You wanna go outside? Outside? You wanna go outside? You do? You do? I bet you want to go outside. I bet you do. Welcome to Night Vale.

#####

Huff huff huff.

The beagle puppy stood fully upright on his hind legs, breathing heavily. I inched back from the dog.

Here's where I want to tell you I drew a glowing sword and he drew a sword made of fire. I want to tell you our mighty blades clashed above our heads as our elbows and faces met. I think it'd be a really cool thing to say that I then pushed him back with a kick to the chest and swung my blade down upon him and as he tried to deflect it with his own, my sword shattered his, causing him to burst open with white light and doves, and order returned for good to Night Vale.

But what I'm going to tell you is I don't own a sword. Doves aren't real. And the dog had destroyed everything we are without a single conventional weapon. Plus, I tripped while trying to run away.

The beagle was standing over me.

Huff huff huff.

There was a boom that dimmed my hearing, and the dog was jolted backward violently. Sam, our Sheriff, stood behind me, a shotgun in their hand.

"C'mon," Sam said as they grabbed my shoulder and pulled me up.

I turned back to see the carnage, but the beagle was standing again, exactly where he was the moment before, perhaps a little closer actually. His adorable puppy mouth distended horribly with each labored breath.

Huff huff huff.

"Don't look at it," Sam said as they pushed me into City Hall and through a door marked FORBIDDEN. Sam slammed the door shut and bolted the lock.

We were in the City Council's chambers. The Council was there. They had not fled their city after all. They all spoke in unison, their black robes undulating like a storm-tossed ocean. The only details of the Council's hood-shrouded faces I could discern were their reddish-brown teeth.

"We have re-opened the Dog Park," the City Council shouted. It sounded like an accusation. "Sam plans to lure the Strangers into the Dog Park and lock them away there."

"How do you get them to go into the Dog Park?" I asked.

The Council was silent for a long time, finally muttering: "Well, their leader is a beagle. So...." And then trailing off.

Sam interjected: “We get every person left in Night Vale in front of that Dog Park. If they want nothing, they’ll have to go there to create it.”

I was thinking about what nothing meant. About beings that don't exist. And who better to fight off a lord of hell than...

“Sounds good,” I said. “Is there a way out of here that doesn't go through that beagle? I need to visit a friend of mine."

#####

Let's have a look now at traffic.

There's a metal grate about 11 feet off the ground. It's large enough for most human bodies to fit through. There are eight 10-millimeter hexagonal bolts holding it in place. Sitting atop a person's shoulders who's sitting atop another person's shoulders and then using a simple torque wrench, it is not difficult to remove these bolts and pull oneself through into the ductwork.

The duct eventually ends at a similar large grate.

Then there is a 12 foot drop to the ground behind City Hall, next to a dumpster. A car driven by Mayor Dana Cardinal is there. Then that car drives to Old Woman Josie's house out by the used car lot.

This has been traffic.

#####

"Can I speak to Erika?" I said to Old Woman Josie.

"Which Erika?" she asked.

"All of them. I need to speak with the angels."

Old Woman Josie winced.

A couple miles off, I heard the Angel Acknowledged Siren go off down by the firehouse, but I was certain law enforcement was dealing with bigger problems than a radio host who happened to acknowledge an angel or two.

There are way more than two, though. A bright black light filled Old Woman Josie's living room, illuminating at least a dozen tall wingéd beings. Dana and I shaded our eyes. My body tingled. I swore I could hear a cello and smell confectioners sugar. Dana and I explained the Sheriff’s plan to lure the strangers to the Dog Park.

"How do you lure something that wants nothing?" one of the Erika's asked.

"Technically wanting nothing is actually wanting something," one of the Erikas explained

"We're not having this argument with you again, Erika," another Erika shouted.

“We just need to do something,” I said. “If what they want is nothing, then we must make sure that we are always doing something. Can you help us?”

The black light grew painfully bright. I took that as a yes.

#####

Let's have a look now at today's Horoscopes.

The stars are silent. They have been absent from the sky for weeks now. They refuse to tell us anything. Perhaps the silence is for our own protection.

This has been horoscopes.

#####

On the drive back to town with Dana.

“I know he tried to kill you," I said carefully. "I know he's on Death Row now for his crimes, but what if. What if we made a deal..."

Dana interrupted: "I'm not offering Hiram a deal."

We drove past the dark and empty radio station. I thought about Khoshekh, our station cat, who hovers 4 feet off the ground in what used to be the men's restroom. All of our restrooms are unisex now, which is great because everyone can visit Khoshekh. He'd been much happier with the extra attention, buzzing and licking visitors with his chest tongues.

But when I had last checked in on him before we lost all power to the radio station, he was gone. His kittens were also gone. No sign of a fight. Just gone. I missed him. I missed the radio station.

All over town, no electricity or gas, barely any drinkable water. I could smell distant smoke. The sky was completely gray even though there was not a single cloud.

Dana said: "I'll talk to Hiram, Cecil. I’ll find out if he knows anything about the strangers and if he could be of some help. But I'm not cutting a deal with him."

We pulled up to a mob of about 50 people. In the front was the Sheriff, hand in hand with a woman in long yellow robes and a wide, rectangular hat. I recognized the medallion on the front of her chest. She was one of the leaders from the Joyous Congregation of the Smiling God, the church that most of Desert Bluffs and a few Night Vale residents belonged to.

In the crowd I saw John Peters, you know, the farmer?, and also John Peter, remember, the pharmacist? I saw Tamika Flynn and her teenage militia. In Tamika's left hand was Sarah Sultan, who is a fist-sized river rock and current president of Night Vale Community College. Around them were many faces I didn't know. Former Desert Bluffs residents. I could see it in their eyes.

Dana and I got out of the car and joined them, a prayer march against a common enemy. How strange humankind is that two cities - Night Vale and Desert Bluffs - could hate each other so much and then hold hands so tightly in mutual hatred of something else.

We marched toward the center of town, chanting prayers. I have never been a believer in the Smiling God, so some of the chants were new to me, but a lot of them were similar to recitations, verses, and prayers common across most religions. Basic stuff like "Please God, Destroy Our Enemies. Amen."; some really long gurgling sounds; and one chant that sounded identical to an old prayer I was taught in Torah School where everyone just shouts "DE-FENSE!" while clapping in rhythm.

Our crowd grew. We saw Strangers on the street, not moving, just breathing and watching. We were nearing a thousand, our mob, feeling invincible, united to save our town, a town we all loved and believed in no matter how long each of us had lived here.

Carlos joined, along with my sister Abby, her husband Steve, and my young niece Janice. I was worried for their safety out here, surrounded by the Strangers. But I was also worried for their safety at home, hiding from the Strangers. I was worried for their safety, always and everywhere.

Our huge crowd stopped near the dog park. There were hooded figures in the dog park. The gates were open. They are rarely open.

We looked to the strangers. Their numbers had grown as well. An equal motionless mob to our heaving, praying one. Being at the front of the crowd, I could feel the steady breath of the stranger directly in front of me.

They weren't dead. They weren't undead. They were nothing.

I was afraid of dying, of becoming one of them, of existing only in the dark, wet cavern. Frances’s voice in my head: “I’m still in the mud. I’m still in the mud.” And also her voice from right in front of me, suddenly at the front of the crowd of strangers, eyes wild as though struggling against the complete stillness of the rest of her body, screaming “I’m still in the mud. I’m still in the mud.”

The crowd of Strangers parted - although none of us saw them move - revealing the beagle puppy on his hind legs, his front paws dangling crookedly against his chest.

Huff huff huff.

The breathing wasn’t coming from the dog, but from behind me. I turned to see Sheriff Sam, their jaw hanging limp and open. The dog's breath came from their mouth.

Huff huff huff.

"Who's a good boy?" said the voice coming from Sam. "Who's a good boy?"

Huff huff huff.

"Am I the good boy?" said a different voice from right next to me. My brother-in-law, Steve, his eyes locked to mine, confused. "Am I the good boy?" he said.

I cried out "No!" and held him tight. Janice, Abby, and Carlos all put their arms around him too. Trying to hold him in place, keep him from being taken to the cavern. Helping him to resist the pull of a dark and muddy hell, dragging at him from within.

We heard a sound above us. Like wings. Many wings. We looked up and saw all of the Erikas circling above.

“There are angels,” said Janice, in awe. No one corrected her.

There was also the sound of a different kind of wing, not angelic. Reptilian.

We saw the five heads of Hiram McDaniels, four of them with prison tracking collars. Fire spewed from Hiram's mouth, and for a moment the grey cloudless sky shone blue. And I finally noticed, in the heart of all this fear and tempest, how calm the weather was. No, not calm. The weather was. It was....

#####

[WEATHER: "The Queer Gospel" by Erin McKeown]

#####

Night Vale, we have power once again. We have electricity and water. I'm back on the air, and many of you are back in your homes.

The strangers and the dogs are gone. Defeated, question mark.

Frances, Sam, Steve, those who were taken or who were about to be taken, all humans once again. But here’s where we run into the problem of my narrative. Because I don’t know what caused it to happen.

Our crowd had chanted and prayed. I'm not a religious person mostly, but I do think we had an impact driving away that Thing summoned from the dark wet caverns of hell. And even if it wasn’t the Bloodstones or the Joyous Congregation's smiling god, or any other kind of god, the mere spiritual coming together of so many people may have been enough to rid the town of this hound and his army.

But then, Intern Kareem reported that Khoshekh is back in the station restroom. Khoshekh was badly scratched up, as though he had been in a great battle, and Kareem noted that inside Khoshekh's second row of teeth was a small piece of fur-covered flesh. Kareem thought it was a piece of a dog’s ear. Is Khoshekh our hero?

Janice says Tamika Flynn drove away the strangers with her militia of book loving children. Abby and Steve told Janice she’s still too young to join a militia. Tamika is running drills out in the desert and will not comment on what happened.

Old Woman Josie claimed the angels used their powers of heavenly good to push back the brazen evil of the beagle. Who else can destroy a creature of hell other than angels? Maybe that’s true, if you believe in angels, which you are not allowed to do.

Melony Pennington, celebrated computer programmer, managed to get the power utilities back on, and claims that, with the help of young prodigy Megan Wallaby, she wrote a deadly computer virus to bring down the Strangers. I'm not really an expert on programming, but I feel like you need a computer to catch a computer virus.

What? Oh. Kareem is telling me you don't anymore. Computer viruses are totally airborne. Wow. Technology.

Sheriff Sam and the City Council claimed their plan to lure the Strangers to the dog park worked perfectly and the Strangers were rounded up and locked away.

Sam also added "Now that the situation is under control, the Dog Park is no longer open." And then they folded an origami sea urchin, elaborate thin spines and everything. "Yeah, no, it’s off limits once again," Sam said.

Michelle and Maureen, over at Dark Owl records, claimed they were playing a copy of Beyoncé's newest album, the follow up to Lemonade. An album no one else has heard. According to Michelle, the Strangers wanted to hear that album quite badly and this human desire filled in the hollow that the years in the mud had carved in them, turning them back into non-strangers. Into friends. Michelle and Maureen claim to be the real heroes, or whatever.

I asked Michelle if I could hear the album. She said no because Beyoncé asked her to stop playing it.

"Beyoncé called you?" I asked, astonished that Michelle knew such a famous musician.

"Well, her lawyers called," Michelle said. “They were really angry and also confused and scared because Beyonce hasn’t actually written or recorded the album yet.”

Chad, my former intern who summoned the beagle in order to destroy the world government, says that he thinks the reversal of his summoning worked. He is no hero, he says, but perhaps he is not a villain either.

“He's pretty okay, I guess,” Maureen said. “At least I got my internship credit.”

And then there was Hiram McDaniels' brave fighting against the strangers. If anything was more powerful than our coming together as a town, it was the brute force of a 18-foot-tall dragon with five heads. He fought valiantly for a town he had once threatened, a town who had recently condemned him to death. And we all saw his bravery, and we all knew that he must be pardoned. “Pardon him!” we cried.

He was not pardoned. They locked him back up. He is still scheduled for execution.

So perhaps Hiram was the hero.

But there is one more theory. One more possible story.

Just before coming on the air, I felt a presence behind me. It was the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly LIves in Your Home.

"We didn't drive them away, Cecil. " she said. “We didn’t win. They chose to leave.”

I argued that surely it was because we, or someone, forced them.

"They don't need a reason," she said. "They never did. They left and they may return. It won't be for any reason but it could be at any time. They want and need nothing, Cecil. The computer programming and dog park and Beyoncé album. It's all noise."

She added: "They left because they decided to leave. And if they return, it will be because they decided to return. And it will be unrelated to anything we do."

Night Vale, we live with the illusion of safety, that we can use caution and care in order to preserve our lives. The Strangers came and we don’t know why. And then they went, and we don’t know why. We are always in danger. It was just that while they were here, we were made aware of the danger. They simply revealed to us that personal control is an illusion. We live and die, and we never get to learn any reasons for that.

In any case, the Strangers are gone, and we can go back to living the lie of reason and control once again. It is a very very comfortable lie.

Stay tuned next for a deep sigh. Deep. Deep. No, deeper than that.

Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

###

KEVIN: Hi friend. It's Kevin. So many of my old pals from Desert Bluffs came to live here in the desert otherworld with me. We've built quite a little city with roads and a school and a radio station! I'm back on the air, Cecil! We even built our new little town to look just like our old little town. In fact, we just decided to call this new place Desert Bluffs too. Too as in also, not the number two. Although we debated that. But we thought it was too charming. We need to build to that level of charming. Someday we will. Someday we’ll be so charming, it will hurt.

#####

PROVERB: You can tell a lot about someone by coming into our office and confessing everything you know about them.