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Escape, I guess? Find the edge of this bubble and leap through?

Who knows. I’m not even sure it matters because I have a feeling I am never getting back to that bar. I’ve been expelled for unsportsmanlike conduct. Murdering the referee is not allowed. Though it was satisfying, even more now that I realize I did actually kill him, however temporarily.

I hope it hurt.

More than physical pain, I hope it hurt his ego. Pretty sure it did, given that roar when he rebooted, and the way he threw me out here.

Threw me out here to be torn apart by a rabid dog.

I suppose one could say I lost that round, in the end, but it still feels like winning.

The dog leaps again, and foam hits my hand. I yelp and wipe it off fast. Then I quickly turn my hand over, heart racing as I survey it for signs of a cut.

Foam is saliva. Saliva is what carries the disease.

I need to get higher. One fleck of that foam in my eye and …

Goose bumps prickle on my arms. Don’t think about it. Just get higher.

I crane my neck to peer up into the darkness and see …

A broken branch.

The one immediately above me is broken, only a stub remaining, not enough for me to sit or lie on. Over that I see nothing but an expanse of empty trunk, and if there’s a branch above it, it’ll be too far away for me to reach.

A chittering sound below has me very carefully—and reluctantly—looking over the edge. The rabid dog has resumed its pacing, but something else is moving toward it, slithering on the ground, making that chittering sound.

It stops right below me and stands—not pushing up but rising like a cobra. My night vision has kicked in, and I can see better. It’s dressed in ragged clothing, with impossibly white skin. The thing tilts back its head, and I pull away, heart pounding.

It doesn’t have a face.

I look again to see the smooth expanse of white skin. No eyes, no nose. There is a mouth, though, a tiny one about the size of a silver dollar, emitting those chittering noises.

It’s the thing that chased Raymond. The creature from his nightmare.

That blank face looks up at me. It seems to be closer now, but that must be my imagination because …

No, it’s getting closer, the creature lengthening, that blank face rising higher and higher. I scrabble until I’m sitting up with my back against the trunk. The head rises to branch level. Then that tiny mouth widens and widens and—

The whole top of the head levers back, the two halves separating in a giant mouth with rows of shark teeth, those teeth coming straight at me.

I’m on my feet in a flash, and it’s a miracle I don’t slide straight off the branch. I grab for that nub of a broken limb above me, and my feet fly off the lower branch, scaling the trunk just as those terrible teeth snap where my feet had been.

That broken branch isn’t more than six inches long, but I manage to straddle it, gripping the trunk. Then, slowly, I rise until my feet precariously perch on that nub.

Something hits the tree below so hard that my fingers dig into the trunk, slivers driving under my nails.

I need to get off this broken branch, but the next one up is out of reach.

Then I see a branch to my right. I don’t need to go straight up vertically. I can go diagonally.

That’s how you climb a tree, Ellie. Remember?

The branch is at waist level and about two feet over. I find my balance and start to reach with one hand just as the tree rocks again. I grab the trunk just in time. Then I move fast. Don’t give whatever is below time to do that again. Don’t give myself time to think.

I half jump and half fall over to the other branch. I catch it in both hands and then I’m up on it, crouched on all fours. I back against the trunk for maximum stability and take a deep breath.

That pale thing doesn’t seem to be able to reach this high. When I glance down, it’s still at the level of the lowest branch, jaws snapping as if I might fall into them. The rabid dog jumps and howls, but it can’t get to me.