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He
fled
around
another
corner
and
saw
with
creeping
,
utter
horror
that
he
was
in
a
cul
-
de
-
sac
.
Locked
doors
frowned
down
at
him
from
three
sides
.
The
west
wing
.
He
was
in
the
west
wing
and
outside
he
could
hear
the
storm
whooping
and
screaming
,
seeming
to
choke
on
its
own
dark
throat
filled
with
snow
.
He
backed
up
against
the
wall
,
weeping
with
terror
now
,
his
heart
racing
like
the
heart
of
a
rabbit
caught
in
a
snare
.
When
his
back
was
against
the
light
blue
silk
wallpaper
with
the
embossed
pattern
of
wavy
lines
,
his
legs
gave
way
and
he
collapsed
to
the
carpet
,
hands
splayed
on
the
jungle
of
woven
vines
and
creepers
,
the
breath
whistling
in
and
out
of
his
throat
.
Louder
.
Louder
.
There
was
a
tiger
in
the
hall
,
and
now
the
tiger
was
just
around
the
corner
,
still
crying
out
in
that
shrill
and
petulant
and
lunatic
rage
,
the
roque
mallet
slamming
,
because
this
tiger
walked
on
two
legs
and
it
was
-
He
woke
with
a
sudden
indrawn
gasp
,
sitting
bolt
upright
in
bed
,
eyes
wide
and
staring
into
the
darkness
,
hands
crossed
in
front
of
his
face
.
Something
on
one
hand
.
Crawling
.
Wasps
.
Three
of
them
.
They
stung
him
then
,
seeming
to
needle
all
at
once
,
and
that
was
when
all
the
images
broke
apart
and
fell
on
him
in
a
dark
flood
and
he
began
to
shriek
into
the
dark
,
the
wasps
clinging
to
his
left
hand
,
stinging
again
and
again
.
The
lights
went
on
and
Daddy
was
standing
there
in
his
shorts
,
his
eyes
glaring
.
Mommy
behind
him
,
sleepy
and
scared
.
