exhaustion, resists. But she forces it to work.
Malorie paddles. The children are tucked at her knees and feet. The water breaks beneath the wood. She paddles. What else can she do? What else can she do but paddle? The wolves could be coming. How shallow is the river here?
Malorie paddles. It feels like her arm is dangling from her body. But she paddles. The place she is taking the children to may no longer exist. The excruciating trip, blindly taking the river, could result in nothing. When they get there, down the river, will they be safe? What if what she’s looking for isn’t there?
seventeen
T hey’re scared of us,” Olympia suddenly says.
“What do you mean?” Malorie asks. The two are sitting together on the third step up the staircase.
“Our housemates. They’re scared of our bellies. And I know why. It’s because one day they’re going to have to deliver these babies.”
Malorie looks into the living room. She has been at the house for two months. She is five months pregnant. She too has thought of this. Of course she has.
“Who do you think will do it?” Olympia asks, her wide, innocent eyes trained on Malorie.
“Tom,” Malorie says.
“Okay, but I’d feel a lot better if there was a doctor in the house.”
This thought is always looming for Malorie. The inevitable day she gives birth. No doctors. No medicine. No friends or family. She tries to imagine it as a quick experience. Something that will happen fast and be over with. She pictures the moment her water breaks, then imagines holding the baby. She doesn’t want to think about what’ll happen in between.
The others are gathered in the living room. The morning’s chores are finished. All day Malorie has had a sense that Tom is working something out. He’s been distant. Isolated with his thoughts. Now he stands in the center of the living room, every housemate in earshot, and reveals what’s been on his mind. It’s exactly what Malorie was hoping it wasn’t.
“I’ve got a plan,” he says.
“Oh?” Don asks.
“Yes.” Tom pauses, as if making sure of what he’s about to say one final time. “We need guides.”
“What do you mean?” Felix asks.
“I mean I’m going to go looking for dogs.”
Malorie gets up from the stairs and walks to the entrance of the living room. Just like the others, the idea of Tom leaving the house has dramatically gotten her attention.
“Dogs?” Don asks.
“Yes,” Tom says. “Strays. Former pets. There must be hundreds out there. Loose. Or stuck inside a home they can’t get out of. If we’re going to go on stock runs, which we all know we’re going to have to do, I’d like us to have help. Dogs could warn us.”
“Tom, we don’t know the effect they have on animals,” Jules says.
“I know. But we can’t sit still.”
The tension in the room has risen.
“You’re crazy,” Don says. “You’re really thinking of going out there.”
“We’ll bring weapons,” Tom says.
Don leans forward in the easy chair.
“What exactly are you thinking of here?”
“I’ve been working on helmets,” Tom says. “To protect our blindfolds. We’ll carry butcher knives. The dogs could lead us. If one goes mad? Let the leash go. If the animal comes after you, kill it with the knife.”
“Blind.”
“Yes. Blind.”
“I don’t like the sound of this at all,” Don says.
“Why not?”
“There could be maniacs out there. Criminals. The streets aren’t what they used to be, Tom. We’re not in suburbia anymore. We’re in chaos.”
“Well, something has to change,” Tom says. “We need to make progress. Otherwise we’re waiting for news in a world where there is no longer any news.”
Don looks to the carpet. Then back to Tom.
“It’s too dangerous. There’s just no reason for it.”
“There’s every reason for it.”
“I say we wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“Help. Something.”
Tom looks to the blankets covering the windows.
“There’s no help
Malorie paddles. The children are tucked at her knees and feet. The water breaks beneath the wood. She paddles. What else can she do? What else can she do but paddle? The wolves could be coming. How shallow is the river here?
Malorie paddles. It feels like her arm is dangling from her body. But she paddles. The place she is taking the children to may no longer exist. The excruciating trip, blindly taking the river, could result in nothing. When they get there, down the river, will they be safe? What if what she’s looking for isn’t there?
seventeen
T hey’re scared of us,” Olympia suddenly says.
“What do you mean?” Malorie asks. The two are sitting together on the third step up the staircase.
“Our housemates. They’re scared of our bellies. And I know why. It’s because one day they’re going to have to deliver these babies.”
Malorie looks into the living room. She has been at the house for two months. She is five months pregnant. She too has thought of this. Of course she has.
“Who do you think will do it?” Olympia asks, her wide, innocent eyes trained on Malorie.
“Tom,” Malorie says.
“Okay, but I’d feel a lot better if there was a doctor in the house.”
This thought is always looming for Malorie. The inevitable day she gives birth. No doctors. No medicine. No friends or family. She tries to imagine it as a quick experience. Something that will happen fast and be over with. She pictures the moment her water breaks, then imagines holding the baby. She doesn’t want to think about what’ll happen in between.
The others are gathered in the living room. The morning’s chores are finished. All day Malorie has had a sense that Tom is working something out. He’s been distant. Isolated with his thoughts. Now he stands in the center of the living room, every housemate in earshot, and reveals what’s been on his mind. It’s exactly what Malorie was hoping it wasn’t.
“I’ve got a plan,” he says.
“Oh?” Don asks.
“Yes.” Tom pauses, as if making sure of what he’s about to say one final time. “We need guides.”
“What do you mean?” Felix asks.
“I mean I’m going to go looking for dogs.”
Malorie gets up from the stairs and walks to the entrance of the living room. Just like the others, the idea of Tom leaving the house has dramatically gotten her attention.
“Dogs?” Don asks.
“Yes,” Tom says. “Strays. Former pets. There must be hundreds out there. Loose. Or stuck inside a home they can’t get out of. If we’re going to go on stock runs, which we all know we’re going to have to do, I’d like us to have help. Dogs could warn us.”
“Tom, we don’t know the effect they have on animals,” Jules says.
“I know. But we can’t sit still.”
The tension in the room has risen.
“You’re crazy,” Don says. “You’re really thinking of going out there.”
“We’ll bring weapons,” Tom says.
Don leans forward in the easy chair.
“What exactly are you thinking of here?”
“I’ve been working on helmets,” Tom says. “To protect our blindfolds. We’ll carry butcher knives. The dogs could lead us. If one goes mad? Let the leash go. If the animal comes after you, kill it with the knife.”
“Blind.”
“Yes. Blind.”
“I don’t like the sound of this at all,” Don says.
“Why not?”
“There could be maniacs out there. Criminals. The streets aren’t what they used to be, Tom. We’re not in suburbia anymore. We’re in chaos.”
“Well, something has to change,” Tom says. “We need to make progress. Otherwise we’re waiting for news in a world where there is no longer any news.”
Don looks to the carpet. Then back to Tom.
“It’s too dangerous. There’s just no reason for it.”
“There’s every reason for it.”
“I say we wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“Help. Something.”
Tom looks to the blankets covering the windows.
“There’s no help
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