Even Melanie’s Life had no powers to bring light into the unspace. That there was something upon which to place their feet, upon which to walk, seemed miraculous, and each foot raised was a surge of despair, each step placed a gasp of relief. Melanie looked back, once, just as the elevator doors closed, the rectangle of light growing thinner until it disappeared. When she looked forward, she was no longer certain if it actually was the same direction they had been moving. In the absolute darkness there was no up or down or markers of time. The only intervals were their heartbeats. . . . Melanie’s footsteps faltered, came to a stop. Baby G was warm in Melanie’s arms. His living heat was an anchor. The rough, broken edge of the jade amulet felt real inside her fist. And the tug of her mother’s hand at the back of her dress grounded her, if only a little bit. “I-I don’t know which way to go.” Melanie’s voice sounded simultaneously insignificant and overloud in the absolute silence.
