Ahead, the porch turned a corner. A gray arm reached around the house’s edge, stretching toward her. Margot turned toward the railing instead. It came up to waist height, but the drop over the other side was longer. She draped her torso over the railing and lifted her feet over first. If she’d had more time, she would have lowered herself slowly, but time was thin; the dead converged from each direction, so Margot let go, and gasped as the impact rocked through her.

A spark of pain ran up from her ankle, but it wasn’t enough to keep her from running, so that was what she did: away from the house, through the gathering fog, and toward the darkly silhouetted trees in the distance.

She recognized that this choice was significant. It would most likely decide the remainder of the night and decide whether she lived or died. And every strand of logic she’d managed to cling to warned her that this decision was not a good one.

But she was helpless to do anything else. She couldn’t leave Marsh outside while the dead surrounded. If she had even a small chance of protecting him, she had to try.

She lengthened her strides. Her feet seemed to catch every sharp rock and dead clump of grass.

The words from her parents’ tape danced through her mind. The other family would play outside from night until morning… They scratched her and bit her and dragged her into the earth.

Still, she didn’t let her feet slow but flew across the sparse field. Early dew soaked into her socks. Her breathing was ragged, aching. The wind tugged at her clothes and at her hair like a thousand tiny hands raking across her.

She only came to a halt when she was nearly at the trees she’d seen Marsh disappear into. Then she pressed her fingers in between the jacket’s left-hand sleeve and the cast and pried out the phone.

Its light cut through shivering branches. She opened up her list of contacts and selected Kant but didn’t activate the call. Instead, she held it there as insurance while she raised the phone up, slicing through the darkness.

The trees weren’t thick. It shouldn’t have been so hard to see between them. But mist had set in, and her light didn’t reach as far as she wanted. She stretched it higher, trying to get a better angle, as she took the first step between the branches.

“Marsh!” Her throat was dry, her voice a rasping whisper. Dead branches scored along her cheek. More snagged at her hair. She pressed forward. Some kind of animal chattered in the branches above her, but when Margot flashed her light upward, she couldn’t see it.