“Damn it, strap and snap! Now!”

Regan whimpers and tries to click the buckle shut. Hailey presses the START button on the dash.

Nothing happens.

No, no, no, she thinks. She knows she has the key fob in her purse. She takes it out anyway. She presses the button again.

Still nothing.

She grips the wheel. They will have to run for it. To the neighbors. Maybe they won’t come if someone else will see them.

She presses the button for the garage door. It doesn’t work either.

Hailey looks in her rear-view mirror, at the windows along the top of the garage door. There are shadows, twisting in the light from the street.

They’re already here. She makes a little noise without meaning to.

“Mommy? Mommy, what is it?”

Hailey doesn’t answer. She leaps out of the car, runs around the side, and hauls Regan back out.

“Mommy, you’re scaring me!”

“It’s going to be all right,” she says. “It’s going to be all right.”

She runs to the front door, dragging Regan along, but of course they are already there. She can see them through the decorative, faux-stained-glass window that she thought was so classy when they first moved in.

They are shadows without anyone or anything to cast them, somehow darker than the night surrounding them. They look like giant, distorted images of men. Twelve feet tall, all arms and legs, stretching across the yard, away from the porch light. They reach for the door. She turns and retreats into the house. She hears the wood of the door splintering behind her.

She goes through the kitchen to the rear sliding doors, the ones that lead to the backyard. But the Shadowmen are there, too, looming across the perfectly cut grass. One extends a long arm, ending in a hand that is like a claw. It runs its fingers down the glass, leaving long furrows with a high-pitched shriek.

It leans in close, and a mouth opens in the darkness, revealing sharp teeth that do not quite blend in with the inky-black shape of its head. It is smiling at her.

Regan clutches her hand. Hailey drops her phone and takes her in her arms. Regan wraps herself around her like a koala, burying her face in her neck.

Hailey goes up the stairs and hides in her big, walk-in closet. The overhead lights switch on automatically, blazing white LEDs. It’s all she can think of. She sits on the ground, still holding Regan.

Regan is crying. Quietly. Hailey might not have noticed if she couldn’t feel the tears on her neck. Such a good girl. Trying to be the best girl, even now.

“It’s all right,” Hailey says. “We have to wait until they’re gone. Then we’re going to a new house. I promise. And I will get you all new presents.”