Barry knew he was running across the base of a canyon and that a creature was chasing him. It was large. It was savage. And, somehow, it was Molly. A bestial incarnation of the love of his life. Ahead of him, a Native American girl tended her horse.
  "I've got to get out of here," screamed Barry.
  The girl mounted, the brown-speckled mare.
  "No, I've got to get out of here. Please help me."
  Rolling her eyes, the girl started riding off, but turning around, yanked Barry's arm, so he could ride behind her.
  The Molly monster disappeared as they rode, its cry a demon-lover, sounding from a far off coast. Barry blacked out.