The Shuddering

again, desperately groping for the aerosol can. His gloveless hand tried to spark a flame from Sawyer’s lighter as he continued his frantic search, but the demon had learned its lesson. Rather than giving Ryan time to arm himself, it crouched low in the snow and sprang forward within a blink. Ryan hit the ground, feeling like he’d just been punched in the chest. Behind him, Jane continued to scream. The creature emitted a gut-wrenching squeal, as if trying to speak, trying to tell him, “An eye for an eye.” Ryan scrambled to his feet, but his right hand came up empty.
    The lighter was gone, somewhere under the snow, knocked out of his grasp.
    At that precise moment, Ryan was a boy again. He stood in those very hills, the snow having melted away. A young Janeand Sawyer laughed next to him, the three of them running through a prairie of dandelions and wild grass. The peaks of distant Colorado mountains stood out against a bright blue sky, still capped with snow despite the sun that warmed their skin. Jane took both of their hands between her own, swinging them back and forth as she skipped across the prairie, her laugh like the tinkle of tiny silver bells. She turned to look at him, her eyes full of childhood wonder, but her expression eroded right before his eyes—shifted from joy to utter horror as her smile twisted into an O . Her eyes went saucer round as she drifted away from him, pulled back by an invisible hand. The bright green of spring browned and turned to ash. To ice. To snow. And in the distance, she screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
    The creature lunged again, its gangly arms swinging ahead of it, its claws slashing through the air. Ryan felt a surge of heat light up his shoulder as he threw himself at Jane’s board, grabbing the first thing that fell into his hand. He swung the cloth-wrapped table leg at his aggressor, connecting with the savage’s stomach. The thing scrambled backward, trying to regain its bearings.
    It was Ryan’s turn to not give it a chance.
    Flipping the torch so that the padded end was in his grasp, Ryan charged forward, holding the table leg out in front of him like a battering ram. It connected with the creature’s ribs. The thing gave an ear-piercing screech in response, its teeth snapping wildly, and again Ryan moved, jamming the end of his torch into the parasite’s jaws as hard as he could.
    The monster flailed its arms about its head, trying to wrap its talons around the thing in its mouth. Ryan twisted in the snow while it struggled, his shoulder throbbing beneath the padding of his coat, a sweater, a couple of shirts. He yanked the glove off his left hand, tossing it in the basket with its mate, before grabbing the ax from a bed of pine. The creature threw itself onto theground, thrashing as it choked on the broken piece of furniture rammed down its throat. It tossed its head from side to side, the torch whizzing through the air like some broken, unhinged metronome. With the hatchet’s blade balanced above his shoulder, Ryan tried to time his attack just right. The fiend threw its head to the side, its black eyes locking on Ryan as he approached. He sprang forward, jamming his foot on top of the torch that was still jammed between the monster’s teeth, putting all his weight into holding it and the creature’s head firmly in place. And then he reeled back and swung.
    The ax blade sank into the beast’s neck, a crimson spray arching upward, atomizing foul-scented blood across an otherwise flawless expanse of white. Ryan shot a glance behind him, his chest heaving, his shoulder burning beneath his coat. Jane was bounding toward him, choking on her sobs as she exerted herself, her torch blazing over her head like a beacon of hope. She slowed. Her eyes went wide. Ryan knew exactly what he’d find when he looked up again—more of them—but there was no time for fear.
    “Come on, come on,” he told her, waving her forward. Despite the terror drawn across her face, Jane pushed ahead. Ryan grabbed the branches he’d cut, tossed them aside, and exposed the aerosol can he hadn’t been able to find. Dropping the ax into the basket, he held out his arm, trying to breach the remaining dozen feet between them as Jane struggled on.
    “Throw it!” he yelled, and Jane did as she was told. They both watched their lifeline sail through the dusk, the weight of the burning end of Jane’s torch angling the flame toward the snow.
    Ryan’s heart skipped a beat as