The Snow and The Darkness

by Matthew Warren Wilson

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 sa
distic 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