He estimated that he’d covered at least a kilometer before he noticed the light. He was talking with Ratz, and it was Ratz who first pointed it out, an orange-red glow to his right, away from the surf. He knew that Ratz wasn’t there, that the bartender was a figment of his own imagination, not of the thing he was trapped in, but that didn’t matter. He’d called the man up for comfort of some kind, but Ratz had had his own ideas about Case and his predicament.