Next Amy tried to stand, but her legs were bags of snapped twigs. She fell almost immediately, bruising her left knee as it smacked into the floor. Her feet ached, the bones in her knees ground against one another, her joints creaked, her spine felt shattered, and it took an enormous effort to brace herself against a Sculpin and haul herself to her feet.

The best she could manage was a slow and painful limp, but it was good enough to get her down the Path and into Bedrooms and then Bathrooms and then Wardrobes. From there she could go through Children’s, take the shortcut to Storage Solutions, Home Office, and Living Rooms, then reach the escalator and, finally, the front door. Assuming that no other barricades were blocking her way.

Amy allowed herself a quick flash of Basil’s cell phone every few minutes to orient herself. Each time she turned it on, she expected to see some distorted face grinning at her in the dark, some pale twisted body coming out of the shadows. Maybe Warden Worth standing in the middle of the aisle, waiting patiently for her return.

But she made it to Home Office unchallenged. On her right were ranks of Smagma bookshelves lined with row after row of Design Is Good books, their shadows dancing as Basil’s phone trembled in her hand. And there was her familiar info post with its familiar greeting: “Have a question? Just Orsk!” The pun felt painfully normal. It was the first landmark that reassured her she was moving in the right direction.

Amy turned right, heading deeper into Home Office. The next time she flashed the phone, she glimpsed movement in the distance. She pressed the device to her chest, concealing its light, and crouched as low as she could, bruised knees trembling as she squatted next to a Karezza.

Something was definitely moving up ahead—she could hear it. Up there in the darkness, a motor was churning. The Path went straight past the noise, and Amy knew she had no choice. If she wanted to get out, she would have to get closer.