The Shuddering

from between his lips. When he finally managed to look up, he was alone again, the shadows of those creatures watching him from the safety of the pines. “You fucking cowards,” he hissed. “Come out and fight!” Crashing to his knees, he pressed a cold hand to his neck, then pulled it back as though he’d just scalded himself. Half of his neck was missing, nothing but a void. He coughed again, a thick slew of blood dribbling down his chin into his beard, his gored hands leaving prints in the snow.
    “You ugly sons of bitches,” he repeated, choking, feeling himself start to slip. With his final wind, he forced himself to look up at the growling shadows of the hidden demons. “Take me, then,” he hissed, extending his arms to his side like Jesus on the cross. Because if he sacrificed himself, perhaps they’d be satiated enough to move on, to distance themselves from his home, from his wife.
    They fell on him, but Don didn’t feel a thing. He was too busy picturing Jenny in her wedding dress, twirling in the sunlight that filtered through the stained-glass windows of a tiny church. He was too busy listening to her hum, her singing blocking out the silence of winter, distracting him from the tearing of his own flesh.

    Ryan Adler squinted at the road and exhaled through his nose, his breath silenced by the music that coiled through the Nissan’s interior. He loved the way fresh snowmelt made the road look black, like a stretch of satin ribbon glistening in the sun. The cabin wasn’t near a damn thing, and that was why Ryan loved it. Out here, there was nothing but mountains, trees, and an endless expanse of sky—pale blue with brushstrokes of wispy white.
    He’d seen more of the world than he had ever expected to see, jetting off to places like Switzerland and Austria in the name of fresh powder, excusing the expense because business was business. He’d been born lucky; he was smart and handsome, thankful that he’d managed to escape most of his father’s traits save for a few. Ryan was an entrepreneur, just like his dad; his charm and disarming smile had gotten him far. But to his father’s chagrin, Ryan had no interest in “real” business; no passion for stocks and investments—the very things that had built Michael Adler’s empire. Ryan’s passion was tangled in the swaying pines that dotted every black diamond run of every ski resort on earth. But his heart was forever present in the San Juan Mountains; his passion had been born in those hills.
    Ryan slowed the Nissan and hung a left onto a rough road. The potholes were treacherous but still visible, most of the snow that had fallen onto the pavement having melted in the afternoon sun. The change of pace pulled Ryan’s blue-eyed husky, Oona, out of her nap; he watched her move around in the rearview mirror, pressing her sleep-dried nose against the back window, her dog breath stinking up the place. The farther they drove, the rougher the road and thicker the snow became. Aspens and ponderosa pines flanked both sides of the drive, tall and swaying despite the air around them seeming calm. Stopping the car completely, Ryan lowered his window with an electrical buzz.
    “What is it?” Jane asked her brother, stretching in the passenger seat with a road-tired moan. She peered through a dirty windshield up at the trees that towered ahead of them.
    The space between them was filled a moment later when Lauren leaned forward between the driver and passenger seat, hiding a yawn behind the palm of her hand. She hadn’t made a peep for a good few hours, and Ryan had nearly forgotten that his sister’s best friend was back there at all. He reached down and twisted a knob close to the bottom of the dash, engaging four-wheel drive.
    “Are we going to make it?” Jane asked, a little worried. She had always hated the road that led up to the cabin, especially in the winter. Its steep pitch made it treacherous, and they had had a close call on their previous visit, the Nissan catching some black ice and nearly careening into the ravine that ran along both sides of the road.
    “Of course we’re going to make it,” he told her, slow-rolling into a couple of inches of hard-packed snow.
    Jane tried to relax as they progressed forward, but her muscles refused. It was Ryan’s idea to come up here during the winter. He was the one who got snow-crazy at the mere suggestion of winter precipitation. Jane was more of a summer girl—bikinis and floppy-brimmed