“Please don’t,” Don says, sipping rum from a drinking glass, smiling.

“No, no,” Felix says, grinning, “I’m really very good!”

Felix stumbles as he stands up. He joins Tom at the piano. Together they sing along to “It’s De-Lovely.” The radio rests on a mirrored credenza. The music Rodney Barrett plays clashes quietly with the Cole Porter song.

“How are you doing, Malorie?” Don, sitting across the table, asks her. “How do you like the place so far?”

“I’m okay,” she says. “I think a lot about the baby.”

Don smiles. When he does, Malorie sees sadness in his features. Don, she knows, lost a sister as well. All the housemates have experienced devastating loss. Cheryl’s parents, scared, drove south. She hasn’t spoken to them since. Felix hopes to hear news of his brothers with every random phone call he makes. Jules often speaks of his fiancée, Sydney, whom he found in the gutter outside their apartment building before answering the same ad Malorie found. Her throat was slit. But Tom’s story, Malorie thinks, is the worst. If such a word applies anymore.

Now, watching him behind the piano, Malorie’s heart breaks for him.

For a moment, when “It’s De-Lovely” comes to an end, the radio is audible again. The song Rodney Barrett is playing ends as well. Then he begins talking.

“Listen, listen,” Cheryl is saying. She is crossing the room to where the radio sits. She crouches before it and turns the volume up. “He sounds more depressed than usual.”

Tom ignores the radio. Sweating, sipping from his drink, he fumbles through the opening chords of Gershwin’s “I Got Rhythm.” Don is turning to see what Cheryl is talking about. Jules, stroking Victor, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, turns his head slowly toward the radio.

“Creatures,” Rodney Barrett is saying. His voice drags. “What have you taken from us? What are you doing here? Do you have any purpose at all?”

Don rises from the table and joins Cheryl by the radio. Tom stops playing.

“I’ve never heard him speak directly to the creatures before,” he says from the piano bench.

“We’ve lost mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers,” Rodney Barrett is saying. “We’ve lost wives and husbands, lovers and friends. But nothing stings as much as the children you’ve taken from us. How dare you ask a child to look at you?”

Malorie looks to Tom. He is listening. There is distance in his eyes. She rises and walks to him.

“He’s been heavy before,” Cheryl says about Rodney Barrett. “But never like this.”

“No,” Don says. “Sounds like he’s drunker than we are.”

“Tom,” Malorie says, sitting beside him on the bench.

“He’s going to kill himself,” Don suddenly says.

Malorie looks up, wanting to tell Don to shut up, then hears the same thing Don has. The complete desolation in the voice of Rodney Barrett.

“Today I’m gonna cheat you,” Barrett says. “I’m gonna take it first, the one thing I’ve got left that you can take from me.”

“Oh God,” Cheryl says.

The radio is silent.

“Turn it off, Cheryl,” Jules says. “Turn it off.”

As she reaches for the radio, the sound of a gunshot explodes from the speakers.

Cheryl screams. Victor barks.

“What the fuck just happened?” Felix says, staring blankly toward the radio.

“He did it,” Jules says emptily. “I can’t believe this.”

Then silence.

Tom gets up from the piano bench and turns the radio off. Felix sips from his drink. Jules is on one knee, calming Victor.

Then, suddenly, as if an echo of the gunshot, there is a knock at the front door.

A second knock quickly follows.

Felix steps toward the door and Don grabs his arm.

“Do not just open that door, man,” he says. “Come on. What’s the matter with you?”

“I wasn’t going to, man!” Felix says. He pulls his arm free.

The knocking comes again. A woman’s voice calls to them.

“Hello?”

The housemates are quiet and stand still.

“Somebody answer her,” Malorie says, getting up from the piano bench to do it herself. But Tom is ahead of her.

“Yes!” he calls. “We’re here. Who are you?”

“Olympia! My name is Olympia! Let me in?”

Tom pauses. He looks drunk.

“Are you alone?” he asks.

“Yes!”

“Are your eyes closed?”

“Yes, my eyes are closed. I’m very scared. Please let me in?”

Tom looks to Don.

“Somebody get the broomsticks,” Tom says. Jules leaves to get them.

“I don’t think we can afford any more mouths to feed,” Don says.

“You’re crazy,” Felix says. “There’s a woman out—”

“I understand what’s going on, Felix,” Don says angrily. “We can’t house the whole country.”

“But she’s out there right now,” Felix says.

“And we’re drunk,” Don says.

“Come on, Don,” Tom says.

“Don’t turn me into the villain,” Don says. “You know as well as I do exactly how many cans we have in the cellar.”

“Hello?” the woman calls again.

“Hang on!” Tom responds.

Tom and Don stare at each other. Jules comes into the foyer. He hands one of the broomsticks to Tom.

“Do whatever you want to, people,” Don says. “But we’re going to starve sooner because of it.”

Tom turns to the front door.

“Everybody,” he says, “close your eyes.”

Malorie listens as his shoes cross the wood floor in the foyer.

“Olympia?” Tom calls.

“Yes!”

“I’m going to open the door now. When I do, when you hear it’s open, step inside as quickly as you can. Do you understand?”

“Yes!”

Malorie hears the front door open. There is a commotion. She imagines Tom pulling the woman inside like the housemates pulled her inside two weeks ago. Then the door slams shut.

“Keep your eyes closed!” Tom says. “I’m going to feel around you. Make sure nothing came inside with you.”

Malorie can hear the broomstick bristles against the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and the front door.

“Okay,” Tom finally says. “Let’s open our eyes.”

When Malorie does, she sees a very pretty, pale, dark-haired woman standing beside Tom.

“Thank you,” she says breathlessly.

Tom starts to ask her something but Malorie interrupts him.

“Are you pregnant?” she asks Olympia.

Olympia looks down at her belly. Shaking, she looks up, nodding yes.

“I’m four months along,” she says.

“That’s incredible,” Malorie says, stepping closer. “I’m about the same.”

“Fuck,” Don says.

“I’m a neighbor of yours,” Olympia says. “I’m so sorry to scare you like this. My husband is in the air force. I haven’t heard from him in weeks. He may be dead. I heard you. The piano. It took me a while to get the courage to walk here. Normally, I’d have brought over cupcakes.”

Despite the horror everyone in the room just listened to, Olympia’s innocence breaks through the darkness.

“We’re glad to have you,” Tom says, but Malorie can hear exhaustion and the pressure of looking after two pregnant women in his voice. “Come in.”

They walk Olympia down the hall toward the living room. At the foot of the stairs, she gasps and points to a photo hanging on the wall.

“Oh!” she says. “Is this man here?”

“No,” Tom says. “He’s not here anymore. You must know him. George. He used to own this house.”

Olympia nods.

“Yes, I’ve seen him many times.”

Then the housemates are gathered in the living room. Tom sits with Olympia on the couch. Malorie listens quietly as Tom somberly asks Olympia about the objects in her house. What she has. What she left behind.

What can they use here.

eleven

Malorie has been rowing for what feels like three hours. The muscles in her arms burn. Cold water sloshes in the boat’s bottom, water she has splashed, little by little, with each dip of the oars. Moments ago, the Girl told Malorie she had to pee. Malorie told her to do it. Now the Girl’s urine mixes with the river water and it feels warm against Malorie’s shoes. She is thinking about the man in the boat they passed.