and a
refrigerator, the water and gas are running, we're doing pretty well. I'll
paint a sign on the roof. Someone will come.
No one will.
We'll still be okay. We've got
everything we need.
Except you're going crazy.
You're seeing things.
That's gotta be normal. I'm
probably in shock.
When you go crazy, what'll
happen to your son? He can't survive without you.
He probably could. He's smart
and resourceful. We taught him how to say I love you and mean it. He's
empathetic.
His father scoffed. Empathy's
not a survival skill.
He was still arguing with himself
when sleep dragged him down. The world disappeared, replaced first by memories
of Brenda and Allie laughing, then by vague, empty nightmares. There was
nothing concrete about them, no definite horrors. Only the sense that he was missing
something, that he needed to do more, that his life depended on it.
"Dad."
Alan's eyes slid open, seeing
nothing. The living room was black.
"Dad," Todd said again.
He was whispering.
"What?" His voice was
remarkably lucid; to his own ears, it sounded wide awake.
"I just saw it. The
blue."
Whispering? Todd never whispered.
"It's outside."
34
Alan jerked up, disoriented by
darkness and clinging sleep, but electrified by Todd's words. "Now? You
mean it's—?"
Then he saw the glow.
Hazy and dim, just visible through
the glass deck door. A steady, muted blue. If the TV had been on, or even one
of the electric lanterns, they would've missed it.
Alan rolled to his feet.
"Okay. Shhh. Stay behind me." His heart thundered. Was it a rescue?
Was it the attackers, whoever they were?
He crept toward the deck door,
staying low and keeping one hand behind. Todd obliged, staying where he wanted
him. Alan reached the glass and peered out, the rumble of the generator in his
ears.
There was something outside the
Ngs' place.
At first it just looked like a
writhing blue blur, flitting across the Ngs' wall. But as he watched it more
closely, he made out what he thought were two legs. It was walking. It might
have had arms, too, but they flashed around so quickly that he couldn't tell
how many, or even whether "arm" was really the right word. It might
have been feeling along the wall of the house. And it was tall .
"What is it?" Todd
whispered, and Alan shushed him.
Watching it strained his eyes,
like he was trying to read a book in low light. His mind wanted to classify it,
but couldn't—its constant changing shape and uncertain outline made it
impossible. He couldn't tell which way it was facing. He couldn't tell if it
had a face.
It vanished around the corner of
the Ngs' house. Part of him was relieved to see it go. Part of him wanted to
follow it.
Wait here, he almost said.
He imagined leaving Todd to chase the thing down, only to find the boy gone
when he came back. But the alternative—bringing Todd along—wasn't any safer.
"What was it?" Todd said
again.
"I don't know." Alan
craned his head both directions, but the darkness was absolute now. He couldn't
see two inches in front of his face. He reached for Todd and heard him creeping
back through the living room.
"Where are you going?"
"I want to turn on a
lantern."
Don't, he started to say.
He was worried it would see them; then he realized it probably already had. The
flashes of blue he'd been seeing—what else could they have been?
The lantern clicked, sending
Todd's shadow leaping up the wall behind him. He looked scared, his eyes pits
of shadow in the lantern light.
Alan didn't think to comfort him.
The reality of what they'd seen was ripping through him like shrapnel.
What was that thing? Oh, God,
what was it?
It could've been anything, he
tried to tell himself: some experimental invisibility suit, or a projection of
light from... from...
It came here looking for us. I
responded to that text and it came here. OH GOD WHAT IS IT I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT
IS
"Daddy?" Todd hadn't
called him that in years.
"We're leaving," Alan
said. "It's not safe."
Todd's eyes widened.
refrigerator, the water and gas are running, we're doing pretty well. I'll
paint a sign on the roof. Someone will come.
No one will.
We'll still be okay. We've got
everything we need.
Except you're going crazy.
You're seeing things.
That's gotta be normal. I'm
probably in shock.
When you go crazy, what'll
happen to your son? He can't survive without you.
He probably could. He's smart
and resourceful. We taught him how to say I love you and mean it. He's
empathetic.
His father scoffed. Empathy's
not a survival skill.
He was still arguing with himself
when sleep dragged him down. The world disappeared, replaced first by memories
of Brenda and Allie laughing, then by vague, empty nightmares. There was
nothing concrete about them, no definite horrors. Only the sense that he was missing
something, that he needed to do more, that his life depended on it.
"Dad."
Alan's eyes slid open, seeing
nothing. The living room was black.
"Dad," Todd said again.
He was whispering.
"What?" His voice was
remarkably lucid; to his own ears, it sounded wide awake.
"I just saw it. The
blue."
Whispering? Todd never whispered.
"It's outside."
34
Alan jerked up, disoriented by
darkness and clinging sleep, but electrified by Todd's words. "Now? You
mean it's—?"
Then he saw the glow.
Hazy and dim, just visible through
the glass deck door. A steady, muted blue. If the TV had been on, or even one
of the electric lanterns, they would've missed it.
Alan rolled to his feet.
"Okay. Shhh. Stay behind me." His heart thundered. Was it a rescue?
Was it the attackers, whoever they were?
He crept toward the deck door,
staying low and keeping one hand behind. Todd obliged, staying where he wanted
him. Alan reached the glass and peered out, the rumble of the generator in his
ears.
There was something outside the
Ngs' place.
At first it just looked like a
writhing blue blur, flitting across the Ngs' wall. But as he watched it more
closely, he made out what he thought were two legs. It was walking. It might
have had arms, too, but they flashed around so quickly that he couldn't tell
how many, or even whether "arm" was really the right word. It might
have been feeling along the wall of the house. And it was tall .
"What is it?" Todd
whispered, and Alan shushed him.
Watching it strained his eyes,
like he was trying to read a book in low light. His mind wanted to classify it,
but couldn't—its constant changing shape and uncertain outline made it
impossible. He couldn't tell which way it was facing. He couldn't tell if it
had a face.
It vanished around the corner of
the Ngs' house. Part of him was relieved to see it go. Part of him wanted to
follow it.
Wait here, he almost said.
He imagined leaving Todd to chase the thing down, only to find the boy gone
when he came back. But the alternative—bringing Todd along—wasn't any safer.
"What was it?" Todd said
again.
"I don't know." Alan
craned his head both directions, but the darkness was absolute now. He couldn't
see two inches in front of his face. He reached for Todd and heard him creeping
back through the living room.
"Where are you going?"
"I want to turn on a
lantern."
Don't, he started to say.
He was worried it would see them; then he realized it probably already had. The
flashes of blue he'd been seeing—what else could they have been?
The lantern clicked, sending
Todd's shadow leaping up the wall behind him. He looked scared, his eyes pits
of shadow in the lantern light.
Alan didn't think to comfort him.
The reality of what they'd seen was ripping through him like shrapnel.
What was that thing? Oh, God,
what was it?
It could've been anything, he
tried to tell himself: some experimental invisibility suit, or a projection of
light from... from...
It came here looking for us. I
responded to that text and it came here. OH GOD WHAT IS IT I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT
IS
"Daddy?" Todd hadn't
called him that in years.
"We're leaving," Alan
said. "It's not safe."
Todd's eyes widened.
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