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.”

Gary laughs, grinning.

“What is happening downstairs?!” Olympia yells. “Malorie! What is happening downstairs?!”

“I don’t know!”

“It’s Don,” Gary says. “He’s trying to convince the others what I’ve taught him.”

“IT’S DON!”

The voice from below is as clear as if it were spoken in the attic.

“DON PULLED THEM DOWN! DON PULLED THE BLANKETS DOWN!”

“They won’t hurt us,” Gary whispers. The whiskers of his moist beard touch Malorie’s ear.

But she is no longer listening to him.

“Malorie?” Olympia whispers.

“DON PULLED THE BLANKETS DOWN AND OPENED THE DOOR! THEY’RE IN THE HOUSE! DID YOU HEAR ME? THEY’RE IN THE HOUSE!”

the baby is coming the baby is coming the baby is coming

“Malorie?”

“Olympia,” she says, defeated, void of hope (is it true? is her own voice saying as much?). “Yes. They’re in the house now.”

The storm outside whips against the walls.

The chaos below sounds impossible.

“They sound like wolves,” Olympia cries. “They sound like wolves!”

Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don Don

tore the blankets down

let them in

someone saw them

let them in

someone went mad who was it?

Don let them in

Don tore down the blankets

Don doesn’t believe they can hurt us

Don thinks it’s only in our mind

Gary knelt by him in the chair in the dining room

Gary spoke to him from behind the tapestry in the cellar

Don pulled the blankets down

Gary told him they were fake, Gary told him they were harmless

may have gone mad who is it who has?

(push, Malorie, push, you have a baby, a baby to worry about, close your eyes if you have to but push push)

they’re in the house now

and everyone in it

sounds like wolves.

The birds, Malorie thinks, hysterical, were a good idea, Tom. A great one.

Olympia is frantically asking her questions but Malorie can’t answer. Her mind is full.

“Is it true? Is there really one in the house? That can’t be true. We’d never allow it! Is there really one in the house? Right now?”

Something slams against a wall downstairs. A body maybe. The dogs are barking.

Someone threw a dog against the wall.

“DON TORE THE BLANKETS DOWN!”

Who has their eyes closed down there? Who has the presence of mind? Would Malorie? Would Malorie have been able to close her eyes as her housemates went mad?

Oh my God, Malorie thinks. They’re going to die down there.

The baby is killing her.

Gary is still whispering in her ear.

“What you hear down there, that’s what I mean, Malorie. They think they’re supposed to go mad. But they don’t have to. I spent seasons out there. I watched them for weeks at a time.”

“Impossible,” Malorie says. She doesn’t know if this word is directed at Gary, the noise below, or the pain she believes will never pass.

“The first time I saw one, I thought I’d gone mad.” Gary nervously laughs. “But I didn’t. And when I slowly realized I was still of sound mind, I began to understand what was happening. To my friends. My family. To everybody.”

“I don’t want to hear any more!” Malorie screams. She feels like she may split down the center. There has been a mistake, she thinks. The baby that tries to escape her is too big and it will split her.

It’s a boy, she believes.

“You know what?”

“Stop!”

“You know what?”

“No! No! No!”

Olympia howls, the sky howls, the dogs howl downstairs. Malorie believes she hears Jules specifically. She hears him racing a floor below. She hears him trying to tear something apart in the bathroom down there.

“Maybe I am immune, Malorie. Or maybe I’m simply aware.”

She wants to say, Do you know how much you could have done for us? Do you understand how much safer you could have made us?

But Gary is mad.

And he probably always has been.

Don pulled the blankets down.

Gary knelt by him in the dining room.

Gary spoke to him from behind a tapestry in the cellar.

Gary the demon on Don’s soft shoulder.

There is a thunderous knocking at the attic’s floor door.

“LET ME IN!” someone screams.

It’s Felix, Malorie thinks. Or Don.

“JESUS CHRIST LET ME IN!”

But it’s neither.

It’s Tom.

“Open the door for him!” Malorie screams at Gary.

“Are you sure you want me to do that? It doesn’t sound to me like a safe idea.”

“Please please please! Let him in!”

It’s Tom, oh my God, it’s Tom, it’s Tom, oh my God, it’s Tom.

She pushes hard. Oh God she pushes hard.

“Breathe,” Gary tells her. “Breathe. You’re almost there now.”

“Please,” Malorie cries. “Please!”

“LET ME IN! LET ME UP THERE!”

Olympia is screaming now, too.

“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.