Page 98 of Five Survive

“Red’s stuff should be at the top,” Maddy called.

Simon cocked one finger to let her know he’d heard. He reached inside, came back with his hands clasped around a pair of pants, one leg flicking itself up and around his arm.

“Black jeans,” Simon called, voice barely audible, trapped inside the cupboard. Well, Red only had two pairs of pants and one pair of shorts with her, and she was wearing one of those. She was glad Simon hadn’t gone for the shorts, as hot as it was in this RV, exposed skin would feel like a target, glowing in the night.

Simon reached in with the other arm, shoulder rolling as he rustled inside the bag, picking up one item that Red couldn’t see, shaking his head and putting it back to select another. He pulled away, shutting the cupboard door with his elbow and jumping down.

“Here,” he said to Red, coming over, handing her the clothes.

“No.” Oliver intervened, blocking Simon’s way with one arm. “On the floor.”

Simon checked with Red. She nodded, what choice did she have? There was a knife to her throat.

Simon dropped the ripped black jeans in a crumple at her feet, and then the top he’d chosen. An old long-sleeved T-shirt in a dark plummy red. It had been her mom’s once.

“Red’s your color,” Simon said to her over the music, an awkward closed-mouth smile on his face. Was he trying to make her feel better with that smile? Or was it masking something else, because he also thought she was a mole? No, Simon couldn’t. He knew her. And yet, he could have been the one who voted for her to die. But she wasn’t dead, and that was the new problem.

“Red, come on,” Oliver shouted, dipping his head to indicate the clothes on the floor.

“At least let her go into the bathroom to change.” Arthur stepped forward, tendons sticking up under the tan skin of his neck. Not quite like puppet strings, but close. He was angry, Red could tell. Or scared. Or both. Arthur couldn’t think she had anything to do withall this, could he? No, he’d stood by her, all night. Dragged her away from the red dot, held her when the shock set in.

Oliver swung the knife, pointed it at him until Arthur retreated one step. “No,” Oliver said. “If we leave her alone, she might get a message to the sniper somehow. She has to stay where I can see her.”

“It’s fine, Arthur,” Red called, fingers too sweaty and swollen as they worked the top button of her shirt and down. “It’s fine,” as the knife returned to her, followed by Oliver’s eyes. What a ridiculous word that was.Fine.She was undressing at knifepoint and there was a sniper outside and she was supposed to be dead. But she wasfine,you know?

Arthur shook his head. He knew it wasn’t fine, but he stepped back all the same. De-escalating, the tension easing slightly in Oliver’s shoulders as he watched Red undo the rest of her buttons.

“Here, Maddy,” Red said, pulling the blue-and-yellow flannel shirt off her arms, standing there in her bra and jeans. She chucked the shirt past Oliver’s head and Maddy caught it, clutching it to her chest.

Red picked up the T-shirt from the floor, pulled it over her head. She reached her arms through to the ends of the sleeves and pulled the thin material down over her stomach.

“Jeans,” Oliver barked. “Come on, quick. Before he wonders what we’re up to.”

Red kicked off her sneakers, using each foot to pry the other off. Oliver bent forward, knife still raised, and collected them in one hand, passing them over to Maddy, who started to slip off her own shoes.

Red dropped her eyes and unbuttoned her jeans, pulled down the zipper.

She peeled the jeans down, the dark gasoline stains sticking toher knees, clinging to her pale skin. But she pushed and they gave, falling, bunching around her ankles. She stepped out of them.

Red stood, in this RV, in her underwear and socks, and she looked up at the others. She wasn’t ashamed to be standing here in her underwear. Red knew real shame and this wasn’t it. Real shame was killing your mom and having to live with it, knowing that she died and the last thing you ever said to her was that you hated her. If Red survived that, she could survive this. She stared around at the others, daring them to look her back in the eye. Could they put a stop to this? If Arthur, Reyna and Simon all stepped up, could they stop Oliver from making Maddy go through with this? There were three of them. But Oliver was the one with the weapon. And he was probably the only one who would use it. Or maybe that wasn’t the reason at all. Maybe they didn’t trust her either, thought she was working with the sniper. What did Red expect, shewasstill lying to them.

Oliver scooped up her light blue jeans and passed them over to Maddy.

“Go get changed in the bathroom,” he urged his sister, over a new song just starting. Notes steadily climbing in threes, entering through Red’s ears, biting at her nerves and her exposed legs.

Maddy closed the bathroom door behind her. The last thing Red saw was the look of numb shock in her eyes. Were they really doing this?

Red grabbed her black jeans from the floor and slipped them on. There were rips on one knee and up the thigh of the other leg; she hadn’t bought them that way, they were just old. Maddy and Oliver’s mom had bought her these ones.

“Maddy’s shoes,” Red shouted at Oliver. She hadn’t packed any others.

He kicked Maddy’s white sneakers over and Red wriggled her feetinside, no need to undo the laces. Maddy hated when she put shoes on like that.You’ll break the backs,she always said, but Red didn’t think she’d mind just this once.

The song escalated, high notes on the guitar cascading all around her. And then building again, creeping up the scale.

“You okay?” Reyna mouthed to her, across the RV.

Red nodded, just slightly, so Oliver wouldn’t see. The knife wasn’t as close anymore but it was still there in his grip, pointing at her throat. People came undone when you stuck a knife in that spot, didn’t they? But it wouldn’t really matter where a rifle got you, would it? Anywhere and you’d come undone around it, like the scattered puzzle of Don’s head.

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