Autolight and its 96,000 dealers present Suspense tonight. Autolight brings you the crowd a suspense play starring mr. Dana Andrews Yeah, it's somebody to hoist you up on their shoulder citizen, then you'll see Sometimes I don't understand this kind of thing lieutenant a couple of minutes ago This was an empty street now this crowd still haven't told me what happened Well, I was directing traffic up the street the woman screamed and I thought it was just well, you know But no was this guy laying on the sidewalk with a knife in it dead murdered the people running around in this Dead, huh? In just a moment mr. Dana Andrews in the first act of the crowd Hi a hap new suit. Yeah, will Cox you like it love it reminds me of auto light ignition engineered spark plugs Custom-made and a perfect fit for your car. It's real hand-tailored too. 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Dana Andrews auto light hopes once again to keep you in suspense The call had come in from the police call box 12 minutes before I come to headquarters been transferred to me Johnny Stilano if I'm a lieutenant New York police Things like this and my job It had taken me maybe five minutes to get there and already the crowd was there crowd a ring of shifting compressing changing faces looking down at the dead man Watching the shape of death in his face And back Have you gone to this man's pockets? You know who he is? Die Hi Let him through come on through Here and there on the fringes of the crowd a man detests himself from it It is lip and left even the spectacle of death can't compete with a time clock Get back to work and tell your friends about it Then the sound of death fading away Then the crowd And a little while the only thing left of it was an unconvinced passerby who looked over his shoulder to spot and hurried on Then the leavings of the crowd a dead man Identified from a warm leather wallet as Edgar Dale was 32nd Street name and address Go there dig into a life that was done as quiet And Edgar Dale's rooming house a woman opened the door only halfway touched her cotton wrap around high on her throat shook her head to most of my questions Edgar Dale had no family lived alone and a shrug to What friends you work that's all at the Becker sign painting company on 1st Avenue Maybe there mr. I Went Something I can do for you. I'm a police officer Johnny Stilano. Oh, how do you do? My name is Becker Elliot Becker a man worked for you Dale And good day. I just put the phone down on the police a minute ago that they called Told me what happened and you know why I'm here. I believe so you'll want to know all about Edgar I'll help all I can tell me about him Edgar Edgar was like anybody looked like anybody talked like anybody Kept to himself. He did his job a man who sat in the supply room and back and read science fiction magazines when he didn't go outside to have lunch What else I Don't know and only judge a solitary man by the things he did to give you that impression He listened to jokes but never told one He clipped pictures of movie stars and bathing suits and pasted them over his workbench Crossword puzzles contests the newspapers ran those things friends Girl friends. I don't know mr. Stilano Wondered sometimes who might enjoy Edgar as a friend, but I don't know Where was he killed two blocks from here this morning? I saw the people running. I couldn't get away. That's too bad How was he killed it in it? What did he look like? What's up reading your phone calls five all together come home. I don't know I tried to weedle it out of him, but the man just wouldn't say he said he keep trying though He has to talk to you personally what else? This envelope came addressed the especial delivery. It's Mark personal open it Says personal open it What is it a picture Johnny clip from this afternoon's extra in the news I saw it there myself a picture of the man who was stabbed to death on the street with the crowd around him. That's it Look what's written under it Johnny I did well didn't I police next time it will be even better Honest Solano speaking. Oh, I finally got you in lieutenant. I read in the papers You were assigned to the case the man found dead on the sidewalk Yes, I just called to ask you if you got the clipping I sent you the one of the dead man lying on the street Special oh I just got in I haven't had a chance to look at the mail. Well, you hold on just a minute while I check I Yes, I have it here The words written underneath did you write them? Oh, yes, and I meant every word There will be a next time lieutenant. There will be another murder. Oh, I believe you I won't be so foolish as to think you're some kind of a crank.  How are you committed the murder broad daylight on the street? Oh the next one will be even more spectacular far more Well, tell me about it There's no need. There'll be a crowd. You'll read about it. I'll send you a picture Iranian I got it Johnny Gilbert sure pair. It's right around the corner from here. I got the blotter on my desk Gilbert sure Gilbert hey Gilbert Turn off that machine. I want to talk to you turn off that machine. Oh sure Johnny Oh, we want to choose Johnny even in this so long I was going to put him in the window with a for sale under him I don't want to talk to you about shoes Not about shoes There's something else we can talk about about a man He just made a phone call from here Listen to me Gilbert just a couple of minutes ago a man came in here. I don't know what man He made a phone call from here use my phone. Yeah, maybe he did. All right, so he did You don't understand do you this man was a murderer two minutes ago? He was in here using your phone. So what am I supposed to do about I'm a shoemaker Look out through the window Johnny see all those people every now and then one of them breaks off comes in once He shoes fakes wants to use the phone Two minutes ago when I'm did come in he asked use my phone Well, I didn't notice anything about it. I never notice anything about any and they're all like some are men some are women This one was a man Then back into the street again and into the swarm crowd into the wash of anonymous faces the blob And somewhere in it murder Then back into the office sit down again stare at Reardon again reared and stares back Then Get up walk to the window Dare at the crowd drink and Johnny No, I'm honest to Lana speaking.  I almost knocked him down. They talked to him. We chat on the phone. I Can give you a category for this murderer these phone calls are boasting of his killing. I'm not a doctor and I know he's crazy Sure, sure you do I don't know where to start. Where do I start Reardon? I take it easy The lonely little man is stabbed to death on the street in New York City for all I know this killer is standing right beside me looking down at the Dead man the killer sends me a picture killer calls me on the phone The killer tells me he's in a subway at 34th Street station the killer Lieutenant yeah, call box report just came in man was pushed in front of a subway 34th Street station And the pattern repeated itself But with variation now the body of a man broken crushed without form like a child's drawing of death Lay on a beer of railroad ties of glistening steel rails Over him the shroud of a subway car and deep in the cavern the lament of hurtling steel The crowd the crowd watching on the platform no variation here Same crowd that gathers and watches it all that's My way Light is bringing you mr. Dana Andrews in the crowd tonight's production in radio's outstanding theater of thrills Suspends say will cox you have a good tailor sure Sam is a suit stitcher Supreme now He never makes the pants too long since his car worries stopped Well, what was his trouble why Sam sedan used a tank of gas just to get out of the garage and that's ridiculous That's what I said I told him to stop blowing his top and have his spark plugs checked by his friendly auto light spark plug dealer Did he do it? Yep. Now this pleased pantaloon producer is getting a real run for his money He replaced the spark plugs that were not functioning properly with ignition engineered auto light spark plugs and now he gets smoother performance quick starts Gas saving how Betty. Thank you will cut he did happy did and he couldn't have bought better spark plugs for his car Than ignition engineered auto light spark plugs so friends See your friendly auto light spark plug dealer and have him replace worn out spark plugs with ignition engineered auto light spark plugs Whether you choose the resistor type or the standard type, you'll know why you're always right with auto light And now auto light brings back to our Hollywood soundstage mr. Dana Andrews in Elliot Lewis's production of the crowd a Tail well calculated to keep you in suspense Come on Johnny, I'll push him away for you one side Police out of the way Guess we'll have to go through the car Johnny and out through the end to get to him. Yeah, come on Stilano Somebody on us Here wants a lieutenant Stilano Dennis Stilano on a phone. He's wanted sure he's wanted by the graph for You're out of uniform For the BFC presenting with the phone Don't it's on I was speaking oh Oh, I'm glad they reached lieutenant. See there was another dead man Crowd much better than the first much Much better the man said much better how good does death have to be This time the murderer had chosen to push a man under a subway train the crowd seemed to like this one better, too They stayed longer after we got the body out from under the train Like work questions the dead man Adam tripled the Bronx Inquiries married three children and it's the supermarket More inquiries. No motive for his murder. No one wanted him dead. Everybody said so Johnny thanks And the symbol of just came for you special delivery marked personal Give it to me like the last time like the last time newspaper picture This is a triple under the subway train with the crowd around Look at him and look at this one the first one I got when Edgar Dale was stabbed Why don't people always hang around other people's hurt? I'll pour you some coffee. You want coffee done? Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Johnny Johnny This man standing here in the picture right in front of the crowd around Edgar Dale This man here not very clear So the other picture the one on the subway this man also in the front row of the crowd Also, not very clear. So look at him. Will you I'm looking Hey, the same man reared the same man in both pictures. I won't say no me neither because it's the same It could have been a coincidence It could have just happened that way one chance at 50,000 in a hundred thousand a thousand thousand But it could have happened One man a part of a crowd having his picture taken as a spectator of violent death on a crowded street in a subway One man pushing his way to the front of the crowd to have his picture taken just because it happened to him twice in the same day By some sly smile of fortune it was arranged for two people to die just where he happened to be Just where there was a man with a camera to take a picture to a picture that would give him a name in his neighborhood make people look up to it Don't tell me how it was. He was there twice Then there was the other chance That he was the murderer. That's the one a policeman had to put his money in He could do that by talking to a man He knew in the newspaper office and in charge of the morgue and a Marty Powell You slumming lieutenant Don't you ever open a window in here Marty? Who wants fresh air fresh air is for the bird.  What can I do for you lieutenant? I want to look at some pictures Don't we all pictures where people were killed very look lieutenant. I got files and files of those to the ceiling see Be more explicit. How were they killed accident war by a wife the jealous lover Suicide stop me anytime you like I tire easy unloaded revolver was hard to explain Marty, but Pictures like these local let me see Mm-hmm Pictures like unsolved murders on lieutenant where the killing was violent to violent for you boys to solve I'll get some for you How far back Three years maybe Yeah, I made a selection for you the most artistic the most captivating several of these one prizes We are very proud of this one for example To your taste More this one Hold that one out Marty not the one with the guy who fell out of the window or the other one the window. I'll see some more You've been here for two hours little ten and I told you I tire easy more Okay That one I'll take these these two goodbye, Marty See on that projector here then I'll pull the screen down Okay, turn out the lights That's how the first one This is a picture of a man pulled out of the river. He was shot. This picture was taken in December 1948 Notice the crowd notice this spectator the one in the front row not wearing a hat That's how number two Picture of a man who was pushed or fell out of a window from a ten story building Joan this year again Notice the crowd and the man in the right hand corner of the crowd being pushed back by a policeman Now on the slides of the ones we had made from the newspaper clipping a crowd around Edgar Dale Notice that man up front on the end Okay, the crowd around Adam Treppel notice the fourth man down in the front row What do you think we're in all the same man sure the same man It took an hour for the newspapers to hit the streets for the front page picture of a man wanted for murder a man in The crowd who for two or three years and quietly committed murder or killings to our knowledge Now we knew what he looked like what went on inside his mind He'd like to kill like to stand with a crowd over his kill with the crowd like to see death up close That man is my husband Where's your husband now he's in bed. He pretends he's an invalid been lying there for five years But I know he sneaks out at night when I'm asleep Waiting on him hand and foot for five years and I know We checked it the man was an invalid paralyzed then I'm the man. I'm the man. You want I did all those killings This picture of you we have you don't look the same. You've changed. That's right. I've changed. I change all the time Don't you think that's clever of me? Yes, it is. Well, you wait here a moment Rude as a man in my office taken to the psycho ward for observation I'm just a lot of speaking please Can you come here quickly? Who is this? I'm Mrs. Jane Shirley. I I have a rooming house at 12 16 He's 38. Well, what is it? You want Mrs. Shirley the man who's pictures in the paper the man You're looking for he has a room in my house. Is he there now? No, but I expect him home any minute Please will you come quickly right away? His name is Charles Turner. Mr. Solano at least that's what he told me it was He's been living here for the past seven years I don't know much more about him than that. He comes and he goes take me to his room, Mrs. Shirley. Yeah, right down the hall Turn on the light This is his room These pictures on the wall a man in a subway on a street corner a man who fell out of a building Yes, they all belong to Mr. Turner. He hung around the wall. I Never asked him Do you have a room near the front of the house my room We'll wait for mr. Turner there Don't worry about it. Will you look at me like that for I told you to wait in the squad car Well, Cole just comes through a guy's holding our killer what yeah greasy spoon lunchroom down the corner Mr. Turner always eats right down the corner the guy who runs a joint phone dinner our man is eating this supper there right now Let's go. There's a crowd. That's funny. The street was deserted less than a minute ago. Let's go Let us through here What happened to you You you police that's right. I own this place He saw me making the phone call Ran out. I ran after him.  Would you like to see him mister? Do you like to see him up close? The photographers will be here in a few minutes.  Turner? Well, you're wrong. My name is not Turner.  Yes, half but nowhere near the hundreds of thousands auto light satisfies each year because auto light makes over 400 products For cars trucks planes and boats in its 28 plants from coast to coast These include complete electrical systems used as original equipment on many of America's finest cars Generators coils distributors voltage regulators wire and cable starting motors and electric windshield wipers All engineered to work together perfectly as part of the auto light team All engineered to give you unexcelled auto light service Don't accept electrical parts supposed to be as good ask for and insist on auto light original factory parts at your neighborhood Service station car dealer garage or repair shop. Remember. You're always right with auto light next week on suspense Mr. Joseph cotton as star of fly-by-night and in the weeks to come you will hear such famous stars as Miriam Hopkins Milton Burl and Howard Duff all appearing in tales well calculated to keep you in Suspense tonight suspense play was produced and directed by Elliot Lewis with music composed by Lucian Morrowek and conducted by Lut Bluskin Parts of this program were transcribed the crowd by Ray Bradbury was adapted for suspense by Morton fine and David Friedkin Dana Andrews appeared through the courtesy of Samuel Goldwin He may currently be seen in the Goldwin production edge of doom and remember next week on suspense mr. Joseph cotton in fly-by-night You can buy world-famous auto light resistor or standard spark plugs auto light stay for batteries Auto light electrical part at your neighborhood auto light dealers switch to auto light. Good night. This is CBS the Columbia broadcasting system


A good human is a human who does not neglect the food bowl, reflected Poppy, and until quite recently, the old woman had been a quite good human indeed. In the previous months, however, she changed and daily feedings became weekly feedings, which in turn became sporadic occasions with no rhyme or reason that the cat could decipher. Today, fortunately, the old woman filled the bowl with old beef and rice, and Poppy purred and rubbed against her leg to show his contentment. Perhaps if she understood his appreciation, she would not wait so long until next time. Poppy supposed he could survive without her help, any good cat possesses many ways to find food, of course, but since he had lived alone with a woman for so many years, he felt a sort of renewed companionship with every meal she periodically gave him. More importantly, he preferred fresh human food to the stale meat he scavenged on his own. He watched the old woman putter around the table aimlessly and wondered what a human thought about, aren't they? Notice a cup on the table. Rose frowned. About half filled with water, the cup sat near the table's corner, and she could not recall placing it there. Michael had doubtlessly left it out. He always forgot his things around the house. She picked up the cup and placed it in the sink. She lifted the oil lamp to guide her way in the dark, and she slowly paced down the hallway. Her hip gave her a throbbing pain today, and she wished she could see a doctor about it. As she powered through her discomfort, she nearly stepped on the cat and chewed him away with the side of her foot. He scurried off into the shadows. Eventually, she found the pantry she sought out and grabbed a can of beans from the upper shelf, one of the few cans remaining. Carrying the can in one hand and the lamp in the other, she returned to the kitchen. Rose noticed some water on the table as she set the lamp down. With her sleeve, she wiped up the moisture, figuring it resulted from the moved cup's condensation. But after she found a can opener to open the beans, a droplet plopped down onto the table. The woman looked up, realizing the ceiling must have sprung. Left the cup on the table. Rose moved the mostly filled glass over to the sink. Michael must have forgotten about it at breakfast time. That was like Michael, to forget his drink out on the table. The oil lamp dimmed in her grasp, so she hobbled over to the closet to search for some more fuel to fill the lamp. She missed the days when the bunker's electric lights worked properly, but something must have happened to the generator. Rose would ask Michael to look at it later. Maybe he would be able to do something about the food supply too, as she began to grow concerned over the diminishing stocks. No use worrying about it, she told herself, and carefully poured fresh oil into the lamp, the sole source of light down beneath the ground. One day, Clara and Rose had laid out in the sunshine, having a picnic out in the grass. Rose had made a pair of sandwiches. She had filled her own with tuna and Clara's with turkey, since the young girl had never liked tuna much, and they had brought along a bag of fresh strawberries from the farmer's market. Clara set a strawberry in the dirt and watched the ants come to tear off morsels they could carry back to the colony. Rose missed feeling sun on her skin. Down underground, she stepped away from the closet, passing a jagged corner of the middle wall, upon which she had duct-taped a blanket to soften the sharp edge. Returning to the kitchen, she noticed water dripping onto the table. She looked up towards the ceiling, and, not seeing anything, slowly climbed onto the table to claim a better view. Holding up the lamp and keeping her frail body balanced on the table, she examined the ceiling, not finding any crack or flaw the water could have escaped from. Frowning, she fetched the glass from the sink and set it below the drip to catch the water. Better than damaging the table, she thought. Michael can look at that too, next time he's around. Or maybe he would be... left a cup out. She picked the glass up, which looked mostly full of cola. Michael probably left it out after lunchtime. That was like Michael, to forget his drink out on the table. She dumped the contents down the drain and left the glass face down in the sink. Poppy meowed. Rose almost jumped, not expecting to see the skinny black cat watching her from the darkness. His eyes glowed golden in the lamp light, and he looked a bit like Maxine had. When Rose brought Maxine to the bunker so long ago, she had no idea of the litter of kittens that would soon follow. Cut off from the outside world, Maxine's descendants had grown inbred and sickly. And only Poppy remained. He meowed again. I just fed you this morning. Don't be pushy. Looking bitter, the cat prowled off, disappearing into one of the thin vents. Clara would play with the cats in the vents, squeezing through the narrow spaces. But the vents had a pretty bad smell now. When Clara came over next time, she probably wouldn't like to play there. Even if Poppy didn't seem to mind me outer. Rose would ask Michael to take a look once he had time. Once, her cat had smelled terrible, and Michael found a family of mice that had settled in the ventilation system with a secret supply of cat food they had stolen. He took care of it. Generally, Michael could fix most anything, although he never got the bunker clock ticking again. In the early years of their marriage, he would hide out in the garage working on engines and small appliances for some extra money. He treated her poorly in those days, generally neglecting her and disappearing for days on end. Still young and clueless, Rose thought all husbands behaved that way. But his behavior eventually wore her down all the same. She called her sister one night, packed her things, and left for the bus station. On the bus ride to school, Rose sat in the back seat with the other schoolchildren as the vehicle rattled down the dirt road. A girl named Paulina made fun of her, but Rose couldn't remember what she looked like. Embarrassed, Rose tried to ignore the bully. She drew in her notebook, sketching a castle in wonderful colors. Poppy meowed once more. I just fed you. Don't go trying to trick me like that. Returning to the kitchen, she noticed a thin pool of a dark liquid on the table, dripping down from the ceiling. Rose climbed up on the table and noticed a layer of mildew that leaked steadily. After digging around for a towel, she scaled the table again despite her aged hip. And doing that, she moved the cup of cold coffee off the table. Rose frowned, vaguely remembering Michael telling her that they had run out of coffee years ago. He must have found some more. Silly man, leaving his drink out after breakfast. As she moved the cup to the sink, she scrunched up her nose. What stink. Rose went downstairs to the lower level of the bunker, stopping by the patch of soft dirt in the corner of the room. Originally, Michael had planned to dig out through that soft patch, and had spent weeks tearing up the concrete floor with a metal length of pipe. He said he could have made short work of it with a sledgehammer. Rose wondered how he planned to dig his way out without a shovel, but that day never came many ways. Michael rarely planned far ahead. When they had Wesley, he lost his job for missing work because he hadn't thought to tell his employers at the garage he would be out for the day. Before Wesley could speak, he used to spend all day coloring and drawing, and Rose could hardly call herself surprised when he earned a spot in art school. He turned down the scholarship and became an architect instead on Michael's behest, although Rose always thought their boy would have lived happier as an artist. Wesley seemed pleased with his decision, however, and met a beautiful girl at university. They had a daughter of their own not too long after. Clara. Every Tuesday and Thursday, Rose and Michael watched Clara during the summer while her parents worked. What day was today? Rose hoped Clara would come by tomorrow. The analog clock read a quarter past two, as it had for an unknowable stretch of time. With no way of discerning day from night, Rose simply slept when she grew tired and ate when hungry, and she had long since lost track of the calendar. Michael had initially scratched tallies down in a notebook somewhere, but eventually that grew more disheartening than helpful. They gave the pages to Clara so she could sketch to entertain herself. Holding her lamp ahead, she strolled to the bathroom. She passed by the sharp corner of the wall that she had taped a blanket over to cushion. The pipes rattled when she flushed the toilet, and the water had a rusty red tinge to it. Ignoring the sight, she washed her hands in the small sink, the sound of running water echoing through the spacious bunker. Living like this for however many years came with an indescribable loneliness, but Rose rarely remembered she was alone anyways, so it didn't matter much. A moment of clarity came to her then, and she stared into the dark emptiness of the bunker. The stale air stirred gently from the vents. She could hear the fans buzzing. That sounded wrong, so she would have to remind herself to ask Michael to take a look at the ventilation later. Generally, Michael could fix most anything. She turned the lamp off and returned to the kitchen in the dark. Hearing the gentle tap of dripping water, she flicked the lamp back to life, spying a dark liquid settling into a pool on the table. Fearing damage to the wooden surface, Rose hurried to find a towel and wiped out a mess before setting out a cup to collect the leaking water. Looking at the towel, she found it stained a black with the slightest tinge of red. She examined the ceiling to find it covered in black mold. The liquid dripped from the mass of fungus. How could she clean that up? Maybe some… there. It looked filled to the brim with ink. She dumped the cup out in the toilet, not wanting to stain the sink. Why would Michael have left a cup of ink out? Clara must have done some painting earlier and used the glass to clean her brushes. Unlike her to forget her art supplies on the counter, though, Wesley would have chided her for such forgetful behavior. Poppy sniffed at the oil lamp, cuddling up against its warmth. Rose missed the days where she didn't have to rely on the lamp, where she could just flip up the switch and expect the bulbs to light up the bunker. One day, they stopped working and no matter how long Michael toyed with the generator, the electricity refused to flow. Light became another resource to conserve, and they spent the days in darkness unless absolutely necessary. Now, Rose realized the remaining fuel would likely outlive her, so she began to burn freely. The light reminded her of the gas stove in the house, and she recalled making a turkey supper for Thanksgiving when Michael's family came over. Rose had never baked a turkey before and dried it out to a crisp, so Michael's mother had thrown her portion away. Not even making it to the pumpkin pie, Rose excused herself to cry in the bathroom. The cat licked itself in the lamp's flickering glow. Throughout the day, she would clean up after the cat whenever it decided to relieve itself. Rose had nothing to use as litter down in the bunker, so there didn't seem much of an alternative. The woman missed the fresh air and smell of their home on the surface. Michael and Rose looked at the house only once before they made an offer. The widow who owned the place told them about her husband, who had returned shell shocked from the war and put together a fallout shelter beneath the hillside. They hadn't understood the amount of work the veteran had put into assembling the bunker, huge enough to house his entire family indefinitely in event of crisis, as long as needed. Rose remembered Michael checking out the bunker after they moved in and how he returned to her awestruck by the scale of the underground shelter. Despite its size, the bunker began to feel small by the second day below ground. At times it became terrifyingly cramped, and with Rose, Michael, Clara, and Maxine all shut away, they constantly found themselves stepping on each other's toes. The smell of human odor overtook the small space. Still, Clara smiled, and she retained her positivity right up until the end. Rose shuttered to think when Clara's cut festered and the infection grew. The girl contorted as the muscle spasms worsened. She would wail in pain, and neither Rose nor Michael could do anything for her. The veteran who built the bunker must have put antibiotics somewhere, and Rose and her husband scoured the place day and night. They found nothing. Clara's fever overtook her, and Michael buried her in the soft patch of soil in the lowest level of the bunker. Wordlessly, they set a crucifix into the dirt, held each other tight, and sobbed. The first time he held her had been in the dance hall where they met. Rose's parents set her up with a dane, and she refused to go until her dad bribed her with a new dress she wanted. With four years between them, Michael seemed a proper adult. He made Rose feel childish, but he clearly fancied her anyways. Nobody had ever paid attention to her before. She felt so safe when he wrapped his arm around her. Rose had known so little then. When Christmas came to the fallout shelter, back when they still kept track of the days and couldn't have marked more than a few dozen, the family gathered around the table and ate the same rations as usual. But Rose encouraged them to sing a few carols. Her husband hated to sing, but Clara convinced him to join in. Black liquid settled on the table beside the cat, who showed no recognition of it. Rose frowned at the leak and quickly set out a cup to collect the drip. How didn't Poppy notice it? Observing how quickly the cup filled, she thought better of it and replaced the cup with a bowl. She would need to get her husband to look at it. She couldn't seem to retrieve his name. Funny that it should was that a bowl of black slime sat out on the table and Rose turned her nose up at it. Grease maybe. She scraped it out into the trash. Where did Michael go? She hadn't seen him for days now.  She placed the bowl back and it collected fluid that dripped from the ceiling. Worrying that the liquid might ruin the bowl, she replaced it with some cheap Tupperware. Rose noticed some greasy stains on the wood beneath the bowl and decided to move the whole table to avoid damaging it. Her hip hurt, but she managed to push the table out of the way anyways. She placed the Tupperware on the floor to collect. The table gone? Rose noticed the table push to the other side of the kitchen and frowned. Why would Michael have moved the table? She almost tripped on the Tupperware container in the center of the floor and she set down the lamp to see its pitch black contents. Michael, Rose and Clara all stared at the emergency announcement that had interrupted their show. Clara began to cry and Michael said they needed to grab essentials. Civil alert sirens blared in the distance as Clara collected the toys and clothes she deemed vital. Michael raided the pantry for fresh food and Rose herded Maxine into a box and grabbed his cat food. They raced down the hill to the bunker while Rose looked upwards, half expecting to see the sky crashing down. Don't complain, Maxine. Rose said to Poppy as he meowed at her and she glanced at the thin black cat, but it looked very different now. For the last few days, the cat would moan at the vents like it wanted to alert Rose to something there. It stopped without reason. After they entered the bunker, the ground shook and the door refused to open. Rose sat at the bus station, prepared to leave her marriage for good, but a car came roaring up. She didn't know what to say when Michael tumbled out from the driver's scene entirely out of breath and he knelt before her and begged for forgiveness. Many times before he had apologized and promised to change. Rose told him she had to go, told him that she hadn't understood what marrying him meant, and she boarded the bus. She stayed with her sister and every day Michael called.  He dotted on her. He listened to her. He defended her from his mother when she snipped. Rose had never been happier. Clara ran into the sharp edge a few months after they moved into the bunker. The cut didn't look so bad and Michael and Rose washed it out and wrapped the whole area in gauze. It didn't seem like a big deal. Just to be safe, Rose duct taped a blanket over the sharp edge to prevent another accident. Rose looked at the ceiling and saw black fluid pouring down from a lump. The concrete bulged and warped as though under incredible pressure. It dropped down, soaked black, ready to burst and around the bunker. Rose hadn't realized where the oil on the floor had come from. The food had run out that morning. Wesley, she found a mop and tried to clean. Grime seemed to pour from the walls, dripping down from above. Rose wanted to turn on the lamp to assess the damage, but Michael says they need to conserve oil since they might be down in the shelter for a while. The sound of the dripping came from the kitchen, where she supposed Clara hadn't fully shut off the faucet. Rose knew better than to waste water, so she followed the noise.  She quickly grabbed the lamp but couldn't find a match until she had dug through every shelf of the closet. When she actually found one, her shaky finger struggled to hold it, but she managed to clutch the match tight enough to ignite it by gripping it between her middle and pointer finger. Finally lit, the lamp cast off a dim glow. Rose held the light source and lumbered back to the kitchen. Her hip began to hurt. A vaguely humanoid shape hung upside down from above. Stretching from the concrete ceiling and dripping sludge to the floor, Rose could barely see it in the thin light and she noticed Poppy sitting in the corner of the kitchen. The cat showed no reaction to the thing. Poppy couldn't see it at all. Not surprising since the figure had come for her. Rose came closer and the gross shifted towards her. It wore someone's face. She knew the face belonged to someone important, but she couldn't recognize it at all. A limb extended from the mass and it caressed her. Leaning close, she could feel its wet breath against her features and everything came apart at the... Poppy licked water from a pipe in the corner of the lowest level. He had spotted a mouse once many weeks back, but he hadn't seen any vermin for some time. Worse yet, the rest of his food had spoiled beyond usage. As hunger gnawed at the cat, Poppy visited the human. He stopped by occasionally to check up on her, but she just sat in the corner of the kitchen, entirely immobile. He rubbed up against her leg, but she refused to acknowledge him. Typical. Hopping up on her lap, he pressed into her, missing the days she would make light. He tried biting her, but she still wouldn't react. Poppy wondered what had happened to the good human who used to feed him so diligently. The cat licked itself. No matter. He could still find use for her.