Tritia washed her hands and face in the bathroom. She gratefully accepted the plate of hot dogs, though her face clouded over for a second when he handed her a glass of iced tea. She took her food onto the porch and Doug followed her outside, bringing his own lunch. They sat next to each other at the table.

Tritia took a bite of her hot dog. “What are your plans for this afternoon?” she asked.

He frowned. “Plans? I don’t—”

“Good. I want you to dig up that manzanita by the side of the house. I want to expand my garden.”

“Look—” he began.

“You have something more important to do, Mr. Teacher?”

He looked at her, and the worry must have shown in his eyes because she looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. “No,” he said softly. “I don’t have anything else to do. I’ll help you with your garden.”

“Thank you.” She took another bite of her hot dog.

Inside, the phone rang, its tones clear and pure in the still noon air. Doug stood up, pushing back his chair. “I’ll get it,” he called. He hurried inside and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

A woman’s voice jumped out at him. “Help me! Dear Jesus God, help! Oh, God! I’m here by myself!”

Goose bumps arose on Doug’s arms. “Who is this?” he asked.

“Tritia? Help me!”

“This isn’t Tritia, this is—”

“Oh God oh Jesus I hear him now!”

“What is it?”

“Tritia!” the woman screamed.

“Trish!” Doug yelled. “Get in here fast!”

Tritia ran inside and took the receiver from his grasp. “Hello?”

“He’s here again!”

Tritia recognized the voice. Ellen Ronda. She had not called since the time Tritia had been alone at the house, and she sounded much worse now. Hysteria had not merely crept into her voice, it had transformed it completely, until she no longer sounded even remotely like herself. The woman on the other end of the line was not someone who could have ever been referred to as The Rock. This was a woman firmly in the grip of madness, a gibbering fool, a babbling idiot.

“What is it?” Tritia demanded.

“He’s coming after me,” Ellen screamed. “With a baseball bat!”

“Calm down,” Tritia told her. “Just—”

And then she heard the sound of glass breaking.

The sound of a baseball bat hitting a wall.

“Get over here!” Ellen screamed. “Bring the police! He’s—”

There was a loud crack as the line went dead.

Tritia dropped the phone and grabbed Doug’s hand. “Let’s go,” she said.

“What’s happening?”

“Ellen’s being attacked! Right now!”

“Let’s call the—”

“There’s no time!” Tritia pushed open the door. “You stay here,” she yelled at Billy. “Lock the doors! Stay inside!” She pulled Doug across the porch toward the car. “Let’s go. Now!”