At the word “cellar” Malorie actually hears Don’s voice from below.

He’s yelling.

Yet, something beyond his voice worries her more.

“Do you hear that sound, Olympia?”

“What?” Olympia grumbles. It sounds like she has staples in her throat.

“That sound. It sounds like . . .”

“It’s the rain,” Olympia says.

“No, not that. There’s something else. It sounds like we’ve already had our babies.”

“What?”

To Malorie it does sound like a baby. Something like it, past the housemates at the foot of the ladder stairs. Maybe even on the first floor, the living room, maybe even—

Maybe even outside.

But what does that mean? What is happening? Is someone crying on the front porch?

Impossible. It’s something else.

But it’s alive.

Lightning explodes. The attic is fully visible, nightmarishly, for a flash. The blanket covering the window remains fixed in Malorie’s mind long after the light passes and the thunder rolls. Olympia screams when it happens and Malorie, her eyes closed, sees her friend’s expression of fear frozen in her mind.

But her attention is drawn back to the impossible pressure at her waist. It seems Olympia could be howling for her. Every time Malorie feels the awful knife stabbing in her side, Olympia laments.

Do I howl for her, too?

The cassette tape comes to a stop. Then so does the commotion from below.

Even the rain abates.

The smaller sounds in the attic are more audible now. Malorie listens to herself breathing. The footsteps of the housemates who help them are defined.

Figures emerge. Then vanish.

There’s Tom (she’s sure).

There’s Felix (she thinks).

There’s Jules now at Olympia’s side.

Is the world receding? Or am I sailing farther into this pain?

She hears that noise again. Like an infant on the doorstep. Something young and alive coming from downstairs. Only now it is more pronounced. Only now it doesn’t have to fight through the argument and the music and the rain.

Yes, it is more pronounced now, more defined. As Tom crosses the attic, she can hear the sound between his footsteps. His boot connecting with the wood, then lifting, exposing the youthful notes from below.

Then, very clearly, Malorie recognizes what it is.

It’s the birds. Oh my God. It’s the birds.

The cardboard box beating against the house’s outer wall and the soft sweet cooing of the birds.

“There is something outside the house,” she says.

Quietly at first.

Cheryl is a few feet from her.

“There is something outside the house!” she yells.

Jules looks up from behind Olympia’s shoulder.

There’s a loud crash from below. Felix yells. Jules rushes past Malorie. His boots are loud and quick on the ladder stairs behind her.

Malorie frantically looks around the attic for Tom. He’s not up here. He’s downstairs.

“Olympia,” Malorie says, more to herself. “We’re alone up here!”

Olympia does not respond.

Malorie tries not to listen but she can’t stop herself. It sounds like they’re all in the living room now. The first floor for sure. Everybody is yelling. Did Jules just say “don’t”?

As the commotion builds, so does the pain at Malorie’s waist.

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.