“DAD! HELP! DAD!” EMMET YELLED, BUT HIS SHOUTS were quelled by the horrific sound of flapping leathery wings and the screech of hundreds of bats flying at him. The air around him was full of teeth and fur and noise. One minute he was ten yards away from the back door of his house, and the next he couldn’t see through the mass of writhing creatures. He had no idea in which direction he would find safety.

Apollo howled and charged toward Emmet, snapping and growling as the bats attacked his master. Finally catching sight of the back-door lights, Emmet was able to orient himself, but it was impossible for him to take even a single step against the onslaught.

“Emmet!” Dr. Doyle’s voice cut through the pandemonium. “Hold on, son!”

All Emmet could think to do was fall to the ground. Landing on his hands and knees, he grabbed Apollo and pulled him beneath his chest. The dog was not happy to be taken out of the fight, and tried to wiggle his way free. Emmet couldn’t tell if he was being stung or bitten, but sharp pricks of pain stabbed at his arms and neck.

He felt something suddenly grip his arm and lift him to his feet. Emmet just hoped it was his dad, and not a giant bat that was going to carry him off into the night.

“Come on!” his dad shouted. He was viciously swinging a broom through the air with his other hand, swatting the creatures out of the sky. Emmet held tightly to the struggling Apollo as his father guided them through the swirling horde.

Emmet felt funny. His skin hurt and stung all around his neck, face, and arms. He felt himself stumbling and tightened his grip on his dad’s arm as they crashed through the screen door into the kitchen, landing in a heap on the floor. Dr. Doyle clambered to his feet, still swinging the broom at the two bats that had followed them into the kitchen through the broken screen.

Emmet wanted to stand up, but he felt dizzy and a little nauseous. He wondered if the bites contained some kind of venom. When he looked at his hands and arms, he saw they were bleeding and swollen. He tried rising from the floor, but Apollo was jumping and barking at a couple of the bats that were circling the kitchen. The noise of the whirring, biting mass of chaos had made him woozy and disoriented.

Dr. Doyle slammed the back door shut, and there were several thumps against the wooden barrier.

“Hey, buddy!” his dad said. “Can you stand up?”

Emmet wanted to answer him, but his tongue felt thick and goofy. It didn’t seem to want to work right. He wanted to say, “I think so,” but it came out, “My sheep slow.” Emmet’s head flopped back onto the floor, and it hurt. His whole body throbbed with pain.

Lying on his back, he could see two of the creatures perched on the kitchen light fixture. Apollo barked furiously at them. Emmet felt his father lifting him up and carrying him into the front room of their house. His eyes felt strange, and he was having trouble seeing, like they might be swollen shut or something.

“Hang on, buddy,” his dad said, laying him on the sofa. “Come on, Apollo!”

Apollo jumped up on the couch and started licking Emmet’s face. It tickled, but Emmet couldn’t say anything to get him to stop. His dad slammed the door shut, closing them off from the kitchen. Behind him, two loud thumps issued out as the creatures smacked against it.

The last thing Emmet remembered was his father’s voice.

“Hello? 9-1-1? We need an ambulance! Hurry!”