The Snow and The Darkness

by Matthew Warren Wilson

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