Darkness towered above Joe Pike like an ominous black cloud. He did not know when or where he was, or how he came to be trapped here with this awful thing. He only knew the giant shadow would smother him with a darkness he could not escape. The shadow fell over him with the delicate grace of fog, but held him with the awful weight of concrete, a rising pool of blackness that would fill his mouth and nose and ears. Pike fought desperately to scramble away, but his arms and legs would not move. He strained to break free, grunting, hissing, spit and tears flying as his head whipped side to side. Pike did not know what it was, this shadow. He did not understand how it held him, or why he could not escape. It rose from the dark as always, and one day it would kill him . . . as he feared it had killed him before.