S1, E14 The Strangers

Transcript

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This is Ed Falco on the air, reading The Strangers, a novel in 19 episodes. In episode 13, the dogs attacked. And in the ensuing struggle, Severn killed one of them. And Sage, attempting to protect Severn, was killed by one of the dogs. In an act that is a mystery to everyone, the pack did not kill Severn when they could have. As episode 14 begins, Severn, after cleaning up from the fight, finds himself too keyed up to sleep. That's where we pick up our story. From the pool chamber. Severn could hear Matthew and A'isha still talking over the events of the night. He had finished washing himself some time ago, and now he was sitting on the lip of the pool, his head largely empty, listening to snatches of conversation that floated to him through the mist and over the constant drip and flow of water. Earlier, After he had stretched out in the pool and washed himself, and had lain a long time in the cleansing water, he had nearly fallen asleep, and in that moment, the very substance of the chamber, the limestone walls and their kaleidoscope shadows, had warped and wavered, as if they were an illusion dissolving before his eyes. Something about it had frightened him, and he had snapped awake and pulled himself from the pool to quickly dry off with a luxuriously soft sky blue bath towel that A'isha had placed at the foot of the pool. Once he had gotten himself dried off and dressed, He didn't rejoin the others. Instead, he sat on the lip of the pool and listened. For a long time the others talked and talked, reviewing and speculating about the attack and the surrounding events repeatedly, even though the five of them had done the same thing before Severn left them to clean up. They couldn't seem to get enough of it, the speculating, theorizing, and reviewing, while Severn himself was tired of it all. It had to be done. It had to be attempted. The speculating and reviewing and theorizing. But Severn put little or no stock in any of it. Whatever was going to happen next would surprise him as just about everything that had happened so far had surprised him. Vi had not been able to quit crying over Sage. She had joined Tommy on the couch and participated in the conversation, but she had to keep blotting away tears. When she said goodnight and climbed into a dumpster, her voice was still shaky and her eyes were still wet. Tommy had looked to Severn and said, I'm gonna go in there with her, okay? And Severn had nodded. He had watched Tommy knock on the dumpster wall and then climb in and let the lid drop closed over them. Severn had left Matthew and A'isha a minute later to get cleaned up, and now most of the night had passed, and finally, A'isha said goodnight, and And there was a sound of a dumpster lid opening and closing. All that remained after that was the silence of Severn and Matthew, each of them quiet and alone with their thoughts. Severn was still too wound up to sleep. His head was empty but his body was tense and alert. He wouldn't call what he was feeling nervous or anxious. It was more a hyper alertness, an acute awareness of his surroundings. He felt a little crazy maybe, a little out of his mind. Except not really. He also felt simultaneously still as a cat. And in a strange way, peaceful. Only when the silence had gone on long enough that he was pretty sure Matthew must be sleeping did he exit the chamber. Matthew though, wasn't sleeping. He was sitting up straight on the couch, his hands in his lap, looking out through his thick black glasses into the darkness over the ledge. He had an assault rifle strapped over his chest and a second one on the table in front of him, beside his miner's lantern and a long bowie knife in a dark leather sheath that he had been using apparently to whittle a stick that lay at his feet. His right arm rested on top of the rifle strapped to his chest. He turned his head slowly to Severn and watched him approach. Severn took the opposite side of the couch. Everybody sleeping? Matthew didn't bother to answer. He looked back out over the ledge again. You like to whittle? Severn asked. The stick at Matthew's feet didn't look like it was being shaped to any purpose. Helps me think, Matthew said. Calms me down. Severn put his feet up on the coffee table and joined Matthew in staring out into the darkness. After several minutes of silence, Matthew asked, Do you think I should have gone down with the kids when they went after you? Severn answered without hesitation, No, you did the only smart thing. Smart, yes, Matthew said. But still maybe not the right thing. He turned to Severn, Do you know what I'm saying? When Severn didn't answer, he went on, Maybe the right thing would have been to risk all our lives to save one of us. He paused and was quiet for a minute before he added, It didn't feel right. Staying in the dumpster while the kids went after you. It still doesn't feel right. It's eating at me. I don't know what the right thing would have been, Severn said. I know you did the smart thing. You did what I would have done. Matthew smiled at that. Not if it was the kids down there and you up here. You know damn well you would have gone after them. But would I have gone after you and A'isha? Severn asked. If it was you down there and me and the kids up here, from your perspective, that shouldn't be the question. Matthew nodded at that, as if acknowledging that it was worth thinking about. How good do you think their sense of smell is? Severn asked. Matthew didn't answer right away. He seemed to be thinking it over. When he did answer, his eyes were still in the darkness beyond the ledge. I think they smell everything, he said. I think they can smell us from miles away. Bloodhounds and wolves have senses of smell millions of times more powerful than men. These creatures, I think they can smell our emotions. I think they can smell our thoughts. I think they know what we're going to do before we do it. Why? Severn asked. Why do you think that? Maybe it's not just smell, Matthew answered. Maybe it's a combination of hearing and smell and some other senses we don't even know exist. They seem to know everything. They know when we're going to move before we move, when we're going to pull the trigger before we pull it. And yet, Severn said, you and I, We both managed to kill one of them. A miracle of timing, Matthew said. In both cases, they were already hurtling through the air. Already virtually on top of us. Still, they're not invincible. Close to it, Matthew said. They seem able to interpret and react to every twitch of muscle. No matter where you fire, they aren't there. He ran his hand over the shiny ball top of his head. We're going to have to bolt the dumpsters to the ground, he said. I never imagined that they could hurl them around so easily. Came as a surprise to me too, Severn said. I'm all for bolting them down. We're blind and dumb compared to them, Matthew said, apparently unable to close the subject of the dog's senses. All we have is our technology. We have our intelligence, Severn said, and our resourcefulness. Matthew sat forward and rubbed his eyes. The cave was black all around him, the only light coming from a pair of lamps, one on each end of the coffee table. I suppose, he said. It'll be dawn in a little bit, he added. I'm going to try to get an hour's sleep or so. He nodded to Severn, and then started for his dumpster, but stopped suddenly and turned around. Why did they leave us alone all the time only to start up again after we met you? Why didn't they kill you when they had the chance? Why didn't they kill me? He threw open his hands and looked dumbfounded. I don't know what they're doing, he said. At least before I knew what was going on. They were killing us off one at a time. They were hunting us. Now, now I don't know what's going on anymore. I have no idea. They had already talked about this and gone over it a dozen times, speculating, theorizing. The pack had taken a break from their hunting for some reason. Now they were starting up again. It might have something to do with numbers. They felt threatened by the larger number of humans. Nothing really made much sense. We'll figure it out in time, Severn said. Whatever time we have, Matthew answered. He nodded to Severn again and then disappeared into the shadows. Severn waited until he heard a dumpster lid open and close, and then he strapped the bowie knife to his belt, took the assault rifle and the miner's lantern from the coffee table, and headed down to the chamber floor, where he had in mind bandaging up Sage. He planned to bury her in the morning, at the farmhouse, and he didn't want Vi to have to see her with her guts spilled out. He had decided to do this hours ago, while lying quietly in the chamber pool. He had cut his buddy clothing into strips for bandages, and now they were jammed into the pockets of his pants. At the chamber wall, near the wormhole, he hesitated. He had never liked small, enclosed spaces. And he had to close his eyes and gather his strength before he got down on all fours and stuck his head into the limestone opening, pushing the assault rifle out in front of him. It was better, thankfully, with the miner's lantern casting its beam of light into the darkness. The fit was tight enough that he had to scrunch his shoulders together and slither through the narrowest spaces, moving forward by wiggling and squirming until the space opened and he could pull himself forward with his hands and push with his feet. The rock walls around him were damp and, apart from the occasional spider, apparently devoid of life. He was thankful for that. He didn't much like spiders, but they were infinitely preferable to coming upon a bat hanging upside down at forehead level. There didn't appear to be any such bats at all in this cave. And small as that piece of good luck was, he was grateful for it nonetheless. He found Sage stretched out in a mess of coagulated blood and slick entrails. He knelt behind her and tried to lift her and discovered that she was stuck to the ground, glued in place by her own blood. Before he could begin bandaging her, he had to work his hands under the matted coat and yank her free of the mess. With the bowie knife, he sliced away her entrails and then lifted her to his knees and began wrapping the bandages around her belly. It didn't take long. While he was doing it, he wondered what Sara would think if she could see him sitting in the dark of a cave with a dead animal in his lap, working by the light of a lantern strapped to his head, severing the guts from an animal and kicking them away as he wrapped it in black bandages, dripping water the only sound, other than the noise of his own movements. What a great distance had been covered in the months since they had gone to bed together on that last night of the old world. He tried to remember the books she had been reading in bed, in their clean and orderly and well lit house, and he couldn't pull up the title. He thought it was a new translation of one of the great Russians, Tolstoy or Dostoyevsky. He was pretty sure about it, but he couldn't remember which. And now here he was, less than a full year later, sitting in a cave with a bowie knife on his hip and a gun at his side, wrapping bandages around a dead animal, as if preparing it for mummification. When he was finished, he carried Sage to a nearby ledge and laid her there. He patted her, though she was cold and stiff, and he felt as though he might as well be patting a statue. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. With Sage on the ledge in front of him like a sacrificial offering. All around him again, as had happened the day before, he felt the presence of the dead. Again they pressed against him, out of the cave walls, the limestone, the water and air. He felt their breath on his neck and in his hair, and he let himself be still in their presence. He listened. The stuff of his consciousness, thoughts and ideas and reason and dreams and logic spilled away, leaving him empty and altered, himself and not himself. The voices of the dead were a whisper in the air. If he could be still enough, if he could listen closely enough, he might hear what they were trying to say. He opened his eyes and turned around, half expecting to see multitudes of people assembled on the chamber floor, watching him. He saw only the dark chamber, the beam of his lantern slicing through space and illuminating rock, and so he pulled the strap of the assault rifle over his neck and started back for the ledge. Before he had managed more than a few feet, he heard a strangled, crow like warble coming from someplace outside the cave. The warble was faint and distant, but there was something about it he recognized. It was an alien sound, something between the packs and the strangers, more stranger like than pack like. He waited and listened, and when he heard it again, he moved cautiously toward the entrance of the cave. He didn't smell the pack, and he didn't hear movement nearby. And so he made his way into the small entrance chamber and then out to the ledge, where the first dull light of an overcast morning was spreading over the trees and fields. He took off the lantern and tossed it behind him, before he crouched on the rocks, grasping the ledge with both hands to steady himself. A constant wind poured down over the hills behind him and ruffled the hair at the back of his head as it snapped the loose fabric of his shirt. At first he saw nothing, only the rocky slope and the stands of pine trees bracketed by the hills and the streams, and beyond that the open fields and more trees. The clouds were grey and low in threatening rain. He was about to return to the cave when he heard the warble again, bird like and frightened. It came from someplace much closer this time, from the pine forest at the foot of the hills. He leaned out over the edge and peered down to the blue grey, misty spaces between the trees. The warble came again, louder, and then, as if materializing out of the cloud shrouded air, the pack appeared, high in the pines, leaping from tree to tree. He was shocked, cause he hadn't smelled them, and then he realized the wind had been blowing the smell away. He moved back quickly into the mouth of the cave, and just as he was about to turn and run for the ledge to wake up the others, a girl bolted out of the pine forest and ran frantically toward the hills. His first thought was that she must be human. The pack didn't hunt strangers. Then one of the dogs, the black one, leapt down from the trees and landed close behind the girl, who let out a terrified, crow like scream. Severn remained frozen in place at the mouth of the cave. He didn't understand why the pack would be hunting a stranger. Matthew said they left strangers alone, and he didn't understand why they had not yet killed her, if that was their intent, if they were hunting her. The black had landed behind her and roared, and then watched her as she ran and screamed in terror. It occurred to him then that they were playing with her. And his next thought was that they were playing with all of them. Like a cat twang with a mouse that had no prayer of escape, letting it run just for the thrill of swooping down on it at will. The thought infuriated him. Before he was conscious of what he was doing, he heard himself yell and found himself leaping from the ledge of the boulders while unleashing a rattle of gunfire on the black dog, who of course was gone before the bullets even struck dirt. The girl on the ground saw Severn, stopped for an instant, and then ran to him. She was small, maybe 5'5 with long bright red hair that spilled midway down her back and flew out behind her as she ran. She was dressed in black jeans, red sneakers, and a strapped ribbed t shirt that was torn at one side. The white cotton stained crimson with blood, as if to taunt her. The pair of roans leapt down from the trees, drawing his fire, and then bounded up over the terrified girl and onto the hillside, where they disappeared into openings in the rock face. Severn fired in bursts, conserving his ammunition. When the girl was near, he felt for the handle of the bowie knife strapped to his side. He thought if he couldn't shoot the dogs, he might still be able to do some damage with the bowie once they were on him. When the stranger girl reached him, she threw her arms around his chest and scurried behind him for protection. He managed a single step backward before the biggest of the dogs, the mottled brown, appeared out of nowhere, leaping up from the bottom of the hillside. It knocked the assault rifle out of his hand, raised its clawed arms, and then bounded away to the accompanying cacophony of gunfire from above. Severn crouched, backed up against the limestone, and saw Tami, Vi, Matthew, and A'isha lying on their bellies, firing down from the ledge. At his side, the stranger girl seemed on the verge of fainting. Her eyes were unfocused, her breath was shallow, and she appeared to be collapsed more than resting against the hillside. Severn picked her up, carried her on his shoulder, and ran up the hill. When he reached the ledge, Matthew and the others were on their feet. They're gone, Tani said, and he pointed to the pack, running on all fours across the open fields. Severn watched with the others until the pack was out of sight. Thank you, he said to all of them. He looked at Matthew, their earlier conversation in mind. The one about whether it was smart to leave the safety of the dumpsters to help someone in danger. Matthew read Severn's look and shook his head, as if displeased with himself. Vi said, Who is this? And nodded to the stranger girl, who had regained her senses and was clinging to Severn's arm, hiding behind him. Red, Severn said, naming her on the spot. She's a stranger. The dogs were hunting her. You risked your life, our lives, to save a stranger? Matthew gripped his rifle with both hands, as if he might shoot Red himself. A'isha held Matthew's arm. Why would the pack be hunting a stranger, she asked Severn. That doesn't make sense. They don't bother with birds. This one, apparently, they do. Severn pulled Red alongside him to face the others. She's hurt, Tommy said. She's bleeding. And she's scared, Severn said. Matthew said, so what are we supposed to do with her? He let go of the rifle, took a step back toward the cave, and then sat on an outcropping of rock. We're not taking care of her, he said. Not one of them, we're not. We can at least bandage her up, Tommy said. He moved close to Red, examining her wound. Matthew said, she can bleed to death for all I care. A'isha lifted Red's torn t shirt. Red issued a soft trill like a whimper at A'isha's touch. It's nothing bad, A'isha said, but hell, the way those dogs stink, we should probably give her some antibiotics. Vi crouched beside Matthew. Do we have a good enough supply, she asked, of antibiotics? Plenty of everything, A'isha said, and then she looked at Severn, as if asking what he wanted to do next. I'll take her back to the farmhouse, he said. He looked out over the ridge where it was fully light out and had started to drizzle. It was a windy, overcast day. I don't know what they're doing, he said, meaning the packs. If they had wanted to kill her, they could have. Are you sure? Matthew asked. They don't just kill you, no. They drag away what they kill and they eat it. There's a ritual. I've seen them. There's an order in which they eat. There's a hierarchy in what parts they eat. I know, Severn said. I saw them kill and eat a buck. So maybe we interrupted their feeding, Vi said. Matthew glanced from Vi to Severn. There's something off here. The pack doesn't kill birds. Something different is going on. You have any guesses, Severn asked. Ask her. Matthew gestured toward Red. She understands every word we're saying. Severn held Red at arm's length. Do you, he asked. Do you understand what we're saying? He watched her and was struck by the sparkling green of her eyes. When she responded by looking down at her feet, he turned to A'isha. She looks more Irish than alien, he said. She understands what we're saying, Matthew moved closer to Red. We can't trust her. Red squirmed grasp and hid behind him. Vi said, she thinks you're her protector. They do understand this, A'isha said, but they don't speak. At his back, Severn felt Red shaking. She's terrified, he said, and she's hurt. He looked to Vi and Tommy. I'll take her back to the farmhouse, he repeated. What about the pack? Vi stepped in front of him, blocking his way. They're back in their lair by now, Matthew said. They're gone. Severn brushed Vi's hair away from her face. She seems to feel safe with me, he said. He turned back to Matthew. I'll bandage her wounds and get her calmed down, and then we can take her back to Millersville. That's probably where she's from. Is that where you're from? Matthew said, raising his voice. Are you from Millersville, Red? The only answer from the girl was more shaking. Severn checked the clip on his rifle and then nodded to Red. Come on, he said. Come with me. Red hesitated a moment and then took Severn's hand. Matthew started back for the cave. We'll meet you at the farmhouse and then we'll take her back to the rest of the birds. I'll come with you, Vi said to Severn. She went for her rifle, which she had left on the ledge. Tommy and Vi, like A'isha, were still in their black pajamas. Why don't you get changed, Severn glanced at Red, who had turned her eyes to the ground and stiffened at Vi's proposal. She trusts me, and she seems to be scared of everybody else. Sure, Vi said, her eyes on Red. You're her hero. You saved her from being a meal for the pack. Severn looked to A'isha. I saw a first aid kit in the kitchen, didn't I? Over the sink, A'isha answered. She put a hand on Vi's back and spoke to her and Tommy. Come on, she said. We can get cleaned up here. I haven't shown you guys the pool yet. Pool? Tommy said. We have a pool? Severn stepped off the ledge onto the boulders, still holding Red's hand. At the bottom of the slope of crumbling rock, close to the start of the woods, he let go of her hand. And as he did so, she warbled softly. The muted note seemed to have issued from her involuntarily, and she appeared to be embarrassed. Her face reddened slightly before she crossed her arms over her chest and walked alongside him through the woods, her eyes straight ahead. After they had walked a good way in silence, Severn said, I'm going on the assumption that you understand me. He stopped and faced her. Can you at least give me an indication that that's the case? Can you nod your head? Do you understand what I'm saying? Red looked straight ahead. Her eyes were fixed on a spot in the distance as she stood in the dull morning light surrounded by pine trees. She played with the pine needles at her feet, the bright red of her sneaker pushing the golden needles into a pile. Severn was certain she understood him. He read it in her eyes, in her movements. Do you know what it means to nod your head, he asked. And then he exaggeratedly nodded his head. In response, she cut her eyes toward him before returning her gaze to the same distant spot in front of her. Okay, Severn said. He continued the trek to the farmhouse and Red continued at his side. He thought he might have made her angry. He found it interesting that she never let herself fall behind him or move ahead of him. Instead, she remained parallel with him, matching him step for step with that slight bounce typical of strangers. You're fast, Severn said. You can run faster than we can, I've seen you. He waited a second, leaving a space for her to speak. When she didn't, he went on. We'll clean up that cut, put some antibiotics and bandages on it, and then we'll take you back to Millersville. I'm guessing you're from Millersville, he said, looking at her. I can't imagine where else you'd be from. Red continued walking beside him, staring straight ahead. You're pretty, Severn said, taking a shot at flattery. She was pretty. Her skin was fair and unblemished, and there was something playful about her features. Something in the shape of her mouth and those green eyes that suggested a spirited nature. He guessed she was in her twenties. He asked, How did you get from Millersville all the way out here? Red turned to Severn briefly, her eyes falling on the rifle strapped over his chest before she turned away. She was pretty. Severn took her glance as encouragement. Your sneakers are new, as are your jeans and top. Your hair has obviously been groomed and cared for. You're clean and in apparent good health. So clearly, you've been living in some degree of comfort. Someplace where you can bathe and wash your hair and take care of yourself. That to me means you're from Millersville. Do you have family there? Your people seem to live in precisely the same family constellations as humans did. Returned to him again, and this time nodded. So, Severn said, thank you, we can communicate. Instead of asking her one of the multitude of questions he wanted to ask, he was quiet. He sensed that he shouldn't push too hard. Too fast. That was episode 14 of The Strangers. New episodes will be available twice a week on Mondays and Fridays until the novel is completed. If you want to read ahead, an inexpensive digital edition of The Strangers is available from Amazon, Barnes Noble, and other online bookstores. This podcast is an experiment in alternatives to traditional publishing. If you'd like to support it, and more like it in the future, please consider becoming a subscriber or supporter. If enough listeners choose to do so, that will go a long way to help ensuring the podcast's success and continuation. In any event, I'm Ed Falco, I wrote The Strangers, and I hope you'll come back for the next episode.