the troll’s chest for a moment, then fell and hit the floor with a clatter.
He stood above her, ax raised over his shoulder.
Jeremy saw the handle of Tanya’s knife protruding from his throat.
He stood tall and motionless, then toppled backward. The head of the ax shattered the mirror behind him. He fell through the disintegrating glass, his back breaking through the bottom of the panel as shards rained down on him.
All the candles were out except Jeremy’s.
But its single tongue of flame was multiplied by the mirrors, filling the scene with a fluttery orange glow.
He watched Tanya climb off the bodies of Cowboy and Liz.
She crawled onto the felled troll, reached beyond his head, then scurried off him, dragging the ax.
Standing astride his hips, she raised the ax. Jeremy saw it swing down, heard the wet thud as it struck.
Bending over, Tanya pulled her knife from the troll’s throat. Then she stepped off the body. “Come here and get the ax,” she said, her voice husky and breathless. “We can use it.”
Jeremy nodded. He moved forward, glanced at Liz and Cowboy, turned his eyes away from them, and looked at the dead troll. Tanya had left the ax in his face.
Good, Jeremy thought.
And slipped on the blood-slick floor. Yelping, he flapped his arms.
Shook his candle out.
Darkness dropped like a black cloak over his eyes.
He fell onto the bodies of his dead friends.
At the top of the slide, Dave wrapped his Kevlar vest around his shoes. “Here goes,” he muttered.
Joan squeezed his shoulder.
He pushed off and sped down the slide, sitting upright, legs tight together in front of him, flashlight aimed at the twin upright blades. His feet struck the blades, stopping him with a jolt. Through the vest and soles of his shoes, the edges felt no sharper than a couple of steel rods.
He clamped the flashlight between his thighs, pointing its beam at his shrouded feet. He lay back, stretched his arms overhead, and called out, “All set.”
Debbie came down on her belly, hands first. Dave caught them, halting her glide. He drew her down to his face. “Take the flashlight with you,” he said. “Be careful going over the knives. And have your pistol ready when you get to the bottom.”
Straddling him, she squirmed down his body. She took the flashlight, scooted lower, and rose to her hands and knees to crawl over his upright feet and the blades. “Made it,” she whispered.
She hunkered at the end of the slide, shining the light around. Then she climbed off.
“Okay, Joan.”
Joan came down. As she struggled onto him, the side of one breast rubbed his cheek. Dave felt its softness through the thin damp fabric of her T-shirt. Its touch was like a memory of the real world.
There is a real world out there, he thought.
He lifted his hands. He caressed her back as she worked her way down his body. He caressed her buttocks, the backs of her legs.
“You pick odd times to get fresh,” she whispered.
He laughed softly.
“There’s a real world out there,” he told her. “Believe it or not.”
“I’m glad you reminded me.” She squeezed his knee. “We’re doing okay so far, huh?”
“Doing just fine.”
Then she crawled over his feet, skidded to the end of the slide, and Debbie helped her off. She took the flashlight and aimed it at his feet.
Dave sat up. He bent his knees until he could reach the vest with his hands. Pressing it against the blades, he freed his feet and stretched his legs down until he was astride the covered knives.
“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he muttered.
Joan passed the light to Debbie, then climbed onto the end of the slide. She shoved her knees against the bottoms of his feet and reached up.
“Ah-ha,” Dave said.
“Ah-ha,” she repeated.
As she clutched his wrists, Dave leaned forward. She tugged. His rump lifted off the slide. The inner sides of his thighs rubbed the padded blades. The back of his head scraped along the top of the enclosure. Joan suddenly gave him such a pull that he nearly folded in half. His knees buckled. He hit the ramp, and tumbled with Joan until the slide was no longer under them. They hit the floor.
After untangling himself, he retrieved the vest. He held it toward Joan. She shook her head. “It’s yours. Put it on.”
“I want you to wear it,” Dave said.
“Well, I want you to wear it.”
“I don’t want you wearin’ nuffin’,” came a voice from the ceiling. “C’mon, sweet stuff,