“One day or night, who can tell, I woke to the sound of the kids laughing. You’d think this is a good thing, right? Any time two kids can laugh after months of living in complete darkness, shitting and pissing in buckets, you’d think that’s a good thing. But it didn’t sound right to me. Didn’t sound happy. I sat up quick and stared long into the darkness, thinking maybe I’d dreamt the sound of them. But I heard them again. Wide awake. They were somewhere deeper in the house. I called out and they just…laughed some more. I got up and left the bedroom, feeling my way along the walls, thinking I was going to find them in the living room. Macy would tell me what she was laughing at and what was making her little brother laugh so hard, and that would be that. Right? Well, when I got to the living room, they sounded deeper in the house still. Way into the house, way back by the laundry room. I passed through the living room, blind, arms out, calling for them, and when I got to the laundry room, I heard them laughing behind me. Way back into the house. As if they were back by the bedroom I’d woke in.”

The train shakes, a single bump. Dean goes on.

“So I headed back through the living room, into the hall again, into the bedroom. I’m calling, ‘Macy! Eric! You’re scaring Daddy! Where are you guys?’ And the laughter came again, back behind me. As if…as if I kept passing through the place they actually were, if that makes sense. As if they were laughing in the living room and I simply couldn’t find them there.