Book of Linda and Angelina

Linda rang the doorbell.

Tyler was still crouched beside Donna, trying to help her sit upright. Elle hadn’t moved since the knock—frozen, wide‑eyed, like she’d just seen a ghost.

“Elle?” Tyler tried again. “Help with Donna, please. Who are those women?”

Elle didn’t respond. She didn’t blink.

He left Donna in Elle’s unmoving hands—if they could even be called hands right now—and stood. Elle looked like she was staring through the wall, through him, through everything.

“Who are those women?” he repeated.

Nothing.

Linda rang the doorbell again.

From the basement, Stacy shouted, “Is anybody going to get that?”

“Elle, snap out of it,” Tyler pleaded.

Donna groaned softly, coming too. Elle finally dropped to her knees beside her, still silent, still trembling, but at least moving.

Tyler exhaled and headed for the door.

“Stacy, I got it.”

“What were you doing?” Stacy yelled back. “Trying to make another baby already?”

Tyler ignored her and pulled the door open.

Two women stood on the porch. The first—Linda—smiled warmly, but her presence was intimidating. She was built like she could lift the house off its foundation. The second—Angelina—was scanning the property like she was memorizing every window, every shadow. Angelina was about four feet eleven inches tall and her presence was not intimidating,

“Hi,” Tyler said, voice cracking. “It’s… a bit late. How can I help you two?”

“Is Donna home?” Linda asked. “I think that’s her car, right?”

Before Tyler could answer, Elle barreled past him, nearly knocking him into the wall. She launched herself into Linda’s arms, clinging to her like she’d been waiting years for this moment. Her sobs were immediate, raw.

Angelina turned, smirking softly. “Missed her, didn’t you, kid?”

Tyler stared at Linda—really stared. Recognition hit him like a punch.

“You’re the actress from the Linda Kyle movies,” he whispered, louder than he meant to. “You’re Elle’s cousin. And… you’re dead.”

Angelina raised her hand. “Me too. I mean, I’m dead. I wasn’t in the movies, though. Did some modeling.”

Linda held Elle tighter, brushing her hair back, whispering something Tyler couldn’t hear.

Donna, still on the floor behind him, whispered hoarsely, “Tyler… who’s at the door?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Because the dead were standing in his doorway.

And they had come for Donna.