running。 The clock was
running。
He was that key； Danny thought sadly。 Tony had warned him and he had just let
things go on。
（I'm just five！）
he cried to some half…felt presence in the room。
（Doesn't it make any deference that I'm just five？）
There was no answer。
He turned reluctantly back to the clock。
He had been putting it off； hoping that something would happen to help him
avoid trying to call Tony again； that a ranger would e； or a helicopter； or
the rescue team； they always came in time on his TV programs； the people were
saved。 On TV the rangers and the SWAT squad and the paramedics were a friendly
white force counterbalancing the confused evil that he perceived in the world；
when people got in trouble they were helped out of it； they were fixed up。 They
did not have to help themselves out of trouble。
（Please？）
There was no answer。
No answer； and if Tony came would it be the same nightmare？ The booming； the
coarse and petulant voice； the blueblack rug like snakes？ Redrum？
But what else？
（Please oh please）
No answer。
With a trembling sigh； he looked at the clockface。 Cogs turned and meshed with
other cogs。 The balance wheel rocked hypnotically back and forth。 And if you
held your head perfectly still； you could see the minute hand creeping
inexorably down from XII to V。 If you held your bead perfectly still you could
see that —
The clockface was gone。 In its place was a round black hole。 It led down into
forever。 It began to swell。 The clock was gone。 The room behind it。 Danny
tottered and then fell into the darkness that had been hiding behind the
cl