Bird box

“Open the door for him! It’s Tom!”

The insanity from below is knocking on the door.

Tom.

Tom is insane. Tom saw one of the creatures.

Tom is insane.

Did you hear him? Did you hear his voice? That was the sound he makes. That was how he sounds without his mind, without his beautiful mind.

Gary rises and crosses the attic. The rain pounds on the roof.

The knocking on the attic floor door stops.

Malorie looks across the attic to Olympia.

Olympia’s black hair mingles with the shadows. Her eyes blaze from within.

“We’re . . . almost . . . there,” she says.

Olympia’s child is coming out. In the candlelight, Malorie can see it is halfway there.

Instinctively, she reaches for it, though it is an attic floor away.

“Olympia! Don’t forget to cover your child’s eyes. Don’t forget to—”

The attic floor’s door crashes open hard. The lock has been broken.

Malorie screams but all she hears is her own heartbeat, louder than all of the new world.

Then she is silent.

Gary rises and steps back toward the window.

There are heavy footsteps behind her.

Malorie’s baby is emerging.

The stairs groan.

“Who is it?” she screams. “Who is it? Is everyone okay? Is it Tom? Who is it?”

Someone she cannot see has climbed the stairs and is in the attic with them.

Malorie, her back to the stairs, watches as Olympia’s expression changes from pain to awe.

Olympia, she thinks. Don’t look. We’ve been so good. So brave. Don’t look. Reach for your child instead. Hide its eyes when it comes out completely. Hide its eyes. And hide your own. Don’t look. Olympia. Don’t look.

But she understands it’s too late for her friend.

Olympia leans forward. Her eyes grow huge, her mouth opens. Her face becomes three perfect circles. For a moment Malorie sees her features contort, then shine instead.

“You’re beautiful,” Olympia says, smiling. It’s a broken, twitching smile. “You’re not bad at all. You wanna see my baby? Do you wanna see my baby?”

The child the child, Malorie thinks, the child is in her and she has gone mad. Oh my God, Olympia has gone mad, oh my God, the thing is behind me and the thing is behind my child.

Malorie closes her eyes.

As she does, the image of Gary remains, still standing at the edge of the candlelight’s reach. But he does not look as confident as he professed that he should. He looks like a scared child.

“Olympia,” Malorie says. “You’ve got to cover the baby’s eyes. You’ve got to reach down. For your baby.”

Malorie can’t see her friend’s expression. But her voice reveals the change within her.

“What? You’re going to tell me how to raise my child? What kind of a bitch are you? What kind of a—”

Olympia’s words morph into a guttural growl.

Insanity fuss.

Gary’s diseased, dangerous words.

Olympia is baying.

Malorie’s baby is crowning. She pushes.

With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, Malorie inches forward on the towel. She wants Olympia’s child. She will protect it.

Then, amid all this pain and madness, Malorie hears Olympia’s baby’s very first cry.

Close its eyes.

Then at last Malorie’s child comes through and her hand is there to cup its eyes. Its head is so soft and she believes she’s gotten to him in time.

“Come here,” she says, bringing the baby to her chest. “Come here and close your eyes.”

Gary laughs anxiously from across the room.

“Incredible,” he says.

Malorie feels for the steak knife. She finds it and cuts her own cord. Then she cuts two strips from the bloody towel beneath her. She feels his sex and knows it’s a boy and has no one to tell this to. No sister. No mother. No father. No nurse. No Tom. She holds him tight to her chest.

Slowly, she ties a piece of the towel around his eyes.

How important is it that he sees his mother’s face when he enters the world?

She hears the creature shift behind her.

“Baby,” Olympia says, but her voice is cracked. She sounds like she’s using the voice of an older woman. “My baby,” she crows.

Malorie slides forward. The muscles in her body resist. She reaches for Olympia’s child.

“Here,” she says blindly. “Here, Olympia. Let me have it. Let me see it.”

Olympia grunts.

“Why should I let you? What do you want my child for? Are you mad?”

“No. I just want to see it.”

Malorie’s eyes are still closed. The attic is quiet. The rain lands softly on the roof. Malorie slides forward, still on the blood beneath her body.

“Can I? Can I just see her? It is a girl, right? Weren’t you right about that?”