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The playground seemed much nicer in the deep snow than it ever had during the
autumn。 It looked like a fairyland sculpture。 The swing chains had been frozen
in strange positions； the seats of the big kids' swings resting flush against
the snow。 The jungle gym was an ice…cave guarded by dripping icicle teeth。 Only
the chimneys of the play…Overlook stuck up over the snow
（wish the other one was buried that way only not with us in it）
and the tops of the cement rings protruded in two places like Eskimo igloos。
Danny tramped over there； squatted； and began to dig。 Before long he had
uncovered the dark mouth of one of them and he slipped into the cold tunnel。 In
his mind he was Patrick McGoohan； the Secret Agent Man （they had shown the
reruns of that program twice on the Burlington TV channel and his daddy never
missed them； he would skip a party to stay home and watch 〃Secret Agent〃 or 〃The
Avengers〃 and Danny had always watched with him）； on the run from KGB agents in
the mountains of Switzerland。 There had been avalanches in the area and the
notorious KGB agent Slobbo had killed his girlfriend 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 hand； 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 sti