Elliott is still atop the car. He’s looking in the other direction, blind to the threat. “ACKERMANN,” I scream, and he whirls around. He spots the Being. It’s throwing itself against the first set of glass doors—which, thank God, closed behind me. Elliott’s whole body goes taut and he leaps off the car with a curse. The blanket slides off his shoulder and drops to the pavement at the sudden movement.

“Find us some transportation, now,” he orders, wielding the desk leg as he strides toward the creature. The Being doesn’t make any sound, but its silence is even more terrible than snarling would have been. It’s like a nightmare come to life. Unthinkable, unstoppable.

Elliott’s words penetrate my terror. I stare at his retreating back. “What? Wait, no, we have to run! You can’t fight it!”

“Not for long,” he agrees over his shoulder, his voice tight. “Get moving!”

Everything in me is propelling me away: to run blindly, as far and as fast as I can. But Elliott is right. You can’t outrun a Being. Not on foot. Our only chance is me hot-wiring something right the hell now and hoping Elliott can hold the Being off until then.

I sprint, frantically scanning the rows of cars. Glass breaks behind me. I curse as quietly and creatively as I can manage, keeping my eyes on the vehicles. There! Relief pours over me, an antidote to the drowning film of fog that’s clinging to my skin. Just one row away is a ‘92 Camaro exactly like Ty’s, even down to the fire-engine red color. My luck has finally turned.

I skid to a stop next to it. Behind me, glass shatters. There’s an awful scraping of claws against concrete and then the thud of the desk leg striking whatever passes for the Being’s flesh. The bastards are solid, but they don’t bleed, and you can never actually harm them. The best outcome you can hope for when fighting a Being is to slightly delay your own death.

I put my hands on the Camaro, grounding myself to it, forcing myself not to look over my shoulder. Okay, okay, car theft. First check if the door’s unlocked. People are stupid, it’s not impossible. And … yes! The handle lifts in my hand and the door flies open. That cuts down on a little bit of time.

In my peripheral vision I spot the side mirror. I jolt backwards, turn and kick at it blindly with all my strength until it breaks off and skids under the neighboring car. Then I quickly do the same to the other side.