fourteen ... twelve ... faster , faster , faster ... she ran into sleep , chasing twelve , catching it , running through the barrier of memory that it had cast over all of them ( it tasted like cold fog in her laboring dreamlungs ) , running back into her eleventh year , running , running like hell , running to beat the devil , looking back now , looking back 6 the barrens / 12:40 p.m. over her shoulder for any sign of them as she slipped and scrambled her way down the embankment .