Five Survive

by Holly Jackson

‘For god’s sake, Simon, enough with The Office references,’ Maddy said. ‘He’s been doing that since middle school, before he even knew what it meant.’

Red did bleed just to see the word, to hear it, to think it, to remember, the guilt leaving a crater in her chest. Blood, red as her name and red as her shame. So, she didn’t think it, or remember, and she wouldn’t look to the left to see her mom’s face in her reflection in the window. No, she wouldn’t. These eyes were just hers.

The word punched through Red’s chest, a hole left behind, air bleeding around it.

No. She didn’t want. She could not speak of her, would not think of her. Arthur hadn’t known Red in the before time, he was new, he wasn’t supposed to know about her mom. Maybe that was what Red liked most about him, that he was untainted by knowing. Except he did know, Maddy had told him. Did that change everything?

Red should refill that glass for him. She wasn’t sure there was a worse time to be drunk than right now.

Oliver pushed himself up, half sitting on the table as the others gathered around him. A determined set to his jaw, like he knew he was the only possible leader here. Twenty-one years old, prelaw, a sister and a girlfriend to protect, a mom who would soon be DA.

‘Yeah, that sniper won’t know what’s hit him when I slowly charge at him with my Gillette razor.’

He wasn’t speaking to her in that soft voice anymore. But that was the first rule of leadership, wasn’t it: delegation. Still, Red couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked her or Arthur or Simon to cover the window for them instead, or gone ahead and been the hero himself. Reyna stared back at Oliver, like she couldn’t believe it either.

Always you and me with them, since before they could walk and talk and think. And even before that, when their moms were best friends, their own you and me from the first day they met at college. Lavoys and Kennys, except their moms had had different names back then. Maddy wasn’t just her best friend, Maddy was family.

It might be wedged in there good, but would a mattress stop a bullet from a precision rifle? Red wasn’t sure it would, but at least they could now pretend they were safe in here, without the outside breathing in through that window. Pretending was half the game, and she should know. Her life depended on it.

Red tightened her grip on the knife, holding it out to the corner nearest her. She tried not to look at the luggage tag hanging from the top, but her eyes betrayed her. Come on, it didn’t matter. Mom wasn’t in that luggage tag, Mom was dead. And they needed something to block the window; Red had to be useful, like everyone else was.

A good leader motivates his team. Delegation. Motivation. Would Oliver say good job to her when she finished butchering her mom’s old suitcase?

‘All right, get it in place, then.’ That was all the well done she got. Oliver Lavoy wasn’t as liberal with his approval as Maddy or Catherine. They gave Red well dones all the time, if she’d earned them.

‘Are you supposed to be okay when someone’s trying to kill you?’ ‘I don’t think you are.’

‘One of you knows something. A secret. You know who you are and you know what it is.’

No one was looking at Red, but she looked at them all.

‘What secret?’ he asked, releasing the button. Static. ‘That’s for the six of you to figure out. And remember one thing: you can’t see me but I can see you. If you try to run, I will shoot.’

‘We have to stop them. We have to escape. We can’t let my mom give up that name. This trial is too important. It would be the end of her career.’ ‘And someone would die,’ Maddy reminded him. ‘She would be killing the witness, giving them up.’

Between saving a life and his mom’s career, it was clear which was most important to Oliver. And probably, by extension, his own career.

‘Yes, it has to be about that. I mean, if you just think logically, Maddy and I are the most high-value targets here. It has to be about us.’

What other choice was there? Oliver was in charge: the natural leader, the highest value. This was about surviving, and this RV wasn’t safe, no matter how hard they pretended.

You couldn’t do that with dead moms, though, rebuild them. They stayed gone.

Red snorted, though none of this was really funny, was it? They might die tonight, all of them, some of them, her. A bullet could come anytime, anywhere. Was that what made these smaller moments funnier, because they might not get any more? Last chances to smile, to laugh, to tell Arthur she liked him and it was okay that he didn’t like her back because she was unlikable at times, she knew that. To tell Simon that, yes, his cheekbones were amazing and it would be a damn shame if he didn’t end up onstage or in front of a camera. To thank Maddy for always being there by her side, to share all those big moments, and small, some so small that Red had probably forgotten them by now. To tell Reyna that maybe she could do better. To tell Oliver, well, Red wasn’t sure what she would tell Oliver. And that didn’t matter because she wasn’t going to say any of that anyway. Red wasn’t good at last chances, at final moments, was she? I hate you. She’d never said it since.

You could do that with memories too, sometimes. Lie to yourself, think fake thoughts to cover the ones you didn’t want.

That was when Red knew for certain that she and Oliver Lavoy did not live in the same world. She could never hear a helicopter and think it was sent for her. No one loved her enough for that.

If she was their only hope, then the rest of them really were fucked. Red wasn’t getting them out of here.

Red swallowed again, her smile stretchy and tight, pulling uncomfortably at her skin. Keep a straight face, just like she was taught. Give nothing away with her eyes. Face straight, story straight, all she had to remember. Can you remember all that, Red?

But she did know, she knew better than anyone. If something happened to Don and Joyce, their daughter would blame herself for the rest of her life. Why hadn’t she insisted they stay the night? Why couldn’t she have had the baby tomorrow instead? Or yesterday? All her fault, dead because of her.

It seemed Oliver wanted to avoid the other solution, the most obvious one: finding the secret that the voice on the walkie-talkie wanted.

She could have done more. She should have done more. She knew that would happen and she let it. The second time she’d listened to Oliver, chose him, and when would she learn? No time soon, apparently, because she was doing what he told her to right now.

She was always fine, when people asked. Of course she was fine, thanks, yes, she and Dad were doing just great, thank you. Fine, okay, fine. An elaborate lie squeezed into those two tiny words, the greatest gifts to a liar like her. No one asked for more detail if you were fine. But Arthur, he was really asking, she could tell. And so Red really answered.

Maybe if he hadn’t dropped her hand, they wouldn’t have died, which was a stupid thought but Red had it anyway. Sometimes those small, inconsequential things mattered, like hanging up a phone. ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Arthur said. But didn’t he know? Everything was. All of this.

How bad could their secret be? Worse than hers? And what about Simon? He was being a little too quiet, wasn’t he? Or was that only because he thought the sniper was listening? And, now Red was thinking, Maddy hadn’t come over to speak to her in a while, only Arthur.

‘Well, they aren’t Lavoy-loaded,’ Simon said. ‘I know you never have to think about stuff like this, because your mom thinks the sun shines out of your ass and would support you whatever you wanted to do. But my situation is different. I need the money, in case I want to take a year off and apply to drama schools next year and my parents freak out and refuse to pay for it. I haven’t told them yet, I haven’t decided yet. It’s not that big a deal, really. Just think of it as practice for my first big acting gig. My uncle’s been in prison a couple of times, but that was ages ago and he’s actually a pretty nice guy. Not everything is stolen, some’s legit.’

‘You’re telling me there’s a chance I’ve been driving across state lines in a stolen vehicle?’ Oliver rounded on Simon. ‘Do you know how bad that is for someone like me?’ He bared his teeth. ‘For me and Maddy, considering who our mom is?’

Simon’s words punched her in the gut, winding her, gnawing at her chest. Keep everything as cheap as possible so that Red could come. Her fault again. Simon and Maddy, talking about her behind her back, making Red their problem to solve. And why did it hurt so much that they all knew? Little Red Kenny, poor as dirt and a dead mom, but she had potential, hadn’t you heard? Everyone was looking at her now, everyone but Arthur. Red’s eyes glazed but she blinked the tears back, forcing her eyes open and closed. Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare. She didn’t need their pity, she had her plan.

She’d lost it. Of course she had, this was what Red did. Couldn’t be trusted with anything. Things erasing themselves from her memory as soon as they were out of sight. Lost keys, lost phones, lost wallets.

Red hated when people said that. That was the whole point, she’d already forgotten where she’d been, there was no trace left to follow. It skirted around her mind, evading her as she tried even harder to think back. And, great, now the Phineas and Ferb song lyrics were running through her head again, word for word.

Red held her breath and strained to hear. Strained harder. Where had she left it? It was somewhere, it couldn’t have disappeared, Red knew. Even though things did seem to disappear around her: headphones, homework, moms.

Her memories did not belong to him. He might be the natural leader, but he didn’t know what he was doing here. Red did.

‘And we just have to take your word on that, do we?’ Oliver asked, also forgetting to whisper now. ‘Oliver.’ It was Maddy who said it this time. ‘She could be wrong,’ he replied. ‘Or she could be lying to us. How do we know we can trust what she’s saying?’

‘The sniper knew about the note, Reyna.’ Oliver’s face was reddening again, heat in patches up his neck. ‘He knew what was written on it. He also knew exactly where we were to trap us here. So if we’re saying there isn’t a listening device somewhere in the RV, then we have an even bigger problem. Because the only alternative is that . . .’ He drew off, eyes circling around the group, finally coming to rest on Red. ‘One of us is working with them.’

Oliver held the pan out, everyone’s eyes turning to her. She could feel them, every single one of them, like heat on her skin, too long and she might burn. Were they looking at her harder than anyone else? That wasn’t good.

Oliver prompted again. Not a request, remember? He was the leader and he was leading. Where to, Red didn’t want to think about. She hesitated and then slid her phone in on top of the pile.

A shiver passed through her, hiding there just beneath the surface of her skin, even though it was warm in here. Too warm. Was she scared of Oliver, or just scared? Scared of this night and the man outside with a gun. It must be the second thing. She’d known Oliver all her life. A leader had to make hard decisions. He was just trying to make sure they survived. That was all, right?

‘No, Oliver, I won’t fucking stop!’ Reyna snapped, coming alive, dark hairs sticking to the sweat on her forehead. ‘If this is about what we did, we have to say! We’re the oldest here, we’re supposed to be looking after them. They’re just kids. He said he’d let them go if we give it up. We have to!’ And maybe Reyna was the most natural leader here after all, standing up to Oliver, unblinking. What could they possibly have done?

They weren’t the same, she and him, and she shouldn’t make that mistake again. That was what he meant. But Red hadn’t even got to explain what she meant, who’d died because of her.

‘It’s me,’ she said, framing each word carefully, choosing the right ones. ‘I’m the witness.’ She paused. ‘The protected witness, in the Frank Gotti case.’

‘She has to leave the RV!’ Oliver looked over at his sister, like Red was already gone and it wasn’t up for discussion. ‘They want her. She’s putting the rest of us in danger by staying here. Look. He’s going to keep shooting up the RV until he gets what he wants. Some of us will get hit. Some of us will die if we continue. We need to give him what he wants, and he wants Red!’

‘You must have known,’ Oliver was saying, voice strange and unsteady like he was trying to control it, trying to be reasonable when reason had gone out the window hours ago. His eyes betrayed him, though, wild and overfocused. ‘On some level. You must have known this was a possibility when you agreed to testify, Red. I mean, this is the Philly mob we’re talking about, what did you think was going to happen?’