Matt’s eyes opened with a start, his body electrified by the sound of a cry he was sure had been real. He’d just been dreaming that he was searching for a child who was lost, and in his dreams he had heard the child—a son—calling for help. But the cry that awakened him was surely not from his dream; it was too vivid and startling to be a dream, and it had punched a lucid hole right into the heart of his hazy, half-volume dream of searching and loss.

His eyes wide open now, he couldn’t see a thing. The bright digital bedside clock wasn’t shining out the time from its customary place to his right. And the light from the streetlamp outside his bedroom window was gone, the window itself indiscernible in the blackness that surrounded him. Stranger ...

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