Page 35 of Five Survive

Arthur paused the video. Hanging from the bottom of the driver’s-side mirror was a shape, a small black shape with an antenna out the top. The walkie-talkie glared at them through the darkness with one bright green eye: a small backlit rectangular display.

“Where is it?” Maddy asked from back there.

“Attached to the driver’s-side mirror,” Oliver answered, straightening up. “Okay, Arthur, reach out and grab it.”

“Why does Arthur have to do it?” Simon said.

“Because he’s already done it once.”

“It’s fine,” Arthur said, rolling up the sleeve on his right arm,opening and closing his fist like he was practicing, tendons sticking out under his tan skin. There was a small, puckered scar near the base of his index finger that Red had never noticed before. Now definitely wasn’t the time to ask about it.

“He wants us to pick up the walkie-talkie, he won’t shoot, not yet,” Arthur said in a whisper, more to himself than to anyone else. He cricked the bones in his neck and then he was ready, nodding to Simon.

Simon pulled the suitcase back, a bigger gap this time, and Arthur leaned toward it. He balled his fist and pushed through, his arm disappearing outside again. His breaths came too quickly, fogging his glasses, his nose pressed up against the suitcase as he reached, blindly.

“I can feel it,” he said, the muscles in his neck straining.

“Grab it,” Oliver said, leaning forward.

“I can’t, it’s attached.” Arthur blew out a mouthful of air and closed his eyes behind his glasses. Like Maddy did sometimes, to focus. Had Red ever tried that trick? “Okay, I think I can unclip it…hold on…”

“Don’t drop it,” Oliver said, like Arthur wasn’t already telling himself the same thing. Probably; Red couldn’t read his mind.

“Got it,” Arthur exhaled, opening his eyes and blinking slowly as he carefully guided his arm back through the gap, elbow, then wrist, the antenna of the walkie-talkie snagging on the suitcase as he finally pulled it inside. The static hissed, crossing the threshold, and Arthur hissed too, looking across at Red, his green-brown eyes swimming as they readjusted to the light.

“Here,” he said, reaching over Simon to pass the walkie-talkie to Red, dropping it into her hand. It was cool against her fingers.

“Hello,” it crackled from within her grip. She was holding his voice, he, him, the sniper, the red dot, but she didn’t want to andher heart was too loud, reaching up into her ears and the back of her throat. Red stared down at the walkie-talkie, at the numbers on the display, at the buttons below the screen, at the crop-circle holes of the speaker and microphone at the bottom of the device, so like the one she used to play with. All black, apart from the green display and one red button on the side.

“What should we…,” she began, but Oliver stepped over and picked the walkie-talkie up out of her open hand.

He studied it, narrowing his eyes.

“What are we going to say?” Reyna asked. “Maybe we should plan beforehand, how to best play it, so he leaves us alone.”

“How do I…” Oliver shook the walkie-talkie, glancing up at Red. Had he really never played with one of these before, even as a kid? Red only ever remembered him doing homework or telling her and Maddy to keep it down. Oliver Lavoy, born prelaw just like his soon-to-be-district-attorney mom, no time for playing.

“You hold down that red button at the side there to talk.” Red showed him, like her mom once showed her. Not now, get out of her head, you don’t belong here.

“Right,” he said, like it was obvious now. He took a deep breath.

“Oliver,” Reyna said, “should we—”

Oliver pressed the button and the static cut out immediately. He raised the walkie-talkie to his face.

“Who is this?” he asked, pushing his voice out so hard that it growled around the edges.

The static returned as Oliver released the button, looking back at the rest of them, eyes wide.

They waited.

The static clicked out.

“Ah, you found me.” The walkie-talkie spoke, cold and metallic.

“Who is this?” Oliver said again.

“The button,” Red reminded him.

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