I unlocked my front door and stepped across my threshold.

“How was work today?” Erika asked from her place on the couch. I could see her curly brown hair cascading over the back of a pillow as she lazily flipped through a magazine.

There were a thousand things I almost said. “Okay,” I lied instead.

Erika kicked her feet out in front of her and admired her own toenails. “We need to talk,” she said.

“I agree.”

My heart was already racing in my chest, and the promise of a ‘talk’ didn’t help much. I couldn’t think of a way to breach the subject with Erika. I could tell she thought I was making all of it up; she was just too nice to tell me. Maybe she was waiting for a chance to leave me. Maybe that’s what the conversation was about, and that in itself was as scary as Escher coming for me.

“Come on and sit down,” Erika said, leaning up and patting the space where her head had lain.

I nervously walked over to her and sat down. The cushion was still warm from her body.

“You ever think about getting out more?” Erika asked me from across the couch where we lay sprawled, our feet intertwined and our heads facing each other on opposite ends like some ancient ornate Greek bench.

“I think about it,” I said. This wasn’t an avenue of discussion that I liked. “I just… don’t.”

“Why? Don’t you get lonely?”

“Not now that I have a psycho killer after me, no. I feel very wanted, believe me.”

Erika looked at me skeptically. “You don’t have to … do that.”

“Do what?” I asked, realizing I was angry. “Make up the stories so you’ll think I’m exciting? Isn’t that what this is about? You want out of this deal because I’m so goddamn boring, right?”

“I just mean… well, making some more friends. I don’t find you boring at all. I just don’t think it’s normal for someone to be so, uh… so solitary,” she said softly.

“Right. I’ve had friends before. I watched most of them die, either from thirst, or to keep from becoming slaves, or because they couldn’t run as fast as me when danger came. For five years, Erika, I survived the worst of it. Five years of hiding, of scrambling, of watching everyone adjust to the fact their way of life was gone. And you know what the biggest problem was, out there in the Red? Other people. Just look at the front page there.” I pointed at the newspaper on my coffee table. “That guy molested his step-daughter. Statistically, if you know 100 people, you know people who molest children and steal and lie on a regular basis, and who knows what else. Do you really want to have to deal with that? I don’t. People can’t hurt you if they don’t know you. I mean, just look at this.” I held up the daily newspaper, which sat open-faced on the table in front of us.

That day, another person afflicted with IED—Intermittent Explosive Disorder—had gone off his meds. It was becoming more and more common, as though we didn’t have enough to worry about. This particular IED had unloaded a clip of automatic gunfire in a crowded fast-food restaurant.

“Why do you think people do that?” Erika asked, voice sad now.

“People still think they’re owed a certain way of life. When they don’t get it, they get angrier and angrier at the world around them, I guess. Without medication, half of the people in the city would probably snap,” I said. “I just…I don’t need people in my life. I’m happier alone.”

“In the wild,” Erika said, “animals control their own population density. Some animals need a lot of space—each tiger might have ten square miles to herself. If you tried to fit more tigers in that space, they would kill each other until there was only one left. Maybe we’re like tigers, Clark. Maybe they just can’t fit ten million of us into one city.”

And then I heard it: the sound of cloth on glass—a soft knock against my window. Erika and I were instantly silent; it wasn’t a natural sound and demanded our complete attention. It was the sort of sound only a living thing could make.

I studied Erika’s face and was certain that until this precise moment, she hadn’t believed a word I’d said about Escher or the Strangers.

“They’re coming for me,” I said into my hands as I rubbed it over my clean-shaven face. “I was going to tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me. The Strangers are coming to kill us.”

I looked at the window, and all I could see was that brim of a large hat and tall, upturned collar. There was no face. I looked out the front window, and it was the same thing. I ran into the kitchen—the same thing. They had surrounded the house. He’d come for me.

I sat on the couch for what seemed like an eternity of quiet madness as I gripped the cushion beneath me with both hands. Maybe two or three minutes of just sitting there, knowing I was trapped.

I turned to check on Erika, who had become pale with fright. A thin layer of sweat shone on her forehead. My mind was in terror overload. I couldn’t talk. All I could do was tremble and keep my death grip on the couch.

The door came open—softly, even though it was dead-bolted.

It wasn’t Escher though. It was the woman, the one I’d seen in the alleyway, Whisper. I realized she was the second Stranger who’d been at the tower. She stalked into the living room, appearing to float over to us. A small black cat peeked out from one of her sleeves. It made its nest alongside her pale, slender arm, which she kept crooked to hold her pet in place. “It’s time,” she said. “I was told you were warned?”

I could see more Strangers outside the door.

“Nice to see you again,” Erika said meekly to Whisper.

“It was smart not to run,” she said.

My mouth wasn’t working.

“Where are you taking us?” Erika asked.

”You can’t know that,” she said, voice like silk.

Whisper reached into her robe with her crooked arm and revealed a small amber vial. She poured a few drops of it onto a small handkerchief and offered it to me. “Breathe,” she said. “It will go easier if you comply.”

I reached my hand up shakily to take the soft white square of cloth.

“Now,” she said.

I couldn’t bring myself to inhale the fumes from the cloth. I didn’t know what was on it. Is this going to kill me?

Just as I thought the Stranger was going to say something, Erika leaned over and pressed the cloth into my face for me. I could feel the heat from her small hand as her fingers cupped the side of my cheek.

Smelled funny. Smelled like sleep.

As the light dimmed around my eyes, I saw Erika hold the rag up to her own face and inhale.