When you wake up, the sun feels like a razor on your skin. Your entire body is throbbing, a dull, thudding pain, and you are wearing nothing more than your grandmother's tattered mink coat with a switchblade in the pocket, and one striped sock.

You gingerly sit up, pulling the coat closed around you. There are no birds here, no trees. You're lying in the middle of the street, but there are no cars here. All you can see is an old, 1950s-style drugstore, where an old man is washing the windows.

A teenage girl lies beside you on the pavement, and she looks vaguely familiar. After several minutes of staring, you realize that it's Anita Fleming, the girl from your town who went missing ten years ago. A week later, they found her bloated body in a river. No one was sure whether she had drowned or been murdered.

She looks completely normal now, and you can see her stirring in her sleep. Eventually, her eyes flutter open, and she smiles faintly. "Oh, it's you," she says. "We've been waiting."

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