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Shannon citing everything else. But soon Malorie had to relent, when the pages she frequented began to run stories about their own loved ones, and the authors of these blogs stepped forward to admit some concern.
    Cracks , Malorie thought then. Showing even in the skeptics .
    Days passed in which Malorie experienced a sort of double life. Neither sister left the house anymore. Both made sure the windows were covered. They watched CNN, MSNBC, and Fox News until they physically couldn’t watch the same stories repeating themselves. And while Shannon grew more serious, and even grave, Malorie held on to a pinch of hope that this would all simply go away.
    But it didn’t. And it got worse.
    Three months into living like shut-ins, Malorie and Shannon’s worst fears came true when their parents stopped answering their phone. They didn’t answer e-mails, either.
    Malorie wanted to drive north to the Upper Peninsula. But Shannon refused.
    “We’re just going to have to hope they’re being safe, Malorie. We’re going to have to hope their phone was shut off. Driving anywhere right now would be dumb. Even to the store, and driving nine hours would be suicide.”
    “The Problem” always resulted in suicide. Fox News had reported the word so often that they were now using synonyms. “Self-destruction.” “Self-immolation.” “Hari-kari.” One anchorman described it as “personal erasing,” a phrase that did not catch on. Instructions from the government were reprinted on the screen. A national curfew was mandated. People were advised to lock their doors, cover their windows, and, above all, not to look outside. On the radio, music was replaced entirely with discussions.
    A blackout , Malorie thinks. The world, the outdoors, is being shut down .
    Nobody has answers. Nobody knows what is going on. People are seeing something that drives them to hurt others. To hurt themselves.
    People are dying.
    But why?
    Malorie tries to calm down by focusing on the child growing inside her. She seems to be encountering every symptom mentioned in her baby book, With Child . Slight bleeding. Tender breasts. Fatigue. Shannon points out Malorie’s mood swings, but it’s the cravings that are driving her crazy. Too afraid to drive to the store, the sisters are stuck with the items they stockpiled shortly after purchasing the pregnancy test. But Malorie’s tastes have changed. Standard foods disgust her. So she combines things. Orange brownies. Chicken with cocktail sauce. Raw fish on toast. She dreams of ice cream. Often, looking toward the front door, she thinks of how easy it would be to get behind the wheel of the car and drive to the store. She knows it would take only fifteen minutes. But every time she leans toward doing it, the television delivers another harrowing story. And besides, who knows if the employees show up to the stores anymore?
    “What do you think people are seeing?” Malorie asks Shannon.
    “I don’t know, Mal. I just don’t know.”
    The sisters ask each other this question constantly. It’d be impossible to count the number of theories that have been birthed online. All of them scare the hell out of Malorie. Mental illness as a result of the radio waves in wireless technology is one. An erroneous evolutionary leap in humankind is another. New Agers say it’s a matter of humanity being in touch with a planet that is close to exploding, or a sun that is dying.
    Some people believe there are creatures out there.
    The government is saying nothing except lock your doors.
    Malorie, alone, sits on the couch, slowly rubbing her belly, watching television. She worries that there is nothing positive to watch, that the baby feels her anxiety. With Child told her this would happen. The baby will experience the mother’s emotions. Still, she can’t look away from the screen. On a desk against the wall behind her, the computer is open and on. The radio plays softly. Together, it makes Malorie feel like she’s in a war