Jem stumbled a few more paces.Slowed.Stopped.He turned in a circle, looking for any sign of the other man.The wind howled.He raised an arm to shield his face—at least his ears had finally stopped hurting—but it didn’t help.He still couldn’t see more than a few yards, no matter which way he turned.
The smart thing would be to go back.
Which was…
That way.
Right?
Jem shuffled a step in what he thought was the right direction.His feet were frozen.His sneakers were packed with snow.Were those the outlines of the chalets?He looked down, trying to find his tracks, but all he saw was fresh snow drifting across the ground.He glanced behind him; his last footprint was already filling in.
This is how people get themselves killed.
But thinking like that didn’t help.He had to be smart.He had to think.There were buildings.There were lights.It wasn’t like he’d run for miles and miles.Hell, he probably hadn’t even gotten as far as the ski slopes.
Down.
That was smart, right?
People skied down.He’d go down.He’d find where the slope ended.Or the run.Or whatever you called it.He’d be right back at the lodge.
He turned—
And a bang broke through the storm’s shrieking.
It took almost half a second before Jem realized he’d just heard a gunshot.
Tean.
Oh God.
He turned in the direction of the sound and started to run.Triedto run.His feet were stiff and heavy, and the snow made it impossible to gauge the ground underneath, which meant every step turned into a stumble, a near-fall, and then a recovery that only sent him into the next uncertain step.It was so much harder than it should have been.Worse, a part of him recognized that he was getting tired.And cold.Maybe too cold.
Dark shapes resolved themselves out of the whirling gray.The chalets.The lodge’s outbuildings.Of course.Because he hadn’t gotten lost after all.He’d just freaked out.The storm, and not being able to see anything, and—
Then he was closer.
Not buildings.
Trees.Evergreens, their needles furry with snow.
Had he seen any trees?
A rope barrier marked off the trees, probably to keep people from skiing straight into them.No sign of a shooter.No sign of anyone—
And then he saw the hand.
It was sticking out of the snow at the base of the trees, almost hidden because the branches came so close to the ground, and the shadows were thicker there.
Jem took a few steps closer.
It was definitely a hand.
White.Probably a man’s.
He had a moment when he thought, Stephen?And at the same time: What the actual fuck?
He took another step.
