Bird box

Malorie, her back to the stairs, cranes her neck. She wants to know what is happening. She wants to tell them to stop. There are two pregnant women in the attic who need your help. Please stop.

Delirious, Malorie lets her chin fall to her chest. Her eyes close. She feels like, if she were to lose focus, she could pass out. Or worse.

The rain returns. Malorie opens her eyes. She sees Olympia, her head bent toward the ceiling. The veins in her neck are showing. Slowly, Malorie scans the attic. Beside Olympia are boxes. Then the window. Then more boxes. Old books. The old clothes.

A flash of lightning from outside illuminates the attic space. Malorie closes her eyes. In her darkness, she sees a frozen image of the attic’s walls.

The window. The boxes.

And a man, standing where Don was standing when she came up here.

It’s not possible, she thinks.

But it is.

And, before her eyes are fully open, she understands who is standing there, who is in the attic with her.

“Gary,” Malorie says, a hundred thoughts accosting her. “You’ve been hiding in the cellar.”

She thinks of Victor growling at the cellar door.

She thinks of Don, sleeping down there.

As Malorie looks Gary in the eye, the argument downstairs escalates. Jules is hoarse. Don is livid. It sounds like they are exchanging blows.

Gary emerges from the shadows. He is approaching her.

When we closed our eyes and Tom opened the front door, she thinks, knowing it is true, Don snuck him farther into the house.

“What are you doing here?!” Olympia suddenly yells. Gary does not look at her. He only comes to Malorie.

“Stay away from me!” Malorie screams.

He kneels beside her.

“You,” he says. “So vulnerable in your present state. I’d have thought you would have had more sympathy than to send someone out into a world like this one.”

Lightning flashes again.

“Tom! Jules!”

Her baby is not out yet. But he must be close.

“Don’t yell,” Gary says. “I’m not angry.”

“Please leave me alone. Please leave us.”

Gary laughs.

“You keep saying that! You keep wanting me to leave!”

Thunder rolls outside. The housemates are getting louder.

“You never left,” Malorie says, each word like removing a small rock from her chest.

“That’s right, I never did.”

Tears pool in Malorie’s eyes.

“Don had the heart to lend me a hand, and the foresight to predict I might be voted out.”

Don, she thinks, what have you done?

Gary leans closer.

“Do you mind if I tell you a story while you do this?”

“What?”

“A story. Something to keep your mind off the pain. And let me tell you that you’re doing a wonderful job. Better than my wife did.”

Olympia’s breathing sounds bad, too labored, like she couldn’t possibly survive this.

“One of two things is happening here,” Gary says. “Either—”

“Please,” Malorie cries. “Please leave me alone.”

“Either my philosophies are right, or, and I hate to use this word, or I’m immune.”

It feels like the baby is at the edge of her body. Yet it feels too big to escape. Malorie gasps and closes her eyes. But the pain is everywhere, even in her darkness.

They don’t know he’s up here. Oh my God they don’t know he’s here.

“I’ve watched this street for a long time,” Gary says. “I watched as Tom and Jules stumbled their way around the block. I was mere inches from Tom as he studied the very tent that sheltered me.”

“Stop it. STOP IT!”

But yelling only makes the pain worse. Malorie focuses. She pushes. She breathes. But she can’t help but hear.

“I found it fascinating, the lengths the man would go to, while I watched, unharmed, as the creatures passed daily, nightly, sometimes a dozen at once. It’s the reason I settled on this street, Malorie. You have no idea how busy it can be out there.”

please please please please please please please please PLEASE

From the floor below, she hears Tom’s voice.

“Jules! I need you!”

Then a thundering of footsteps leading back down.

“TOM! HELP US! GARY IS UP HERE! TOM!”

“He’s preoccupied,” Gary says. “There’s a real situation going on down there.”

Gary rises. He steps to the attic door and quietly closes it.

Then he locks it.

“Is that any better?” he asks.

“What have you done?” Malorie hisses.

More shouting from below now. It sounds like everybody is moving at once. For an instant, she believes she has gone mad. No matter how safe she’s been, it feels like there is no hiding from the insanity of the new world.

Someone screams in the hall below the locked attic door. Malorie thinks it’s Felix.

“My wife wasn’t prepared,” Gary says, suddenly beside her. “I watched her as she saw one. I didn’t warn her it was coming. I—”

“Why didn’t you tell us?!” Malorie asks, crying, pushing.

“Because,” Gary says, “just like the others, none of you would have believed me. Except Don.”

“You’re mad.”