As Johnny Carson said good night, Jetta Young reached over to switch off the television set. She heard her roommate's footsteps coming down the hall and, glancing up, saw her silhouetted in the doorway of the dark bedroom. "Don't be afraid," she told Young, in a strange, flat voice. "We have company."
The bedroom light came on, blinding Young for a moment. She saw fractured images. A butcher knife shining against her roommate's throat. Her roommate's pinched, ashen face. A man in a blue nylon jacket and...
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