The Snow and The Darkness

by Matthew Warren Wilson

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