He pivoted around the door, reached into the car and grabbed hold of the steering wheel. He pushed off the ground with both legs and landed in a sprawl in the driver’s seat; the door slammed shut beside him, and not even a second later the world outside the car simply vanished. It looked as if white paper had been stretched over all the windows. Pale light came through, but no detail at all. Even the car’s hood was lost in the murk.

They sat there, breathing fast and hard, awkwardly spilled in their seats. Dryden found his focus going to the edges of the windows, then the floorboards, scrutinizing each place for a gap where the gas might enter.

He looked up and scanned the roof for rust holes; there weren’t any, though he’d seen plenty of rust on the outside of the vehicle. He watched the cracks of the spiderwebbed windshield, then turned in his seat and looked at the back window, which was fractured in the same way.

Nothing came through.

He watched a moment longer, then faced forward again. He stared into the blank white void that had replaced the forest outside the glass.

“Rigel,” Danica said softly.

Dryden nodded.

She looked at him. “What do you think it is? Nerve gas?” Fear laced her voice on the last two words.

“It could be anything. It’s supposed to be something no one’s ever seen before.”

“Except us. Twenty-nine years ago.”

He nodded again. He thought of Grace and the others. They were somewhere out there right now, with their lungs full of this stuff—whatever it was. He found himself reflexively staring out the side window, as if he could peer through the gas and look for them. But there was nothing there. Nothing but milk-white vapor filling the air.

Dryden scanned the floor and the window seams one last time, then leaned his head back into the tilted seat and shut his eyes.

“It’s clearing out,” Danica said.

Dryden opened his eyes and looked around. He could see the Escort’s hood, and the dark shape of the pine trunk rearing up above it. A few seconds later, details of the nearest boughs began to resolve. The gas was dissipating quickly.

He guessed three or four minutes had passed since they’d gotten into the car. He looked out through the window on his side, in the direction they had come from—the direction in which Grace and his people must be.

Dryden could see the wall of pines he and Danica had run through. He watched as they grew clearer and sharper. After thirty seconds, he could see no trace of the gas in that direction. He turned and looked through Danica’s window; out that way, just a haze of the stuff remained, moving off fast in the wind.

“How long should we wait to get out?” Danica asked.