"Oh, Shiva wept!" Autor cries, searching for a stick. All he has is his flashlight--he kicks himself for no longer carrying grenades--and that's clearly not enough for a chubby clown on a unicycle. Its voice was high pitched until it tore off its features; now, a deep laugh rattles Autor's bones.

"Bonnie!" the boy calls, shivering as the clown advances on her.