“Come on!” she cried, and tugged Katie upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. She wasn’t sure where they were going—a closet? Under one of their beds? They needed to get away from him, at least for a second. Whatever they could do to confuse him long enough that Miss Dola could get back on her feet, or so Mom and Dad could escape.

Her eyes caught the cord hanging from the ceiling.

The attic.

“Quick, Katie, grab the cord,” she whispered. She put her hands under Katie’s armpits and lifted her higher and higher, until Katie’s little hand snatched the cord. Katie pulled hard, the square in the ceiling widened, and suddenly the door fell open and the ladder unfolded down for them. Amy hurried Katie up the stairs, then followed close behind into the dusty blackness, kicking the last step as she went. The ladder folded back up, and the door closed just as the hallway lightbulb burst and the sound of growling reached the top of the stairs.

Then, blackness, deep and smothering. The complete lack of sight made every sniffle and shuffle sound deafening, so that Amy didn’t crawl far before finding Katie. She clutched her little sister to her and shushed into her ears, whispering, “Deep breaths, calm down. Stay quiet.”

“He’ll find me,” whispered Katie. “He knows where I am. He always knows—”

“No, he doesn’t,” whispered Amy. “Miss Dola cut the rope between you. She freed you. He’s weak. He won’t be able to—”

Below them, they heard footsteps, and the snarl moved through the hall. Amy gasped, then held her breath, worried that he’d hear even the slightest noise.

Underneath them, the dog moved back and forth. Doors banged as they flew open. The snarling got louder, more frustrated; glass shattered and wood smashed. The growl became a furious bark, a throaty cough that sounded less like a dog and more like how Amy imagined a lion would roar. Katie buried her face in Amy’s shoulder and shivered uncontrollably—or was that Amy shaking? She couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter.

Footsteps. A soft growl.

Silence.

Amy exhaled, slowly and surely, through her nose. She lifted a hand to her face, to put over her mouth to keep from crying out.

She breathed in. The dust all over her hand rocketed into her nostrils in a rush of tickling. Amy scrunched up her nose, shut her eyes hard, tried everything she could, but no, no, NO—

She sneezed.

The attic door flew open, the ladder hitting the hallway floor with a boom.