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CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

BLANE ROOSEVELT

“Did you know if you’re a pilot and survive a plane crash you’re, like, in super high demand from airlines and can get paid more than other pilots?” Blane says, adding, “Assuming you didn’t cause the crash.”

They’re in the dark—suffering the oppressive heat of the steel cargo hold of a U-Haul truck—and he can’t see the others. But he imagines their expressions: part bewilderment, part exhaustion, part traumatic stress.

“It’s because of statistics,” Blane continues, though he has no idea if any of this is true. “Because it’s statistically improbable that a pilot would be in more than one plane crash. It’s what my mom used to tell me when I got scared someone was going to take me again.” He coughs a small laugh. “I guess she lied.”

No one says anything. He’s never talked to them about what happened during those four days when he was ten, but they surely already know. The internet ensures that there are no secrets anymore.

“What’s some bullshit your parents told you?” Blane asks, if only trying to lighten the mood. Keep their spirits up and alert in case they have another opportunity for escape. They’re tied up, but he managed to bite through the tape over his mouth and they spent what felt like hours doing awkward Twister moves to tug off each other’s gags and blindfolds with their teeth.

Mark speaks first, his voice weak. “Lies our parents told us? Um, you really want to start with me…?” Blane smiles at Mark’s morbid reference to his father, a child molester.

Stella releases a laugh and the others join in.

“Yeah, you win, buddy,” Blane says. “Stella? What’s the biggest lie your parents told you?”

She’s quiet, like she’s thinking about this. Stella has been the strongest of them all so far. Other than Mark going for the gun, she’s been the most defiant with their captors, the last one of them to cry. The first to start plotting their escape. They were so close when they pried their way out of the Mystery Machine. So they thought. Until they saw the gun, until the pair moved them into the U-Haul. Still, that the captors felt the need to switch vehicles is a good thing, Blane thinks. It could mean the police are looking for the van, know they’ve been taken. Or maybe their captors just needed a vehicle that was more secure.

Stella breaks the quiet. “My father said he wouldn’t do it again.” She waits. “Wouldn’t cheat on my mom. On his family.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Blane thinks he hears a sob from Stella’s direction. No matter how much they drive us crazy, parents are our weak spots.

“My parents’ biggest lie?” Libby chimes in now: “That they loved me as much as they loved my brother.”

There’s another heavy silence. The strange reality that they may not get out of this has smothered any efforts to console.

“You’re up, Felix,” Blane says, genuinely curious. Of them all, Felix seems to have no parental resentments. He’s been quiet, like always. He’s not a talker, Felix Goffman.

Felix speaks: “My mom said high school would be different. That I wouldn’t be the weird kid anymore.” There’s the sound of him exhaling. “When that didn’t work out, she said it would be college. It started out well enough. I met you all.”

He doesn’t continue about how it ended up: the Creep Lists.

“Fuck, this is getting depressing,” Mark grunts. “I’m starting to wish that asshole who shot me had better aim.”

Light laughter fills the chamber.

Mark continues. “Let’s cut the shit with the pity party. Answer this: What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when we get out of this?”

More quiet. Blane expects the obvious answers: a hot shower, a great meal, a stiff drink.

But Stella surprises him: “I’ll hug my parents. Even my shit dad.”

Mark doesn’t respond, but one by one the rest of them say:

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Same.”