Free Beastchild by Dean Koontz

if anything, was more fierce than before.
        The wind had picked up a few notches, battered the already beaten craft until the shuddering of the wounded mechanical beast grew severe enough to shatter one of the two round ports on the rear, behind the luggage shelf. Glass imploded, spun throughout the cabin. A piece of it caught Leo on the cheek, drew blood. Other pieces stuck in Hulann's flesh but not deep enough to cause him pain or to make him bleed.
        Hulann maintained a low blade revolution count in order to hug the road and avoid the draughts that were much stronger even a few feet farther up. Sudden rises in the pavement gave them hair-raising moments as Hulann fought to go around them-or increase the rotar speed and go over them-to keep from sheering off the blades.
        Then there was the snow. There seemed to be half a dozen inches of it now, and the steadiness with which it fell indicated no soon end to the storm. The biting wind -now whistling and howling through the shattered rear port and leeching out their cabin heat-piled the white stuff into every nook and crevice, stacked it against every outcropping of stone, layer on layer until it backed up across the highway, thick, cold fingers packing hard and making progress on air cushion even more difficult. Un-drifted snow was light and flushed away under the blades. But the wind-packed stuff was solid as ice, would not blow away, and gave Hulann trouble with his machine.
        "How much can it snow here?" he asked Leo as they flitted up the side of a mountain which should have been tunneled through. He was amazed at the impracticality.
        "Maybe a foot. Two feet is not unusual."
        "Two feet!"
        "Like you and me."
        "That's impossible!"
        "You don't have snow on your world?"
        "Not that much!"
        "Wait," the boy said, smiling.
        He waited.
        The snow continued. Mounted. Blew. Drifted. The shuttlecraft slowed and slowed until he could not drop their forward speed any further. It was maddening to realize there were forces behind which would soon be after them and that they could only crawl along at under ten miles an hour. The only consolation Hulann could find was the realization that those chasing them would also have to move slowly. Then that consolation was ruined too. The Hunter-would the Hunter be turned loose on them? It seemed likely although the situation would be unique-would wait until the storm had ended, then come by air, in a helicopter.
        They rounded a bend in the road near the top of the mountain, were confronted by a wall of packed snow four feet high, stretching across from the road bank of their right to the precipice on their left. Hulann braked, but not fast enough. The shuttlecraft bumped into the drift at seven miles an hour and wedged the first few feet of itself into the smooth, wind-polished whiteness.
        "Stuck," Leo said knowledgeably.
        "We have nothing to dig with. I'll have to manuever."
        Leo braced himself, feet against the dash, back pressed into the seat. Hulann laughed. "Ready," Leo said.
        Hulann fed power to the blades, and kicked the side jets into reverse, The craft lurched but held fast. He eased down on the accelerator until it was almost floored. The blades chewed at the snow that packed the front section of them, seemed only to lodge themselves more firmly.
        He eased off on the pedal until the blades whirred softly, then tramped it down hard. The shuttle started like an animal, wiggled. He eased up, slammed down again. The craft jolted free and swept backwards, sliding sideways toward the guardrails and the long, deadly embankment.
        Hulann let up on the pedal, but too quickly as… … the engine died and the blades choked and he no longer had control of his machine…
        They struck the rails, tilted, went over.
        The car hung there, caught on some projection, teetering. Then it