Bird box

Gary sleeps with the briefcase within arm’s reach. He cares about it. Cares about and believes the writings inside.

Everything in this new world is harsh, she thinks, but nothing so much as her discovering Gary’s notebook while Tom is away.

He could be away for a long time.

Stop it.

Forever.

Stop it.

He could be dead. They could have been killed in the street right outside. The man you’re waiting for could be dead a week, just a lawn away.

He’s not. He’ll return.

Maybe.

He will.

Maybe.

They mapped it out with Felix.

What does Felix know?

They all did it together. Tom wouldn’t risk it unless he knew he had a chance to make it.

Remember the video George watched? Tom is a lot like George.

STOP!

He is. He idolized the man. And what about the dogs?

We don’t know that dogs are affected.

No. But they could be. Can you imagine what it would be like? A dog going stark mad?

Please . . . no.

Necessary thoughts. Necessary visions. Tom might not come back.

He will he will he will . . .

And if he doesn’t, you’ll have to tell someone else.

Tom’s coming back.

It’s been a week.

HE’S COMING BACK!

You can’t tell Gary. Talk to someone else first.

Don.

No. No. Not him. Felix. Don will kill you.

What??

Don has changed, Malorie. He’s different. Don’t be so naive.

He wouldn’t hurt us.

Yes. He would. He’d take the garden axe to you all.

STOP!!

He doesn’t care about life. He told you to blind your baby, Malorie.

He wouldn’t hurt us.

He would. Talk to Felix.

Felix will tell everyone.

Tell him not to. Talk to Felix. Tom may not come back.

Malorie leaves the foyer. Cheryl and Gary are in the kitchen. Gary is at the table, sitting, scooping pears from a can.

“Good afternoon,” he says, in that way he has of making it sound like he’s responsible for the good afternoon.

Malorie thinks he can tell. She thinks he knows.

He was awake he was awake he was awake.

“Good afternoon,” she says. She walks into the living room, leaving him.

Felix is sitting by the phone in the living room. The map is open on the end table.

“I don’t understand,” he says, confused. Felix does not look well. He hasn’t been eating as much. The assurances he gave Malorie a week ago no longer exist.

“It’s such a long time, Malorie. I know Tom would know what to do out there—but it’s such a long time.”

“You need to think about something else,” Cheryl says, peering her head around the corner. “Seriously, Felix. Think about something else. Or just go outside without a blindfold. Either way you’re driving yourself mad.”

Felix exhales loudly and runs his fingers through his hair.

She can’t tell Felix. He’s losing something. He’s lost something. His eyes are dull. He’s losing sensibility, thought. Strength.

Without a word, Malorie leaves him. She passes Don in the hall. The words, what she’s discovered, come to life within her. She almost speaks.

Don, Gary is no good. He’s dangerous. He has Frank’s notebook in his briefcase.

What, Malorie?

Just what I said.

You were snooping? Going through Gary’s things?

Yes.

Why are you coming to me with this?

Don, I just need to tell someone. You understand that, don’t you?

Why didn’t you just ask Gary? Hey, Gary!

No. She can’t tell Don. Don has lost something, too. He might get violent. Gary could, too.

One shove, she thinks, and you lose the baby.