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friend with a poison dart； but somewhere near was the Russian antigravity machine。 Perhaps at the end of this very tunnel。 He drew his automatic and went along the concrete tunnel； his eyes wide and alert； his breath pluming out。
The far end of the concrete ring was solidly blocked with snow。 He tried digging through it and was amazed （and a little uneasy） to see how solid it was； almost like ice from the cold and the constant weight of more snow on top of it。
His make…believe game collapsed around him and he was suddenly aware that he felt closed in and extremely nervous in this tight ring of cement。 He could hear his breathing； it sounded dank and quick and hollow。 He was under the snow； and hardly any light filtered down the hole he had dug to get in here。 Suddenly he wanted to be out in the sunlight more than anything； suddenly he remembered his daddy and mommy were sleeping and didn't know there he was； that if the hole he dug caved in he would be trapped； and the Overlook didn't like him。
Danny got turned around with some difficulty and crawled back along the length of the concrete ring； his snowshoes clacking woodenly together behind him； his palms crackling in last fall's dead aspen leaves beneath him。 He had just reached the end and the cold spill of light ing down from above when the snow did give in； a minor fall； but enough to powder his face and clog the opening he had wriggled down through and leave him in darkness。
For a moment his brain froze in utter panic and he could not think。 Then； as if from far off； he heard his daddy telling him that he must never play at the Stovington dump； because sometimes stupid people hauled old refrigerators off to the dump without removing the doors and if you got in one and the door happened to shut on you； there was no way to get out。 You would die in the darkness。
（You wouldn't want a thing like that to happen to you； would you； doc？） （No； Daddy。） But it had happened； his frenzied mind told him； it had happened； he was in the dark； he was closed in； and it was as cold as a refrigerator。 And… （something is in here with me。） His breath stopped in a gasp。 An almost drowsy terror stole through his veins。
Yes。 Yes。 There was something in here with him； some awful thing the Overlook had saved for just such a chance as this。 Maybe a huge spider that had burrowed down under the dead leaves； or a rat 。 。 。 or maybe the corpse of some little kid that had died here on the playground。 Had that ever happened？ Yes； he thought maybe it had。 He thought of the woman in the tub。 The blood and brains on the wall of the Presidential Sweet。 Of some little kid； its head split open from a fall from the monkey bars or a swing； crawling after him in the dark； grinning； looking for one final playmate in its endless playground。 Forever。 In a moment he would hear it ing。
At the far end of the concrete ring； Danny heard the stealthy crackle of dead leaves as something came for him on its hands and knees。 At any moment he would feel its cold hand close over his ankle… That thought broke his paralysis。 He was digging at the loose fall of snow that choked the end of the concrete ring； throwing it back between his legs in powdery bursts like a dog digging for a bone。 Blue light filtered down from above and Danny thrust himself up at it like a diver ing out of deep water。
He scraped his back on the lip of the concrete ring。 One of his snowshoes twisted behind the other。 Snow spilled down inside his ski mask and into the collar of his parka。 He dug at the snow； clawed at it。 It seemed to be trying to hold him； to suck him back down； back into the concrete ring where that unseen； leaf…crackling thing was； and keep him there。 Forever。
Then he was out； his face was turned up to the sun； and he was crawling through the snow； crawling away from the half…buried cement ring； gasping harshly； his face almost ically white with powdered snow…a living fright… mask。 He hobbled over to the jungle gym and sat down to readjust his snowshoes and get his breath。 As he set them to rights and tightened the straps again； he never took his eyes from the hole at the end of the concrete ring。 He waited to see if something would e out。 Nothing did； and after three or four minutes； Danny's breathing began to slow down。 Whatever it was； it couldn't stand the sunlight。 It was cooped up down there； maybe only able to e out when it was dark。 。 。 or when both ends of its circular prison were plugged with snow。
（but i'm safe now i'm safe i'll just go back because now i'm ） Something thumped softly behind him。
He turned around； toward the hotel； and looked。 But even before he looked （Can you see the Indians in this picture？） he knew what he would see； because he knew what that soft thumping sound had been。 It was the sound of a large clump of snow falling； the way it sounded when it slid off the roof of the hotel and fell to the ground。
（Can you see…？） Yes。 He could。 The snow had fallen off the hedge dog。 When he came down it had only been a harmless lump of snow outside the playground。 Now it stood revealed； an incongruous splash of green in all the eye…watering whiteness。 It was sitting up； as if to beg a sweet or a scrap。
But this time he wouldn't go crazy； he wouldn't blow his cool。 Because at least he wasn't trapped in some dark old hole。 He was in the sunlight。 And it was just a dog。 It's pretty warm out today； he thought hopefully。 Maybe the sun just melted enough snow off that old dog so the rest fell off in a bunch。 Maybe that's all it is。
（Don't go near that place 。 。 。 steer right clear。） His snowshoe bindings were as tight as they were ever going to be。 He stood up and stared back at the concrete ring； almost pletely submerged in the snow； and what he saw at the end he had exited from froze his heart。 There was a circular patch of darkness at the end of it； a fold of shadow that marked the hole he'd dug to get down inside。 Now； in spite of the snow…dazzle； he thought he could see something there。 Something moving。 A hand。 The waving hand of some desperately unhappy child； waving hand； pleading band； drowning hand。
（Save me O please save me If you can't save me at least e play with me 。 。
。 Forever。 And Forever。 And Forever。）
〃No；〃 Danny whispered huskily。 The word fell dry and bare from his mouth； which was stripped of moisture。 He could feel his mind wavering now； trying to go away the way it had when the woman in the room had 。 。 。 no； better not think of that。
He grasped at the strings of reality and held them tightly。 He had to get out of here。 Concentrate on that。 Be cool。 Be like the Secret Agent Man。 Would Patrick McGoohan be crying and peeing in his pants like a little baby？
Would his daddy？
That calmed him somewhat。
From behind him； that soft Hump sound of falling snow came again。 He turned around and the head of one of the hedge lions was sticking out of the snow now； snarling at him。 It was closer than it should have been； almost up to the gate of the playground。
Terror tried to rise up and he quelled it。 He was the Secret Agent Man； and he would escape。
He began to walk out of the playground； taking the same roundabout course his father had taken on the day that the snow flew。 He concentrated on operating the snowshoes。 Slow； flat strides。 Don't lift your foot too high or you'll lose your balance。 Twist your ankle and spill the snow off the crisscrossed lacings。 It seemed so slow。 He reached the corner of the playground。 The snow was drifted high here and he was able to step over the fence。 He got halfway over and then almost fell flat when the snowshoe on his behind foot caught on one of the fence posts。 He leaned on the outside edge of gravity； pinwheeling his arms； remembering how bard it was to get up once you fell down。
From his right； that soft sound again； falling clumps of snow。 He looked over and saw the other two lions； clear of snow now down to their forepaws； side by side； about sixty paces away。 The green indentations that were their eyes were fixed on him。 The dog had turned its head。
（It only happens when you're not looking。）
〃Oh！ Hey…〃 His snowshoes had crossed and he plunged forward into the snow； arms waving uselessly。 More snow got inside his hood and down his neck and into the tops of his boots。 He struggled out of the snow and tried to get the snowshoes under him； heart hammering crazily now （Secret Agent Man remember you're the Secret Agent） and overbalanced backward。 For a moment he lay there looking at the sky； thinking it would be simpler to just give up。
Then he thought of the thing in the concrete tunnel and knew he could not。 He gained his feet and stared over at the topiary。 All three lions were bunched together now； not forty feet away。 The dog had ranged off to their left； as if to block Danny's retreat。 They were bare of snow except for powdery ruffs around their necks and muzzles。 They were all staring at him。
His breath was racing now； and the panic was like a rat behind his forehead； twisting and gnawing。 He fought the panic and he fought the snowshoes。
（Daddy's voice： No； don't fight them； doc。 Walk on them like they were your own feet。 Walk with them。