My mother’s voice calls out just as I take a seat on the edge of the bed. I’m lightheaded as my breasts surge with milk, suddenly soaking my sweatshirt. I hear the car door slam. Before she steps into the RV, I grab a blanket from behind me and toss it to the floor, covering as much of the blood as I can.

“My God,” she says, staring at the stained sheets, at the bloody paw prints that stop at her feet.

I ventured out of my cabin to find the captain. I needed to know who else was on the ship. When I opened my cabin door I froze in the frame. The hallway was consumed by darkness. The electrical problems must extend to the whole floor rather than just my cabin. I grabbed the half-used candlestick from my desk and stepped into the hall.

There was a knock at the door. Owen already knew it would be those two fresh-faced missionaries out to convert Amelia. She was too tender-hearted to tell them no, so they kept trying. If they could offer some tangible proof of God, maybe a free month’s rent or an occasional Sunday off, she could be more easily convinced.

I move out onto the field and take in what should be fresh air. It’s as putrid out here as it was inside. I see them in each end zone. Big ones. Roaches the size of Smartcars. Their rust-colored shells sheath them in a thicker skin than I’m used to seeing. Have they come this far this fast?