Hank was slowing the machine down. “We’re about a quarter mile from the place,” he shouted over the wind. “We oughta buck off ‘round here somewhere so he doesn’t hear us, go the rest of the way on foot!”

David gave him the thumbs-up sign, and felt the machine slow down a bit more. Hank headed them towards the riverbank and the woods. The trees were thick, monstrous shapes with waving arms in the darkness, a line of giants determined to keep them out. It was like some nightmare from which he couldn’t wake up, his legs churning and going nowhere while something huge and hideous with gnashing teeth and dripping jaws chased him down.

The snowmobile stopped along the edge of the bank about ten feet from the trees. From here they looked even thicker. It discouraged him not just because it would be so hard to get through them, but also because the man they hunted had slipped through the trees on foot for a mile or more. Probably carrying a screaming child, and forcing an unwilling partner ahead of him. He had to know these woods backward and forward. How can we possibly stop a man like that? Yet they had an advantage, though David could only guess how much it really counted. The chemical had been working on the man’s mind for a long time. Maybe he would make a mistake. It was not much, but it would have to be enough.

“You just follow me, and keep your head down,” Hank said as he hit the kill button on the handlebars and slid off the smooth, plastic seat. The air was calmer here by the trees, and they could speak without shouting. “I was cuttin’ trails round these parts just a month ago, and I still remember it pretty well. Once you get into it a little, the trees are spread out.”

With the throaty growl of the machine gone, David had a sudden, eerie feeling of unreality, as if he were watching the events on a movie screen. They stood in a semicircle of trees, where the riverbank jutted out to a point and formed a cove. It was strangely quiet with the storm all around them. He pulled the gun from his pocket.

“All you gotta do is pull the trigger,” Hank said. “Be careful, she’s got one hell of a kick to her.” He unzipped his jacket and took out the old, pump-action shotgun he had kept for himself. “Me, I like this one. It’s seen a few years, but that’s only seasoning. It ain’t real accurate neither, but what the hell, it don’t have to be if you’re close enough.” He pumped the barrel once and then zipped his coat back up. “You ready?”

David nodded. “I’ve never shot anything before, Hank.”