It was hard going on foot. The new snow evened out the ruts and potholes in the road until they were almost invisible, and his feet kept slipping off the hard edges and into the deeper pockets. Several times he stumbled and fell to his knees, the shock of the hard, cold ground rushing up through his legs and palms of his hands. The pain in his injured hand was dulled somewhat by the frigid air, but it was there, a constant ache, and he could feel the wetness inside his mittens. Still bleeding. Something was working at him. Was it possible that whatever might be in the water at Jackson Hydro had spread this far? If so, he wondered what else it had done to him, to them, that he didn’t even know about yet.

He could see no farther than ten or fifteen feet, and even that was pushing it; the trees alongside of him were nothing more than humps of indistinct white and green. The world was swiftly reduced to the small square section of road in front of him, and he concentrated on that with all his strength, refusing to think about the car in the ditch or worse, his family and what might have happened. It seemed he could see shapes coming at him out of the pines, broad-shouldered men dressed in blue. He ignored them all and concentrated on the road.

Minutes later, the house loomed up out of the mass of blowing white snow, and he sighed with relief. His nose and cheeks were numb, and the tips of his fingers ached with cold. But he stopped in front of the porch, suddenly laced with fear for what he might see inside.

They’ll be sleeping peacefully. There’s nothing to worry about. We’ll go get the car out and drive until we see some sunshine.

They would have to go a very, very long way; in fact, standing out there in the wind and snow, he wasn’t sure if he even remembered what the sun looked like.

He could see the front door clearly from here; it looked solid and closed up tight. The sight calmed him, and he walked up the steps and tried the handle. It would not turn. Locked.

That was when he realized that he had left his key ring dangling from the ignition of the car a quarter mile back.

He pounded on the door and shouted Helen’s name, the wind tearing the words from his mouth and carrying it away faster than he could draw another breath. His lips and cheeks were now completely numb. There was no answer from inside to his repeated shouts, and he struggled around the corner of the deck and into the full force of the wind, hunching his shoulders and leaning into it.

Something was wrong with the kitchen window. Oh God the glass is shattered…