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,
The Snow and The Darkness Page 15