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 thro
ugh 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
The Snow and The Darkness Page 13