Turning your attention back to your vehicle, you need to take a a few minutes to get the Hummer untangled from the snow drifts, involving work with shovels and flat pieces of cardboard.  Not long, but the temperature is dropping fast, and even working in shifts, by the time you get yourself facing the right direction, not one of you fails to feel the cold, deep in your bones.<br/><br/>Starting up again, Blake learns that the GPS is not going to be useful at the moment, unless it is somehow true that he is in Omaha, Innsmouth, and Maui at the same time.  Edwin's map proves a better resource; since the blizzard shows no sign of stopping any time soon, the sanest course of action would be to find the nearest town, find lodging, and, if you are so inclined, report the incident.<br/><br/>The nearest town is about five miles away from where you believe you are; and traveler's signs pointing out the nearest places for food, lodging and gas bear out your re-orientation.  Coming off the main road, you approach the town of Miner's Foley, Colorado.  A half-dozen streetlights glow like ghosts int he snowy night, giving the impression that the town is hanging in space.  It is nearly midnight; the store and house windows are unlit, save those of a squat, two story building near the center of town; most likely a police station or other municipal building.  The second is a large building overlooking a sheer mountain cliff, a modern pseudo-art deco style hotel.<br/><br/>Because the town is in a valley, partially shielded from the wind, the roads here are not as bad as the highway.  Between the darkness and the blowing snow, you have difficulties making out much beyond the immediate, but you get the impression of mountains looming over you from every direction.<br/><br/><strong>It is not until they are in the town that Edwin receives one of his "visions."  He can see the old man from the road, alone, in the woods somewhere, lying against a tree, as still and cold as the snow that is covering him.</strong>