Hank put a hand on his shoulder. “Nobody ever said it was easy. But the way I see it, your choices are looking pretty grim. If it comes to him or me, you know who I’m gonna choose to go out. And I’ll think you’ll feel the same.”

Hank grabbed the keys to the snowmobile and shoved them into the rear section of the machine’s rubber track. “If you get back here without me, you’ll know where they are,” he explained. “Don’t wait for me. I know my way around.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and headed for the trees. David followed him cautiously, holding the gun at his side. There was no more time to think. Now there was only their harsh breathing, the storm, and the shadows that leapt and slithered about within the depths of the woods.

And whoever or whatever waited for them in his own silent world of terror and twisted dreams.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Amanda Seigel peered out through the windshield as the wipers tried to clear a sight line through the storm. The interior of the car was deadly silent; everyone was concentrating on the task at hand. Once they hit the main road, the snow had gotten worse, and Amanda now wondered if they had made the right decision to come out into it. Then she thought about the spiders again, and shivered. Anything was better than sitting in that office and waiting.

Flint was in the backseat, checking and rechecking the two guns Bobby Babcock had thrown in with them. She had a feeling that he didn’t know much about guns, but at least it gave him something to do. Everyone needed something to take their minds off what was to come.

“How long?” she whispered finally. Bobby just shrugged, and so she turned back to the windshield again, determined to keep silent and out of the way. They could be very close now. They had been on the road for what seemed like hours.

Sure enough, in another five minutes Bobby was turning into a snow-covered driveway and cursing at the impossibly high drifts that faced them. “Shit,” he said, and glanced back at Flint. “Hold on to those guns.”

Amanda felt the cruiser surge forward, and then they hit the snow and she was thrown forward against the dashboard. The car lurched and bounced, and for a moment she thought they might get through, but then it ground to a stop just a few feet in. She groaned.

“Looks like a hike from here,” Flint said from the back. “Anyone know how far?”

Bobby grunted. “Probably about a quarter mile, maybe less.”

They all sat in silence for a long moment. The wipers hummed and squealed against the glass.

“Well,” Flint said finally. “We can’t just sit here.”