If Malorie steering Boy and Girl down a treacherous river blindfolded gripped you, you’ll be riveted by the father and son in The Road trudging through an ash-choked America. Like Malorie drilling her kids to survive by sound, the father teaches his boy strict rules for staying alive amid starvation, marauders, and moral compromise. The spare, urgent prose and harrowing set pieces echo the same pulse-pounding, protective ferocity that powered Malorie’s every decision.

If the covered windows and do-not-look rules in Bird Box hooked you, The Mist traps David Drayton and a small crowd in a supermarket as an opaque fog filled with impossible creatures engulfs the town. As the hours stretch on, tensions boil—most chillingly in Mrs. Carmody’s apocalyptic cult—mirroring the frictions in Malorie’s house. The horror is barely explained, the danger is everywhere, and one wrong peek outside can be the last thing you ever do.

If the tight, house-bound stretches of Bird Box—boarded windows, whispered rules, dread pressing in—were your favorite, The Cabin at the End of the World ratchets that same intimacy into a siege. Andrew, Eric, and their daughter Wen face four strangers who insist a sacrifice will prevent the apocalypse. Like Malorie’s group negotiating impossible choices in the dark, every conversation here is a test of trust, and every decision might doom the people you love.

If Malorie’s world where a single glance can kill made your pulse race, The Silence swaps sight for sound: swarming, cave-bred creatures hunt anything that makes noise. Ally (a deaf teen) and her family struggle to survive in a Britain collapsing into hush, where a slammed door or whispered argument can be fatal. Like Malorie training children to navigate by sound on the river, the smallest sensory choice becomes life-or-death—and humanity’s darker impulses aren’t far behind.

If the frayed nerves and mental strain in Bird Box—Malorie’s constant vigilance, the housemates’ mounting paranoia—pulled you in, The Ruins traps a handful of travelers on a remote hill where an intelligent, invasive vine hems them in. As escape routes close, the group’s psyche unspools: accusations, desperate bargains, and self-destructive choices mirror the psychological freefall you felt when the slightest misstep in Malorie’s world meant catastrophe.