Billie was pouring a capful of coffee from her thermos to soothe her jangled nerves when the next voice came. Unlike the others, it was barely a whisper, and hardly anyone heard it at first. Ted had to bring it to Billie’s attention. “Mrs. Miller?” he motioned to her from his crate-seat by the door. “I hear another one out there.”

She was irritable as were they all. “So what?” she snapped.

“This one’s calling for you.”

She started, spilling her coffee. The thought of it, the personalizing of it, sent shivers up her spine. But it also raised a macabre sort of curiosity in her. She picked up her shotgun and started for the door.

Del caught her pantleg. “Don’t open it, Mom.”

“I won’t, honey. I’ll be right back.”

She went over, knelt by Ted Cooper, and listened. It was very slight, a hushed, urgent voice she could barely make out. But she did hear her name. “Billie,” it said. “Billie Miller, you in there?”

“Bart, turn the radio down,” she called, and the older boy complied. In the resulting silence, even through the door, the whisper was magnified. It was female, as far as Billie could determine. Oddly familiar.

“Billie? It’s me, Carol Gastineau. I can’t talk too loud, they’ll find me. . . .”

“What do you want?” Billie said flatly. It felt wrong speaking back but it mattered little, since they obviously knew they were there.

“I’ve just come to tell you, Sharon Lou is in a lot of trouble. She needs your help.”

“What’s wrong with Sharon?”

The whisper grew perturbed. “Don’t dillydally, girl, she really needs you.”

“Where is she?”

“The drugstore. She’s at the store, and she’s trapped.”

Billie looked at Ted. The store? “‘How long as she been there?”

A pause. “All night.”

“Liar!” Billie screamed through the door. “I left her at her house just before dark. You haven’t seen her at all, have you? Have you!”

There was no answer this time.

Ted snorted. “Way to go, Billie,” he said with a frown. “You just told her where to find Mrs. Moore.”

Billie’s heart shriveled at his words. “Oh, Lord,” she said, reaching for the door bolt but Ted got to it before her and held it firm. She hammered helplessly against the steel and yelled, “Carol! Don’t you touch her! Don’t you dare touch her!” Ted finally had to wrestle her away from the door and take her back across the basement. Del and Bart helped her to sit down. “What have I done?” was all she could sob. “What have I done?” Thunder cracked suddenly, close by, just beyond the basement wall. It came again, three times. Gunfire. Then someone banged on the door from outside. “It’s me!” Stiles yelled, out of breath. “Hurry up, get these doors open!” More shots fired. “We can’t hold them off for long!”