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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