Bird box

Again she crosses the kitchen. As she enters the living room, Tom is smiling. He has a leash in each hand. The huskies are playing with them, wagging their tails.

The discrepancy between the bright, progressive actions of those in the living room and the hushed conspiratorial tones of those in the dining room is all Malorie can think about.

She steps to the sink again and begins washing. Olympia is talking but Malorie is thinking of something else. She leans forward and is able to see Gary’s shoulder. Beyond him, propped against the wall, is the only item he brought in with him from the outside world.

His briefcase.

He showed them the contents when he entered the house. Don asked him to. But did she get a good look at them? Did any of the housemates?

“And stop!” Tom says. Malorie turns to see the dogs and he are in the entranceway to the kitchen. The huskies both sit. Tom rewards them with raw meat.

Malorie keeps washing. She is thinking of the briefcase.

thirty-two

She has known this was coming. How could she not? All the signs have been there since they returned with the dogs. Tom and Jules have been training them ten, twelve hours a day. Using the house, then the yard. Seeing Eye dogs. The box of birds hanging outside works like an alarm. Just like Tom said it would. The birds cooed when Gary arrived. They sing when Cheryl feeds them. So, it was only a matter of time before Tom declared he was going to use the Seeing Eye dogs to enter the new world once again.

But this time it’s worse. Because this time he’s going farther.

They were gone two days for one block. When will we see them again if they go three miles?

Three miles. That’s how far it is to Tom’s house. That’s where he wants to go.

“It’s the only place I can be a hundred percent sure of,” he said. “I’ve got supplies there. We need them. Band-Aids. Neosporin. Aspirin. Bandages.”

Malorie’s spirit rose with the mention of medicine. But Tom outside, and for that long, is too much for her to support.

“Don’t worry,” Felix said that same night. “We’ve mapped it out to a T. Tom and Jules are going to walk to the rhythm of a song. A single song. It’s called ‘Halfway to Paradise’ by a guy named Tony Light. They’ll bring the radio and play it over and over as they follow the directions we’ve figured out. We know how many steps it will take for each direction, for every portion of the trip.”

“So you’re planning on dancing there?” Gary said. “How nice.”

“Not dancing,” Tom said aggressively. “Walking to get help.”

“Tom,” Cheryl said, “you can practice this all you want, but if your steps are a half an inch longer out there, you’re going to be off. You’ll get lost. And how the fuck are you going to get back then? You won’t.”

“We will,” Tom said.

“And it’s not like we’re helpless if we get lost,” Jules added. “We need the supplies. You know this better than most, Cheryl. You took stock last.”

Yes, this day has been coming. But Malorie doesn’t like it at all.

“Tom,” she said, pulling him aside, just before he and Jules left this morning. “I don’t think the house could stand it if you didn’t come back.”

“We’re going to come back.”

“I understand that you think you will,” Malorie said, “but I don’t think you realize how much the house needs you.”

“Malorie,” he said, as Jules called that he was ready to go, “the house needs all of us.”

“Tom.”

“Don’t let the nerves get to you like they did last time. Instead, lean on the fact that we came back last time. We’ll do it again. And this time, Malorie, act as a leader. Help them when they get scared.”

“Tom.”

“You need the medicine, Malorie. Sterilization. You’re close.”

It was clear that Tom was on a path of his own, prepared to repeatedly risk his life in the name of advancing life in the house.

Last time they came back with children’s shoes, she reminded herself.

And she reminds herself again of this, now. Now that Tom and Jules are gone, embarking on a three-mile walk into the most dangerous landscape the world has known.

They left this morning. Felix went over the map with them once more. Gary encouraged them. Olympia gave them a Petoskey stone she said had always been good luck for her. But Malorie did not say a word. As the front door closed for the second time on Tom, Malorie did not call to him. She did not hug him. She did not say good-bye.

It pains her now, only hours after their exit.

Yet, the few words Tom spoke to her before leaving are working. Without him here, the house needs a guiding force. A person who can remain calm among so much anxiety, so much justifiable fear.

But it’s hard. The housemates are not in the mood for optimism.