Don has come full circle with Gary. Malorie thinks she saw it when it happened.

Hey, I don’t think that theory is any more cracked than ours, Don said to him once.

“It’s hard,” Don says now, “because we don’t get any new reports.”

“Exactly.”

Yes, Don has gone from voting against letting Gary in, to being the one housemate who sits with him and talks. And talks. And talks.

He’s skeptical, Malorie thinks. That’s his nature. And he’s needed someone to talk to. That’s all this means. He’s different than you are. Don’t you understand?

But these thoughts, just as they are, aren’t taking root. No matter how she perceives it, Gary and Don are talking about things like hysteria and the idea that the creatures can’t cause harm to someone who is prepared to see them. Don, she knows, has long espoused a greater fear of man than creatures. Yet, he closes his eyes when the front door opens and closes. He does not look out the window. He has never committed to the idea that the creatures cannot hurt us. Could someone like Gary convince him at last?

She wants to talk to Tom about it. She wants to pull him aside and ask him to make them stop. Or at least go and talk with them. Maybe his words will influence their conversation. Make it sound safer.

Yes, she wants to talk to Tom about Don.

Division.

With trepidation, she crosses the kitchen and looks into the living room. Tom and Felix are reading a map on the floor. They are measuring distances according to the map’s mileage scale. Jules is teaching the dogs commands.

Stop. Start again.

“We have to measure what is an average step for you,” Felix says.

“What are you guys planning?” Malorie asks.

Tom turns to her.

“Distance,” he says. “How many of my steps are in a mile.”

Felix is using the measuring tape at Tom’s feet.

“If I listen to music as I go,” Tom says, “I could walk in rhythm with it. That way the steps we measure in here would be close to the ones I take out there.”

“Like dancing,” Felix says.

Malorie turns to see Olympia is now at the kitchen sink. She washes utensils. Malorie joins her and continues washing the clothes. After being confined to this house for almost four months, Olympia has lost a little of her shine. Her skin is pale. Her eyes deeper set.

“Are you worried?” Olympia suddenly asks.

“About what?”

“About making it.”

“Making what?”

“Surviving our deliveries.”

Malorie wants to tell Olympia that it’s going to be okay but she struggles to locate the words. She is thinking about Don.

“I’ve always wanted a baby,” Olympia says. “I was so excited when I found out. I felt like my life was complete. You know?”

This is not how Malorie felt but she says yes, she knows.

“Oh, Malorie, who is going to deliver our babies?”

Malorie doesn’t know.

“Our housemates, I don’t see—”

“But Tom’s never done it before!”

“No. But he was a father.”

Olympia stares at her hands, submerged in the bucket.

“I’ll tell you what,” Malorie says facetiously, “we’ll deliver each other’s.”

“Deliver each other’s!” Olympia says, smiling at last. “Malorie, you’re too much!”

Gary enters the kitchen. He scoops a glass of water from a bucket on the counter. Then he scoops a second glass. Malorie knows it’s for Don. As he exits, music suddenly comes from the living room. Malorie leans back so she can see in there. Tom holds the small battery-operated radio. It’s one of George’s cassette tapes. Felix, on his hands and knees, measures Tom’s steps as he walks in rhythm to the song.

“What are they doing?” Olympia asks.

“I think they have somewhere specific in mind to go,” Malorie says. “They’re trying to come up with a better way of traveling outside.”

Malorie quietly steps to the dining room’s entrance. Peering in, she sees Don and Gary, their backs to her, sitting in dining room chairs. They are speaking quietly.

Again she crosses the kitchen. As she enters the living room, Tom is smiling. He has a leash in each hand. The huskies are playing with them, wagging their tails.

The discrepancy between the bright, progressive actions of those in the living room and the hushed conspiratorial tones of those in the dining room is all Malorie can think about.

She steps to the sink again and begins washing. Olympia is talking but Malorie is thinking of something else. She leans forward and is able to see Gary’s shoulder. Beyond him, propped against the wall, is the only item he brought in with him from the outside world.

His briefcase.

He showed them the contents when he entered the house. Don asked him to. But did she get a good look at them? Did any of the housemates?

“And stop!” Tom says. Malorie turns to see the dogs and he are in the entranceway to the kitchen. The huskies both sit. Tom rewards them with raw meat.

Malorie keeps washing. She is thinking of the briefcase.

thirty-two

She has known this was coming. How could she not? All the signs have been there since they returned with the dogs. Tom and Jules have been training them ten, twelve hours a day. Using the house, then the yard. Seeing Eye dogs. The box of birds hanging outside works like an alarm. Just like Tom said it would. The birds cooed when Gary arrived. They sing when Cheryl feeds them. So, it was only a matter of time before Tom declared he was going to use the Seeing Eye dogs to enter the new world once again.

But this time it’s worse. Because this time he’s going farther.

They were gone two days for one block. When will we see them again if they go three miles?

Three miles. That’s how far it is to Tom’s house. That’s where he wants to go.

“It’s the only place I can be a hundred percent sure of,” he said. “I’ve got supplies there. We need them. Band-Aids. Neosporin. Aspirin. Bandages.”

Malorie’s spirit rose with the mention of medicine. But Tom outside, and for that long, is too much for her to support.

“Don’t worry,” Felix said that same night. “We’ve mapped it out to a T. Tom and Jules are going to walk to the rhythm of a song. A single song. It’s called ‘Halfway to Paradise’ by a guy named Tony Light. They’ll bring the radio and play it over and over as they follow the directions we’ve figured out. We know how many steps it will take for each direction, for every portion of the trip.”

“So you’re planning on dancing there?” Gary said. “How nice.”

“Not dancing,” Tom said aggressively. “Walking to get help.”

“Tom,” Cheryl said, “you can practice this all you want, but if your steps are a half an inch longer out there, you’re going to be off. You’ll get lost. And how the fuck are you going to get back then? You won’t.”

“We will,” Tom said.

“And it’s not like we’re helpless if we get lost,” Jules added. “We need the supplies. You know this better than most, Cheryl. You took stock last.”

Yes, this day has been coming. But Malorie doesn’t like it at all.

“Tom,” she said, pulling him aside, just before he and Jules left this morning. “I don’t think the house could stand it if you didn’t come back.”

“We’re going to come back.”

“I understand that you think you will,” Malorie said, “but I don’t think you realize how much the house needs you.”

“Malorie,” he said, as Jules called that he was ready to go, “the house needs all of us.”

“Tom.”

“Don’t let the nerves get to you like they did last time. Instead, lean on the fact that we came back last time. We’ll do it again. And this time, Malorie, act as a leader. Help them when they get scared.”

“Tom.”

“You need the medicine, Malorie. Sterilization. You’re close.”

It was clear that Tom was on a path of his own, prepared to repeatedly risk his life in the name of advancing life in the house.