ide a sudden gust of wind
slammed against the equipment shed； making it rock and creak。 He looked out the
window and saw the gust carrying a sheet of sparkling snow crystals toward the
drifted…in rear of the hotel； whirling them high into the hard blue sky。
The wind dropped and he went back to looking at the machine。 It was a
disgusting thing； really。 You almost expected to see a long； limber stinger
protruding from the rear of it。 He had always disliked the goddam snowmobiles。
They shivered the cathedral silence of winter into a million rattling fragments。
They startled the wildlife。 They sent out huge and pollutive clouds of blue and
billowing oilsmoke behind them — cough； cough； gag； gag； let me breathe。 They
were perhaps the final grotesque toy of the unwinding fossil fuel age； given to
ten…year…olds for Christmas。
He remembered a newspaper article he had read in Stovington； a story datelined
someplace in Maine。 A kid on a snowmobile； barrel…assing up a road he'd never
traveled before at better than thirty miles an hour。 Night。 His headlight off。
There had been a heavy chain strung between two posts with a NO TRESPASSING sign
hung from the middle。 They said that in all probability the kid never saw it。
The moon might have gone behind a cloud。 The chain had decapitated him。 Reading
the story Jack had been almost glad； and now； looking down at this machine； the
feeling recurred。
（If it wasn't for Danny； I would take great pleasure in grabbing one of those
mallets； opening the cowling； and just pounding until）
He let his pent…up breath escape him in a long slow sigh。 Wendy was right。
e hell； high water； or the