Page 84 of Five Survive

Simon was right; there was nowhere to hide. The RV wasn’t a shield, it wasn’t safety, it was only an illusion, a false barrier between here and the red dot outside. A hot tin can, shrinking, filling with holes. The night punching new eyes through the walls to watch them squirm.

“There’s two,” the voice hissed, so close to Red’s face, it was as though she could feel his breath, blowing through the speaker.

He had twenty-two more bullets to go, how long until one of them found flesh and bone and worse?

“Give me what I want,” the voice continued, Red holding it up for the others to hear. “You’re getting closer. Yes, this is about someonewho died. Someone who was killed, in Philadelphia. You know who youare.”

Static.

Red lowered the walkie-talkie, glancing across at the other side of the RV, catching Maddy’s eye. They held on for two long seconds. There was something new there, a strange shift in Maddy’s eyelids, a glaze like panic across them. A look Red didn’t recognize, and she knew all of Maddy’s faces. What was wrong? Red tried to decipher it, but Oliver interrupted her.

“Someone who was killed, in Philadelphia,” he said, repeating the sniper word-for-word.

Definitely not Red then. She had never killed anyone, not unless you counted her mom, and Red wasn’t sure people would. It was her fault, yes, all her fault, and she was the one who carried the guilt, but she hadn’t been the one carrying the gun, the one who made her get down on her knees. Two shots to the back of the head.

Simon was shaking his head, running his hands over his torso like he was still checking for holes. Arthur’s hands were in his pockets again, or maybe they’d never left. Red wasn’t the only one looking; Oliver was studying them too.

“Anything to do with your uncle, Simon?” Oliver asked, pointedly. “He lives in Philly too, right, he ever killed anyone?”

“No.” Simon shook his head even harder. “He’s not like that. And if he has, I don’t know anything about it, it’s not my secret. I swear,” he said, doubling down on those final two words.

Reyna shifted behind Red and the RV creaked with her weight. A creak, not so different from that muted crack, and Red’s hands were ready, halfway to her ears. But it wasn’t, not this time. She looked around, at the cockpit, the dining table, the sofa bed, and it didn’t matter that Maddy also slept on the left because neither of themwould ever sleep on it, the kitchen with the destroyed microwave, the punctures in the bathroom wall. How could she stand here, stand it, knowing that that crack could come any time, and there would be another gaping hole, through the walls, the furniture, her stomach? Blood was red and so was she. The color of her mom’s favorite coat, though Red had never worn that one to bed in winter; she couldn’t get close to it, in case she took the smell out of it and replaced it with her own. And, anyway, why was Maddy still looking at her like that?

“Arthur.” Oliver turned to him instead, narrowing his eyes, the pupils grown too large again, dark and unnatural. “You’re the newest here, aren’t you?” He didn’t wait for him to answer. “Maddy, how long have you known Arthur?”

Maddy jumped at the sound of her own name, finally blinking away that look. “Oh, um,” she said, glancing awkwardly across at Arthur. “Maybe six or seven months. Since the start of senior year.”

Why was she answering, why was she helping Oliver? Couldn’t she recognize the danger back in his eyes? Didn’t she feel it up the back of her neck?

“But you go to a different school, right?” Oliver directed the question back at Arthur.

“Right,” Arthur said, removing his hands from his pockets, crossing them in front of his chest, the drawnYES/NOboxes visible on the back of one hand, Red’s shaky check mark.

Oliver stepped toward him. “You don’t like your friends at your own school, then? Or they don’t like you? Why is that?”

“I—I,” Arthur stuttered. “It’s not like that. I have friends. Simon happens to be one of them. And Maddy. And Red.”

He said her name last, but there was her mark, right there on his skin, bones rippling beneath it as he tensed.

“What are you doing, Oliver?” Reyna asked.

He ignored her.

“But you live in Philly too.” Oliver took another step toward Arthur. “And you’re the person here that everyone knows the least. Maddy’s been friends with Red since they were born, and Simon since middle school.”

“So?” Arthur said, taking a step back as Oliver kept coming, prowling toward him.

“So, are you the one with the secret?” Oliver pulled up, right in front of him, their noses too close.

“No,” Arthur said, raising one finger to push his glasses back up.

“Come on, stop wasting time!” Oliver slapped a hand down on the kitchen counter beside him and then he charged, wrapping his hands in Arthur’s shirt, driving him backward. “He could start shooting again any second! What’s the secret? Who died?!”

“I don’t know!” Arthur shouted back, trying to wrestle his arms inside Oliver’s grip as they slammed back against the refrigerator door.

“Oliver!” Simon darted forward, trying to pull Oliver away, but he was too weak and Oliver’s shoulders too wide. “Can we please remember who the real enemy is?” he pleaded, voice breaking. “The guy outside with the fucking rifle. Not any of us.”

“Have you ever hit someone with your car and driven away?” Oliver shouted into Arthur’s face, those puppet strings under his skin again, at the back of his exposed neck.

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