Aaron's eyes fluttered open. The top of the tent was spinning. He felt dizzy, nauseous. He was going to throw up.

He crawled across his sleeping bag towards the tent flaps. "I'll be back, dude."

Matt groaned something in response. His voice sounded distant.

Aaron stopped crawling. Why am I naked? he thought, looking down at himself. He didn't remember getting undressed.

He pulled back the tent flaps. They were really heavy. What the hell? he thought. He stepped onto the dirt. The cool night air gave him goosebumps.

The fire had dwindled to a barely visible glow, and the sky was overcast. He didn't have time to wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He was going to hurl any second.

He walked around the tent, tracing his hand over the nylon, towards the wooded area they had designated as the privy. The side of the tent went on for 10 or more paces. The observation didn't register in Aaron's mind. He just wanted to get to the privy as quickly as possible. He was going to vomit and he didn't want it to be anywhere near the tent.

He stumbled blindly into the brush, retching. Fallen leaves and branches scraped his knees. An owl hooted loudly.

That's far enough, he thought. He bent at the waist and put his head between his knees and let out a stream of vomit. He threw up mostly water, as he hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, turned, and walked back the way he'd come, light-headed. His eyes were starting to adjust to the dark. He was dismayed to see the outline of the blue tent just a few feet away.

"Great," he said aloud. The campsite was going to smell like puke.

He approached the tent, and was surprised at how big it looked. Several stories tall, in fact. He rubbed his eyes. Am I dreaming? he started to wonder. Maybe yesterday's events were firing up his subconscious fears.

He walked towards the glow of the burned out fire, watching the tent suspiciously, fearing witchcraft or mirages might be playing with his mind. His leg banged into a metal barrel, like a trash can.

He hopped on one foot, holding his other in pain. "What is this?" he asked aloud. He pushed at the barrel and it toppled over. It rolled across the dirt, and the side of the barrel was illuminated by the fire. He could read the large letters on the convex surface: BUSH'S BAKED BEANS.

He shivered, and it wasn't from the cold. What nightmare was this? He was standing next to a 4-inch tall can of beans, and it came up to his waist. How tall did that make him? Seven, eight inches tall?

"Oh my god," he breathed. Either he was mad or thinking clearly for the first time. The space rock. It had made him shrink.

The owl hooted again. Aaron froze. When he was 5 feet, 11 inches tall, an owl was no big thing. The worst thing an owl could do to you was scratch you. But at 7 inches tall, he was small enough to be an owl's meal.

It was difficult to judge the distance to the tent. Fifty yards, maybe, for his short legs. He'd be safe inside inside the tent. He just had to get there. If it was the space rock that had done this to him, Matt would be shrunk, too. Either way, Matt would know what to do.

He ran across the open dirt towards the tent. He was so close, just a few feet away. But his legs felt heavy. He had trouble running in a straight line.

The owl's wings made no sound as it swooped down from the trees. Its talons came forward towards its prey as it pulled up to avoid contact with the ground. The point of one talon pierced Aaron in the side. He was no longer on his feet, but flying up, up into the air, the wind whipping through his hair.

He knew what was going to come next. The owl would land on a branch and its powerful jaws would begin to dismember him. With any luck, the beak would snap over his head first, sparing him the agony of being conscious while the owl ripped apart his body.

He screamed and beat his fists on the owl's legs. Remarkably, the owl released him. The talons were no longer holding him and quicker than he expected he hit the ground on his stomach.

The impact knocked the air out of him. He pulled his head out of the mucky dirt, gasping. The smell of human excrement filled his nose and mouth. He'd landed in the privy.

He rolled out of the pile of human waste. He had to get to the tent before the owl came back again. But where was the tent? He stood on his feet and turned in a complete circle. He had no idea which way to go.

He felt a tickling sensation on his arm. He raised it before his eyes to have a look. A red ant the size of his thumb crawled over the soft, inner part of his elbow. It stopped below his bicep and looked around, antennae twitching. Without preamble it sank its sharp stinger in his skin.

Needless to say, it hurt. Aaron flung his arm, sending the ant to the ground, which appeared to be moving. The ants were swarming towards him. He ran like hell through them, swatting them off his legs. In what direction he was headed, he didn't know.