I had performed enough psychosocial evaluations at work, and it was time to use those skills. Part of me still hoped that I could uncover a sensible explanation for what was happening.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Mark had said as he eyed the bits of Darlene’s metal in the garbage can.

“No. But what else can I do? She’s my friend. Or was my friend.” I rubbed my forehead, feeling how dry my skin was, and bits of it fluttered down onto my shirt. I shuddered as I thought of Liz’s alligator skin the last time I’d seen her, her features melting into one another like warm candle wax.

It was just before dinnertime, the golden hour, when the heat of the day had fizzled out and the cicadas began to buzz. Birds chirped in the old oak tree in my backyard, fighting over territory with the racoons.

The aching in the burn on my leg grew stronger as I turned the corner to Liz’s house, like a beacon alerting me to danger. I ignored it and kept walking, averting my gaze from Jess’s house. She had left my house after the Darlene incident, realizing she should keep a watchful eye on her own house should any of her electronics decide to go haywire. No one wanted to know what would happen if her Vitamix or air fryer turned self-aware.

The rotting smell still hung in the air as I walked up Liz’s concrete front steps. My heart felt like it was going to break through my chest, and I suddenly became light-headed, a wash of nausea falling over me like a weighted blanket.

I rapped twice, hard, on the door before Tim answered. He still wore his work suit, his phone stapled to his hand.

“Yeah?” he said, his eyes narrowing when he saw me.

“Is Liz home?” Normally I would have been taken aback at his brusqueness, but our current situation left no room for niceties.

He pushed open the door and moved his phone in a sweeping motion, pointing it toward the couch.

I hesitated before crossing the threshold, unsure of what I would find. I certainly didn’t want to be trapped inside, with a new burn.

I followed his gaze to the living room just off the foyer, where we had kicked off our shoes at the last movie night, the last normal moment before the storm hit.

“Tim, I’m really worried about her. Ever since our last girls’ night, her behavior has been concerning. I’m sure you’re worried, too.”

He frowned at me and looked back at his phone. “Sure.” He looked up, and his jaw tightened. “I told Mark that I have it handled and that people need to be careful in our backyard with the construction.”