God, he wished Billings were still alive.

He could’ve used some help.

Doneen changed in his hands, her left arm transforming into a green snake, her head morphing into that of Tony’s first doll. He was supposed to be scared, frightened away, but he wasn’t. She was the only constant in the world floating by them, her transformations at least contextually understandable and recognizable, and he continued to hold on to her as tightly as he could, as the doll head became a goat’s head and snapped at him. He kicked her crotch, was gratified to see her snap back into human form and howl in what sounded like pain.

In the opposite direction of the Houses, there were flashes of light in the far distance, flashes that looked like multicolored popcorn. Instead of flaring and fading, they remained, piled onto each other, slowly growing into something approximating a mountain. Both sky and ground were colors he did not recognize, but simply having a “sky” and a “ground,” an up and a down, identifiable directions, was reassuring.

Where were his mother and father and all of the other generations of human dead? This world had seemed more hospitable before, and he was both puzzled and troubled by the absence of any presences. The thought occurred to him that there was not just the Other Side, that there were many sides, and that this one was her world, her hereafter.

This was where her kind went when they died.

The thought was not at all comforting.

She snarled at him, spit, and she was no longer a she but a he. A long red penis snaked up between them, its engorged head and wet slitted opening pressing against his closed lips, and he was tempted to open his mouth and bite it off, but he had the feeling that’s what she wanted him to do, so he turned his head and maintained his pressure on her wrists, kicking at her lower section as hard as he could with his feet, sending them both tumbling head over heels.

The color of the sky changed as she transformed from female to male and back again, the only indication that she and this terrifyingly empty world were connected.

He maneuvered his hands until he was finally able to reach her neck. He let go of her hands, and she punched him, clawed at him, but he felt nothing and her blows did no damage. His fingers were firmly around her throat, and he tried to squeeze shut her windpipe, to strangle her, but his efforts had no discernible effect. He was not sure if she could be strangled, if she were breathing or if she even had to breathe, but he knew that it would not make any difference either way. His mother had been right, he could not kill her.