It whipped inside and seized him with a snatch so slick that, for a split second afterwards, nobody moved. No one was sure what had occurred, or what ought to happen next. One moment, Houjin was standing there with the fish and looking like he felt a little silly. The next, he was simply gone.

Zeke snapped to attention first. He barreled past Rector, and though Angeline shouted his name, commanded him to wait, he dashed out into the Blight-thick air.

“Come back here, boy!” she shouted, but she followed him, her net poised and ready for throwing. And Rector went, too, right behind her, because he didn’t know what else to do.

Out into the Blight they burst. Somewhere in the fog, Houjin began to holler, then abruptly stopped.

“Huey!” Zeke shouted.

“Houjin, where are you?” Angeline called.

Rector swung his head back and forth, trying to place the sound of Houjin’s breathing, or the rumbling shakes of the big thing moving—carrying the boy off, or doing worse to him. “Huey?” he called.

He shut his mouth after that and listened. He brandished his miner’s pick in every direction, spinning around and hunting any noise that meant the monster was at hand. He halted, sharp as a compass needle, pointing toward a thick spot in the Blight.

Zeke needed no further instructions, so he charged—but Angeline grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him back.

“Don’t you just go rushing in,” she ordered, and some faint memory at the back of Rector’s head added where angels fear to tread. “I’ll go—you’re too worked up. Houjin?” she cried again, and nobody heard anything except soft, wet munching sounds.

Zeke tore himself out of Angeline’s grasp, twisting his body to unfasten her grip, and launched himself forward once again. This time he was too fast; she missed with her second swipe, and Rector took off after him like a sheepdog herding a wayward lamb.

“Boys!” she shrieked.

But he didn’t quit running, chasing after Zeke’s disappearing back. Behind him, he could hear Angeline on his heels; he didn’t turn around to look, and she quit wasting her breath telling the lot of them to stop.

Zeke zipped in and out of the gas, zigzagging around obstacles and pushing himself through the thick air; it moved like curtains, billowing in a storm. Zeke ran like a phantom, darting into the mist. It gave Rector flashbacks—nasty ones—but he shook them free. He shook Angeline free, too, without meaning to. Her footsteps disappeared behind him, and again, he didn’t look back. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to see, or why it would matter.

He had no idea where he was, no idea what Zeke was chasing, and no idea what they’d do when they caught up to the sasquatch.