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d out the real thing。 Gary's mind was racing as fast as the bike； revising their escape route as each mile slid by。 Once he got there they would pack the truck and head south； then west； keeping the disaster always to their backs。
They would make it。 They would survive。
He swore it。
At three thirty…nine he screeched around the corner that marked the homestretch and skidded to an abrupt halt。 Gary stared out over the vista； momentarily paralyzed by the sight。
The sides of the road had been grotesquely transfigured； its familiar contours turned unwilling host to the writhing knotted vines that oozed from the woods like some turbo killer kudzu； overrunning trees and telephone lines。 Cars。 Homes。 Lives。
Everything but the road； he realized。
The macadam lay untouched； a smooth gray ribbon winding through a sea of writhing growth。 It was as if it wanted the roads open； as if 。。。
。。。 as if it needed them。
Gary pulled off his helmet and stared in awe。
He thought of the tape； of the figure in the track： the truck full of barrels； the barrels full of poison rumbling down the roads； heading God knows where 。。。
Heading everywhere。
His neighbors' homes lay before him： nightmare structures rendered lumpen and indistinct as the vines choked them off； burying them； smothering whatever lay trapped inside。 His neighbors lay； similarly lumpen and indistinct； beneath the twisting clumps of gray…green growth。
Deep inside him； the deathvoice sang。
LATE TOO LATE TOO LATE 。。。
〃NO！〃 he screamed； frantically searching for his home in the mutant topography。 He looked to where it ought to have been。
And saw the magick circle。
It was a ring of thorns rising high into the viscid swirling fog； a treacherous barrier disappearing into the cloud cover a hundred feet up。 He could see the growth undulating； weaving itself in geodesic desecration； ten thousand barbed biting tendrils storming some arcane blueprint of protection。 The vines were hardening； taking on the appearance of armor。 There were easily a hundred thousand bristling； glistening spikes pointing menacingly out and inward。
New vines on the edge of the circle coiled themselves； ready to strike； then leapt； stretching to maximum extension like bungi jumpers； hooking onto the frame and pulling themselves up； feelers blindly reaching for the heavens。
Their house was inside the ring； intact but barely visible； sealed away like a ghost ship in a glass bottle 。。。
〃GWEN！〃 Gary cried at the top of his lungs。 〃GWEN！！〃
His voice echoed out across the thorned plain； came back unanswered。 He looked to the house； letting the tears fall where they may； afraid to touch them。
And that was when he saw it。
There was a spot at the bottom edge of the circle that was still raw： not immediately visible； but there； like a secret entrance。 It shimmered and refracted like a transparency laid over a real space； an Industrial Light and Magic…style hallucination。
〃What the fuck？〃 Gary blinked； it was still there。 New vines reached across from either side； their barbed green fingers still soft。 Micki's spirit door； left open for him。
The driveway before him slithered with undergrowth； as inviting as a bed of broken glass。 Gary hesitated； racing the engine anxiously。
Then he heard the women scream。
The voices were both inchoate and distinct； two familiar cadences overlapping in terror and pain。 It was Gwen and Micki； of this he was sure。 The woman he loved and 。。。
Any animosity he'd ever felt toward Micki went flying out the window in that moment； as he tasted the timbre of fear in those cries。
The women screamed again。 The vines writhed in response； as if feeding on the sound。 One voice screamed back his name； the other simply screamed。
〃GWEN！〃 Gary bellowed。 〃MICKI！〃
The spirit door pulsed and glowed。 He knew what he had to do。 He revved the motor； feeling the tears e and letting them。
Then he popped the clutch。
And opened it up。
The Harley leapt to the task； racing toward the shining door just as fast as he'd let it。 The bike roared； chewing up the vines even as the barbed strands chewed up the tires。 He would not stop。 He could see them moving； feel thorned tips reaching for him。 They nicked his boots and grabbed at his machine。 The softtail's wheels spun and slid； throwing shredded rubber and slick crimson spray。
But he would not stop。
Gary closed the distance。 The vine wall loomed menacingly。
〃Please；〃 he whispered to no one in particular。
He hit the outside perimeter at just under fifty miles an hour and together they mulched a path through the undergrowth。 Ten feet from the wall was a low vine as thick as a fallen tree； Gary popped a wheelie as he reached it； threw his whole body into it； and sprang！ The bike tore through the spirit door like a buzz saw through a bonsai tree。
And Gary was flying。
There was a moment of intense exhilaration as he breached the circle； a joyous fuck you all I made it！ as man and machine hurtled through the wall； thorned streamers of vines trailing behind。
Then the spirit door slammed behind him。
And Gary was in。
The earth came back with a piston…crunching resolve； and Gary found himself sailing through some very real space on his way to some very real ground。 A vine as thick as a banister snagged the rear wheel on the way down and dropped the whole shebang out from under him； Gary went head…over…handlebars； off the machine and into space。
He landed on a bed of leaves and stinging grass； came to seconds later with the screams still ringing in his ears。 His skin was a flayed…raw thing； every bone in his body a player in his symphony of pain。 Gary fought to clear his head。
Then he staggered to his feet。
And fought his way toward the door 。。。
Inside the nursery； a garden had grown。
The vines writhed together in a spiraling latticework dance： younger tendrils； twig…thin and deft； interweaving with the stouter ones to form elaborate grids of containment。 If they couldn't get in； then nobody could get out。
In the minutes since Gwen's first contraction； the vines had grown to envelop the circle of light： a ten…foot ring of thorns that reached all the way to the ceiling； pressing into the plaster hard enough to fissure and buckle it。
They fed on fear and pain。
They were very well fed。 The vines had grown perversely； virulently fecund in this atmosphere： tonguelike leaves swelling fat and thick over bloated blood…red pods of fruit that ripened and rotted and thudded to the floor in an instant； like the stars of some cheesy stop…motion nature film。
All in the three minutes since Gwen's first contraction。
〃It's ing；〃 Gwen said tersely； bracing for the pain。 〃Oh God Gary hurry 。。。 〃
The groundswell of the second contraction rippled across her features like heat lightning。 Veins bulged in her forehead。 Her nostrils flared。
〃Breathe！〃 Micki coached； watching her friend's face flush crimson as their hands squeezed together hard enough to snap bone； a pressure that built until a thin； kettle…boiling eeeeeeee emitted from Gwen's lips； snapped off into a machine…gun volley of hyperventilating breath。
Downstairs； the front door flew open。
Gwen screamed； head whipping violently in the direction of the sound。 She screamed Gary's name。 Micki turned as well； her mind racing a mile a minute； going thank God you made it； you made it through the circle as she tried to imagine the road he had traveled； tried to imagine how in hell they might escape； wanting to escape more than anything in the world 。。。
。。。 but Gwen was in labor； she could pop at any second； and the logistics of escape were incalculable under those circumstances。 Gwen was in no position to run； to fight； to do anything but what her entire physiology as geared up for in these moments。 And Micki did not want to deliver a baby in the back of a moving pickup truck。
Gwen's pain had plateaued。 Micki could feel it receding； could feel the pressure of Gwen's grip diminish like steam from a ruptured valve 。。。
。。。 and suddenly a look of such utter horror possessed her face that it froze Micki in mid…mental stream。
〃It's not ready！〃 Gwen wailed。 〃It's not ready！〃
〃What 。。。 ？〃
〃It's not ready to e out！ Oh GOD 。。。 ！〃
Micki's hands traced the contours of Gwen's swollen belly； felt an unnerving liquid slosh beneath the rock…hard wall of muscle。 Gwen cried out again； inarticulate this time； not out of pain but from mortal terror。
It only took a second to peel off Gwen's panties and part her legs。 Micki was no midwife； but she'd been around enough to know what to look for。 In the dim light； it was difficult to see； but the outer vaginal lips felt impossibly bloated to her touch。
She reached inside； just as the sound of footsteps slowly thudded up the stairs。 They were staggered； and painfully uneven。 He's all fucked up； said an anonymous voice in her head； even as her middle finger probed the moist walls of Gwen's interior。 Oh； no 。。。
And then she reached the cervix； the throat of the uterus； felt the elastic ring of cartilaginous muscle that mus