Page 61 of Five Survive

The static cut away.

“Get rid of them,” the voice crackled from Red’s hands. She flinched, staring down at the walkie-talkie. “You get rid of them now, or I will kill them.”

Not with the sniper, then. Not part of the plan.

“Do not tell them anything,” he continued, voice darker and deeper now. “Say you are fine, just broken down. If you tell them anything or signal to them in any way, I will shoot them both.”

Not part of the plan at all.

Red glanced up, caught Oliver’s eye, staring at her as the keeper of the voice.

“They’re not with him,” Oliver said. “We can use them to get help.”

“He just said not to do that,” Arthur spoke up. “He just said—”

“I will kill them,” the sniper cut in, as though he had somehow heard. “If you tell them you’re in trouble, tell them anything, you will be killing them. I’ll do it.”

Static.

“Get rid of them or they die.”

Arthur’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open in a silent word.

“But—” Maddy started to say, but the rest didn’t matter, because they heard the clack of a door handle slicing through the too-quiet night. Red turned, watched the driver’s-side door of the truck fling open, waiting there as the man climbed out behind it. Fur-lined jacket zipped up to his chin, graying hair and red-dotted cheeks.

“Hello!” he called, cupping his hands around the word to protect it from the night. “You folks all right in there?”

He leaned into the truck door and it slammed shut just as the other side opened. The woman stepped out, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, eyes searching, looking through the windshield. They alighted on Red and the woman smiled, raising a pale hand in a still wave.

Red smiled back, with teeth, just as the voice in her hands said, “Get rid of them or they die. Open the door and tell them you’re fine.”

“We have to send them away,” Arthur said, turning his eyes to the door of the RV.

Oliver pulled him back. “But this could be our only chance to—”

“You heard what he said.” Arthur pushed against him. “Do you want to kill these people?”

“We have to do what he says.” Reyna walked over, resting one hand against Oliver’s chest. “You understand that? He’s pointing a rifle at them right now.”

“Hello?” the man outside called again, boots crunching against the road as he walked over, toward the door.

“Fine, go,” Oliver said, letting go of Arthur’s shirt. “Simon, you’re the actor. Act like we’re fine.”

“I’m not going out and standing in that doorway.” Simon shook his head. “He already shot at me once.”

“He told us we can,” Arthur said. “He won’t shoot if we’re sending them away. I’ll do it.”

In one quick movement, Arthur slammed down on the handle and pushed the front door. It swung wide open. The man stood just a few feet from the door, a wrinkled smile stretching into his face, skin folding like paper.

“Hello there, folks,” he said, eyes flicking up to Arthur as he dropped down the first step, then to Simon and Reyna behind, then Red. She stood back, gripping the walkie-talkie too tight between her hands, like she could make him not shoot by hiding him away.

“Hello, sir,” Arthur replied, bowing his head slightly, moving down another step.

“Y’all okay?” the man asked. “We thought we saw some lights flashing from the road back there, drove around to see if anyone was in trouble.” He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Looks like you got a couple of flats there at the front.”

“Yeah,” Arthur said, scratching the back of his head. “We think we drove over something, got a couple of punctures.”

“Well, I’ll be,” the man said, standing back, glancing at the rear tire. “Looks like you got a third out, too.”

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