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  “Go, Andy, go,” she whispered.

  Then she turned herself around and squirmed back through the gap at the bottom of the hedge. At the other side, she sprang to her feet. She switched the bat to her left hand as she sprinted across the driveway. She wondered if anyone could hear the slap of her bare feet. They sounded even louder on the painted concrete of the walkway curving from the edge of the driveway to the porch. She leaped the porch stairs. She flung herself against the front door and crashed her fist against it.

  She pounded on the door with all her might, eight times, nine, ten. Then thought, My God, what if they hear me knocking?

  So she quit and slid herself across the cool wood and jabbed the doorbell button again and again and again. Each time she poked it, she heard a faint chime from inside the house.

  “Come on, come on, come on,” she whispered.

  Continuing to jab the button, she twisted her head away from the door and peered over her shoulder. She saw no one. Just the broad lawn, the driveway and hedge, the empty street. Empty except for the vehicles in front of the Clark house. Five cars, one van.

  “My goodness, hold your horses!”

  Jody flinched. She dropped her hand from the doorbell. “Help! Please! There’re men after me.”

  “I’m coming, now.”

  Jody pushed herself away from the door. She turned all the way around. Still okay. Facing the door again, she bent down and braced her elbows on her knees. An awkward stance, particularly with the bat in her hand, but it helped her breathing.

  With a quiet squeak, a hatch in the door swung inward. It was just the size of the thin, wrinkled face behind it. A nose jutted out between two upright wooden bars. But the bars got in the way of the woman’s eyes, so she tilted her head sideways. She wore glasses with bright red frames and lenses the size of hockey pucks.

  “Now you tell me what’s going on, young lady. What’s this about being chased?” Her gaze roamed past Jody as if searching for pursuers.

  “You’ve gotta let me in,” Jody gasped.

  “I’ve got to do nothing of the sort. Are you one of those loudies that was doing all the yelling a while back that woke me up?”

  She had heard them. “Yes! It was me and Andy Clark.”

  “Andy Clark? That’s a fine lad. What’s he doing out and about this time of night?”

  “He’s with me!”

  “I don’t see him. You are a sight, girl. Whatever have you been up to?”

  Jody stood up straight. She took a few quick breaths. “They murdered everyone. All the Clarks but Andy. I’m a friend of Evelyn’s. She’s been killed. They’ve all been killed. You’ve got to let me in. We’ve got to call the police before they get us, too! Please!”

  The old lady blinked behind her enormous glasses. She shook her head. “This is all terribly confusing.”

  “It’s simple!” Jody blurted. “It’s simple as hell! There are maniacs out here with swords and axes and knives and running around like a bunch of fucking refugees from Lord of the Flies and they want to kill me and Andy! What could be simpler than that? Damn it, open the door!”

  “Young lady!”

  “Don’t you get it?” She whirled around. Still, nobody was coming. She turned to the old woman again. “Please. We’re going to get killed.”

  “I can’t just let any old stranger into the house,” she said, continuing to shake her head. “I have responsibilities. It isn’t my house, you understand.”

  “I don’t care whose ... Where’s Dr. Youngman? Who are you?”

  “I’m Mrs. Youngman.”

  “Is your husband home?”

  “My husband passed on, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “He’s been gone these nine years.”

  “Please open the door. Please!”

  “This is my son’s house. Dr. Ernest Youngman.”

  “Is he home?”

  “I wish he were. I’m sure he would know precisely what to do in this sort of predicament. But he simply isn’t here. He’s off to Big Bear for the weekend with the whole kit ‘n’ kaboodle. Everyone but me, that is.” Her face lit up. A bony old hand with liver spots appeared in front of her face, and snapped its fingers. “I’ll call up Ernest right this very minute and ...”

  Jody swung the Slugger hard with both hands.

  Its fat end struck the door just below Mrs. Youngman’s face.

  The blow sounded like a shotgun blast.

  The old lady jumped.

  “Open the door or I’ll break it down!” Jody shouted.

  The face vanished.

  Oh, God, now I’ve done it.

  Lowering the bat, Jody rushed forward and pressed her face to the bars. She couldn’t see Mrs. Youngman. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Please. I’m so scared. If they get me, they’re gonna chop me up and ... Please!”

  “You made me pee myself!”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Really.”

  “You’re a vicious child!”

  “I’m not. Really. I’m sorry.”

  “A juvenile delinquent, that’s what you are!”

  “Jody!” Andy’s voice. Calling from somewhere not far away.

  His voice thrilled her with joy; he’d made it. The creeps hadn’t caught up with him. But his voice also shot terror through her; he was on his way, and they were sure to be close behind him.

  Jody whirled around and spotted Andy as he dashed past the end of the hedge by the driveway. She waved her arm.

  “Where are they?” she called.

  “Coming,” he yelled. Changing direction, he raced straight toward her. Apparently, he could see that the door’s spy hatch was open. “You got him!”

  “Afraid not. He’s at Big Bear. Nobody’s here but his mother, and she won’t let us in.”

  “Mable!” Andy shouted as he ran closer. “It’s Andy! Mable, you’ve gotta let us in!”

  Hearing metallic rattles and clacks, Jody turned to the door. It swung wide open.

  She lunged over the threshold. Mrs. Youngman, behind the door, scowled at her. The old woman’s eyes were red and full of tears.

  “I’m sorry,” Jody said.

  “The damage has been done, you mean thing.”

  Andy charged into the foyer. As he flopped onto the marble floor, huffing, Jody took the door from Mrs. Youngman.

  She gazed past its edge as she swept it along.

  Out on the sidewalk, the man with the knife ran into view from beyond the hedge.

  Jody finished shutting the door very fast.

  But not fast enough, she was sure of that. He’d been looking at her.

  She groaned as she twisted the deadbolt lock.

  “What?” Andy gasped.

  “I think he saw me.”

  Chapter Five

  “They’ll be coming in,” Jody said.

  Andy, still gasping on the floor, shook his head. Sweat dripped off his hair as if he’d just stepped out of a shower. His jeans hung low, showing where his tan ended. The skin of his back was ruddy and wet, crisscrossed with welts and scratches. “Maybe not,” he gasped.

  “We’re witnesses. They’ve gotta kill us.”

  “Nobody’s going to kill anyone,” Mrs. Youngman said. Sniffing, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “The both of you come with me. We’ll call the police this instant.”

  Andy pushed himself off the floor. He backhanded sweat out of his eyes. His chest and belly looked worse than his back.

  “What happened to you?” Jody asked.

  “Went through some bushes. Fell. Couple times.” He grinned. “Really gave ’em a run.”

  “Let’s not dally,” Mrs. Youngman said. She led the way. She wore a pale blue nightgown. Jody, hurrying after her, saw that the back of it had a wet place down below her rump.

  “I’m really sorry I scared you that way.”

  “Hush about it.”

  “I’m not a jerk. I don’t do stuff like that. I just ... I kind of went nuts f
or a second. You know? Those guys, they’re like ... Do you have a gun?”

  “I most certainly do not.”

  “Does your son? Does he keep one around for ...”

  “Guns are for killing, young lady. My Ernest is a healer.” She stepped through an archway into a dark room and reached toward the wall. A moment later, a chandelier bloomed light.

  Following Mrs. Youngman alongside a big oak dining table, Jody looked for a telephone.

  She didn’t see one.

  Who ever heard of a phone in the dining room, anyhow?

  “Where is it?” she asked.

  The old woman turned around. “Don’t you listen? You should listen when you’re spoken to.” On the second “listen,” she pecked Jody in the chest with her forefinger.

  “Hey,” Jody said.

  “Don’t you ‘hey’ me.” Two more pecks. Her fingernail was long. Jody could feel its curved end jabbing through the thin fabric of her nightshirt. She knew it must be making little crescent dents in the skin between her breasts.

  This is crazy, she thought.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “You young people think you’re so smart, you never listen to anyone.” She pecked Jody again. “What did I tell you?”

  “About what?”

  Another peck.

  “Mable,” Andy said. “Quit doing that to her.”

  Mrs. Youngman ignored him and jabbed Jody four more times as she explained, “I told you. I think I made myself quite clear on the matter. My Ernest doesn’t keep guns in his house.”

  “I know!”

  “If you know, why did you persist in asking me where ... ?”

  “The telephone. The telephone! I wanted to know where the telephone is!”

  “I know where the telephone is. That’s where we were going before you began pestering me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jody said. “I won’t pester you again. But we’d better hurry.”

  Mrs. Youngman turned around and resumed walking. “There’s no call to hurry,” she said. “The house is all locked up safe and sound. We’ll be perfectly fine until the police arrive.”

  “The police,” Jody said, “don’t actually show up the instant you call.”

  Mrs. Youngman scowled over her shoulder.

  If she stops again, I’m gonna knock her down and find the phone myself.

  She kept walking.

  “Are you being smart with me, young lady?”

  “No.”

  “Her dad’s a cop,” Andy explained.

  “That explains a great deal,” Mrs. Youngman said, and stepped through a doorway at the end of the dining room.

  The light came on, and Jody followed her into the kitchen. She walked close behind her. She had an urge to smack the back of her head, just a quick swat with her open hand.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my dad,” she said.

  “I’m sure.”

  Jody saw Mrs. Youngman’s reflection off to the right in the glass of the sliding door beyond the breakfast table. First a side view, then a front view. The image of the old woman was very distinct, but had a depth that showed darkness through her.

  A phone was mounted on the wall just to the left of the door.

  Mrs. Youngman stopped and reached for it.

  Jody wondered if the sliding door was locked.

  Then she saw herself in the glass. She stood just beyond the kitchen table, the bat hanging from one hand while her other hand squeezed the back of a chair. It was like looking at a stranger, a haggard and terrified urchin who resembled Jody only by coincidence and who happened to be wearing a red jersey nightshirt just like Jody’s, with Winnie the Pooh hugging a honey pot on its front. She knew this wasn’t a stranger, though. She could feel the nightshirt hanging against her skin, feel where it was so wet that it clung to her. She could also feel the curved wood of the chairback against her thighs, the slippery handle of the bat, the floor under her bare feet, and places all over her body that felt as hot as bums where she’d been scraped, scratched and poked.

  In the reflection, Andy was just behind her and off to the side a little. Still trying to catch his breath.

  Mrs. Youngman plucked down the handset and frowned at it.

  Jodie saw that it had an antenna and no cord.

  “Do you know how to work it?” Andy asked.

  “Certainly.”

  “It’s a remote phone,” he said.

  “I know, I know.” Mrs. Youngman sounded peeved.

  “You’ve gotta flip that little switch up near the top. Push it all the way over to where it says talk.”

  “Which switch?”

  “Here, I’ll do it.” In the glass, Jody watched Andy step past her. He looked skinny and fragile, hardly more than a little boy. “I’ve worked these things a lot,” he said. “They’ve got one just like it that they take out by the pool.”

  As he turned and took a stride toward Mrs. Youngman, he changed. The boy in the glass transformed, grew in size and bulk and breadth. His face turned heavy and mad. He lost his jeans. His hands, empty an instant ago, now clutched an ax.

  Jody’s confusion didn’t last long.

  She shrieked, “No!” and grabbed Andy’s shoulder and jerked him backward as the sliding door exploded. She glimpsed the ax swinging sideways through a swarm of tumbling fragments—on a course toward Mrs. Youngman’s belly.

  She turned away, ducking and flinging up an arm to shield her face.

  Through the clamor of shards falling onto table top and floor, she heard the fump of the ax chopping into its target.

  Glass nipped Jody’s rump and the backs of her legs. She staggered forward to get away, then twisted around and looked and saw that the ax had actually struck Mrs. Youngman higher than the belly.

  It had buried its head between her breasts, deep into her chest. The blow had apparently slammed her back against the wall. She had a shocked look on her face. The phone was just beginning to fall from her hand.

  The man who clutched the handle of the ax didn’t so much as glance at Jody or Andy as he stepped through the destroyed door.

  Jody swung Andy by the arm, propelling him toward the dining room. As she raced after him, she swatted the kitchen switch and killed the light.

  Behind her, someone muttered, “Fuck.” it

  On her way through the dining room, she snagged two chairs away from the table and flung them backward as she ran by. The switch for the chandelier wasn’t within reach, would require a slight detour, so she made an instant decision not to bother with it.

  The foyer was lighted, anyway.

  She thought Andy might go for the front door, but he didn’t. Good. One of the other guys might be right on the other side.

  She followed Andy across the foyer to the stairs. He started racing up them. So did she.

  Going upstairs didn’t seem like a great idea. But neither did going outside.

  It was obvious, though, that Andy had spent some time at this house. He and Mable knew each other. He knew how to work the phone and had mentioned something about a pool. Probably came over to swim with a Youngman kid, or something.

  He’d been here before, so maybe he knew of something upstairs that would help. Maybe Ernest the healer had a firearm, after all.

  Her own dad kept plenty of secrets from Grandma Fargo, things that Jody knew about and sometimes revealed to friends.

  So maybe Andy knew where to find a gun.

  Oh God, please!

  Hearing quick footfalls from below, she glanced over her shoulder just in time to see the ax man hurry out of the dining room. He jogged through the archway, looked toward her from the foyer but didn’t react or slow down.

  Andy had already reached the top of the stairs.

  Jody, taking three at a stride, sprang to the top a moment after him. There, she turned around and saw the ax man jerking open the front door.

  He’s leaving?

  He didn’t spot us after all?

  He thinks we ran ou
tside!

  Right at the start of all this, the guy who killed Evelyn hadn’t noticed Jody standing just behind her in the dark room. Maybe this guy had no better eyesight than ...

  He didn’t run out into the night, but whirled away from the open door and rushed for the stairs as his friends with the knife and saber charged into the house.

  Andy grabbed Jody’s sleeve. He pulled it hard, stretching the neck of her nightshirt down off her shoulder. The pull sent her stumbling toward him, and a wall blocked her view of the three intruders.

  “Come on!” he gasped in a whisper.

  “They got a gun?”

  She heard a thunder of footfalls on the stairs.

  “Phones. Almost every room has a ...”

  “It’s too damn late for 911.”

  “We can...”

  “Let go of my sleeve.”

  He let go. The ruined neck still drooped off her shoulder.

  “Get ready to run.”

  “What ... ?”

  She leaped sideways. The ax man was in the lead, rushing up the stairs like a crazed lumberjack. When Jody loomed above him, he hefted the ax.

  Jody hurled her Louisville Slugger like a short, stubby spear.

  She’d aimed for his forehead.

  That’s where the bat struck him, its fat end clouting him above his eyebrows, bashing his head back.

  The moment she saw the bat hit him, she sprang sideways past the wall and gasped, “Go!” and hoped Andy would lead them to someplace with a lock.

  From the sounds of thuds and slams and outcries she heard as she lunged after Andy, she guessed that the ax man must’ve gone backward down the stairs and knocked into one or both of his buddies.

  He’s gotta be out of the picture, she told herself.

  But that leaves the other two.

  Two against two. Now the sides are even.

  Right. Even, my butt.

  They’ll kill us.

  “Where’re we going?” she blurted as she dashed down the corridor on Andy’s heels.

  “Jim’s room.”

  “He got a lock?”

  “A phone.”

  “Does his door lock?”

  “Don’t know.”

  She heard the men behind her.

  “Johns got locks,” she gasped.

  “No phone.”

  A glimpse back showed her two dim figures rushing side by side.