Something blotted out the view through the window and his eyes darted back to it. There was nothing there now but a faint sheen, like a buffed, black fender in twilight. He threw wide the covers and sat up.
He took three steps and fell. His head swam dizzily, and he wavered on his hands (his hand, rather) and knees. Was he still in shock?
His thoughts swirled. The dream ... Savanna ... she’d been screaming ... the smell of shampoo—could a real scream have carried over into his dream? Where was she and what the hell was going on? The window ... something blocking the window ... start there ...
Suddenly, amazingly, his sneakers were shuffling across the floor and he was reaching for the lamp switch. Its brassy tip kissed his fingertips and he twisted—click!
Something blinked, constricted
