She turned helplessly this way and that, but the rows of tombstones stretched on in every direction. She wanted to run, but the grave markers were so thick, they threatened to trip her. She tried to walk between them. She stepped on a low mound, a snow-covered grave, and to her shock she heard a muffled voice below her feet: "Who is that up there? I want company!"
With horror she felt the earth heave beneath her, as if something were burrowing up toward her like a monstrous mole. She ran, her weak ankle stabbing with pain. Mocking laughter echoed all around her. She looked over her shoulder. The graves were all erupting! Bony arms thrust upward everywhere, lashing around and scrabbling. Other graves were wide open, and skeletons clad in rotting clothes were hoisting themselves out of the ground, turning their horrible dirt-caked grins in her direction. The closest ones reached for her legs and tried to trip her.
The black mongrel dog came running behind her, snarling, its eyes glowing a fiery red. Liquid fire drooled from its black lips. Rose Rita tripped over a stone and stumbled. She landed sprawling facedown, her nose crunching into the stinging snow. Instantly cold, icy, skeletal fingers closed over her arms and legs, and the awful smell of decay filled her nose. A gritty, dirt-clogged, cackling laugh burst from the skeletons. The dog wailed and howled close by. The skeletons picked her up, her glasses fell off, and Rose Rita felt herself being tossed through the air. She saw that she was being thrown into a gaping fresh grave. Moonlight touched the marker at its head. The words "HERE LIES A SPY" were carved into it. It was the last thing that Rose Rita saw before she passed out.