She felt along the edges of the archway to orient herself, then crossed the hall, moving in an arc to avoid the Watcher. She missed her target by a few inches, her shoulder bumping uncomfortably into a wall before she found the archway to the living room.

They said I would have a few minutes until the dead reached the house. She lowered herself to her hands and knees as she crawled along the living room. She found the rug first. Then, moving her hands in wide arcs, touched cool metal and cracked glass. Her phone’s screen came to life at her touch. Full battery. How much of that time have I already used?

Margot unplugged the phone. With just the screen’s light, almost nothing was visible, not even her own arm. She raised the phone, using it to see her way as she crawled toward the windows, then froze, a gasp running through her.

Two enormous, glinting eyes filled her view. They weren’t quite human. The shape was wrong; the colors were wrong; the way the light glistened off them was wrong. They blinked, and a quiet huff accompanied the movement, and Margot collapsed forward, burying her face into Marsh’s fur as she struggled to catch her composure.

The bells had made her panic so badly she’d forgotten about Witchety’s final gift.

“Good boy,” she whispered, patting the side of his head. Then she let him go and crept up beside the television, to where heavy curtains blocked the windows. Moving with incredible slowness, she inched one corner of the curtains back, exposing a sliver of glass, and pressed close.

The corner of the window gave her a very narrow view of the outside world. In the distance, a bird screamed, then fell silent again. She strained, trying to trace distinct objects in the disorienting moonlight.

Something horribly tall stalked across the grass toward her house. The light was to its back, leaving it silhouetted.

Behind it, another two followed. Then more behind that.

She slowly, carefully lowered the curtain back into place. She undid the sling around her injured arm, letting it fall free. Then, with her thumb pressed over the light to blunt it, she activated her phone’s flashlight.

Margot slipped it inside her left jacket sleeve, between the fabric and the cast. Dulled by the cloth, it was barely stronger than a struggling candle. That would be enough. She tested the setup, jostling her arm to make sure the phone wouldn’t fall free, then pressing it against her side to ensure she could smother the light entirely in an instant if she needed to. It worked. And it kept her one good hand free.

Margot turned back to Marsh. He sat patiently, smiling, quietly curious about why they were moving about in the late night. She found his collar and nudged him to stand.