Episode 17 The Strangers

Transcript

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This is Ed Falco on the air, reading The Strangers. A novel in 19 episodes. In episode 16, Severn and the others get to know Red a little better as they spend the evening together and prepare a meal at the farmhouse. Matthew, however, is still hostile to Red. He walks out on the meal, And his anger frightens Red. A moment later, Severn also leaves, taking Red with him back to the cave and away from the tension of the meal. We pick up episode 17 just as Red and Severn leave the farmhouse. Outside, a bank of dark clouds rolled across the sky, and the day changed suddenly from bright and sunlit to dull and overcast. A pair of squirrels on the porch railing chattered at each other, scurried to the ground and disappeared in the tall grass. The clouds were thick and dark, and Severn figured they'd seen the last of the sunlight for the day. We need to stop at the garage first, he said, and he took Red by the elbow and guided her down from the porch. I hope you can be understanding, he added, about Matthew. He's lost everyone. We all have. Our loved ones, our sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, they're all gone. Severn stopped speaking when he heard, and was angered by, the note of apology in his voice. He's angry, he said. He's more than justifiably angry. In the garage, he retrieved his weapons from the hood of the spider. He strapped on the pistol and looped the assault rifles over his neck. Red watched him with curiosity, and her eyes fell again to the bowie knife still strapped to his side. Severn noticed and touched the knife's carved handle. It's as much a tool as a weapon, he said. Red opened the door to the spider, reached in, and came out with the iPhone. She turned it on as she followed Severn out of the garage and onto the drive. She cast a quick glance back at the house and held the phone to her stomach as if she didn't want the others to see her with it. Severn noticed and said, You're not ready to talk to the others yet? Red shook her head and looked back to the farmhouse again. When Severn stepped off the drive and headed through the fields toward the hills, she started tapping again at the screen. A moment later, the familiar British voice said, Will he hurt me? Matthew, Severn said. No, Matthew won't hurt you. Red cradled the phone against her stomach and gazed ahead at the trail. He's angry, Severn said. I just tried to explain that. He paused and then added, Don't you get angry? Red shook her head. You, your people, you don't get angry? Again, Red shook her head. What happens when you have differences, Severn asked. What happens when you have disagreements? Talk. Red tapped on the phone. Discuss. No one shouts? Severn asked. You never raise your voices? Red seemed confused by the question. She tapped out. When we're happy. When we're pleased. You raise your voices when you're happy. Severn repeated. But you don't get angry and shout at each other. Red nodded. And Severn said. And you think you're human. He laughed. The phone said, Why? Severn understood that she wanted to know why he had laughed. His thoughts, though, had turned to a flash of anger he'd seen in Red's eyes when they'd been talking about the pack and how they carried her to the cave. It meant nothing to him then, but now he was curious. Red, he asked, Are there things about you that make you different from the rest of your people? Could that be why they put you out? Red shook her head. Same, the phone said. Severn considered pressing her and decided against it. He changed subjects. Do you know, I asked her, how they did it? How they killed us all off? Red shook her head rapidly. She looked as if the question frightened her. I'm just curious at this point. Severn did his best not to sound threatening. We figured out pretty quick that if we were asleep we could survive. He turned to meet Red's eyes. But I still have no idea how that could work, he said. We're curious, we humans. If you want to be us, you should understand that. Red nodded, as if she did understand. Not scientist, the phone said. Don't know. Severn said you have no idea. Red frowned and her look turned inward. When she started hesitantly typing words on the phone screen, Severn leaned close to her and read over her shoulder. Sometimes she'd type a word or two and then skip down on the notebook page while she searched for the next word. Something we put in your atmosphere, she wrote. Creatures, sentient creatures, all have signature patterns. This disrupts them, blocks them, through the atmosphere. When she saw that Severn was reading what she wrote, she didn't bother making the phone speak. I guessed something like that Severn said. And whatever you put into the atmosphere causes the storms, but then, why doesn't every living thing die? There are patterns, she wrote, species unique. So you're able to determine the patterns, electrical patterns, which must be different awake or asleep, conscious or unconscious, of the species you want to eliminate? Severn asked. Before the British voice had a chance to respond, he added, you interrupt or block those patterns somehow and you can eliminate an entire species? He took a quick step ahead of Red and then turned to look back at her. It's like you've learned how to flip a switch that turns off the power. You know how to destroy an entire species, every man, woman, and child. Red didn't respond. She slipped the phone into her pocket, apparently finished with communicating for a while. She pressed her arms flat against her body and her fingers fidgeted and tapped on her legs. She walked along side by side with Severn like this, both silent, until they entered the pine woods, where she retrieved the phone from her pocket and typed, Tell me about your family. Please. Severn took his iPhone from his pocket and navigated to the photos. He found a picture of Sarah from soon after they were married. They had lived in an apartment for a while with a garage out back, and in the picture Sarah was wearing a Greenpeace tee that pictured whale fins in rainbow colors. She was kneeling outside the garage by their car, an old Mustang with a rusted out trunk, washing the tires, her arms covered with soap suds. She was beaming. She looked like there was no one happier anywhere in the universe. My wife Sarah, Severn said, and showed the phone to Red. Red took the phone, studied the picture, and then handed it back to Severn. On her own phone, she typed, Did you have children? No, Severn answered. He slipped his phone back in his pocket. Lots of nieces and nephews, though. An even dozen. Six on Sarah's side, six on my side. Red looked to where Severn had put the phone in his pocket, and he understood that she wanted to see more pictures. Sorry, he said. It's painful. To look at pictures of all the people we've lost. It's painful. Red ran her fingers through the long strands of her hair and gazed around at tall skinny trees rising through the murky daylight. The place they were in was quiet and lonely. A pocket of silence blocked by the woods from the outer world. Red issued a series of bird notes, beginning with a low warble and then dropping down the musical scale. Severn stopped, surprised by the sound of Red's own voice and language on her lips. Are you trying to say something? he asked. Red closed her eyes. As if in intense concentration. When she opened them again, her lips parted and she said, Sorry. The two syllables came out scratchy and slightly distorted. But nonetheless unmistakable. She stepped into Severn, wrapped her arms around him, pressed her cheek against his chest, and said it again. Severn, to his surprise and embarrassment, responded with tears. He felt like he might dissolve in her arms. You can speak, he said. He wiped the tears away. You can speak our language. Red stepped back. She retrieved her phone and typed, Painful, difficult and painful. Thank you, Severn said, and the words came out sounding stupid and inadequate. He was quiet watching Red, her face open and vulnerable. He appreciated her apology. He realized once she said it that, like Matthew, he had needed to hear it. He also realized how meaningless and insignificant it was. A single word of apology from a single stranger in the face of seven million dead. He took red by the elbow. Come on, he said. He pointed to a place ahead of them where the woods opened onto the silt and rock at the foot of the hills. We're near. The cave is up ahead. Severn climbed the rest of the way in silence. Red, alongside him, seemed content with the quiet. Once they had gained some height, she gazed around her at the woods and fields as if taking in her surroundings. A low roof of dark clouds hovered close to the hilltops, where a pair of turkey vultures were perched on an outcropping of rock, a slight breeze ruffling their feathers. When they reached the boulders, Severn offered Red a hand, helping her up step by step until they were on the ledge at the mouth of the cave. This is it, he said. We stay here at night to protect ourselves from the packs. Red nodded quickly. Severn was getting to the point where he could read Red's gestures as if they were a language of her own. The way she had nodded said, Yes, I know. This is where you found me, remember? They have it set up like a fortress, Severn said. He touched the small of Red's back and guided her into the cave. Once through the small entrance cave and into the central chamber, Severn pointed to the banged up dumpster lying on its side with its lid open, a mattress, bedding, weapons and electronics scattered around it. The cave was shadowy, but there was enough light to make out the big details. That, he said, meaning the dumpster, was originally up there with the rest. Severn stopped abruptly when Red spun around and backed into him as if something had frightened her. An instant later, the unmistakable stench of the pack wafted into the cave, and he took Red by the arm and yanked her toward the dumpster. He managed a couple of steps before he slipped on the slick surface of the cavern floor and found himself lying on his back, stalactites. Red knelt at his side, her face pasty and distant, as if she had fallen into herself and was barely aware of her surroundings. Severn had been jarred by the fall. His head had smacked hard against the stone floor of the chamber, but his senses were still sharp and clear. He sat up and looked around and saw nothing but shadows and darkness. The beasts were in the chamber, though. The intensity of their smell made that obvious. Severn grasped his rifle in one hand and with his free hand took Red by the arm and pulled her back with him. Twice, before he reached the dumpster, he fired short bursts into the darkness, imagining the place where one of the dogs might descend on him. Red seemed barely conscious. He was mostly dragging her along, her body tense and rigid, frozen with fear. At the dumpster, he tried to shake her out of her stupor. He called her name and shook her violently, but with no effect. Her muscles were stiff and tight, as if her whole body had spasmed and locked up in a knot. Red, he whispered, leaning close to her, wrapping his free arm around her shoulder. If she heard him, she gave no sign of recognition. Her skin was growing cold and clammy, her body temperature dropping rapidly. Severn wondered if this much fear might possibly be fatal to a stranger. He had read of earth creatures who simply shut down and died when cornered by a predator, and he wondered if something like that might possibly be happening to Red. She looked like she was failing rapidly, her skin growing cold, her eyes distant, her body rigid. Red, he said again. And then was quiet when he heard the rattling crow cackle of a dog close by in the darkness. Severn fired a long burst in the direction of the sound, and then scuttled into the dumpster, dragging Red with him. He stood, and with a tremendous surge of effort, tipped the dumpster over so that he and Red were protected on all sides by its thick green walls. It occurred to him that Red was more in danger from herself, from her fear, than she was from the pack. The pack hadn't killed her when they had the chance. According to Matthew, the pack didn't kill strangers at all. Still, There were the facts of her abandonment by her people and her abduction by the dogs, none of which made much sense. Perhaps she was in danger. They were chasing her when they found her. They had wounded her, and she was terrified. Perhaps they had been toying with her, which was something they seemed to do. Perhaps I was right. Enred was minutes away from being the pack's morning meal. Severn leaned close and touched her face, and was startled by the feel of her skin, which was cold and clammy as a corpse. He put his head to her heart. And had to wait a few seconds before he heard a single faint beat. The urge to call out for help came over him before he gathered himself. He slid away from Red and peered out one of the thin windows into the shadows of the cave. He waited and watched, his head momentarily empty. When he saw no movement anywhere and heard only the constant echoey drip of water splashing against stone, he started to turn back to Red and then stopped. He realized that he was afraid he'd find her dead. He steeled himself, and then, when he turned around, the dumpster was lifted and thrown through the air like a cardboard box. When it hit the ground, he was spit out and tossed across the chamber floor. He bounced off a stalagmite and wound up sprawled on a slick expanse of rock. He sat up and called out for Red, but heard nothing in response beyond the drip of water and the hum of air circulating through the chamber. When he reached for his assault rifle, he found nothing. Most of his shirt had been ripped away, and he was cut somewhere. His hand came away from his chest wet with worn blood. He found the pistol at his side and pushed himself to his feet. He scanned the darkness looking for red. Instead, he saw a single dog emerge from the shadows on two legs and approach him. He steadied the pistol, aimed carefully, and the next thing he knew he was sailing backward, his wrist gashed where he had been holding the gun. He understood that the dog had to have leapt at him and swiped the gun out of his hand, but he hadn't seen it. One moment he was aiming the gun, the next he was sailing back and bouncing off the cave wall. Somehow, he had never lost his feet. He wound up standing, holding his bleeding arm against his bleeding chest, looking straight in front of him at the same dog on two legs, looking back at him. They were close to the entrance of the cave, where there was a little more light, and Severn saw that it was the Grey. It seemed to be alone. If the rest of the pack was near, they weren't showing themselves. The Grey took a long, slow step towards Severn, and again the crow cackle, that guttural call, spilled out into the chamber. It sounded like it issued from the dog's chest, and it felt as if the creature might be talking to someone or something unseen in the shadows. This was as close as Severn had ever been to one of the pack. The creature towered over him, watching him closely, his dog eyes dark and burrowing. The smell was nearly unbearable, an odor so thick and offensive it felt like a substance surrounding him, something liquid in the air and terribly foul. He held his ground and met the dog's gaze. He didn't know what to expect. He had been in their grasp before and they had let him live. This dog, though, this dog didn't look forgiving or playful or curious. It looked regal. It stared down at him with an imperious gaze. Severn felt as though he was being examined and judged and found wanting. So, he said, and he was surprised to hear his voice firm and clear, not even angry, just a question. So, again, the grey cawed. Only this time it was slow and ominous, drawn out and directed clearly at Severn. Its pit bull face tightened into a snarl, revealing a line of sharp white teeth. Up close, its coat was gritty and sleek, the individual hairs bristling with what appeared to be tiny barbs. It looked like it might draw blood to run a hand against the grain. Its chest was broad and there was nothing between its legs, no sign of either sex, only the same sleek grey coat. While Severn watched and waited, it opened its arms slowly, in a movement that was dance like, a kind of Tai Chi's slow opening of the arms that had the feel of ritual. When its arms were fully extended, and the phalanges spread, the half inch long razor like nails at the end of each finger grew in length to six inches or more. Severn thought of old horror films, of movie boogeymen, whose hands turned into a fistful of swords. It looked like that, only instead of shiny metal knives, these blades were pearl white and fat through the length of them till they tapered down to pencil thin points. Severn was certain that in a second those claws would descend on him. Oddly, crazily, he wasn't afraid. He took a step back and dropped his hands to the bowie knife still strapped to his side. He was surprised, once he gripped the handle, to find that he was still in one piece. He had expected the grey to react to his movement. Instead, its knees bent slightly again with the look of ritual movement. Severn waited. The Grey's arms were extended, its knees bent. When it looked like it was an instant away from uncoiling and striking, Severn pulled the bowie knife from its sheath. The Grey seemed not the least concerned. It rose up suddenly, its arms flying over its head. And then something disturbed what had appeared to be the moment of attack. Something jarred it. It took three quick steps back, leapt high into the air, and disappeared somewhere among the maze of stalactites. Severn returned the bowing knife to its sheath and called out for Red. In the murky shadows along the cave wall, he made out an unnaturally sharp corner. As he stared at it, the shape and dimensions of the dumpster came into focus. He started toward it, and something simultaneously flashed across the open space of the chamber, a blur of movement like an afterimage, a trail of motion. He stopped and it happened again, this time the motion going in the opposite direction. He scanned the roof of the chamber, caught a flash of something moving, and found the grey hanging from a huge lemon colored stalactite, one arm dangling at its side, the other grasping the limestone as if it were a ladder rung. It dangled from the chamber roof comfortably, swaying slightly as it stared across the chamber and slightly down toward the ledge and a pair of dumpsters. Severn seemed to hold no interest for the creature. Whatever it was looking at, it wasn't him. He started again for the dumpster, hoping to find Red, took a couple of steps, and then And then there were two shapes, two blurs of motion. Severn backed toward the chamber wall. He found the grey again, this time standing on the ledge where it had been looking a moment earlier. When Severn turned back to where the grey had been, he saw a second dog, a bay, not as big as the grey. It was dangling, as the grey had been, from a stalactite, its gaze locked on the ledge and the grey that was watching it in return. Severn called out again for Red. Red. Neither of the dogs so much as turned their heads in his direction. Even from a distance, even looking up through the shadows of the chamber, Severn could see clearly that the dogs were focused only on each other. Simultaneously, they again flew across the chamber, each of them leaping at precisely the same instant, and crossing within feet of each other, turning sideways in the air as they crossed. A pair of stunning acrobats, their leaps so powerful they appeared to be defying gravity. This time, they hadn't landed and perched for an instant before they leapt again. They appeared headed to collide until they somersaulted an instant before impact, each of them striking out at the other, neither of them connecting. The grey landed on one end of the chamber floor, the bay on the other. Again, in a heartbeat, they leapt at each other, and again, acrobatically fainted and tumbled away from the other's blows. Severn pulled himself away from the spectacle of the beasts fighting and continued to search for Red. He wasn't at all sure she was still alive. Her heartbeat had been so faint, her skin so cold. He made his way to the battered dumpster on the chamber floor and quickly found one of his assault rifles and a flashlight. Red was nowhere in sight. Behind him, the dogs were engaged in their elaborate acrobatics, flying and tumbling at each other. He could see them out of the corner of his eye, their forms blazing across the cavern, leaping, tumbling, pirouetting, as he searched the darkness for Red. The shadows were deep at the cavern walls. He felt his way along, the palm of his hand pressed against limestone as he took each step. He gave up on calling for Red. She had to have heard him already, which meant she was incapable of responding. He tried to remember where the dumpster had been before the grey tossed it across the chamber. He backed up and felt fur and flesh against his neck. He jumped and spun around, the rifle raised to fire, and found Sage, where he had left her, perched on a ledge. He spun around again as a screaming cackle filled the cave. He saw nothing. Both dogs out of sight, and then again, out of the shadows the dogs hurled themselves at each other and again tumbled and spun out of striking range, and then again leapt at each other, making another pass, and again neither drawing blood. Severn considered running for the exit to the cave while the dogs were distracted, and that thought made it more important for him to find Red. If he could find her while the dogs were battling, they might both escape. He moved quickly through the shadows, toward a trio of stalagmites, each of them tall enough to hide a body from view. When he was nearing them, he stepped into something slimy. He recoiled from it and tried to shake it from his foot. It was gluey and thick and it clung to his shoe. He scraped it off against a rock and then bent to examine the pool of slime. It reeked with a mix of the pack and putrefaction, and he had to cover his nose and the crook of his elbow as he peered into the nacreous gunk. He leaned closer and saw chunks of flesh suspended in the slime, bits and pieces of a human body horribly warped, sheets of skin and clots of bone, tendons, hair, and what looked like fabric bleached of color. He backed away from the pool, found his flashlight, and shined it on the mess. Trapped in the pearly slime were pockets of red fluid that he took to be blood and long red filaments like spider vines. Slowly, the possibility took shape in his mind that he was looking at the remains of Red, at her body melted and dissolving. Was it possible that a living thing could shut down and then literally melt away out of fear? He asked himself that question, shining fleshlight into the pool of filth and blood, with pus colored streams running through it, and reminded himself that anything was possible now, that anything always had been possible, and all this, all that was happening, it was the proof, the evidence. Behind him, he heard an agonized crow scream, a long, terrible caw, and he didn't even turn to look. He continued examining the puddle of slime at his feet. He saw that almost the entire pool was contained in a long, green, sheath like skin, eight feet long and four or five feet wide. Once again he was mystified. He had no idea what to make of it. He turned away, half hoping the whole thing was a hallucination. But when he looked back again, it was all there under the flashlight beam. The gore, the putrefying flesh, and then, unmistakably, settled side by side on a clot of pearly gristle, vise jade earrings, the pair of them, so neatly presented they could have been on display in a jewelry store. Severn let the flashlight drop to his side, darkness and silence surrounding him, his body hollow as a drum, filled only with the steady beat of his heart. He turned back to the chamber and saw the bay perched over the body of the Grey. The Grey was sprawled on its back, with one leg bent at an impossible angle and its arms at its side. The bay held a clump of gore in its hands, near its mouth, as if about to take a bite. Severn shined his flashlight on the scene. He wasn't thinking anything at all. His mind was a perfect vacuum. He saw the two dogs and he shined his flashlight on them. It was almost as if he wasn't there. He was empty and thoughtless, a vessel with just enough curiosity to lift his arms and aim the flashlight beam. The bay turned toward him, and in the flashlight beam he saw that its mane was bright red and it was holding a clump of bloody meat in its claws. When he lowered the flashlight to the gray, he saw the hole in its chest. And he gathered that the bay was holding the grey's heart speared in its claws, about to take a bite of it. He lifted the flashlight to the bay's face and it turned its dog's head away from the light, looked down at the heart, let it drop, and then turned again to face Severn. It backed away from him like a child who had been caught doing something terribly wrong. It backed into the shadows and then leapt up to the ledge and disappeared. Severn turned back to the puddle of slime and the pod like skin at the bottom of the pool. He had seen something in the flickering green of the bay's eyes. Something he recognized but couldn't place. A sensation like almost knowing a word. Feeling it shimmering on the edge of discovery. He shined the flashlight up into the ledge where the bay had disappeared. And then flicked it off when he saw nothing but limestone in the bright green of the dumpsters. When he heard a low whistling flowing from the chamber, a note sustained and grief filled. He unlooped the assault rifle from his neck, dropped it at his feet. And made his way up the cavern wall and through the wormhole to the ledge, where he located and turned on one of the Krypton lights. He found everything, much as he had left it. The line of dumpsters, the couch and rug and coffee table looking like they belonged in a living room somewhere. The whistling was coming out of the darkness nearby, in the shadows. It sounded like breathing now, the notes warbling and changing tones slightly on the inhale and exhale. Severn followed the whistling and found the bay huddled in a niche carved out of the cavern wall. His gaze fell first on the bright red mane and next on the glittering green eyes. The creature looked up to Severn and then away, as if unable to meet his gaze. Severn knelt close to it, his stomach lurching at the stench. He wanted it to look at him again. He wanted to see its eyes. In response to his closeness, the bay huddled up into an even tighter knot and buried its head in its chest. When Severn touched the creature, his fingers landing gently on its shoulder, it burrowed deeper into itself. Gently, he grasped its head and turned it to face him. He'd resisted at first before meeting his gaze. And again, Severn saw something he recognized in the green of the bay's eyes. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then the bay's eyes went cold and distant, the light slowly fading from them, until they were dark and lifeless. Severn held his hand to the creature's chest, feeling for a heartbeat. Thirty seconds or more passed and all he felt was the heat rapidly fading from the bay's flesh. He was about to give it up for dead when its heart thumped, a faint beat from someplace deep in the chest. He leaned back and fell into a crouch. The light going out of its eyes, the body temperature dropping, the heartbeat fading. He recognized all that. Severn was motionless but his thoughts were scurrying frantically. When the bay suddenly stiffened, its legs and arms shooting out in straight, rigid lines, he scuttled away, frightened, his heart beating wildly. The jerking motion of the bay appeared to be a convulsion, a single spasm, and then it was still and lifeless again. Severn waited until his heart quit pounding, and then moved closer. He touched the bay's leg and found it cold and stiff, like a body might feel well into rigor mortis. He looked the creature over and saw that patches of its coat had fallen away to reveal skin tinged with a slight green patina. He leaned over the body tentatively, intending to look more closely at the revealed skin. As he did so, a wet green sheath poked out from between the bay's legs, like a baby's head crowning. Except the sheath had sliced its way through the skin, sending a shower of blood pulsing into the air. Again, Severn backed away. Though the sheath appeared to be organic, it also looked to be razor sharp. He found the flashlight in his pocket and shined it on the bay. More patches of hair were falling away, revealing larger, greenish swatches of skin. As a child, Severn had seen a film of salmon fighting their way upriver and had been shocked at how rapidly their bodies fell apart after spawning. He thought of that film as he watched the bay's skin decomposing. He shined the beam of light on the sheath and almost as if in response to the light beam it shot out from between the roan's legs another foot or more, ripping open much of the belly, splattering blood and meat everywhere. Severn wiped gore from his face and neck as the sheath continued pushing its way out of the body until it split the bay in half from the neck down. Severn watched with fascination. For the first time, he had an inkling of what might be happening. The green sheath was approximately six feet long And it swelled as he watched, growing fatter as a pearly fluid spilled out from a single long thin seam that ran along the top length of it. Under the skin like sheath, the bay was rapidly dissolving, falling away into a growing pool of slime and chunks and pieces. Severn watched with anticipation as the volume of fluid from within the sheath increased, pushing at the seam as it spilled out onto what was left of the bay. The smell was nearly unbearable. He gagged on it and moved further away, holding his nose in the crook of his arm. His eyes, though, remained fastened on the expanding sheath, which had begun pulsing, slowly rising and falling, as if it was breathing. The bay was largely lost in the puddle of slime, only bits and pieces of its body, the claws and snout and teeth still recognizable. Where only minutes ago there was a living creature, now there was a pulsing green mass half immersed in a pool of filth. When, slowly, the sheath began to open, pushed apart by the nacreous fluid spilling out of it, Severn, despite the terrible odor, moved closer. He felt, in fact, as though he was being pulled closer, the desire to see what would emerge from within the sheath irresistible. He ripped off what was left of his shirt, held it over his face, pushed up near the edge of the pool of slime, and tried to peer down into the splitting seam of the sheath. He picked himself up on his toes as the seam gave way completely, and the sheath fully opened, the two halves falling away to reveal a semi opaque sac, exactly like a human animal's amniotic sac, a thin membrane as long and wide as the sheath from which it had emerged. To get closer to the sack, Severn stepped into the slime. Upon opening, the sheath skin had sunk rapidly to the bottom of the puddle, and in the weak light from a single krypton bulb, the slime took on a greenish tint. Severn stood up to his ankles in gore. Inside the opaque membrane of the sack, streams of multicolored fluid swirled. He could make out bright yellows and reds and muted blues and greens. And while he watched, fascinated, the sack moved. And with a sudden thrust, a pair of human hands ruptured the membrane, which rapidly tore away, disgorging a wave of black and yellow waste and blood and fetid slime that washed over Severn's feet. Despite the disgusting smell and the gore, he didn't retreat. His eyes were fixed on Red's body, floating in the pool of filth. Her face was smeared with blood and waste. As was the rest of her body. She was dressed in filth, her hair matted in ugly clumps, her legs and thighs and torso distorted by hunks of gluey substances stuck to her like growths. Severn spoke her name, and her eyes and mouth opened, and she gasped as if shocked to find herself alive and in the world. When Severn said her name again, she tried to pick herself up on her elbows, but collapsed as if too exhausted to move, almost inaudibly, but with no scratchiness at all in her voice. She said, Weak. Severn knelt in the slime beside her. She turned her head to look at him and then, as if ashamed, looked away. Severn said, Do you know me, Red? Do you know where you are? Do you know what happened? Without looking at him, Red nodded. Again, so softly she was barely audible, she said, Please. The smell. You can speak, Severn said. Red nodded again and said, Please. Severn immersed his hands and arms in the slop at Red's knees and under her neck and he lifted her out of the pool. She came up in his arms with streams of slime hanging from her like drool. He held her there a long moment, looking down at the blood smeared, filth encrusted body. His head was filled with a million questions. What was it that he had just witnessed? How is it that she could speak? But when he finally opened his mouth, he said, Red, will you be alright? Red nodded. Her eyes were regaining some of their natural light. They had looked dark at first, shocked and wild, as if they had just seen something unspeakable. Slowly, in her eyes and in features of her face, she was becoming more recognizable, even smeared with filth and gore. Severn put his questions on hold. He carried Red along the ledge and to the pool, laid her down gently in the circle of water and turned on one of the krypton lights, illuminating the chamber. He found soap and shampoo, washcloths and towels. And went about bathing her. Red's eyes would remain open for a short while while watching Severn as he worked to scrub away the gunk clinging to her and then they would close lazily as she drifted in and out of sleep. When he finished washing the filth from her legs and torso he wet a washcloth and took it to her face, gently scrubbing away the dried blood and black waste. Red watched his eyes as he worked. Again, Severn asked if she would be alright. You look so weak, he said. Red nodded, meaning she would be alright. Twice, she said. Becoming. Twice becoming, Red repeated. Red looked distant, as if she was trying to think through a problem. I became, she said. Twice becoming, Severn again said. Red nodded. Weak, she said. Severn wanted to ask a hundred questions, but Red's exhaustion was obvious. He put his hand under the back of her neck and lifted her head. Your hair, he said. I'm going to dunk you under the water. Red closed her eyes. You called me back, she whispered. As if explaining something to herself. Severn hesitated, trying to decipher her meaning. And then immersed her head in the water and soaked the cascading length of her hair. When he pulled her up, she gasped and her body went loose, relaxing in his arms. Are you okay? He asked. Red nodded and closed her eyes and seemed to drift off to sleep as Severn lathered her hair with shampoo, feeling for clumps of grit and gore and massaging them away. When he was done, he lifted her head again and lowered it slowly into the water until she opened her eyes. One more time, he said, and then we'll be done. Red closed her eyes again and Severn immersed her head in the water. He ran his fingers through her hair, let the current in the pool wash the suds away, and then lifted her out of the pool. He found a pile of sky blue bath towels and draped one over her, put a second towel under her head, and carried the third with him back out to the ledge in the couch, where he spread one towel as bedding for red, gently put her down, tucked the second towel around her like a blanket, and started to work at drying her hair with a third towel. The green in her eyes sparkled under the light from the krypton bulb, and though she still looked exhausted, He could see life's energy coming back into her, animating her. What happened, Red, he asked. Can you tell me? How is it you can talk now? Red closed and opened her eyes. She seemed to be gathering her strength to speak. We evolve, she said. We become. Evolve? Severn could tell she was too tired to speak, but questions were coming with a will of their own. She ran a hand along her mouth and throat. In time this changes, she said. And Severn saw by the way she was touching her throat that she meant vocal cords, the physical apparatus of speech. In time, she added, we become you, all of us, exactly. Severn continued drying her hair, wringing water from it and blotting it dry with a towel. That's why you use our written language, as he said. Eventually, you'll speak them as well as write them. Red nodded. And what happened here in the cave, Severn asked. You can change? You can undergo this metamorphosis at will? No, Red answered. She looked up into Severn's eyes, as if pleading with him not to ask more questions. So tired, she said. Try, please, Red, he asked. I need to know. She nodded, agreeing to try. We become, and we don't become again. Only once. But you did, Severn said. You changed twice. Red whispered, I don't understand. She was quiet, thinking, and then added, again in a whisper, I became, and I became again, and you don't understand how it happened? Red shook her head, meaning no, she didn't understand. She looked up at the roof of the chamber and seemed suddenly far away, lost in thought. We become only once, she said, as if repeating a piece of dogma that had suddenly been thrown into question. I was me and not me. In the tone of her voice, her confusion was evident. She turned to Severn and added, For you, to you, and then shook her head as if she knew she wasn't adequately explaining herself. Severn blotted moisture from her forehead with the corner of the towel. Okay, he said, meaning he would quit asking her questions and let her rest. And then immediately he asked her another question. Your green eyes, he said. Are they unusual? Among strangers, are green eyes rare? Red nodded. How rare? Red took a minute to think and then said, No one, okay Severn said, I'll let you rest now. He wrapped her hair in the towel and then turned to look for the dumpster where Vi had spent the night. He was thinking that her backpack would be in there and he could bring Red a change of clothes. Vi's clothes would be tight on Red, but the fit looked fairly close. He stood and then unable to help himself, asked another question. Red, he asked, you said that you are many before you become one. Have they done this before? On other planets? Become other species? Red nodded. Many, she said. Throughout the ages. Okay, Severn said, as if he was finally done asking questions. And then again he asked, And in all of the many species you've become, are the dogs, the packs, are they always there? Always part of the new world? They are always with us, Red answered. Exactly as she had answered before. Severn knelt over Red and kissed her on the forehead. Red nodded. And at the touch of his lips, her eyes brightened. I'm gonna go get you some clothes, he said. For when you're ready to get up. Vi's backpack was on the ground outside the nearest dumpster. Severn unzipped it and dug through it for a set of clothes, which he placed on the coffee table when he found Red sleeping soundly. Her head turned into the backrest, her knees pulled up to her chest. In another dumpster, he found a blanket. Covered red with it, and then climbed down from the ledge to the cavern floor. That was episode 17 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.