"He isn't, Summer he's?" she asked me plaintively. "Boy a be Summer could how? Mark I'm know I."
I didn't understand this at all, especially when Summer began feeling her arms and legs and inspecting herself all over, carefully.
The sound of the machinery in the basement reached a shrieking crescendo that must have put the teeth of everyone in the neighborhood on edge. Mark came to life. His eyes shining fiercely, he grasped Summer by the arm.
"Are they going to hurt Thomas?" he demanded intently. "Are they, Summer?"
She looked at me, not the boy, and suddenly she was calm as though in the grip of profound shock. I could hardly hear her quiet, childish voice through the noise from the basement.
"Where ... know ... don't," she began haltingly. "Gone ... Summer's but. Furnace the in him had they. Thomas saved I."
Her voice trailed to a gurgle and then she began to chant, "Burn Thomas burn Thomas burn Thomas...."
The boy suddenly broke from her and began to run for the house.
And, BACKWARD, she ran after him.
Caught by surprise, it was a moment before I could gather my wits and follow, shouting at them. They had disappeared around the corner of the house, and I rounded it in time to see them tug open the outside basement door and vanish inside. An eerie blue light flickered from the open door.