“Hello?” Jason tried to take a deep breath, but his chest refused to expand. Tightness at his temples made him squint. He crept past shadowed cardboard boxes that were stuffed with Hanukkah decorations and baby clothes and old books and art projects from when he was little. The boxes were stacked neatly in several rows.

The dollhouse was straight ahead. In the dark, it seemed larger than it did in Lou’s bedroom. The roofline was pointier, with several more towers and turrets than he remembered. Was it a trick of the light?

Between his own shallow breaths, he could hear someone else breathing too. He closed off his throat, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. It sounded as though someone was on the other side of the dollhouse, but that was impossible. Just behind it, a cinder block wall rose up from the basement’s concrete floor.

Jason was about to turn around when every window of the dollhouse at his feet blinked to life and a cool glow spilled out.

He stumbled backward and then scrambled toward the storage room’s door, but the boxes were gone now, and so was the light from the stairwell. He couldn’t tell where he was.

Jason shouted for his father, but only silence answered him. As the darkness expanded in all directions, he spoke to himself instead. “Wake up, Jason … Please …”

Something brushed against his cheek. This time, it wasn’t tears. He spun, waving his hands blindly. A wet slap hit the floor behind him, and his chest constricted. He leapt away, realizing for the first time that he was barefoot. The floor was no longer smooth concrete, but gritty and pockmarked and damp, like he was outside. Something dragged itself toward him, slithering quickly over his toes, leaving behind a warm stickiness. He clamped his throat shut to keep from shrieking. He pictured the photos of insects and snakes and furry things with claws and fangs that he’d been organizing for his science project.

This had to be a dream. A very bad dream. And all he had to do was wake up …

“Jason!” The voice was calling from somewhere far behind him. It was no longer a whisper. Now it belonged to a young girl—high and sweet, like a song. “This way!”

He scanned the darkness and found a pinpoint glow in the distance. It was a singular and unmoving spark, like someone had punched a hole in a giant piece of black construction paper and was shining a powerful spotlight from behind it. That was where the voice was coming from—hundreds of feet away. “Hurry!” Jason raced toward it, his bare feet pounding against the uneven ground. Sounds of scrabbling and scraping followed him. The pinpoint glow grew brighter. Hope swelled in his chest until he realized what he was running toward.

The dollhouse.

How had the distance grown so far? Unless this was like Lou’s nightmare … Unless …