It must have. Without another thought, Jason began screaming at it, trying to distract it.

"Get outta here you fucking freak! Goddamn abomination! Leave us the fuck alone!"

Cliff entered the barn only a few seconds later. He grinned wider than ever when he heard Jason shouting.

"Well, that ain't very nice, now is it?" he said. "And hee-ah I thought you and the Colonel was gonna be good friends."

The creature was almost bouncing. Jason could see stubby little legs underneath its bulbous body. All four of its arms flailed. "Kiff! Kiff! Kiff!" it said.

Cliff paid no attention to it. He just kept looking at Jason. "I've a mind to make ya 'pologize," he said. "But I'll let it slide this time."

"Fuck you!" Jason shouted. "Stay away from me!" He hoped Lucy could hear him and was smart enough to stay where she was inside the stall.

"I said I'd let it slide," Cliff sneered, "but I'm gonna have to ask ya to shut yer trap now. Can't ya see you're upsettin' the Colonel?" He motioned to the creature with one hand. It was still bouncing up and down, waving its arms in the direction of the stall Lucy had disappeared into. "All he wants is his dinner now and you're holding up the gravy train."

"Don't come near me!" Jason shouted. "You fucking psycho! Get away!"

The grin on Cliff's face slowly turned into a frown. "Shut up!" he shouted suddenly. "You too," he said to the creature, who immediately stopped gesticulating and looked almost sullen, if that was even possible. "I gave ya a chance," he said to Jason, "but ya just wanted to keep on yelling 'bout psycho this and freak that. Well." He paused. "I guess I'm gonna have to give ya yer medicine after all."

He stepped up to Jason and slapped him across the face hard enough to make his head rock back. Jason didn't even see it coming. The guy was quick. Jason tried to kick out with his right leg, but he'd missed his chance; Cliff had already stepped back.

"If ya think that's all, you're sorely mistaken," Cliff said. The grin had returned to his face. He looked at Valerie. She was still motionless. "This is yer woman, ain't she?"

Jason didn't reply. He could feel a trickle of blood running down his chin from the left side of his mouth.

"Yes sir," Cliff continued, "I do believe she is. She's mighty fine, though, ain't she? Yes indeed. I might like a little taste of that before the Colonel gets his share."

Cliff was still wearing his parka, although he had pulled the hood down, and now he unzipped it halfway and reached inside. He pulled out the serrated knife, the one he'd used earlier to cut Jason's bonds, and stepped up to Valerie. He stood directly in front of her, but she seemed to look right through him.

Slowly, he touched the point of the knife into the hollow of her neck. He didn't apply enough pressure to break the skin, but Jason winced all the same.

"Stop," Jason said. "Don't. This isn't her fault."

"This ain't nobody's fault," Cliff said, "it's just the natural order of things. Me and Rodney, see, we're the lions. We're at the top of the food chain. You and yer little missus, ya'll are the gazelles. You run and run, but eventually the lions getcha. It's just nature, that's all." He paused long enough to take a good look at Valerie. "One fine gazelle, though, yes sir."

Cliff took the knife from Valerie's throat and Jason let out a hesitant breath. He sucked it back in immediately as Cliff grabbed the lapels of Valerie's jacket and yanked, tearing open the snaps. Underneath, she wore a thin red sweater, open at the neck. Again Cliff placed the point of the knife at her throat, but instead of stabbing her with it, he sliced down. The knife cut through the fabric of the sweater as if it were made of nothing more than the soft insides of an avocado. Jason was sure he would see the blood begin to pour, sure that Cliff had just opened Valerie from chin to groin as if he were about to perform surgery.

But there was no blood. Cliff had only cut the sweater, which hung loosely to either side. Jason could see the pink of the bra underneath, and the soft swell of Valerie's breasts.

"Now I know it ain't common for a lion to do nothin' but kill a gazelle," Cliff said, "but I'm sure ya understand that's just a...what do ya call it...analogy. See, me, I'm actually a man. Ya might not've known that, but I am." He turned to Jason and grinned that hideous grin. "And sometimes a man's just gotta fuck."

He slid the point of the knife between Valerie's breasts, underneath the clasp of her bra. He turned it carefully so the blade faced out. With what seemed like very little effort, he pulled the knife toward him, slicing the bra open. It was clear to Jason that he had expected this to expose Valerie immediately; he had wanted it to be the exclamation point on his little speech, but the cups of the bra still covered her breasts and Cliff's grin lost its luster for a second. Then he reached up and roughly pushed the bra and sweater away, to either side, and Valerie's breasts were on full display.

"That's more like it," Cliff said.

"Please don't," Jason said. He knew rape was the order of the hour, and even though he was already positive his pleas would not be heeded, he had to try. "Please stop. It's me you want to punish, not her. Please."

"Oh but I _am_ punishing you," Cliff said. "Now watch closely please."

He took Valerie's left breast roughly in his right hand and squeezed. He bent down slightly and put his lips to her nipple, suckling it as if he were a newborn baby. Jason watched as he ran his tongue in a large circle around her areola. He seemed to be enjoying himself, but his eyes were on Jason the entire time. And then Jason thought he heard something. Was it really—? Yes, it was.

Valerie was humming. She still stared off into the distance, not seeing anything at all, but she was humming. It was _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star._

Cliff didn't seem to notice. He continued to make large, sloppy circles with his tongue.

Jason could see Cliff's saliva on Valerie's breast, moist and glistening, and he tried his best to look disgusted—he _was_ disgusted—in the hopes that if Cliff thought this was punishment enough he wouldn't take it any further.

Then, from a few yards behind Cliff, that throaty, purring mewl. "Kiff." It wasn't a question this time. It sounded almost like a reprimand.

Cliff removed his mouth from Valerie's breast. "Shut up Cuddles," he said, "I don't need yer high and mighty shit right now."

For the second time that night, Jason wondered just how smart the little beast was.

Cliff turned back to Valerie, that lascivious smile on his face again, and took her breast back into his mouth. He made a deliberate slurping sound. He bit down, still watching Jason from the corner of his eye. Jason could see blood begin to trickle down the underside of Valerie's breast.

"No!" Jason gasped. That was all he could manage.

Valerie continued to hum.

Cliff bent down farther, almost kneeling, tracing his tongue, now bright red with blood, across Valerie's belly. He stopped when he reached the button of her jeans. "Now hee-ah's the real treat," he said.

At some point he had put his knife away without Jason noticing. He used his meaty fingers to undo the button of Valerie's jeans and then slid the zipper down. He was still staring at Jason, grinning. He slid his hands around the waistband of her jeans. She simply stood there, breasts exposed, fly undone, still humming _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star._

"Stop it," Jason said. "That's enough. That's enough."

"Is it really ever en—"

"Goddammit Cliff!" Rodney burst into the barn, interrupting Cliff's lechery. "Always with the fucking games, you Goddamn retard!"

Cliff jumped up and backed away from Valerie.

"Kiff," the creature mewled. Jason thought it would've said, "I told you so," if it had been able.

"I ask ya to do one Goddamn thing," Rodney roared. "One Goddamn thing and instead you're out here fuckin' around."

Jason couldn't help but see the woodman's axe Rodney carried effortlessly in his right hand.

"I was just—" Cliff began.

"I see what you were just," Rodney shouted. "I see it all over yer face. Mama was right about you. Ain't nothin' but a retard."

"Rodney, it ain't like—"

"Get the hell outta here 'fore I put this in yer fuckin' skull!" Rodney raised the axe.

Cliff backed away slowly, then turned and darted out of the barn.

The creature stood stoically for a few seconds. Maybe it was watching Rodney, maybe it was eyeing the blood still dripping from Valerie's nipple, then it turned and followed Cliff out of the barn.

"Goddamn pinhead," Rodney muttered to himself. "Can't do nothin' worth a damn." He moved closer to Frank, who was still slumped unconscious in his yoke. "Fix the boys their dinner, that's all I asked," he continued. "Can't do it though, can he? I gotta do every fuckin' thing myself." He raised the axe.

It was all happening so fast. Jason strained against the cords around his wrists. "Stop!" he shouted. But before he'd even finished the word, Rodney was bringing the axe down in a powerful arc.

The blade struck Frank squarely in the chest. Frank's eyes popped open. Jason could tell they saw nothing. It was worse than Valerie's blank stare. Though he'd never seen it before, Jason knew what they were: dead eyes. Then the lids drooped slowly down.

Rodney jerked the axe free of Frank's chest and immediately hit him with a second blow. This one struck the crook of his left shoulder, nearly severing his head. Blood was everywhere. Frank looked as if he'd been dipped in a giant can of red paint. Rodney was completely spattered with it as well, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

Frank's head lolled to the right as Rodney pulled the axe out of his flesh with a grunt. It made a meaty, wet, squelching sound. Frank's right ear touched his right shoulder. The exposed gash sprayed blood for a few seconds, reaching the foot of the pedestal Valerie stood on, then slowed to a weak dribble as Frank's heart stopped beating.

Jason turned his face away from the sight. He was sobbing uncontrollably. "Frank!" he blubbered. "That's my brother! My brother!"

Rodney paid no attention. Jason wasn't watching, but he heard the smack of the axe as it struck Frank a third time, then a soft thump as something fell to the floor.

"Dinnertime, boys!" Rodney called. "Come and get it!"

Another smack, another thump.

Through the tears in his eyes and the raucous pounding in his head, Jason was utterly stunned to see the little, white, beastly creature emerge from a stall at the far end of the barn and make its way toward them on its stumpy legs, knotty arms swinging, teeth already spinning as if anticipating the manflesh it was about to feast upon. He was stunned because he had seen it follow Cliff out of the barn. Was there another entrance on the other side? Jason didn't think so. And even with all he'd seen that night, he wasn't ready to believe the thing could teleport. Which only left one explanation: there was more than one of them. And why not? For all Jason knew there were fifty of the things back there. It was presumptuous of him to have assumed there was only one.

He was still sobbing, still saying, "My brother," over and over again through the hitches and gasps, but it was almost an unconscious reaction. Overpowering it in his mind was this creature that was approaching. He watched it slowly make its way down the row of stalls, then turn and head toward Rodney. He watched Rodney throw a bloody, severed arm— _Frank's_ bloody arm—to the ground in front of the monster. He noticed the charred end of it where Frank's hand used to be and wondered if the beast would eat that too, or if it didn't like burnt meat.

All the while, Valerie continued to hum.

As the creature began to stuff the arm into its churning maw, Rodney stepped into Jason's line of sight, blocking his view.

"Sorry 'bout yer brother," Rodney said. It was the last thing Jason had expected. "I mean, the fingers and the burnin' and shit. It ain't necessary."

"You killed him," Jason mumbled.

"Had to," Rodney said.

"You killed him and fed him to that...that thing!"

"Had to," Rodney repeated. "Can't afford to _buy_ no meat."

"He's my brother," Jason sniffled.

"He _was_ yer brother," Rodney said. "But don't worry 'bout it. You ain't gonna have too much time to mourn."

"Why?" Jason asked. He had asked Cliff the same thing a little earlier, but Rodney seemed to be more open with information, even if he was still heartless. "Why are you doing this to us?"

Rodney stepped directly in front of Jason. "It's just the food chain," he replied. "We gotta feed our boys and we can't buy no meat."

"But we're...we're people!" Jason spluttered. Again he knew he was being pathetic but he didn't seem to have any control over it. "You can't just use people for food!"

That was when Jason saw movement behind Rodney. At first he thought it was another one of the creatures, come to snack on the remains of his brother, but a second glance proved otherwise. It was Lucy. She held a garden shovel in her hands, cocked like a baseball bat.

Jason forced himself not to look at her. He forced himself to stare at Rodney, to pay attention to what he was saying. If Rodney saw his eyes looking elsewhere, he might turn around.

"People is easy to manipulate," he was saying, "easy to get here. Ya know how hard it is to steal a cow and get it out here? Damn near impossible. But people, they's easy. And lightweight."

From the corner of his eye, Jason could see Lucy had removed her one remaining shoe. She now crept forward in only her socks. Her footsteps couldn't be heard over the sounds of the creature munching on Frank's arm.

"But how can you? Don't you have any compassion?" Jason wondered if maybe there was some hope in pleading with Rodney. He wondered if maybe Lucy was about to ruin any chance they had. "How can you just kill people without remorse?"  
"Does a lion feel guilty when it kills a gazelle?" Rodney asked. It was the same analogy Cliff had used. "It's survival. We're just survivin' and we're helpin' our—"

His voice was cut short by the garden shovel slamming into the side of his head. Lucy had swung it with surprising force, considering she had been injured and had spent too long wandering in the snow. The blow to the head sent Rodney staggering sideways, but he didn't fall to the ground. He turned as he stumbled, seeing Lucy for the first time. He still gripped the axe in one thick hand. Lucy didn't hesitate in swinging the shovel again. The back of it hit Rodney in the face.

Blood exploded from his nose and mouth. He dropped the axe.

The creature had devoured about half of one of Frank's arms, but when it saw Rodney getting attacked it turned and slowly backed away from the scene, back toward the opposite end of the barn.

Lucy hit him again. This third blow finally knocked him down. His knees buckled and he tumbled backwards, landing on his back with both legs bent up under him.

Lucy dropped the shovel and picked up the axe.

She began howling. She swung the axe as if she'd been splitting wood her whole life. It embedded itself in Rodney's belly. She immediately wrenched it free and swung again. And again. And again.

Jason could only watch helplessly as Lucy screamed and swung the axe repeatedly, chopping Rodney to pieces. He was long dead, and still she didn't stop. Her screams were inarticulate, but full of rage. The carnage was overwhelming; blood seemed to cover everything. And there was more than just blood; sticky, runny, gooey bits and pieces scattered the floor and clung to the axe blade. Something viscous and not-quite-brown was smeared down Lucy's cheek. It hung down a little below her chin and jiggled with each move she made, but it held on. In the short pauses between Lucy's screams, Jason could still hear Valerie humming. She was still exposed to the world and she still stared blankly ahead.

Jason began to quietly say Lucy's name. He needed her to stop hitting Rodney with the axe. Not because he thought Rodney deserved any mercy—the man was already dead, after all—but because he needed Lucy to cut him loose. Cliff was still out there, and Jason intended to be free before he came back. Jason was surprised he hadn't come running at the first sound of Lucy's screams, but apparently he was far enough away that he couldn't hear them. Or he was biding his time, waiting for Lucy to set down the axe.

"Lucy. Lucy. It's okay. Lucy, he's gone. Lucy."

Slowly but surely, his voice got through to her. With one final grunt, Lucy swung the axe over her shoulder, but instead of bringing it down in its deadly arc she simply let it go. It fell to the floor behind her with a heavy thud. She turned to Jason. Her face was a grisly mask. The blood that had poured from her own mouth earlier was dried on her mouth and chin, and now Rodney's blood streaked her hair and forehead. That smear of not-quite-brown was still on her cheek. Blood had soaked her sweater. It covered almost every inch of her lower body.

"Lucy," Jason began, but he stopped there. Lucy had turned away from him. She moved past Valerie and stopped in front of the pedestal where Frank now hung by what remained of his neck. His shoulders were pulpy stumps. With his arms gone, the yoke around his neck was the only thing keeping his body from tumbling to the floor. His body canted to the right, only still connected to his head by one side of his neck. The other side, where his shoulder parted from his neck, looked like a gaping mouth.

Lucy stood in front of Frank for a few seconds, then threw her arms around his limp body. She seemed not to notice the open wounds at his shoulders and neck. Or she just didn't care.

"Lucy," Jason said again. "Lucy we have to get out of here."

She paid no attention.

"Lucy, please. Cut these cords and get me out of this thing." He rattled his neck around inside the yoke. "Please!"

Finally, after another agonizing few seconds, Lucy turned and looked at him again.

"Fahnk," she said. Jason didn't know if she was saying his brother's name or cursing. But did it matter? The sentiment was the same, either way.

"I know," Jason said. A sob hitched in his throat and a short, low sound crossed his lips before he cut it off. "I know," he repeated, "I know. He's my brother."

"Fahnk," Lucy said again, but she released her grip on Frank's lifeless body. Slowly she moved away from him.

Jason felt like he was in a dream. Lucy's movement was _so_ slow, he was sure Cliff would come waltzing back into the barn long before she could reach him and untie his binds. He watched as she moved toward him through a mass of invisible molasses, each second an eon, each step an eternity. If only it _was_ a dream. If he woke up, safe in his bed at home, then Frank would still be alive. Maybe he was asleep in his airplane seat; maybe they hadn't yet landed at Dulles and he was having fever dreams because of the stress of travel. Yes, yes, that had to be it. That's why Valerie just kept humming _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_ ; she was sitting next to him on the airplane, fearful of the weather but without any worry of psychotic killers and other-worldly monsters with teeth that spun like rotary blades and she was just trying to keep herself calm while she ate peanuts and read _Vanity Fair_ and she definitely wasn't tied up and yoked in some crazy monster barn, catatonic and waiting to be turned into dessert, and Frank wasn't dead, he _wasn't dead,_ and he still had both arms and all his fingers and he was waiting to pick them up at the airport and he would have a fridge waiting for them at his house, fully stocked with beer, and he would grin when he saw them, and they would all hug each other, and...

And Lucy stood in front of him.

Her head was cocked to the side, as if she'd asked him a question. If she had, he hadn't heard her. That dangling piece of something still hung from her cheek. She seemed unaware of it. It jiggled and bobbed, ever so slightly. It was something from Rodney; it was _a piece_ of Rodney. Jason couldn't identify it, but he knew it came from inside Rodney's body. And why would he dream that? Would his mind really concoct such a ridiculous detail? Besides, now that he knew he was dreaming, why didn't he wake up?

Lucy moved around him and tugged on the cords binding his wrists. The pain there resurged. He could suddenly feel it in his ankles again, too. Sharp pain.

Not a dream.

Oh God, it was _not_ a dream.

Frank was dead. Lucy was tongueless. Valerie was a blank slate, topless beside him and humming a children's song as if she'd completely lost her mind.

Jason sobbed again and tears rolled down his cheeks, uninhibited.

Lucy tugged at the cords but they didn't feel any looser around Jason's wrists. She had to hurry. They didn't have much time. Cliff could return any second.

"The axe," Jason said. "Cut them." It was barely understandable through his crying and hitching breaths, but Lucy seemed to understand.

She stepped in front of him again, where the axe lay on the ground. She moved to pick it up, then stopped suddenly as her eyes shifted to Rodney's butchered body. He was quite literally in pieces. She stared at it as if she hadn't seen it before; as if she hadn't been the one responsible. Jason couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw something like guilt pass over her face. Perhaps it was just horror at the grisly scene, but Jason thought it was more likely her conscience suddenly coming out to play.

"You had to," Jason sniffled. He didn't know if reassuring her would do any good, but she had to hurry. "You had no choice. Please, Lucy, we have to get out of here or there will only by more of the same."

She looked at him again. More tears rimmed her eyes but they didn't fall. She bent and picked up the axe.

And then, as is wont to happen in any bad dream, Jason saw a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. He turned his head.

Cliff stood just inside the door to the barn. His pet monster stood slightly ahead of him and to his left. His face was a mask of shock as he took in the scene. His eyes darted everywhere, sporadically, but it took only a few seconds for him to figure out what had happened.

He lowered his head and peered at Lucy from under his furrowed eyebrows. "You fuckin' bitch," he said, and stalked slowly forward.

Lucy raised the axe and stood her ground.

"You killed my fuckin' brother ya murderous whore!" Cliff didn't seem to find the slightest irony in this statement, but Jason felt a sadistic sense of justice well up in his chest when he heard it. "Ya shoulda run when ya had the chance," Cliff continued, still moving toward Lucy very slowly. "Now ya done somethin' ya can't undo. Nobody fucks with my brother. I'ma rip yer intestines out and make ya watch while the Colonel eats 'em. I'ma make sure ya die real slow." He reached down and pulled his knife from its sheath.

The creature had not moved. Now it backed away as Cliff moved forward. Jason thought it looked a little scared, if such a thing was even possible.

"Hey!" Jason shouted. He didn't know what to say, but felt he should try to distract Cliff in some way. With Rodney, Lucy had the element of surprise. This time she had an axe, but Jason didn't know if she would really be a match for someone like Cliff, who was clearly experienced with violent confrontation. "Hey, asshole! You like that? You like seeing your brother turned into wormfood?"

"Fuck you, city boy," Cliff said, but his eyes didn't move away from Lucy. "You'll get yers."

Lucy stood with her legs slightly parted, both hands on the axe handle as it protruded up above her right shoulder. "Fahnk," she said softly.

"No thanks, honey," Cliff replied. He continued to advance until he was within a few feet of Lucy, and then his right hand flew forward with the knife gleaming in his grip.

He wasn't near enough to reach her, and Jason could see from his vantage point it was just a feint. He tried to shout, but it was too late. Lucy swung the axe, putting all her strength behind it. Cliff moved back a half-step. The blade passed in front of him with plenty of room to spare.

Lucy realized her mistake too late and tried to check her swing, but only succeeded in pulling herself off balance. The blade slammed into the floor, creating a little cloud of dust and straw bits. Lucy kept her grip on it, but stumbled to the right. She tried to raise the axe again, but Cliff stepped forward quickly and raised one foot. He brought it down on her fingers where they wrapped around the handle.

Lucy grunted in pain but she did not release the handle. Determinedly, she raised the blade again, but she wasn't fast enough. Cliff moved in close and buried his knife in her belly.

The look on Lucy's face was pure, unadulterated pain. Cliff dragged the knife blade across her stomach, and as he did, the look on her face changed to one of confusion, as if she couldn't quite understand what was happening.

Jason shouted something inarticulate, a negation of some kind. He saw his only chance of survival bleeding out in front of him. He screamed and cursed. Spittle flew from his mouth. But he was powerless. He could only watch as Cliff eviscerated Lucy. He could only blubber and whine as her entrails slipped out onto the straw at her feet. He could only sniffle and stare as she fell first to her knees, then onto her side. She still gripped the axe handle with both hands.

Cliff wiped the bloody knife blade on his thigh. "Don't you pass out, ya fuckin' bitch," he said. "Ya don't wanna miss the dinner theater." He turned toward the barn door. "Cuddles," he shouted. "Get over hee-ah."

But the creature, who was now as close to the door as it could get without actually exiting the barn, didn't come to Cliff. It stood on its stumpy little legs, all four arms loosely hanging from the bulb of its body, black eyes deep and dark and staring. For the second time, Jason thought he saw fear in those features, but there was no way to be sure.

"I said get over hee-ah," Cliff shouted again, but the creature didn't move.

Cliff stared at it for a few seconds. "Fine," he said, "ya wanna be a pussy, that's fine." He turned and looked down at Lucy. She was struggling slightly, as if she was trying to sit back up. "I guess I gotta do this myself," Cliff said.

He squatted down in front of her and grinned. "Ya thought it was a lot of fun to come chasing after us, didn't ya? Ya thought it was a lot of fun to kill my brother, too. But it ain't so much fun now, huh?" He took his knife and stabbed it slowly into the calf muscle of Lucy's left leg.

Lucy gurgled again, but Jason saw the determination in her face. Before he realized what she was doing, she had raised the axe. Raised it as far as her strength would now allow, which was only about knee high. But with Cliff squatting in front of her, the axe blade was even with his waist.

She swung.

From her position on the ground, there wasn't much leverage to the swing and her strength was considerably diminished. This was no lumberjack swing, nowhere near the force it would take to chop Cliff in half like Jason wished, but the blade hit Cliff in the thigh hard enough to rip through his pants and leave a nasty gash that immediately welled up with blood.

Cliff roared. He lunged forward with his knife and deftly sliced it across Lucy's throat. Her head sagged back, the wound wrenched open, and more blood spilled across her chest. She fell backwards, finally releasing the axe.

Jason was horrified; it seemed there was no end to the horror this night. But he was glad, in the second it happened, that Cliff had killed Lucy in a blind rage. He didn't think he would've been able to handle it if he'd been forced to watch as Cliff tortured the girl.

Cliff stood back and stared at Lucy, his head cocked a little to the right. Her eyes were wild as the blood streamed from her neck. She raised one arm a few inches, only to let it fall back to the floor of the barn, apparently completely sapped of strength. The blood finally slowed to a trickle as her heart ceased beating. Her eyes glazed. Cliff stared the whole time, transfixed. Jason sobbed almost inaudibly behind him, and Cliff didn't seem to notice.

When the blood from Lucy's neck had all but stopped, Cliff bent down again, and in a final act of indignity he ripped her sweater down the middle. Her bra, too, he ripped open, exposing her large, blood-stained breasts. He turned toward Jason and grinned. He didn't speak to Jason, but after a few seconds he called over his shoulder, "C'mon boys! Fresh tit meat!"

He returned his attention to Jason, as if trying to gauge the reaction. Despite the tears running down his cheeks, Jason tried to remain stoic so as not to give Cliff the satisfaction of seeing his shock and disgust. He knew it was probably too late now—Cliff had already seen him pleading and bawling like a baby—but any small victory was something. Being hopeless and helpless, small victories were all he had.

When Cliff realized he would get nothing more out of Jason, he shook his head slowly. "Just look at this," he said, sweeping his arm aimlessly behind him at the carnage. "You just look at this mess and think about what ya did." He suddenly sounded like a scolding mother, as if this whole ordeal was somehow Jason's fault. "You think about that, city boy, and think about what I'm gonna do to you when it's yer turn." He headed toward the barn door, then stopped suddenly. "Ya shouldn't have killed my brother," he said.

Against his better judgment, Jason blurted, "You killed my brother first!"

Cliff scowled. "It's a value issue," he hissed. "Yer brother was a worthless piece of shit, just like you."

Jason kept his mouth shut. There was nothing more he could say.

Cliff turned around again and continued to the barn door, limping slightly. "Cuddles!" he shouted. "Get yer ass in hee-ah and clean up this mess." He paused for a few seconds. "Now!" he shouted.

Jason watched as the white creature slinked in through the barn door, keeping as close to the edge as possible, out of Cliff's reach. Cliff took a step toward it, raising his hand, and it whined and flinched, moving as quickly as it could on its stumpy legs until it had passed him.

"There's enough food in there to last ya a few days," Cliff said as he stepped out of the barn, "but take it back to yer room. Next time I come in hee-ah, I don't wanna see it."

Jason wondered if Rodney's death had bothered Cliff more than he was showing. He was obviously angry about it, but Jason thought he was probably sad, too. In mourning. He was playing the tough guy role, but he couldn't bear to look at Rodney's body—or what was left of it.

Jason watched the white monster waddle its way toward the back of the barn. It stopped at the door to the farthest stall, seemed to contemplate something for a moment, then disappeared inside.

Jason surveyed the death in front of him. Rodney's body, hacked to pieces; Lucy's body, throat slit and topless; both of Frank's arms. He didn't want to look at Frank again, didn't want to see his brother's body hanging lifeless in the yoke by its neck. He forced himself not to turn to the right. But beside him, Valerie still hummed. As if she'd seen nothing of the devastation that had just occurred in front of her. Was it just Jason's imagination, or did her tune seem to have a darker tinge to it? Was it just a little more intense? Jason thought it was. And really, how could it not be? If there was anything left in Valerie at all, if she was anything more than a potato shaped like a person, it was impossible the scene that had just played out before her eyes had no effect. And Jason had to believe there was still something there. If he was the only one left, then he would just give up. He didn't care about his own life, not anymore. But if he could still do something to save Valerie, if there was anything at all that might help her, he would do it. She was the only hope he had left. She was his motivation to keep hoping.

At the far end of the barn, the waddling, knotty, white creature reemerged. And beside it, a second one. They moved through the barn together, side by side. Jason could see now that one was smaller than the other. The one he thought was Colonel Cuddles was the taller of the two, but only by a few inches. The other one's flesh was a slightly darker shade, too. It was only noticeable when they were seen together, but Jason could see it now. Colonel Cuddles was snow white; the other creature was the color of milk. Both, of course, had the same circular maw of teeth, jutting out like a snout; both had the same bony, knobby arms, set at the compass points, so they could reach in all directions at once; both had the same black orbs perched atop their heads, soulless eyes that didn't reflect the light but seemed to absorb it. As they approached, they looked to Jason like the stuff of nightmares come to life.

And yet, Jason was conflicted. From all he'd seen of these creatures, they were more helpless than they seemed. Less the stuff of nightmares and more the product of some abused child's daydream.

They approached the bodies on the ground tentatively at first, sniffing at them like dogs. The smaller creature moved toward the arm it had been gnawing on when Lucy first arrived. It picked it up, charred on one end, bloody on the other, and its teeth began to spin.

Jason screamed. "No! Stop it!"

The creature paused, its teeth slowing down, making a soft whirring noise. It looked at Jason.

"No!" Jason shouted again. "Not that! Put it down!"

The monster seemed to understand what he was saying. It lowered Frank's arm but did not drop it. It looked toward Colonel Cuddles as if for confirmation. "Food?" it said.

Cuddles stood motionless for a moment. Jason had no idea if it was looking at him or the other beast. Finally it shook its head, almost imperceptibly, and the other creature dropped Frank's arm to the barn floor.

Cuddles moved next to Lucy's exposed body, stopped, and looked at Jason. "Food?" he asked.

This time Jason was sure the creature was looking at him. "No," he said, "she's not food either."

"Kiff," the creature mewled.

"Fuck Cliff!" Jason roared. "That's my brother and his girlfriend, you sick bastards. They are _not_ food."

Colonel Cuddles took a step away from Lucy's body. He pointed at what was left of Rodney's. "Food?"

Jason stood silent for a moment. Finally, he said, "Yes, eat that if you have to."

Cuddles gave the other creature another sign of some sort and the two of them began to push pieces of Rodney into their churning mouths. Jason stared in horrified amazement.

As he watched them eat, he wondered what was going on inside their ugly, twisted heads. Were they really just trying to survive? They had clearly listened when he'd spoken to them. Even if they weren't capable of speaking more than a syllable or two, they were intelligent enough to understand full sentences in English. And they were obedient, even though they didn't know Jason. Was it something else convincing them to do as he asked? Was it sympathy? Empathy?

Over the next fifteen or twenty minutes, the monsters devoured most of Rodney's torso and both of his legs. They left nothing to waste, including bones. They showed no exertion or discomfort as everything was reduced to dust inside their mouths. Again Jason thought of circular saws.

When they'd finished eating, both creatures began to gather up the remaining pieces of Rodney. They loaded their four arms full of bloody flesh and carried it slowly to the stall at the back of the barn. A few seconds later, they both returned. Cuddles reached down for Lucy's body with three hands; his fourth waved comically behind him as if it wanted to help but couldn't reach.

Jason found no humor in the sight. "Leave it alone!" he shouted.

Cuddles looked at him, paused, then continued what he was doing. He clutched Lucy under the arms with two of his hands, using the third to steady her head, and began dragging her toward the back of the barn. "Kiff," he said as he worked, his tone more reserved than before.

Jason understood. These animals might have compassion, enough compassion not to eat Jason's friends if he told them not to, but they were afraid of Cliff. Cliff had told them to clean up the mess, and that's what they were doing. The other creature picked up Frank's severed arms and followed Cuddles.

Jason watched silently as they stored these things in the stall with the rest of Rodney. It was the most monstrous pantry he'd ever imagined.

When they returned again and moved toward Frank's limp body, hanging in its yoke, Jason called out. "Cuddles."

Both creatures stopped and turned toward him.

"Cuddles, right? Is that really your name?"

"Cuddas," the beast replied. He was looking at Jason warily.

"Listen to me, Cuddles. I need help. I think you understand me, and I think you might even feel sorry for me, and if you do, please, I need your help. Get me out of this." Jason shook his arms and rattled his neck back and forth inside the yoke. "You can cut these binds," he said. "I know you can."

Cuddles stood motionless for a few seconds. "Kiff," he finally said, as if that was explanation enough. "Kiff."

"I know you're scared of him," Jason said, "but if you help me, I'll help you. I won't let him hurt you. He won't have a chance." He paused. "I'll kill the motherfucker," he added, grinding his teeth. He was surprised to realize that he meant it. If he was released from this bondage, he would kill Cliff or die trying.

Cuddles turned to the other creature and began to make sounds—squeals, mewls, clicks—and the other creature responded in kind. They were obviously having a conversation, but Jason couldn't tell if it was in his favor or not. Cuddles became animated, moving his arms and hands as he spoke. It was eerily humanistic, despite his four arms. The other creature listened for a moment, then squealed one long, high-pitched cry, and threw all its arms in the air, spinning in a circle in front of Cuddles. "Kiff," it said.

"Fuck Cliff," Jason said quietly.

Cuddles looked at him, then turned back to the other creature. "Fu-Kiff," he said.

Silence seemed to drag on forever. The only sound in the barn was Valerie's humming. Jason could feel beads of sweat rolling down his body in every possible place. He wanted to scream again, wanted to yell at these stupid animals to hurry up and cut him loose, but he knew that wouldn't help things. He knew they needed to work this out on their own.

Finally, the second monster slowly nodded. Cuddles made a few more noises, then they both faced Jason.

Jason almost cried out in relief. He knew they'd decided to free him, to rebel against Cliff. Now he just needed them to hurry. He had no idea when Cliff might return.

"Please," he said, "cut me loose. Hurry." But his pleas did nothing to speed Cuddles up as he moved toward Jason. The other creature stayed where it was, watching, as Cuddles waddled out of Jason's sight.

And then, sooner than he'd expected, his right hand was free. It seemed like it had been effortless. One second his wrist was tightly tied, the next it wasn't. Jason squirmed in the yoke. Now that one hand was free he was better able to move, and he twisted his torso enough that he could look down at his left hand. He could see one of Cuddles' arms reach up, see the extended claw, impossibly sharp, glinting in the harsh light of the barn, see that claw slice through the heavy twine binding his wrist as if it were nothing more than whipped cream. And now both hands were free.

Jason reached up and felt the buckles of the yoke that held him. They were simple, unsophisticated. He unlatched them easily and squatted, pulling his head through the hole, and he was finally, _finally,_ free. Full mobility.

He stepped down from the pedestal and froze for a few seconds as the situation clarified itself in his head. His next step was to dispatch Cliff. But how, exactly, he didn't know. The axe still lay on the blood-soaked ground, and he assumed it was the best option he had, although he had his doubts about wielding it against Cliff. The man was obviously much stronger than Jason, and much more accustomed to violence.

What Jason needed was the element of surprise.

He didn't think Cliff would suspect his own beastly creatures had set their dinner free, so Jason had that on his side. But the instant Cliff set foot in the barn he would see the empty pedestal and all surprise would be gone. The only thing to do, it seemed, was to go on the offensive and attack Cliff before he returned. Jason assumed there was a house somewhere nearby. Cliff and Rodney had lived here, so Cliff was probably in that house right now, tending to the wound Lucy had inflicted with the axe, maybe seething with anger, maybe weeping with sorrow over his dead brother. Jason would have to find him and kill him.

As much as he would've liked to attempt an escape rather than forcing a violent confrontation, Jason knew he didn't have that option. He and Valerie wouldn't get far in the freezing snow, especially if he had to support Valerie—or maybe even carry her—the whole way. And he also had to think about the creatures who had just given him this opportunity. He had told them he wouldn't let Cliff hurt them. It had been a promise. And they were smart enough to know betrayal. They might not be human, but they were more than mere animals. It wouldn't be the same as breaking a promise to a dog. Besides, as cliché as it might seem in his head, Jason needed to avenge his brother's murder. True, it had technically been Rodney who killed Frank, but it was Cliff who had toyed with him, who had severed his fingers and then burned his hands to ruins with such glee.

Jason looked at Colonel Cuddles for a long minute. "Thank you," he said. And he truly meant it.

He picked up the axe. Its weight felt good in his hands. Powerful.

He needed to move fast, he knew that. But Valerie was still held captive in front of him and he wasn't sure what to do with her. He knew he should let her loose so if anything happened to him, at least she would have a chance to run or fight. But he was worried she would wander off, completely oblivious, and he would succeed in killing Cliff only to come back and find Valerie missing, or frozen to death in the snow outside. Or perhaps she would somehow alert Cliff that she was free, ruining any chance Jason might have. No, there were too many risks in cutting her free right now. He would wait until Cliff had been dealt with.

Guilt ran rampant through his mind, knotting up his chest as soon as he made the decision, but he put his mind at ease by telling himself that if she had been in her right mind he would _definitely_ have released her. But she was a vegetable right now, a danger to herself and to him. She would be okay here, because Cliff would never have a chance to come back and harm her. Jason would make sure of that. And then Jason would return for her, and she would be okay again. She would come out of this catatonia she was in once she realized the danger had passed. Or so he hoped.

He stepped up next to her on the pedestal and gingerly pulled the cups of her bra back over her breasts. Although there was nothing to connect them in the center, they still managed to stay in place. Her sweater was completely severed down the middle, but Jason was able to tie a simple knot with the two ends, pulling the fabric across her chest. At least she wasn't so exposed anymore. He kissed her cheek and whispered, "I'll be back, don't worry." There was no change in her expression, no pause in her humming.

Jason stepped off the pedestal and moved to the barn door, axe in hand. He pressed himself against the wall to the left of the door, took a few deep breaths, then peered around it and outside. The cold air felt good on his skin after so long in the stifling heat of the barn, but he knew it wouldn't last long; after a very short time outside he would be completely frozen through.

Snow covered the ground outside, and it still fell from the sky, obscuring his view. He could make out the pickup truck still parked in the same place, thirty or forty yards from the barn. There were a number of footprints going in all directions, but they were beginning to disappear under the new snowfall.

Peering further around the door, Jason saw what he was looking for: a large farmhouse, set back from the barn a good sixty yards. He couldn't make out any details through the snow, but he could see the soft glow of artificial light through a few of the windows. That was where he would find Cliff, he was sure of it.

He glanced back at Valerie and almost cried out when he saw the two white monsters directly behind him, watching him with interest.

"Kiff," Colonel Cuddles said.

"Yeah," Jason replied, barely above a whisper. "Cliff."

He turned back to the door, took one final breath of the warm barn air, and stepped out into the falling snow. He moved toward the pickup truck first, just to check. He didn't expect Cliff to be there, but he didn't want to assume anything that could lead to disaster.

When he reached the truck he circled it quickly, peering in the windows and into the bed. It was empty. Back at the tailgate, he saw his own tracks through the snow leading to the truck, and beside them, two lines that made it look as if he'd been dragging a sled. He glanced around.

Both of the creatures stood near the front fender, still watching him intently. When he made eye contact with their deep, black eyes, they moved closer to him. He saw that each of them only left one solid, thin track in their wake. They moved swiftly and gracefully in the snow, the complete opposite of their awkward waddles in the barn. They were also nearly invisible, their white skin a perfect camouflage. For the first time Jason really wondered what they were and where they came from. Was it possible they were actually mammals of some sort, originating on Earth like every other living thing he'd ever known? Or were they some kind of aliens, who just happened to be perfectly adapted to the snow and ice of Earth? Neither seemed plausible, but Jason didn't have time to contemplate it.

He began to trek through the snow, his feet already beginning to get wet through his boots. He thought of Lucy making it all the way to the barn with only one shoe, and hoped he could muster the same courage and determination she had.

As he approached the farmhouse, its details materialized through the falling snow. It was a two-story structure with a large covered porch leading to the front door. Two rocking chairs were situated to either side of the front door, giving the house a quaint look. Jason could imagine his grandmother living in this house, rather than the murderous sadists he knew to reside here. To both sides of the porch, picture windows spilled a yellowish glow into the dark night; both were covered with beige curtains that let the light through, but prevented Jason from seeing inside. Two more windows, not as large, shone from the second story.

He took a step toward the porch, then thought better of it. Maybe he should go around to the back, see what he could see. He briefly toyed with the idea of just kicking in the front door, but dismissed it almost as fast. If at all possible, he needed to surprise Cliff with an attack to his person; kicking in the front door would be a surprise, no doubt, but it wouldn't injure Cliff in any way. Jason hoped he would be able to sneak up on the man.

He tramped through the snow, slowly now, warily eyeing the picture window as he passed, searching for any movement in the curtains. He saw none. Around the side of the house were more windows, two lit, one dark. They were considerably smaller than the windows in front. Jason crept up to the first one, only to find that it, too, had a drawn curtain. This curtain was slightly more transparent, but no matter how hard he stared, Jason still couldn't see through it.

The second lit window was made of frosted glass. Blurry shapes could be seen through it, but nothing discernible, and there was no movement. Jason continued past it.

The third window had no light shining through, and Jason crouched low as he stepped up to it, his head just barely above the level of the sill. But this window also had a drawn curtain. Staying low, Jason moved past it, then to the corner of the house.

Around the back, Jason saw what he'd hoped for: a back door. Three concrete steps led up to it. He moved swiftly to it, still crouching, even though there were no windows between him and the door. Crouching just seemed like the prudent thing to do.

When he reached the steps, he climbed them in one motion and peered through the small window at the top of the door. There was nothing blocking his view this time. He saw a narrow room with a cracked linoleum floor. A coat-rack lined one wall with all manner of coats and hats hanging from its pegs. Along the other wall were assorted piles of what appeared to be random junk: a plastic watering can, old newspapers, frayed extension cords, a stack of five-gallon buckets.

Cliff was not in the room.

Jason turned the doorknob slowly, holding his breath. It turned easily in his hand and he exhaled in relief. He pushed the door open halfway, its almost inaudible creak sounding like thunder to his ears. Just inside the door he saw a pile of shoes, some obviously wet, others caked with dried mud.

He stepped inside, considered for just a moment, then closed the door behind him. He listened, not moving a muscle. He heard a number of sounds—bumps, shuffles, scrapes—but they all sounded far away, definitely not in the next room.

Walking as lightly as he could, Jason made his way to the other end of the narrow room, to an open doorway that had no door. He looked cautiously around the frame.

He saw a kitchen with the same cracked linoleum floor as the room he stood in. Dishes were piled in the sink and spilled onto the counter on either side. Cupboards ran the length of the counter, and there were more from floor to ceiling on the adjacent wall, more cupboards than Jason had ever seen in a kitchen before. A rectangular table sat in the middle of the room, its Formica top chipped and scratched in the places he could see. Most of the table was covered with clutter: dusty knick-knacks, papers, unopened mail. Four chairs flanked the table. They had metal frames with padded seats, the stuffing poking through in many places.

As Jason had suspected, Cliff was not in this room, either.

The shuffling sounds Jason had detected were slightly louder when he moved into the kitchen, and he was pretty sure they were coming from upstairs. Even so, he didn't want to miss something important, so despite his adrenaline and the urge to move quickly, he forced himself to remain quiet and not rush into anything.

The kitchen had two entrances other than the mudroom he'd come from. One of them opened onto what must have been a dining room, though there was no dining table present. The room was almost entirely bare. The only piece of furniture was an old china cabinet. It was made of hardwood, with glass doors on the front. A delicate design of swirls and spirals adorned the doors. Inside, stacks of dishes sat on the shelves. These were obviously not the dishes Cliff and Rodney actually used—those were dirty, in the kitchen sink. Jason could see the dust that coated everything inside the china cabinet, even from across the room.

Jason moved back through the kitchen to the other entrance. This opened into a large sitting room. An antiquated sofa and three very old armchairs were positioned in a semicircle in the center of the room. A dusty throw rug covered the floor in the center of that circle. A fireplace was set into the far wall, though no fire burned inside it. Behind the sofa, a staircase led up.

There was a half-closed door in the adjacent wall, and Jason pushed it open with his foot, holding the axe in both hands. What he saw was the bathroom he'd known was there, based on his exploration of the outside of the house. No one occupied it, though the light had been left on. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the bathroom. A sink, with a mirror above it, stood next to the toilet, which in turn stood next to the bathtub. All three were porcelain, chipped in places and showing rust in others.

Jason crept to the base of the stairs.

He listened intently, holding his breath, for a full minute. He thought he heard voices, but they were dim and unclear. Every few seconds he could hear the shuffling sound, as if someone was walking around in slippers without lifting their feet. The realization that Cliff might not be the only person in the house hit Jason with astounding force. It hadn't even crossed his mind before. But what if he was up against two people instead of just one? Or three? Hell, what if there were ten guys up there, having a slumber party, playing Truth or Dare, and all of them ready to murder without a second thought? Jason's blood seemed to coagulate in his veins and his heart skipped a beat. How could he be so stupid? He should've fled when he'd had the chance. Avenge his brother's murder? What the hell had he been thinking?

He looked behind him, thought about leaving the way he'd come in, then decided against it. Yes, it was stupid. Yes, he realized he was probably going to die if there were other people up there with Cliff. But for some reason he felt an absurd sense of duty to the creatures who had freed him from that yoke. If he fled now, if he went back and got Valerie and they made a run for it, Cliff would take it out on those two little beasts. He would probably beat them within an inch of their lives, perhaps kill them. And Jason would be responsible. He couldn't explain the feeling, he knew it was irrational, but he couldn't turn his back on them after they'd risked their lives by setting him free.

Jason climbed the first stair. It was solid and did not creak or groan. He climbed to the second, then the third. The fourth stair did creak, but it was relatively quiet compared to the fifth, which screeched louder than a jet engine when Jason put his weight on it. Instinctively, Jason sprinted up the rest of the staircase. If whoever was up there had heard that squeak, it would be better if he was at the top than stuck somewhere in the middle when they discovered him.

At the top of the stairs Jason faced a long hallway. He expected burly men in flannel to converge on him from all directions, but no one appeared. But he could hear the noises better now, and he was sure they were voices. He still couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but he could hear two distinctly separate people. Neither one sounded like Cliff, but there was no way to be sure of that.

Jason moved stealthily down the hall. He came to a closed door and ignored it, choosing instead to continue to the door where he thought the voices were coming from. When he reached that one, also closed, he paused and listened, trying to determine the location of the people inside the room.

"And now it's time for more medicine," one voice said gaily. It was almost definitely a woman's, and it sounded to Jason like an _old_ woman. His hopes of survival increased a fraction. He was sure he could defeat an old woman if he needed to. "It's been nearly an hour," the voice continued, "and we wouldn't want you to lose your power, would we? That's what makes you great!" There was laughter in the voice, and merriment, but it still sounded cruel to Jason's ears. What was going on in there?

"No," the second voice replied. Jason couldn't tell if it was male or female. "No, nonononono."

"Yes yes yes," the woman said, then cackled like an old crone.

"The pieces," the second voice said, "no more pieces, no more... crawling..." Then Jason heard a gurgling sound as if the person was drowning in shallow water.

"Yes, crawling," the old woman replied. Her voice was placating, as a mother with a young child. "Crawling, always with the crawling. Now open up."

Jason could hear more shuffling, then a weak scream. The emotion behind the scream was clearly terror, but it wasn't loud; if Jason had still been downstairs he wouldn't have heard it at all.

"Stop struggling!" the woman's voice said, losing its placating edge and suddenly sounding annoyed. "Keep your eyes open, you fucking lunatic!"

Jason figured it was as good a time as any to open the door. Hopefully both of the room's occupants would be so absorbed in each other that they wouldn't notice him right away. He grasped the doorknob, turned it, and pushed the door open a few inches, just enough to see through. When the sounds of the struggle continued unabated, he pushed the door open farther.

He saw a single twin-size bed against the far wall. There were no sheets or blankets on the bed, just a dirty, stained mattress. Lying on it was a naked, emaciated man; Jason could see his ribs poking through his skin, his cheeks were hollow, his arms and legs were nothing but bones with a thin layer of skin. His hands were shackled to the bedposts above his head, and his ankles were similarly bound at the foot of the bed.

Hunched over the man, with her back to Jason, was an elderly woman in a filthy housecoat. She was trying to hold the man's head steady, but he shook it back and forth with such vehemence that she was having considerable difficulty. In her right hand she held an eyedropper full of clear liquid.

If these two people had been the only sights in the room, Jason would have rushed them immediately. Even as he stepped through the doorway his intention was to blindside these people and subdue them, even if that meant killing them. But he was stunned into inaction by the other things his eyes were trying to register. He didn't understand what was being done, but it instinctively caused him to pause.

The naked man on the bed had an erection. Encasing his penis was a clear, plastic pump of some kind. What looked like a plunger inside the pump slowly rose and fell, creating a low sucking sound. There was rubber tubing protruding from the end, running across the floor and ending at a long workbench-type table set against the adjacent wall. On the table were numerous beakers and test tubes; it was a primitive laboratory of some sort. Many of them were filled with liquids, some clear and watery, others opaque or milky. Next to the conglomeration of containers was a large, shallow pan—about two inches tall and four feet square—with about an inch of viscous fluid covering the bottom. Jason could tell it was not water. The end of the tubing that ran from the man's penis was clamped to the side of this pan, with the end of the tube obviously depositing its contents into it. The first thing that came to Jason's mind was that the fluid in the pan was urine, but he dismissed that almost immediately; it was too thick, and almost transparent. Instantly following that thought was the idea that the pan was somehow full of the man's semen; but that, too, seemed impossible, simply from the sheer amount.

Resting in the fluid were three large eggs. They were the size of footballs, and milky white.

Jason returned his gaze to the bed just as the old woman said, "There we are now, doesn't that feel nice?" She had managed to hold the man's head steady with her forearm, and she was squirting the contents of the eyedropper into his left eye, which she held open with two scabby fingers. "Yes, yes, power juice for dear old dad," she continued.

Over her shoulder, the man noticed Jason; Jason could see the recognition in his eyes. It only took another second for the woman to notice the change in her captive. She whirled around, still wielding the eyedropper as if it were a weapon. It was empty now, but one fat drop of liquid formed at its end, almost in slow motion, and finally fell to the bare wood floor.

The woman's face was a cornucopia of wrinkles, with two beady, black eyes peering out from within. But despite her age, Jason immediately saw the resemblance. This woman was Cliff and Rodney's mother. There was no doubt in his mind. She looked so similar to the two men that Jason wondered for a split-second if there had been any genes besides her own in the pool. Then he glanced again at the man shackled to the bed and reconsidered.

They stared at each other for what seemed like ages. Jason still held the axe in both hands, the double blade up above his shoulder, the handle still coated with the gore from the previous carnage it had inflicted. The woman held the eyedropper, not flinching, not screaming, as if her weapon was just as deadly as his. There was utter silence in the room.

Finally, weakly, the man on the bed said, "Help me...please." Those words broke the old woman's paralysis.

She shrieked like a banshee, pulled one leg up like she was in a marching band, then promptly stomped it down on the floor and raised the other foot. She might have been preparing to dance a jig. "Home-wrecker!" she shouted. "Adulterer!" Her voice was very loud, unlike the captive man, and it carried. Jason wondered where Cliff was.

But still, he hesitated. Everything about this situation was baffling. She hadn't shouted, "Axe-murderer," or "Psycho," or even "Intruder." She'd called him a home-wrecker. What the hell did that mean?

And then the answer came to him, a sudden realization that allowed him to finally move. This woman had called him those things for one simple reason: she was utterly, unequivocally, batshit insane.

Jason moved swiftly, faster than he'd ever imagined he could. He didn't think, he didn't falter, he didn't contemplate the moral justifications. He simply took three long strides, raising the axe above his head at the same time, his right hand sliding up the handle almost to the blade. And then he swung with all his might.

The old woman screeched, a witch-like howl, loud and piercing. And then the axe blade buried itself in her neck, slicing diagonally between her shoulder and her throat, and her screech turned into a hollow rasping sound. Jason wrenched it free and swung again. He was surprised at how easily he'd done it; he was even more surprised that it felt good. Since they'd stopped in the road for that bathroom break, oh so long ago, Jason had witnessed atrocities performed and revenge taken, but he had yet to dish out any himself. Now that it was happening, he reveled in it. He had no time to think about what that might mean; he only had time to swing the axe again.

Blood spewed and sinew dangled from the gaping wounds he was inflicting on the old woman. She was surely dead. Still, he had to force himself to stop swinging the axe. It was almost a thing outside of himself, his muscles responding to some sort of inherent wild rage, and it took all his willpower to slowly lower the axe to his side.

As soon as he did, his situation came crashing back down around him. This was an old woman he had just killed. Sure, she was probably evil; she was obviously the mother of two evil men, so she had some responsibility in that, not to mention the fact that she was keeping this man captive. But she wasn't Jason's real target. His real target was still roaming around somewhere, either in this house or back at the barn, and he was considerably more dangerous than some old lady, no matter how evil she might be.

Jason stepped across the room and quickly closed the door. That would at least give him a second or two of warning if Cliff barged in. He turned his attention back to the naked man on the bed. The man's eyes were rolling about in their sockets, crazed and paranoid. He strained against the binds that held him to the bed.

Jason assessed the shackles quickly; they were nothing more than simple leather buckles, cinched tight. He moved to the edge of the bed, stepping over the still-bleeding carcass of the old woman. He rested the axe against the bed, leaned over, and unfastened the buckle holding the man's left ankle, then his left wrist. The man lashed out, pushing Jason's shoulder, scratching the side of his face. He kicked with his free leg, pounding the wall with his foot.

"Shhh," Jason said, "be quiet!"

"You!" the man replied. His eyes were still rolling back and forth, up and down. "You!"

"Can't you see I'm setting you free?" Jason whispered as he undid the buckle on the man's right leg. "I'm helping you."

The man continued to thrash about, but his movements were sluggish and weak. He smacked his lips. "They're coming," he said, almost inaudibly. Then louder, "They're here to teach us all. Crawling!"

Jason had no idea what this guy was talking about. He was clearly just as insane as the woman had been. Still, this man was not his enemy. He unfastened the last shackle binding the man's right hand.

When both of his hands were free, the man immediately reached down and grabbed the plastic pump attached to his penis. He yanked on it, but it barely moved. Jason could see the skin around the man's groin stretching as he pulled on the pump. He gave it a few more tugs, grunting, and finally it pulled from his penis with a horrid popping noise. It sounded like one of those rolls of pre-made biscuit dough Jason's mother used to buy. She'd take one from the fridge and twist it, squinting her eyes shut as she did, until it finally popped open, white blobby dough smooshing out the sides of the cardboard roll.

This sounded just like that. Except it wasn't biscuit dough. It was this man's dick.

Jason found himself wondering just how long that plastic pump had been attached, then realized that he really didn't want to know and he pushed it from his mind.

He grabbed the axe again, then moved away from the man, tripping and almost falling over the lifeless head of the old woman. Her eyes stared up at him, already glossed over, but still accusing. He managed to keep his balance despite the steadily spreading pool of slippery blood he was now treading in.

The man sat up on the bed, slowly turning his body. He planted his bare feet on the floor, splashing in the blood. He looked down at them as if he'd never seen them before. Then his gaze shifted to the woman and he suddenly screamed.

He stood and began to kick the woman's body, hooting and howling as he did. Just as suddenly as he started, he stopped. He squatted down beside her, his ass almost touching the floor, and poked the side of her rubbery face with his index finger.

"You'll see all the pretty colors," he said, his voice a fake falsetto of mockery. "You'll hear the music of the world." He paused. "And you'll make beautiful babies." He looked up at Jason. His eyes still shifted quickly back and forth and he continued to poke the old woman's face. Jason couldn't help but notice that his penis was still erect. "A few drops every hour and you'll uncover all the secrets," he continued, "you'll peel back the veil of the Earth and lay bare the beauty within." He stood again, his legs wobbly. Jason could see a darkness creep across his face. "They're still crawling," he whispered.

Jason didn't know if he was supposed to respond. "What?"

The man didn't reply. He returned his attention to the dead woman. He stood over her, straddling one foot on either side of her mangled body. Then he spit in her face.

"Fucking shitsucker fuck cunt!" he shouted. And then, to Jason's surprise, he began to cry. His body sagged and he fell. "They're crawling!" he shouted through his tears. "Oh, God, a few drops and they're crawling! Crawling!"

Jason didn't know what to think. As he scanned the scene, he saw the eyedropper the woman had been holding. It had nearly rolled under the bed. What had it contained? This man was raving about drops. Surely he was referring to whatever had been in the eyedropper. An hallucinogen of some sort? Perhaps some homemade concoction of powerful LSD? Jason didn't know, and he supposed it didn't really matter. He needed to stop gawking at this man, pull his head together, and find Cliff. Before Cliff found him.

He thought of Valerie again. For a few moments, somehow, she'd managed to escape his mind. But now he thought of her out there in the barn, all alone, defenseless, and his adrenaline kicked back in. He turned toward the door, intending to leave the man and the dead woman to whatever fate found them, when he was stopped by the man's voice again.

"Don't let them live," he said. "They crawl. My babies. Don't let them live."

Jason glanced back at him and saw that he was pointing. Jason's eyes followed the man's outstretched finger to the far corner of the room. Amidst all the commotion that had occurred since he'd stepped inside, Jason hadn't noticed the cage in the corner. It looked like a rabbit hutch, and the things crawling around inside were about that size.

But these were no rabbits.

Jason gasped.

There were three of them moving around in there, three little bunny-sized monstrosities. They weren't exactly like Colonel Cuddles and the other one, but Jason could see the similarities. One had that same circular maw of razor-sharp teeth, but it appeared to have no eyes at all. As Jason watched, it crawled aimlessly in the cage, bumping into anything in its path; it was blind. Another had the eyes that the first was missing, but it did not have the mouth and spinning teeth. This one only had two arms instead of four, making it look more human than the rest. The third looked _very_ similar to Cuddles, except it was covered with coarse feathers of a dingy, yellowish shade. All three of the creatures moved about the cage constantly, as if searching for a way out.

"They mustn't live," the man said from his position on the floor.

Jason stared. Somehow, through whatever twisted science she'd been performing in here, the old woman had been creating these creatures. Obviously it was a process of trial and error. But did these little ones in the cage have the same intelligence and self-awareness as Colonel Cuddles? Did they know what had just happened to their progenitor? Did they realize, right now, that they were being marked for death?

Jason thought of how Cuddles had cut the binds that tied his hands. The creature had felt pity for him, or empathy, or something. These little replicas, deformed or not, were the same species. "I can't," Jason said. "If you want them dead, you'll have to do it yourself."

The man stood from where he rested on the old woman's dead thighs. He let out an exasperated grunt of disapproval and stomped across the room to the cage, at first splashing blood like a child in a mud puddle, then leaving bloody footprints on the dirty wooden floor. He bent down and snapped a little latch open, a latch Jason hadn't even seen. He swung open a section on the front of the cage, leaving an opening about a foot and a half square.

The man jabbed his hands inside the opening. All three of the creatures squealed and clicked, dodging his grasping fingers. Naturally, the one with no eyes was the first to succumb to the man's clutches. He snatched it up in both hands and didn't hesitate to squeeze and twist. It happened fast; there was no reflection, no contemplation, no remorse. He simply crushed the thing in his hands. As its thick blood spilled from a crack in its head and ran through the man's fingers, Jason wondered how this man, who had seemed so weak just a few short moments ago, was capable of crushing this creature with his bare hands. Perhaps it was very vulnerable. Perhaps it had soft bones.

When the blind creature stopped twitching, its body just a mass of bloody skin and crunchy pieces, the man dropped it and immediately began grasping for the next one. The two remaining in the cage scrambled around for a few seconds, but the man proved to be quite wily and managed to grab the one that had no teeth. He treated this one the same way he had the blind one, twisting and crushing its little body as it squealed.

The third creature, the feathered one, took this opportunity to try to escape. It waddled its way through the opening in the cage and plopped out on the wooden floor, then tried to scurry toward the body of the dead woman. The man saw it, however, and it didn't get far. He raised one of his bare feet and stomped on the thing, crushing its bulbous belly under his heel. The creature mewled, screeched, and then its teeth began to spin. It leaned forward quickly and the man's toe disappeared inside its churning mouth. More blood spilled on the floor.

The naked man cried out, dropping the toothless beast as he did so, and began stomping in a frenzy, smashing the creature with his feet. Blood spattered in all directions, both from his severed toe and from the creature's body. Gooey organs seemed to ooze out between the feathers.

Jason heard a deep voice in the hallway. "Mama? You okay? What's with all the fuckin' racket? I told ya I's catching a few hours rest, ya can't even let me sleep in peace?"

Jason wheeled around, raising the axe. He faced the door, trembling.

"Mama?"

Behind Jason, the naked man didn't seem to hear Cliff's voice. Or if he did, he simply didn't care. He continued stomping on the feathered beast, grunting and wheezing and cursing.

The door swung inward. Cliff stood in the hallway, no longer wearing his flannel shirt. Instead, he wore a t-shirt that used to be white. Now it was a dingy shade of cream, stained yellow under the armpits. He still wore blue jeans, but he only had socks on his feet. His stocking cap was gone, and his wiry black hair puffed out in all directions. When he saw Jason, his eyes widened.

Then he charged.

Jason swung the axe, but Cliff was faster and stronger than he'd anticipated. If Rodney had been anything close to Cliff's equal, Jason couldn't fathom how Lucy had managed to get the drop on him. As Jason brought the axe down in its deadly arc, Cliff reached up with both hands and grasped the handle in the air. He stepped deftly to the side, allowing the axe to continue its trajectory, then pulled hard, using the axe's momentum as leverage.

Jason, terrified of releasing the axe, was pulled forward and past Cliff. Despite his will to keep it, he simply couldn't maintain his grip on the handle. It was wrenched from his hands, and he stumbled, turning his body as he fell, and crashed shoulder first into the edge of the open door. Pain exploded in his shoulder, reaching its icy tendrils all the way to the tips of his fingers and the center of his back. He landed on the floor in front of the doorway.

Cliff grinned at him. "Thought ya'd outsmart me, huh?" he said. "Thought ya'd—" He stopped abruptly and turned his head, seeing his mother on the floor. Jason didn't know how he could've missed it when he'd first entered the room, but maybe he'd been too focused on Jason. Cliff whimpered like a kicked dog.

Jason ventured a glance at the dead woman, and saw what Cliff was seeing. It wasn't just the fact that the woman was lying in a pool of blood, multiple gashes leaking brownish-red goop, and her shoulder nearly severed from her neck. That would've been bad enough on its own, but now the naked man was crouched over the woman's face. He appeared to be masturbating.

That was too much for Cliff, apparently. He turned away from Jason and charged the man, swinging the axe across the front of his body as if it were a sword. It caught the man in the chest and embedded deep in his flesh. It jolted his whole body, but the blade did not tear free, so as Cliff pulled the axe back toward himself, he also pulled the naked man with it. Jason was shocked to see that the blow had not killed the man instantly. Instead, he stroked himself feverishly, as if he hadn't even noticed.

Cliff roared, wrenching the axe handle back and forth until the blade finally loosened and then retracted from the man's chest. When it did, a river of blood flowed from the wound, dousing the man's chest, stomach, and groin. He stumbled slightly, and his movements seemed to slow down, but his hand continued pumping up and down, up and down.

Cliff had lost control. He was roaring and cursing. He kicked out with one foot, pushing the naked man over. The man landed on top of the dead woman, still pumping away, and this only served to enrage Cliff further. He turned to the side, pulled the axe up in a backswing, and then swung as if he were driving a golf ball, burying the blade in the naked man's groin. It reached almost to his navel.

That, finally, stopped the masturbation, but the man was still not dead. Cliff wrenched the axe free once again, then swung it in a mighty wood-chopper's chop, completely decapitating the man. There was now so much blood in the room that the wood floor was hardly visible. The stink of it touched Jason's nostrils, but it didn't faze him. It was astonishing how quickly he'd adapted to the horrors he'd seen.

But he was still standing in the doorway, mesmerized by the scene that had just occurred. Why hadn't he turned and run when he'd had the chance? He no longer had a weapon. Cliff had proved that even _with_ a weapon, Jason was no match for him, so what did Jason think he was going to accomplish with just his bare hands? He'd been stupid. It was time to run.

But he had to go back and get Valerie. He couldn't leave her here, even if trying to rescue her meant sacrificing his own life. So he would run back to the barn. That was the plan. Hopefully he would make it with enough time.

From the corner of his eye he saw the football-sized eggs resting in the transparent liquid. He knew intuitively that these were more of the creatures, incubating in whatever vile concoction Cliff's mother had dreamed up. But in Jason's head, eggs weren't the same as actual, living creatures, and without thinking he worked his fingers under the edge of the flat pan. Cliff turned in his direction, ready to finish what he'd started before he was interrupted, and Jason upturned the pan with all the strength he still had in him. It sailed toward Cliff. Cliff brought one hand up, deflecting the pan itself, but he was immediately covered in the transparent juice, and one of the eggs hit him squarely on the temple, cracking open and leaking runny, off-white slime down the side of his face. Another egg flew past him and smashed into the wall, the shell shattering. A grayish-yellow smear ran down the wall.

The third egg hit Cliff's midsection and fell to the floor in front of him. It cracked but didn't shatter. And then Jason saw the sickly, twig-thin arms poking through the shell, waving around aimlessly. Clearly this egg had been further along in its gestation period.

Cliff didn't seem concerned about the eggs. But he did stop short and look down at himself, wet with the viscous fluid from the pan. He seemed to slowly realize what was actually coating his arms and face, and he stumbled back a few steps.

Jason took that opportunity to turn and flee the room. He raced down the hall, and as he reached the top of the stairs he could hear Cliff shouting.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck! You're fuckin' dead!"

There were sounds of thrashing about, but Jason didn't stick around to see what was happening. He leaped down the stairs, three at a time, but his feet barely touched the steps. When he stepped into the living room he hesitated for a split second, then charged back the way he'd come, to the back of the house. He knew the front door would've been faster, but he had to make the decision instantly, and he didn't want to get to the front door only to find it locked and him without a key. So he charged through the kitchen, through the mudroom, and yanked the door open. It slammed into the wall. He ran out into the snow, barely registering the two white creatures waiting for him, their globular black eyes curious.

He'd already taken three or four running steps beyond them before he heard one of them say, "Kiff?" A horrible sinking sensation filled the pit of his stomach. He had failed these creatures; he'd broken his promise and failed to protect them. Cliff would know they'd helped him, and they would be punished. Maybe they would be killed.

He slowed, glancing over his shoulder. Both of the creatures were directly behind him, moving with a fluid ease of motion in the snow. They didn't seem to exert any effort to keep up with him. He had intended to tell them to follow him, but they were already doing that. He made the decision, right then and there, that if he lived through the night and managed to escape, he would take these creatures with him.

He faced forward again and sprinted the last twenty-five yards to the barn. Ghastly visions flashed through his mind as he approached the door, visions of Valerie chopped up and dissected, but when he finally crossed the threshold, into the stifling heat, he saw she was just as he'd left her. He rushed to the pedestal she stood on and began to fidget with the cords that bound her wrists. He made a silent prayer that she would be able to move quickly on her own once she'd been freed.

She was still humming _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_. Had her mind completely snapped? Or was that song, repeated over and over in her head, the only thing _keeping_ her mind from snapping? Jason didn't know, but he was having no effect on the knots in the cord. He looked to his left and saw both of the creatures waddling toward the stalls at the far end of the barn. They appeared to be hurrying, but they were so much slower and clumsier than they were in the snow.

"Cuddles!" Jason shouted. "Help me!"

Colonel Cuddles stopped and turned. Jason wondered if he had learned that behavior from the humans he'd grown up with; surely those eyes of his could see in all directions and he had no reason to turn around. The other creature stopped, too, but Cuddles motioned him on with one arm, accompanied by a few mewling sounds, and the smaller beast resumed waddling in the direction of the stalls.

Jason imagined he could see a sad expression on what passed for Cuddles' face. He remembered earlier, when he'd first seen the monster, thinking there was nothing but pure evil behind that horrible visage. Now he was attributing complex emotions to the thing.

After a few seconds of silence, Cuddles said, "Kiff." It was the same word, the same one syllable, that he'd been saying all night, but it still got the point across. _I helped you once, and you promised something in return. I can't help you again._ He slowly turned around and moved away, finally disappearing into the same stall where they'd stashed Frank and Lucy's bodies.

"Goddammit!" Jason shouted, and returned his attention to the knots. "Valerie? Baby?" he said. "I'm gonna get you loose here in a minute, and you have to be ready to run, okay? Okay?"

Her only answer was her continued humming.

"I'm serious, Val, we're gonna have to tear out of here as fast as we can. We can do it. _You_ can do it."

The knots were too tight. His attempts to untie them were wholly ineffectual. He needed a knife. Or a claw. "Goddammit," he said again. He could feel tears of frustration beginning to well up in his eyes and he willfully forced himself to swallow. He blinked back the tears.

What were his options? He could try to find a knife, or any other sharp instrument, somewhere in the barn. But that would leave Valerie alone and vulnerable again, and he had no idea when Cliff would show up. Would Cliff assume Jason had simply run away? Would he even check the barn right away? Maybe Jason had more time than he realized. But he was afraid to risk it. He could find a weapon—the shovel Lucy had used to brain Rodney still laid on the blood-soaked straw nearby—and hide in waiting, ready to pounce on Cliff the instant he appeared. But that's essentially what he'd done upstairs in the house and it hadn't worked out in his favor. Cliff could just as easily disarm him a second time.

Jason knew he didn't have the time to sit and contemplate. How long had he been in the barn already? At least a few minutes, perhaps as many as ten. Even if Cliff thought Jason had gone somewhere else, he would get to the barn eventually, probably sooner than later. Jason decided to combine his two options; he left Valerie's pedestal and scooped up the shovel, then hurried to the rear of the barn to begin his search for anything sharp.

There were a total of five stalls, all with wooden doors that stopped a few inches above the ground. Jason knew the one closest to the back wall was where Cuddles and the other beast were, but there was nothing to indicate that any of the other four were better than the next. So he stepped up to the first one and pushed open the wooden door.

It was dim inside, hardly enough light to see, but after only a few seconds Jason realized there was nothing in the stall but hay. He suddenly remembered that Lucy had discovered the same thing; but she'd found the shovel in the second stall.

Jason quickly moved to the next stall, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. This stall, too, had a covering of hay on the floor, but the walls were lined with pegboard. Hanging from the pegs was an assortment of common tools. As Jason surveyed his options he wondered why Lucy had picked the shovel. Perhaps it was simply the closest thing, the first item she saw. But Jason saw a crosscut saw resting on two pegs, just to his right. He snatched it off the wall. He bent the blade back and forth, carefully, testing its rigidity. This would definitely cut through Valerie's bonds.

It would also serve as a handy weapon.

Jason turned around, prepared to run back through the barn and cut Valerie free, but he stopped before he'd taken the first step. He heard Cliff. The man was bellowing. Jason could tell he was still outside, and for a second he thought he might still have a chance to get Valerie out of there, but when Cliff's shouting became exponentially louder, Jason knew the man was inside the barn.

But something wasn't right. Cliff was clearly angry, but he was also agitated in a manner much different from anything Jason had seen before. He didn't stop shouting, but there was nothing coherent coming from his mouth; he was just making sounds.

Jason peered hesitantly around the edge of the stall door. When he saw Cliff's back was turned to him, he looked out a little further.

Cliff had moved directly in front of Valerie. His wordless shouting had quieted a little and he seemed to be assessing Valerie like one might assess a racehorse he intended to purchase.

Jason realized he was now in the exact same position Lucy had found herself in just a few short hours ago. If Lucy had the balls to go out there and attack Rodney, then Jason had no excuse not to do the same thing to Cliff. He felt the weight of the saw in his hand and felt a small glimmer of hope.

Cliff still carried the axe, but it was hanging from one hand, the blade almost touching the ground. It didn't seem like he was about to use it on Valerie, but Jason knew he would need to act fast anyway.

Jason crept slowly from the stall; once he'd cleared its door there was no cover at all, so now he needed to just move quickly and get it over with.

Cliff was talking to Valerie. "Yer man done left ya hee-ah," he said. "What do ya think of that? Ain't really a man at all, izzy?"

As Jason got closer he could see Cliff was twitching every few seconds. His left shoulder seemed to be having miniature spasms, and he kept tilting his head minutely to the left.

"But since ya ain't got no man no more," Cliff continued, "and since I ain't got no mama to tell me otherwise, I figure I might as well just go ahead and do what I want with ya." He paused. "I can see that song," he said. "I can see that fuckin' song."

To Jason's horror, he saw Cliff was rubbing his crotch with his left hand.

"Gonna have a real good..." he trailed off. After a few seconds he shouted, "Stop hummin' that fuckin' song!"

The sudden outburst startled Jason, and he jumped. He couldn't help it. Luckily, Cliff was too transfixed on Valerie to notice. Jason continued to move toward him, desperately trying not to make any sound. He carried the saw in front of him, blade out, like a talisman.

Cliff reached out with his large hand and squeezed Valerie's breast. As he did, Jason was sure the volume of her humming increased.

"Oh yeah," Cliff said, "that's nice." He paused and leaned closer to her. "What is that?" he asked, his voice void of the menace Jason had grown accustomed to and instead was full of child-like wonder. "What the fuck is that?"

Jason didn't know what he might have seen on Valerie, and he didn't care. He was very close now, only fifteen yards away.

"Are ya..." Cliff started. "Are ya..." He didn't seem capable of finishing the sentence. Then, "No, let's just do this. Stop hummin'!"

Cliff stepped back, releasing Valerie's breast, and began to unbuckle his belt. He pulled it free of the belt loops and dropped it to the ground beside him. Then he unzipped his fly and pulled his jeans and underwear down in a single motion. Jason was confronted with his pasty, white ass below the hem of his stained t-shirt.

Jason was only five or six steps away. And he was not about to let Cliff do anything more to Valerie. He prepared to charge, but stopped short when Cliff took a sudden step backward.

"Why ya starin' at me like that?" he asked. Jason could only assume he was talking to Valerie, though Jason couldn't see any change in her expression at all. "Stop starin' at me!" Cliff continued. He sounded like a petulant child. "Do ya hear that?"

Jason was done with this. Whatever crazy thoughts Cliff was having, Jason was about to put an end to them. He raised the saw in the air, across his chest. He charged, a one-syllable roar of pure hatred escaping his mouth as he did, pulling the saw to the right as it touched Cliff's back. He felt it catch in the meat directly below Cliff's shoulder blades.

At the same time, Cliff stepped backward and crouched. It wasn't a defensive maneuver—the big man was saying, "Stop lookin' at me," as he squatted down—he was simply trying to get away from Valerie's gaze. He let the axe fall to the ground beside him as if he'd forgotten all about it. Instead of drawing a deep cut across the middle of Cliff's back as Jason had intended, the saw scraped up over his shoulder blades and the back of his neck, hiking up his t-shirt and leaving scratches, but no serious injuries.

Cliff looked at him then, and Jason saw the realization dawn in his eyes. He lunged forward with the saw, but Cliff was already rolling out of the way, kicking his pants off of his ankles, coarse pieces of bloody hay sticking to his bare thighs and butt. He scrambled to his feet.

"You!" he was saying, "Why don't ya just leave me alone? Leave me alone, ya fuckin' psycho!"

For the second time since Cuddles had set him free, Jason was stunned at the reality of the situation. Cliff was now telling Jason to leave _him_ alone? Calling _him_ a psycho? How had their roles reversed?

Cliff was heading toward the back of the barn in a stumbling gait, calling out threats and insults over his shoulder, but there was more fear in his voice than aggression. Jason thought of the pan of liquid he'd thrown at the man. Had it been the same stuff the old woman had been dropping in her captive's eyes when he'd walked in? Watching Cliff's behavior now, Jason had to assume it had been; some powerful homemade hallucinogen, good enough for incubating monster eggs and completely frying the brains of any captives you might have. And now Cliff was seriously tripping out.

But Jason didn't care about that. Even if Cliff was feeling fearful right now, he was still a vile, evil man. Jason felt no pity for him. When the drug wore off, however long that might take, Jason would regret not taking advantage of this situation and doing away with Cliff for good.

He began to follow Cliff to the back of the barn.

Cliff ducked into the second stall, and that was not good news. Jason had been too mesmerized by the crosscut saw when he'd been in there a few moments before; he hadn't taken a proper look around, but surely there were plenty of other tools on those pegboard walls. Plenty that could be used as weapons.

He heard a few banging noises and a grunt from Cliff. Then a little scream. "Get me outta hee-ah," the man said.

Jason fully intended to get him out of there. In pieces, hopefully.

Cliff had closed the stall door behind him. Now, Jason pushed it back open with the tip of the saw, standing as far back as possible as he did so. The bright lights in the barn made it impossible to see inside the gloom of the stall beyond the triangle of light shining in the door.

As Jason was debating the safest way to enter, Cliff made that debate null and void. He barged out of the room, swinging a hammer in front of him wildly. Jason sidestepped without too much difficulty; Cliff didn't seem to be trying to hit _him_ with the hammer. Instead, he was swinging it in all directions, as if invisible demons were attacking him. To see this burly man with no pants on, penis flopping to and fro as he swung a hammer at invisible enemies, was almost comical. Almost. Jason moved farther away. Suddenly Cliff stopped, eyes fixed on Jason, glaring.

"You," he said. "You control them all, don't ya? Cut off the head, kill the body. Or so they say."

He flew at Jason, hammer raised high over his head. Jason brought the saw up again, tilting the teeth upward in the hopes they would catch Cliff's arm on its way down and stop the blow.

But before he reached Jason, Cliff stumbled over his own feet, tripped, and was airborne. He flew at Jason, a monster of a man in nothing but a t-shirt, sailing through the air. He landed on the ground with a thud, not two feet from where Jason stood. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Then, in a flash, he raised the hammer. He swung it. Even from his position, prostrate on the floor, there was power behind the strike.

Jason couldn't react. By the time he tried to move, it was too late. The claw end of the hammer slammed into the top of Jason's left foot, piercing his shoe and the flesh beneath. Pain exploded in an excruciating butterfly of red. Jason could hear the crunching of the bones in his foot, only to feel each individual one cry out in agony a half-instant later. He screamed without shame. He had never felt anything so painful in all his life.

Cliff cackled, a sound eerily similar to the old woman in the house. He began to use his elbows to pull himself forward. Jason tried to step back but he couldn't move his foot. He didn't know if it was simply because of the pain, or if it had been effectively nailed to the floor with the hammer-claw.

Cliff grabbed his ankle in a death grip.

Jason realized the saw was no longer in his hand. He didn't recall dropping it, but obviously he had. He scanned the ground around his feet quickly and saw it lying a few feet away. He stepped toward it with his uninjured foot, but just as he did, Cliff ripped the hammer out of his other one. Jason screamed again, a sound terrifying to his own ears, and went down on his left knee. His mangled foot felt like dead flesh behind him and he doubted he could stand on it.

Cliff brought the hammer claw down again, burying it in the meaty tissue of Jason's calf.

He was still cackling. "There ya go!" he shouted. "Lord of the shadows vanquished!" Jason had no idea what he was talking about and didn't care. "Keep them crawling, ya think?" he asked, and paused as if he really expected Jason to answer. "No!" he finally bellowed. "You can't control them now. Cut off the head! Cut off the head!"

Jason rolled, dragging his dead leg with him. Cliff had let go of the hammer and it protruded from Jason's calf, quivering with every move he made.

Cliff was on his hands and knees now, advancing. Jason suddenly realized why Cliff had let the hammer go without a struggle; in his right hand, Cliff now held the saw. He was grinning like the world's happiest lunatic. "Cut off the head," he repeated. "Cut off the head to kill the body."

Jason had no weapon. The only one within reach was embedded in his own flesh. Despite the pain he was currently in, he knew pulling the hammer out would be worse. But he had no choice. He reached back and gripped the handle of the hammer. He took a deep breath. Cliff advanced.

With a roar, Jason pulled the hammer from his leg. Blood covered his hand and forearm and gushed out onto the ground. It felt like a red-hot fireplace poker was digging around in his calf. But he had no time to think about it. He raised the hammer.

And Cliff shoved him.

He had a brute strength Jason could never have imagined. He knew the man was strong, but now it was like a locomotive was somehow trapped inside his body and was trying to get out. Jason was rocked backward, his left leg bending beneath him because it refused to follow his body's orders. The back of his head hit the ground, knocking his teeth together with enough force to chip them. Jason ignored the pain, swallowed, and tried to sit up.

Cliff shoved him back down, then crawled on top of him, using his knees to pin Jason's shoulders to the ground. His muscular calves held Jason's biceps down as well, so all Jason could do was flop his forearms around helplessly. Cliff's flaccid penis hung down in the hollow of Jason's neck. Cliff held the saw in front of his face, twisting it back and forth, letting the light glint off the steel. He was still grinning furiously. Here was the sadistic madman Jason had come to know. Perhaps now, with whatever homemade drugs were coursing through his system, he was a little _more_ mad.

So this was it. Jason had never really thought about his own death before this night, but he certainly never envisioned this. To have his head sawed off was definitely not on his list of top five ways to go.

"Jason!" The shout was ear-splitting. And unexpected. But Jason recognized Valerie's voice immediately. She had snapped out of her trance, just in time to witness his murder. "Jason! No!"

Cliff lifted his head and looked across the barn toward Valerie, then looked back at Jason. "Yer lady don't seem to like me," he said. "She don't like my dick." With that, he bucked his hips slightly, causing his penis to swing forward. The head of it slapped Jason under the chin. "She was starin' at it," Cliff continued, "in a bad way." He looked pensive for a moment. "But this'll take care of her, too, won't it? Cut off the head, kill the body." He raised the saw again.

Without warning, Cliff screamed and arched his back. It wasn't an attack; it was a reaction. He tried to roll off of Jason, but only half-succeeded. He dropped the saw to the floor, inches from Jason's face. Jason didn't understand, but there was no time to think; he had to move.

He struggled out from under Cliff, his left leg singing holy hell the entire time, and managed to sit up. Then he saw what was happening.

Colonel Cuddles was behind Cliff. Three of the creature's four arms were holding tightly to Cliff's leg, around his knee. Blood welled up where each claw dug in, and Cliff's right foot, up to the ankle, had already disappeared inside the spinning, churning jaws of the beast.

As Jason watched, Cuddles continued to feed more of Cliff's leg into his mouth. Cliff screamed and screamed, incoherent exclamations of sheer terror and pain. He thrashed about violently, but Cuddles did not release his leg, and Cliff, face down again, couldn't get the proper leverage to strike out at him. Blood poured from the stump, but Cuddles seemed to have no problem devouring that as well. Bone dust floated into the air as it was ground up.

After only a moment, the other creature waddled up beside Cuddles, took hold of Cliff's left leg, and began to rotate its teeth. Slowly at first, then picking up speed. Jason saw Cliff's other foot disappear.

The two little monsters had worked their way up to Cliff's knees by the time Jason picked up the saw.

He didn't want to be theatrical about it. He was afraid, even with Cliff's lower legs entirely gone, that the man might still somehow get the upper hand again if he was given half a chance. So Jason gripped the saw tightly in his right hand, placed it on the back of Cliffs neck, and pulled back in one smooth motion. Cliff screamed anew. Blood bubbled up. There were no major arteries in the back of the neck; Jason would have to cut further. He brought the saw forward, positioned it in the wound he'd just created, and pulled back again. And again. And again.

It took a few minutes for Cliff to stop moving. Even after that, he continued to whimper, and he wasn't silent until Jason had used the saw enough that his head barely hung on. Jason was a portrait of gore. He was covered in blood, some of it his own, most of it Cliff's.

When Cliff was undoubtedly dead, the two creatures paused in devouring him and their teeth slowly whirred to a stop. They both looked at Jason expectantly.

"Thank you," Jason said. "Again. You saved my life." His voice was a whisper through gritted teeth, as he continued to try to block out the immense pain in his leg and foot.

Cuddles cocked his head to the side. "Kiff?" he asked.

Jason shook his head. "Jason. I'm Jason."

A long moment of silence passed.

From the other end of the barn, Valerie called his name again. He needed to see to her. He struggled to get to his feet, but his left leg was useless. He managed to crawl to the wall and use it for support, and he was able to stand up, balanced on his right foot. The pain in his left foot and calf was still excruciating, but it was slowly turning into a numbness that made the pain distant. Jason didn't know if that was good or bad.

Cuddles finally said, "Jayss?"

"Jason. Jay-sun."

"Jayss."

"Close enough," Jason said.

"Cuddas," Cuddles said.

"I know."

Then, to his surprise, Colonel Cuddles reached an arm out and pulled the other creature closer to him. With a second arm, he gestured toward it and said, "Snuggus."

"Snuggus?" Jason asked.

Cuddles nodded his head emphatically. "Snuggus."

"Is that, like, Snuggles? Cuddles and Snuggles?" Jason didn't know if Cliff just had a strange sense of humor, or if he really was crazy enough to think these things deserved cutesy names. He suspected Cliff wouldn't find them so cute anymore.

"Jason!" Valerie shouted again.

He looked at her, and even from across the barn he could see the terror on her face. She was crying, or she had been; her cheeks were glistening. He wondered if she was aware of what had happened in front of her, what happened to Frank and Lucy and Rodney and Cliff, or if her mind really had been shut off during that time. He didn't look forward to explaining it to her, but he still hoped she hadn't seen.

He began to hobble toward her, still using the wall to support himself. He'd only made four steps before Cuddles spoke again.

"Jayss?" It was just the one word, but it evoked so much more meaning than that. The creatures were standing side by side, one of Cuddles' arms wrapped around the back of Snuggles' short neck where his shoulders would have been if he'd had any. Those orbish black eyes that had seemed so evil now had a beseeching quality to them. Jason thought of the promise he'd made; he'd kept it, sort of, but it wouldn't have been possible to do so without their help. He also thought of his previous conviction to take them with him when he escaped. He saw no reason not to stick with that plan. Sure, they didn't have to worry about Cliff anymore, but _without_ Cliff, they would probably starve to death. They were no hunters, Jason was pretty sure of that. He didn't know what Valerie might think of the idea, but he knew he owed them a debt. Taking them with him, out of this horrible place, was the least he could do.

"You're coming with us," he said. "Both of you. We'll all leave together."

"Cuddas, Snuggus, Jayss," the creature said.

"And Valerie. Don't forget about Valerie."

"Vary?"

"Close enough." He paused. "Do you guys have...things? Belongings? If you do, you should get them now."

Cuddles made some clicking and mewling sounds, then he and Snuggles headed toward the stall at the far end of the barn—their room. Jason continued painstakingly making his way back to Valerie's pedestal. He had to follow the wall of the barn in order to stay on his feet. He kept the saw in his other hand so he could cut the cords around Valerie's wrists.

He was essentially hopping on one foot, using the wall for balance, so there were a few dicey seconds when he reached the open door. But he made it across without falling and hopped up behind the pedestal where Valerie still stood prisoner.

"Jason? Jason?" Her voice trembled; she was still on the verge of tears. "What's happening? Where are we? And what...what...oh my god!"

"It's okay, Val," Jason said. "I swear, things are okay now."

"I thought I dreamt it," she whispered, "but there it is again."

Jason looked past her and saw the smaller of the two creatures—Snuggles—making his way toward them. He was a little surprised to realize that he could tell the difference between them now, even when they weren't together. Clutched in the crook of one of Snuggles' bony arms was what appeared to be a very dingy, very matted teddy bear. He held it close to his body, protecting it.

"What the fuck is that thing?" she cried, her voice getting louder with each word. "What the fuck is it?"

"Shh," Jason said. He kept his voice calm, hoping it would transfer to her. "Shh, it's okay. He's on our side."

Jason sawed through the cord that bound Valerie's left wrist to the wall. She pulled her hand up in front of her face and looked at it as if she'd never seen it before. Then she brought it back down to her side.

"It's a fucking monster," she whispered. Her voice shook, and Jason didn't know if she was whispering because she couldn't muster the strength to speak louder, or if she was afraid Snuggles would hear her. "It's looking at me," she said.

"It's a he, not an it," Jason said. "And he might be a monster, sort of, but he helped us. He saved us."

"Uh-huh", Valerie said absently as Jason sawed through the cord holding her right wrist. She didn't hold this hand up at all, just continued to let it hang limply from her shoulder.

"You have to reach up and undo the clasps," Jason said. "I can't climb up there right now, not with this." He motioned to his leg. "They're simple, just unhook 'em."

Valerie did as he told her, but very slowly, as if she was trying to be stealthy. Jason hoped she wasn't reverting back to that trance-like state. It dawned on him that seeing Cuddles, back on the road when they'd first been abducted, was what caused her to shut down like that in the first place.

"There you go, babe. Now just duck out from under it."

Valerie did. She crouched down and stepped off the pedestal, one foot at a time, very softly. She took a couple of steps forward. Jason wanted to grab her, to hug her close to him, but he couldn't reach her and he couldn't leave the safety of the wall without falling over.

"Val, babe, what are you doing?"

She crouched down. When she rose again, Jason could see she held the axe in her hand. It had been lying on the ground, right where Cliff dropped it next to his discarded jeans. In that instant, Jason knew what she was doing, but it happened before he could say a word. He could only stand on his one good foot, propped against the wall. He was powerless to intervene.

Valerie raised the axe above her right shoulder. She screamed, a sound that was more war-cry than fear, and ran toward Snuggles. She reached him in less than five steps. She brought the axe down.

Jason saw it unfold in slow motion. He knew if he wasn't injured, if he could move, he'd be able to prevent this from happening. But that was not the case.

Snuggles did not try to run. He cowered a little, pulling one arm up as if to cover his eyes. He squeezed the teddy bear tighter. His teeth began to churn, but there was nothing threatening about it.

The blade of the axe hit him squarely on top of his head, directly behind his eyes. A dark brown sludge poured from the wound as Valerie pulled the blade back out. Snuggles mewled, short but loud, and then Valerie hit him again, lower this time. The axe went in at an angle above his snout, knocking him backwards on his squat feet. Again Valerie yanked the axe free, and again she swung. This third attack was a baseball bat swing, the axe burying in the center of the bulbous body of the creature. He fell over onto his back, three arms flailing, the fourth still clutching the teddy bear which was now drenched in what passed for Snuggles' blood. He made no more sound, and his flailing arms fell to nothing more than an occasional twitch after only a few seconds. Valerie left the axe where it was and stepped back, breathing hard.

Jason left the sanctuary of the wall and hopped toward them. He only made it a few feet before he lost his balance. He was able to catch himself on the pedestal Valerie had been standing on, and then he lowered himself to the ground and began to crawl on his hands and knees.

At the back of the barn, Cuddles emerged from the last stall. He took a few waddling steps in their direction. He paused for a brief second as the scene in front of him registered, and then he was moving as fast as he could, his stubby legs betraying him with every step.

Valerie had turned and was approaching Jason as he crawled to her. "Thank god," she said, "I didn't—"

She spun around as she heard the frantic mewling from Cuddles. She gasped, then sobbed, one loud, hitching sob. "It's another one."

"Valerie, no!" Jason shouted. "No, they're on our side!"

Valerie dashed forward again, going for the axe that still stuck out of Snuggles' belly. Despite his swaying and wobbling, however, Cuddles reached it at the same time and raked a claw down the back of Valerie's hand as she placed it on the axe handle. His teeth spun like a cyclone.

Valerie backpedaled, and Cuddles didn't follow. He simply stood over Snuggles' body, staring down at it. Softly at first, then louder and louder, an anguished wail could be heard over the spinning of his jaws. It continued to increase in volume until Jason could hardly stand it, even with his hands over his ears.

"C'mon, Jason, we have to run. Now!" She was tugging on his arm, yelling in his ear to be heard.

He shook his head. "They saved us," he shouted. "I can't leave him."

Even though it was the third time he'd told her this fact, it seemed like it was only now registering. A look of confused horror passed across her face. "What?" she shouted.

Jason jabbed a finger in the air, pointing at Colonel Cuddles. "He's the only reason we're not dead right now!"

Suddenly the wail stopped short. At the same time, Cuddles' teeth slowed and finally stopped. He raised all four arms into the air and tilted his head back. "Bruvva," he said softly. "Bruvva."

Jason's heart sank. He knew what it was like to see your brother killed.

"Bruvva," Cuddles said a little louder. "Bruvva bruvva bruvva!" He began hitting himself over the head as his voice gained volume. He turned away from Snuggles, almost falling. He continued to thrash his arms in the air, quickly, each one taking its turn to smack him on the head. "Bruvva bruvva bruvva," he shouted. "Snuggus!"

Jason watched him for a while in silence. When the ferocity of his thrashing seemed to abate, Jason called his name. After a few more seconds, Cuddles turned and faced him.

The voice that escaped him now was one of pure malice. Low and sinister, his teeth beginning to turn ever so slightly, Cuddles lowered his head and said, "Vary."

"No, Cuddles. No! It was an accident. She didn't know." Jason tried to sound confident, but he was pissed at Valerie, too. He wasn't sure if Cuddles would ever forgive her for murdering his brother. Jason knew _he_ would never forgive the man who murdered _his_ brother, even if that man was dead already. He felt horrible; he and Valerie owed this creature their lives, and instead they'd taken the life of the only other living thing Cuddles could relate to.

At the same time, Jason felt a strong need to get the hell out of this place. He didn't think there was anyone else around at the moment, but how long would it be before some equally sadistic uncle or cousin showed up? And then they'd be in the same predicament all over again.

"Cuddles, please," he said, "I'm really sorry. I really am. But we need to leave." He paused. "I want you to come with us."

Cuddles hadn't moved. "Vary," he said again, his voice still low.

"I know you're angry," Jason said, "and you have every right to be, but it was an accident and we don't have time right now. Please understand."

Valerie was beside him again, tugging on his arm. "Come on Jason, we have to leave now. I don't know what kind of weird bond you've got with that freak, but it isn't natural. We need to just leave."

"If we leave him here, he'll die," Jason said. "And I owe him. _We_ owe him."

"Fuck him!" Valerie shouted. "It's a freak of nature. Shit, it probably isn't even that, it's just a freak! We'll be doing the world a favor if it dies!"

"Fuck Vary," Cuddles said slowly.

She moved away from Jason, still eyeing Cuddles warily, and found Cliff's abandoned pants on the ground. It only took a few seconds of rummaging in the pockets to find a ring of keys. "One of these is for that truck, I'm sure," she said, pointing out through the barn doors. "I'm taking it. We need to get you to a hospital." Her voice was calmer now, more sympathetic. "But that thing is going to eat me alive if it gets near me, so we need to go. Now."

"He's not a _thing_ ," Jason said. Then, to Cuddles, "Are you coming with us?"

"Cuddas, Jayss."

"And Valerie," Jason said.

"Fuck Vary," Cuddles said again. "Cuddas, Jayss."

"I can't do that. It has to be all three of us."

Cuddles seemed to think about this for a long moment. It was silent in the barn. Then there was an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"I'm going, Jason." Valerie moved next to him again. "Come on."

He let her help him up, using her body as support. She wouldn't turn her back on Cuddles, so they made their way to the barn door backwards. It was difficult with only one foot, but not impossible. At the door, he stopped Valerie before stepping out into the snow. He called across the barn.

"What are you going to do?"

He didn't really expect an answer, but Cuddles gave him one anyway.

"Snuggus. Barry Snuggus."

Jason hung his head, and when Valerie started moving again, he moved with her. He still hadn't had any time to grieve for Frank, but somehow he felt worse about leaving the creature behind than he did about Frank. Even though he was sure Frank would be eaten in the days to come when Cuddles got hungry.

The snow was still falling outside and the air was still bitter cold, but Jason hardly noticed. They reached the truck, and just as Valerie had suspected, one of the keys on the ring opened the passenger door. She helped Jason inside. His leg was throbbing with a dull pain and he assumed he was in shock; he knew the injuries he'd sustained should be hurting a lot more than they were.

Just before she closed the door, Jason heard Cuddles mewling. He thought he heard his name, too. "Jayss." But that might have been his imagination.

Valerie climbed in behind the wheel. She started the truck.

Jason thought about Frank. He thought about Snuggles. Were they really so different? Were he and Cuddles? But it was over now. Cuddles would have to fend for himself. Maybe he'd be okay.

Slowly, Valerie eased the truck through the opening in the trees. Presumably, the road was out there. Hopefully a hospital, too.

Jason looked over his shoulder, through the back window. Standing in the barn door, a splotch of white beyond the blanket of white ground, Cuddles was watching them. Jason wondered if it was because he wanted to make sure they left, or if he was sad about it. Perhaps he was plotting revenge.

Jason faced forward again as Valerie drove them out into the snow and the darkness.

###
If you enjoyed this story, please look for my novel, _The Middle of Nowhere,_ available wherever e-books are sold.
About the Author

Matthew Warren Wilson has been a reader and writer all his life. He obtained a degree in creative writing from the University of Washington, and he lives in the Seattle area with his wife and daughter.

