Huddling under the blanket made no difference—the things kept coming. Soon they surrounded the Tahoe, reaching up and slapping the fenders and hood and windows with their tendrils.

And then they started crawling onto the vehicle, one after another, slithering up the sides, blocking the auroral light and engulfing the Tahoe in squirming darkness.

“I don’t think it’s light or heat,” Donny said. “It’s us they want.”

Hari jabbed the door-lock button and said, “They can’t get in, can they?”

“I think we’re safe.”

“What’ll happen if we start the engine?”

“Let’s not find out.”

“We have to get them off us, Donny. How will we know when the passage reopens? And how will we reach it when it does?”

“Maybe they’ll get frustrated and go away. Did you happen to notice what time it was?”

Hari hadn’t, so she turned the key. The dashboard lit up and the clock read 11:46.

Donny groaned. “Six hours left.”

In the wash from the dashboard lights Hari noticed a number of pale spots on the windshield. She turned on the courtesy lights. Yes…about a dozen pale, dime-sized circles on the glass.

“What’s happening here?”

Donny leaned closer. “Almost looks like etching—oh, shit. They’re etching the glass!”

“How? Don’t you need acid or something to do that?”

“Yeah. Hydrofluoric acid. They look like they’re secreting it.”

“To etch the glass?” Even as she said it, Hari knew that wasn’t right, that the reason had to be more sinister.

“No.” Donny’s voice quavered. “To burn through it.”

WEDNESDAY—MAY 17

BARBARA

1

Someone was shaking my shoulder.

“Wake up, Mother. We don’t want to be late.”

I opened my eyes, blinked a few times, and Ellie came into focus, leaning over me where I must have dozed off on the living room couch. She wore the same clothes as when she’d entered the passage on Monday and—I blinked again—no spider legs in sight.

I rubbed my eyes and looked again. No…no spider legs.

Had I dreamed all that? I couldn’t believe my mind capable of concocting such a scenario, even in a nightmare, yet here she was, looking like her old self.

No, not her old-old self. This was the pre-passage Ellie, with the stranger who called me “Mother” looking out through her eyes.

“Ellie…you’re all right?”

“As well as can be expected. But come on—rise and shine or we’ll be late.”

“Late for what?”

“Something momentous: the sunrise.”

“That happens every day.”

“Not like this, it doesn’t. It’s scheduled to rise at five twenty-one.”

“Good Lord, what time is it now?”

“Three-thirty. We have trains to catch if we’re going to reach Coney Island in time.”

I rose from the couch and stretched. My back ached from sleeping in an odd position.

“Why Coney Island? That’s a long way.”

I’d never been there but remembered it lay at the far end of Brooklyn.

“Because standing on a shore and watching the sun rise over the water will allow us to appreciate the full impact.”