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They wouldn’t abandon him. They’d been good people. They must have seen the beast and gone to get something to scare it off, and they’ll come back.

Unless they think he’s safe. Safe inside this car where the dog can’t get him, only it can because that windshield is broken.

The dog’s head has disappeared. It takes Edgar a moment to realize that. It realized it couldn’t get in because the car is jammed into the back of a little SUV. There was just enough room for it to squeeze its head in and snarl.

He’s safe. The dog can’t reach him, and that man and woman will come back. He knows they will.

The beast’s nails click on the metal roof, but Edgar breathes in and out, focused on staying calm.

He has been in an accident. He is injured. That pain in his leg isn’t the sort of thing he’s ever experienced in a dream, and so this is real, and there really is a rabid dog out there because he’s in the countryside, and that’s where you find them. Dogs running loose. Dogs getting in a fight with a rabid fox or raccoon.

And the red eyes?

Were they really red, though? Or just glinting red? Maybe from fever?

The dog jumps off the back of the car, making the vehicle rock again, pain arcing through his leg.

Something is pinning him in the driver’s seat. That’s what the man—the paramedic—had been trying to work on, but with the way the front end is crushed, he’d struggled with the logistics. The girl—woman—had, too. If Edgar had stopped fighting them, they could have gotten him free before that beast came.

Maybe it’s the injury that drew the dog in, the smell of blood driving its rabid brain wild.

Edgar needs to free himself. Then when the couple come back, even if he’s lost in the throes of panic again, they can get him out quickly.

He grits his teeth against the pain. It’s only pain. He can handle this.

With his right hand, he reaches down, but the steering wheel blocks his fingers from getting past his thigh. He wriggles this way and that, but he can’t get lower, and even as he curses his lack of flexibility, he knows that even as a teen, when something rolled down at his feet in the driver’s seat, he’d had to pull over to retrieve it. There just isn’t room to maneuver.

Still, he leans to the right—

The dog smacks into the passenger door so hard that Edgar jerks upright, a scream ripping out as his leg tears. The window shatters, and then the beast’s head is there, inches from his shoulder, safety glass on its foam-coated snout. Edgar twists again, and this time, if his leg hurts, he doesn’t feel it, only sees that massive muzzle snapping inches from him, hot breath blasting through his thin pajama top.

He backs up more, and his shoulder hits the driver’s door, and it flies open, and the beast goes still. Then it’s out of the passenger door and running around the car, paws thumping. Edgar grabs the door handle and yanks it shut, but then he can’t find the lock. Where the hell is the door lock and why isn’t it one of those old-fashioned ones you could just smack down? Did no one think of this? Think that the driver might need to lock his door in a hurry and—

He spots the button, and he presses it and keeps pressing it as the beast lunges at the door. The dog hits the metal and snarls, the sound vibrating through the car.

Edgar breathes in and out with relief, listening to the beast snarl and then roar.

Dogs don’t roar.

Who the hell cares? Who the fuck cares?

There is something—dog, hound, monster—outside the car, but Edgar has shut and locked the door in time. He needs to catch his breath and then figure out how to get his leg free.

He releases the door and leans back against the headrest, eyes closed as he blocks the sound of the dog and thinks about his predicament. Can the steering wheel retract and tilt up like the one in their old Audi? His eyes fly open and—

Rain drips on his left arm.

Why is rain dripping inside…?

Edgar looks to see the door ajar. It didn’t lock. It didn’t even close. Because it’s broken. That’s why his rescuers didn’t shut it.

He grabs for the handle just as a massive snout shoves the door open. He fumbles, still trying to grab it, but the beast flings the door wide. Then it’s on him, hot breath filling the air, saliva flying into Edgar’s face as he scrambles toward the passenger seat.

Get to the other seat. Throw open the door. Run.

Such a simple plan, and his body responds, throwing itself to the right, only to have pain rip through his leg.

Trapped.