Page 83 of Five Survive

“Come on,” Simon said, daring a glance back, eyes focusing on the walkie-talkie in Reyna’s grip.

A crackle.

The static died.

Silence. It felt strange in Red’s ears, after all this time.

“Sounds like a touching story,” the voice said. He cleared his throat. “But it’s not the one I’m looking for.”

A gasp. From Maddy; Red knew without looking.

Reyna’s eyes darkened, shadows cast by her eyebrows drawing together, lines of confusion across her forehead. “What?” she whispered to herself, staring down at the walkie-talkie, hissing again.

The struggle in the middle of the RV stopped, Oliver pulling back, straightening up, a new look rearranging his face, red patches slowly receding under his collar. His eyes did the opposite: they lightened.

“It’s not about that,” he said, voice almost returned to normal, croaking only on the lowest notes. “It’s not about what we did, what happened. It’s not about me.” And as he said that last part, the smile was back playing across his face. Not cruel this time, just unapologetic and there, he didn’t try to hide it. He didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

The barricade broke apart. Arthur bent forward, breathing hard, wiping the sweat from his hands against the front of his jeans. Simon stretched up, burying both hands in the mess of his dark hair as he said, “Fuck me,” followed by a low whistle.

“Not about what happened to Jack?” Reyna said, her voice climbing up at the end, but it wasn’t really a question, not one that needed an answer. She couldn’t believe it, that was why. She had been so sure; Red could tell by her eyes, by the fall of her mouth.

“It’s not about me or Reyna,” Oliver said through the smile,turning to look at Arthur, Simon and Red in turn. “We aren’t the ones with the secret. It’s one of you.”

The breath caught in Red’s narrowing throat as she studied Oliver’s smile. Was the RV getting smaller around them, tighter? It was supposed to be thirty-one feet but they’d never measured. What if it was twenty-nine and shrinking? Oh no, Oliver was watching her as she looked around. It couldn’t be her. She had one secret, but no one knew about it, that was the entire point. She didn’t even want to think it, in case Oliver could somehow read it in her eyes. Not him. Especially not him.

Simon shuffled, and Arthur hid his hands in his front pockets, glancing up at the ceiling. Was the RV shrinking around him too? Squeezing them all together. Too hot. Too stuffy.

Reyna handed the walkie-talkie back to Red, the weight of it against her skin a small comfort, until the static cut out again.

“I’m starting to lose my patience.” The voice crackled back into life. “I have twenty-four more rounds with me.” He paused, let that number sink in. It did, sinking right into Red’s gut, where it churned with that other, yawning feeling. Twenty-four. Four deadly holes in each and every one of them. “If I don’t get my answers soon, I will start shooting at the RV randomly.”

Static.

Crack.

The microwave exploded.

Maddy screamed.

Simon dropped.

Glass rained down, sparks flashing around the new hole in the back of the machine, a glimpse through into the night beyond.

There was a matching hole in the bathroom wall. Walls, metal,plastic, glass, it went through them all, in less time than it took for Red to blink, to flinch and hold her hands up to her ears, the walkie-talkie hitting the side of her head.

“There’s one,” the voice said, whispering right into Red’s ear. The next second, it refilled with static.

“Fuck!” Simon said, pushing himself up from the floor, brushing off his legs. Patting his chest like he was checking for holes. But he wasn’t in its path, none of them were. Oliver had been the closest, and the shot had taken something from him: his smile.

Crack.

Red’s hands were ready by her ears.

A splintered hole lower than the last shot, in the wall just above the stove, a few inches closer to where the six of them stood. Oliver darted away, knocking into Arthur as he did, the RV shuddering with his feet. He came to stand by Maddy at the dining table, one hand on her shoulder.

“We should take cover!” he yelled.

“Where?” Simon shouted back. “There is no cover. The bullets go through everything!”