This isn't right. Neal knows this isn't right. There's no logical way that Martin can keep pace with them when they're running flat out. Except objective logic is starting to fray under the pressure of dream reality, and Neal can't help but feel like he's slowing down. Running through tar. He starts to drop behind Malcolm. He can feel his pulse hammering away at throat and temples, panic twisting his gut.

"Keep going," he tells Malcolm, even as he stumbles and falls back a little more. "Keep going."