The ladder ended eventually at a hatch – small, round, and secured tightly with a rusted iron wheel. Alice strained with the wheel for a moment, before shouldering the hatch open and disappearing through. As Peter followed he had the impression of a dark curtain falling around him, and it took him a moment to adjust.

It was the junkyard again. Piles of car husks, umbrella spines, filing cabinet shells, and coat-hanger claws towered on all sides.
“We’re here,” said Alice.
“We were headed here?” Peter asked.
“I guess so.”
There was a momentarily deafening roar, the ground shook, and a bloom of fierce orange spread briefly across the sky.
“Hang on,” said Peter, “I just remembered. Last night, when you fell, what happened?”
Alice’s brow creased. “Nothing. I woke up before I hit the ground, I think.”

The roar began again, then cut off abruptly as Peter jumped and found himself in darkness. His first thought was that he had woken and he was in his bed in the small hours of the morning, but he knew that was wishful thinking. He was still standing, the ground was hard and uneven underfoot, and Alice was gone, but there was something else in the darkness with him.