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the mountains of Switzerland。 There had been avalanches in the area and the
notorious KGB agent Slobbo had killed his girlfriend with a poison dart； but
somewhere near was the Russian antigravity machine。 Perhaps at the end of this
very tunnel。 He drew his automatic and went along the concrete tunnel； his eyes
wide and alert； his breath pluming out。
The far end of the concrete ring was solidly blocked with snow。 He tried
digging through it and was amazed （and a little uneasy） to see how solid it was；
almost like ice from the cold and the constant weight of more snow on top of it。
His make…believe game collapsed around him and he was suddenly aware that he
felt closed in and extremely nervous in this tight ring of cement。 He could hear
his breathing； it sounded dank and quick and hollow。 He was under the snow； and
hardly any light filtered down the hole he had dug to get in here。 Suddenly he
wanted to be out in the sunlight more than anything； suddenly he remembered his
daddy and mommy were sleeping and didn't know there he was； that if the hole he
dug caved in he would be trapped； and the Overlook didn't like him。
Danny got turned around with some difficulty and crawled back along the length
of the concrete ring； his snowshoes clacking woodenly together behind him； his
palms crackling in last fall's dead aspen leaves beneath him。 He had just
reached the end and the cold spill of light ing down from above when the snow
did give in； a minor fall； but enough to powder his face and clog the opening he
had wriggled down through and leave him in darkness。
For a moment his brain froze in utter panic and he could not think。 Then； as
if from far off； he heard his daddy telling him that he must never play at the
Stovington dump； because sometimes stupid people hauled old refrigerators off to
the dump without removing the doors and if you got in one and the door happened
to shut on you； there was no way to get out。 You would die in the darkness。
（You wouldn't want a thing like that to happen to you； would you； doc？）
（No； Daddy。）
But it had happened； his frenzied mind told him； it had happened； he was in
the dark； he was closed in； and it was as cold as a refrigerator。 And —
（something is in here with me。）
His breath stopped in a gasp。 An almost drowsy terror stole through his veins。
Yes。 Yes。 There was something in here with him； some awful thing the Overlook
had saved for just such a chance as this。 Maybe a huge spider that had burrowed
down under the dead leaves； or a rat 。。。 or maybe the corpse of some little
kid that had died here on the playground。 Had that ever happened？ Yes； he
thought maybe it had。 He thought of the woman in the tub。 The blood and brains
on the wall of the Presidential Sweet。 Of some little kid； its head split open
from a fall from the monkey bars or a swing； crawling after him in the dark；
grinning； looking for one final playmate in its endless playground。 Forever。 In
a moment he would hear it ing。
At the far end of the concrete ring； Danny heard the stealthy crackle of dead
leaves as something came for him on its hands and knees。 At any moment he would
feel its cold hand close over his ankle —
That thought broke his paralysis。 He was digging at the loose fall of snow
that choked the end of the concrete ring； throwing it back between his legs in
powdery bursts like a dog digging for a bone。 Blue light filtered down from
above and Danny thrust himself up at it like a diver ing out of deep water。
He scraped his back on the lip of the concrete ring。 One of his snowshoes
twisted behind the other。 Snow spilled down inside his ski mask and into the
collar of his parka。 He dug at the snow； clawed at it。 It seemed to be trying to
hold him； to suck him back down； back into the concrete ring where that unseen；
leaf…crackling thing was； and keep him there。 Forever。
Then he was out； his face was turned up to the sun； and he was crawling
through the snow； crawling away from the half…buried cement ring； gasping
harshly； his face almost ically white with powdered snow — a living fright…
mask。 He hobbled over to the jungle gym and sat down to readjust his snowshoes
and get his breath。 As he set them to rights and tightened the straps again； he
never took his eyes from the hole at the end of the concrete ring。 He waited to
see if something would e out。 Nothing did； and after three or four minutes；
Danny's breathing began to slow down。 Whatever it was； it couldn't stand the
sunlight。 It was cooped up down there； maybe only able to e out when it was
dark。。。 or when both ends of its circular prison were plugged with snow。
（but i'm safe now i'm safe i'll just go back because now i'm ）
Something thumped softly behind him。
He turned around； toward the hotel； and looked。 But even before he looked
（Can you see the Indians in this picture？）
he knew what he would see； because he knew what that soft thumping sound had
been。 It was the sound of a large clump of snow falling； the way it sounded when
it slid off the roof of the hotel and fell to the ground。
（Can you see — ？）
Yes。 He could。 The snow had fallen off the hedge dog。 When he came down it had
only been a harmless lump of snow outside the playground。 Now it stood revealed；
an incongruous splash of green in all the eye…watering whiteness。 It was sitting
up； as if to beg a sweet or a scrap。
But this time he wouldn't go crazy； he wouldn't blow his cool。 Because at
least he wasn't trapped in some dark old hole。 He was in the sunlight。 And it
was just a dog。 It's pretty warm out today； he thought hopefully。 Maybe the sun
just melted enough snow off that old dog so the rest fell off in a bunch。 Maybe
that's all it is。
（Don't go near that place 。。。 steer right clear。）
His snowshoe bindings were as tight as they were ever going to be。 He stood up
and stared back at the concrete ring； almost pletely submerged in the snow；
and what he saw at the end he had exited from froze his heart。 There was a
circular patch of darkness at the end of it； a fold of shadow that marked the
hole he'd dug to get down inside。 Now； in spite of the snow…dazzle； he thought
he could see something there。 Something moving。 A hand。 The waving hand of some
desperately unhappy child； waving hand； pleading hand； drowning hand。
（Save me O please save me If you can't save me at least e play with me。。。
Forever。 And Forever。 And Forever。）
〃No；〃 Danny whispered huskily。 The word fell dry and bare from his mouth；
which was stripped of moisture。 He could feel his mind wavering now； trying to
go away the way it had when the woman in the room had 。。。 no； better not think
of that。
He grasped at the strings of reality and held them tightly。 He had to get out
of here。 Concentrate on that。 Be cool。 Be like the Secret Agent Man。 Would
Patrick McGoohan be crying and peeing in his pants like a little baby？
Would his daddy？
That calmed him somewhat。
From behind him； that soft Hump sound of falling snow came again。 He turned
around and the head of one of the hedge lions was sticking out of the snow now；
snarling at him。 It was closer than it should have been； almost up to the gate
of the playground。
Terror tried to rise up and he quelled it。 He was the Secret Agent Man； and he
would escape。
He began to walk out of the playground； taking the same roundabout course his
father had taken on the day that the snow flew。 He concentrated on operating the
snowshoes。 Slow； flat strides。 Don't lift your foot too high or you'll lose your
balance。 Twist your ankle and spill the snow off the crisscrossed lacings。 It
seemed so slow。 He reached the corner of the playground。 The snow was drifted
high here and he was able to step over the fence。 He got halfway over and then
almost fell flat when the snowshoe on his behind foot caught on one of the fence
posts。 He leaned on the outside edge of gravity； pinwheeling his arms；
remembering how hard it was to get up once you fell down。
From his right； that soft sound again； falling clumps of snow。 He looked over
and saw the other two lions； clear of snow now down to their forepaws； side by
side； about sixty paces away。 The green indentations that were their eyes were
fixed on him。 The dog had turned its head。
（It only happens when you're not looking。）
〃Oh！ Hey — 〃
His snowshoes had crossed and he plunged forward into the snow； arms waving
uselessly。 More snow got inside his hood and down his neck and into the tops of
his boots。 He struggled out of the snow and tried to get the snowshoes under
him； heart hammering crazily now
（Secret Agent Man remember you're the Secret Agent）
and overbalanced backward。 For a moment he lay there looking at the sky；
thinking it would be simpler to just give up。
Then he thought of the thing in the concrete tunnel and knew he could not。 He
gained his feet and stared over at the topiary。 All three lions were bunched
together now； not forty feet away。 The dog had ranged off to their left； as if
to block Danny's retreat。 They were bare of snow except for powdery ruffs around
their necks and muzzles。 They were all staring at him。
His breath was racing now； and the panic was like a rat behind his forehead；
twisting and gnawing。 He fought the panic and he fought the snowshoes。
（Daddy's voice： No； don't fight them； doc。 Walk on them like they were your
own feet。 Walk with them。）
（Yes； Daddy。）
He began to walk again； trying to regain the easy rhythm he had practiced with
his daddy。 Little by little it began to e； but with the rhythm came an
awareness of just how tired he was； how much his fear had exhausted him。 The
tendons of his thighs and calves and ankles were hot and trembly。 Ahead he could
see the Overlook； mockingly distant； seeming to stare at him with its many
windows； as if this were some sort of contest in which it was mildly interested。
Danny looked back over his shoulder and his hurried breathing caught for a
moment and then hurried on even faster。 The nearest lion was now only twenty
feet behind； breasting through the snow like a dog paddling in a pond。 The two
others were to its right and left； pacing it。 They were like an army platoon on
patrol； the dog； still off to their left； the scout。 The closest lion had its
head down。 The shoulders bunched powerfully above its neck。 The tail was up； as
if in the instant before he had turned to look it had been swishing back and
forth； back and forth。 He thought it looked like a great big housecat that was
having a good time playing with a mouse before killing it。
（ — falling — ）
No； if he fell he was dead。 They would never let him get up。 They would
pounce。 He pinwheeled his arms madly and lunged ahead； his center of gravity
dancing just beyond his nose。 He caught it and hurried on； snapping glances back
over his shoulder。 The air whistled in and out of his dry throat like hot glass。
The world closed down to the dazzling snow； the green hedges； and the whispery
sound of his snowshoes。 And something else。 A soft； muffled padding sound。 He
tried to hurry faster and couldn't。 He was walking over the buried driveway now；
a small boy with his face almost buried in the shadow of his parka hood。 The
afternoon was still and bright。
When he looked back again； the point lion was only five feet behind。 It was
grinning。 Its mouth was open； its haunches tensed down like a clockspring。
Behind it and the others he could see the rabbit； its head now sticking out of
the snow； bright green； as if it had turned its horrid blank face to watch the
end of the stalk。
Now； on the Overlook's front lawn between the circular drive and the porch； he
let the panic loose and began to run clumsily in the snowshoes； not daring to
look back now； tilting further and further forward； his arms out ahead of him
like a blind man feeling for obstacles。 His hood fell back； revealing his
plexion； paste white giving way to hectic red blotches on his cheeks； his
eyes bulging with terror。 The porch was very close now。
Behind him he heard the sudden hard crunch of snow as something leaped。
He fell on the porch steps； screaming without sound； and scrambled up them on
his hands and knees； snowshoes clattering and askew behind him。
There was a slashing sound in the air and sudden pain in his leg。 The ripping
sound of cloth。 Something else that might have — must have — been in his mind。
Bellowing； angry roar。
Smell of blood and evergreen。
He fell full…length on the porch； sobbing hoarsely； the rich； metallic taste
of copper in his mouth。 His heart was thundering in his chest。 There was a small
trickle of blood ing from his nose。
He had no idea how long he lay there before the lobby doors flew open and Jack
ran out； wearing just his jeans and a pair of slippers。 Wendy was behind him。
〃Danny！〃 she screamed。
〃Doc！ Danny； for Christ's sake！ What's wrong？ What happened？〃
Daddy was helping him up。 Below the knee his snowpants were ripped open。
Inside； his woollen ski sock had been ri