Terrifying seconds of no light at all; only the reduced wind and resulting slight improvement in visibility enabled her to glean any hint of what was around her. But then she was all the way around the bend – so many jokes to be made there – and the lights of Barsall were in view. It was all straight going now.

Ellie accelerated up the road. In her peripheral vision, a pale shape loped alongside the X5 like an emaciated, hairless dog. Fucking greyhound from Hell. It veered towards her; her first instinct was to recoil from it, swerve left to get away, but that would all too easily send her through the crash barrier and down the hillside, and fuck that.

Besides, this creature – it and its brethren – was responsible for Tom. And for Joda and Barbara. Grant and Sally Beck. And yes, even Tony Harper, who whatever his faults hadn’t deserved a lonely freezing death in the snow. So she swung the wheel right, towards the thing, and sideswiped it. A judder of impact shocked through the car, surprisingly solid despite the creature’s thin, light, appearance. She heard the thump of the collision over the high shrilling noise in her ears, but if the thing made any cry as it was knocked flying, she didn’t hear it. It tumbled away through the snow and was gone.

The BMW slewed left, towards the barrier. Ellie steered against instinct, into the skid, then right again. A screeching sounded over the whine in her ears, and she glimpsed sparks flying up on the left as the Beamer’s wing scraped along the crash barrier. Then the X5 was clear, swerving back into the middle of the road. Speed dropping. It was going to stall. It was going to stall.

Don’t fucking panic. Keep control. Don’t accelerate too suddenly – you’ll flood the engine and stall it for certain. There. Now, more gas. Don’t look behind you. The X5 surged forward.

Something slammed into the side of the X5, making it swerve. Ellie fought for control and accelerated further. The lights were up ahead, but why the hell weren’t they getting closer?

Something scratching at the driver’s window, inches from her head. Don’t look. She mustn’t look.

Glass cracked inches from her ear.

She mustn’t look. Focus on the road. The light. They didn’t like the light. It would run away.

Unless they only preferred to stay out of the light. Given no other option, it mightn’t stop them.

But she’d be in the High Street. There’d be people there. She wouldn’t be alone.

Nor would whatever was clinging to the car.

The window burst inwards. Ellie flinched as chunks and grains of glass sprayed across her face like ice crystals. Something clutched at her face and hair.