“So we were at home, a ranch, no second floor, windows boarded up, blankets over the boards. I’d sealed every door in the house. We had a lot of food. Dry goods. Canned goods. Enough to last months. In my infinite wisdom, my plan was to simply wait. In the dark. Macy was nine and Eric seven, and I couldn’t risk one or the two of them getting into something, getting into anything, while I was, say, asleep. So the whole place was boarded, sealed, safe. No light. We used buckets in the basement and covered the buckets with stone slabs. Honestly, I can’t imagine living any safer than we did.”

Dean pauses. Malorie wants to see his face. She thinks of Tom the man telling her of his daughter’s death in the cellar of the house Malorie gave birth in. She knows the bad part of Dean’s story is eventually coming. She readies herself for it.

“After a while, I didn’t know what was day or night. You know? We really were living in darkness. Some options had crossed my mind. Just as I imagine they crossed everybody’s. Maybe we could view the things through cameras. Maybe we could blind ourselves and carry on without the constant horror of going mad. But I didn’t take any action on any of these ideas. We felt for one another in the dark, we called out each other’s names, we slept in the same bed. All in the dark. As if the house itself was one giant blindfold. I was waiting for a literal message, I think. Waiting for a knock at the door, someone to come tell us it was over. It’s the ultimate fantasy for those of us from the old world, isn’t it? Word that the whole nightmare has come to an end? Well, no magical word came. And then it still didn’t come. And then it still didn’t come all over again. I think we lived that way for seven months, Jill. Macy and Eric growing up in the dark. As if we lived in a cave. And all the while I kept thinking how unfair it was that I, a capable father, had somehow been rendered a useless man. All I did was wait. I made no moves to better our situation. I did nothing but hold their hands down the basement steps and open their cans of food for them. And when they heard sounds outside, when they got scared, I told them they should be. I told them there were things outside that could destroy their minds.”

He pauses again. The train seems to glide. The musicians play soft, simple chords, back and forth, back and forth.

When Dean talks again, she hears tears in his voice.