“What’re you driving?” Younger asked as they stepped outside. The snow was falling more thickly now, and a cold wind was swirling the white flakes past the lampposts.

“My Mustang,” said Jake.

Younger gave a snort as he beckoned to the parking attendant, bundled in a puffy down-lined parka. Jake shuddered in the cold, then saw a boxy SUV lumber up the driveway. It was faded blue, and looked as if it had seen lots of miles.

“It’s a Land Rover,” Jake exclaimed. “Like Bob’s.”

“I bought it off Bob,” Younger said as he went around the car, tipped the attendant, and climbed in behind the wheel. “When he got his new one.”

Jake had to take off his sword before he could get into the right-hand side. He dumped it clanking on the floor behind the seats.

The snow looked even heavier in the headlights’ glow.

“You know where this place is?” Younger asked as he put the van into gear.

“Yeah,” said Jake. “I’ve been there before.”

“Okay, you navigate.”

And into the snow they drove.

Through the Blizzard

THROUGH THE BLIZZARD

“… expect blizzard conditions through most of the night,” the radio commentator was saying. Jake had turned on the all-news station. “Drivers are advised to stay off the roads—”

“Turn that damned thing off,” Younger growled. “I can see that it’s snowing like hell.”

The snow was coming down more thickly than ever, blowing almost horizontally across the highway by a howling wind. Younger was bent over the van’s steering wheel, both hands gripping the wheel with white-knuckled intensity.

“You know where this place is?” Younger asked, for the fourth time.

“Yeah. I plugged its location into your GPS,” Jake said, tapping the screen glowing in the middle of the dashboard. Its map showed the highway, but the female voice that gave directions had been silent for more than half an hour.

Jake was thinking, It’s early for a blizzard. Not even November yet. Whatever happened to global warming?

There weren’t any other cars on the highway. Nobody else is crazy enough to come out in this, Jake told himself. Then a big eighteen-wheeler roared past them, churning up blinding swirls of snow. The Land Rover shook in its wake and skidded slightly as Younger growled out a string of curses.

He corrected the van’s skid and drove on in bleak silence.

After a dozen more miles, Jake asked, “How’s the road?”

“Okay,” Younger replied, staring straight ahead into the windswept white flakes. “Long as we don’t come across any more cowboys in semis.”

Jake nodded in the shadows.

“This buggy’s got all sorts of traction,” Younger added. “Your little Go-Kart would’ve spun out twenty miles back.”

The wind was actually a help, driving the snow across the wide paved highway. Must be piling up drifts on the side of the road, Jake thought. He peered into the darkness but could make out nothing.