Page 60 of Five Survive

Oliver ignored her, staring into the flame for one more second before flicking it away, dropping the lighter on the table.

Simon followed him to the table, reaching over the flashlights and duct tape and masking tape and kitchen knife and scissors and lighter, past the pad of paper and pens Maddy had been using earlier, to the bag of still-open chips resting against the side.

He scooped out a handful and placed them in his mouth.

“How can you eat?” Maddy asked him, not really a question.

“Like this,” he showed her, opening his mouth in an exaggerated chew so she could see the mulched-up orange coating his tongue.

She didn’t react.

“What’s our next plan?” She looked at her brother. “What do we do now?”

Silence, other than the sound of static as Red skipped back to channel three and left it there. And a muted crunch from inside Simon’s mouth.

“Gu-ys,” Reyna said, strangely, the word coming out in two uneven halves, like she’d had to force it through.

Red glanced up. Reyna was staring past her shoulder, out the front of the RV. Something new and unknown in her eyes.

“Guys!” she said in one this time. And then: “Someone’s here.”

She pointed and Red whipped around, her eyes following the line of Reyna’s shaking finger. Out through the windshield into the world beyond. And there, scattered by the dark bodies of the trees upahead, were two small lights passing through the night. Winking in and out as branches blocked the way.

The lights curved around with the road, breaking free from the trees, two clean white beams, pointing right at them. Coming this way.

Headlights.

“Someone’s here.”

2:00a.m.

Oliver clambered forward, the white beams reflected in the dark of his eyes as they drew closer, the sound of wheels peeling against the road.

“Who is it?” he hissed.

“No, it’s not more of them, is it?” Simon said, one hand up to shield his eyes.

“It could be the police!” Maddy said, her hands clutched to her chest.

Red looked out the windshield, unblinking, filling herself with the white light, like the night had grown its own eyes, staring back intoher.

“Turn on our headlights, Reyna.” Oliver pushed her toward the cockpit. “So we can see who it is.”

Reyna’s hand scrabbled forward, reaching for the lever without taking her eyes off those lights. She pushed it and the RV’s headlights clicked on, clashing with the others, head to head.

And now they could see what it was. Not a police squad car, but a white truck flecked with dirt, the low rumble of its engine as it rolled forward. Two figures obscured behind the windshield.

It swerved, slowly, to the spare stretch of road on their right, the headlights ripping free from theirs, four distinct beams.

“Who the fuck is…” Arthur trailed off, moving forward to stand beside Reyna at the front.

The truck sighed, pulling to a stop right in front of them, almost corner to corner with the RV. The engine switched off, taking the lights with it.

Silence and static, and the after-tick of their engine.

Now that their beams were no longer blinding her, Red could see it was a man and a woman, late sixties or early seventies she’d guess from this distance with two windshields between them.

“Who are—” she began to say.

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