“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.
“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.