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Chapter no 16

Five Survive

Escapeย was a strange word, wasnโ€™t it? One of those ones that tripped Red up. Funny likeย resourceย but not in the same way. A word that, if you thought it too much, grew spiky and nonsensical in your head. Please someone say something else. Escape.ย Eeescape. ESCAPร‰.โ€Œ

โ€œJust to ๏ฌ‚oat an alternative,โ€ Simon said from the sofa, his head bouncing back against the mattress. Thank you, Simon. โ€œWhy donโ€™t we just wait this whole thing out, here in the RV? Look, sunrise must be at about six a.m., right? And when itโ€™s light, the sniper loses his advantage, because weโ€™ll be able to see where he is. Then we can escapeโ€โ€”there it was againโ€”โ€œand because itโ€™s morning weโ€™re more likely to be able to ๏ฌ‚ag down help.โ€ He sat back, hands raised as though his plan were there, sitting on top of them, held out like an o๏ฌ€ering.

โ€œMy mom will give up the name before sunrise.โ€ Oliver shook his head, dismissing the plan.

โ€œAnd the witness will be killed,โ€ Maddy said, a grim set to her jaw. โ€œMom would be responsible for someone dying.โ€

Someone dying.ย Redโ€™s chest tightened again.

โ€œRight.โ€ Simon nodded, raising his hands and the plan even higher. โ€œAnd thatโ€™s very sad for the witness, of course. Poor guy. But itโ€™s not really our

fault. And Iโ€™d prefer the six of us to survive. Weโ€™re safest in the RV. I mean, come on.โ€ Simon glanced around. โ€œArthur? Red?โ€ he said, looking for agreement in their eyes.

But Red didnโ€™t agree, she couldnโ€™t. She looked down. โ€œI think we should do what Oliver says,โ€ she answered, keeping her voice ๏ฌ‚at. What other choice was there? Oliver was in charge: the natural leader, the highest value. This was about surviving, and this RV wasnโ€™t safe, no matter how hard they pretended.

Simon dropped his hands, a ๏ฌ‚icker of betrayal in his eyes as he shot them at Red. He shrugged it o๏ฌ€ and returned to his beer.

โ€œMajority rules.โ€ Oliver clapped his hands, returning to business. โ€œLetโ€™s start thinking about how we can escape, then.โ€

ร‰SCร„Pรˆ.

โ€œOr get help,โ€ Maddy added.

Arthur sighed, removing his glasses to wipe them against his sweatshirt. โ€œBoth seem pretty impossible right now. No cell service. No one around. A ri๏ฌ‚e. And we donโ€™t know where he is, out there in the darkness.โ€ A pause. โ€œHe has all the cards.โ€

Oliver exhaled, conceding the point, and Red bet he didnโ€™t like being someone without any cards. Cards. Pokรฉmon cards? Was that the pattern in the curtains? If she thought about that, then she couldnโ€™t think about anything worse, like what was happening here.

The static ๏ฌlled the room again, in the absence of voices, and Oliver glanced down at the walkie-talkie.

โ€œMaybe he doesnโ€™t haveย allย the cards,โ€ he said, scooping the walkie-talkie

up, cradling it between his hands like it was spun from glass. โ€œWe have this. Heโ€™s overlooked something here. Heโ€™s given us a communication device!โ€ His voice picked up speed, mouth trying to keep up, as was Red. โ€œCanโ€™t we use this to contact someone? Walkie-talkies donโ€™t need cell service, I mean, clearly. And donโ€™t emergency services use walkie-talkies, anyway? Canโ€™t we somehow connect this to the police radio and ask for help?โ€

โ€œCanโ€™t believe we didnโ€™t think of that sooner.โ€ Simon sat forward. โ€œThatโ€™s a plan I can get on board with.โ€

It didnโ€™t work like that. None of it worked like that.

โ€œHow would weโ€ฆโ€ Oliver trailed o๏ฌ€, studying the LCD display.

โ€œWhatโ€™s wrong, Red?โ€ Arthur had been watching her, he must have read it in her eyes. She thought she was better at keeping a straight face; sheโ€™d had enough practice.

โ€œIโ€™m sorry,โ€ she began, looking at Maddy instead of Oliver, the softer of the Lavoys. โ€œTwo-way radios donโ€™t work like that. Radio frequencies are regulated. Emergency services, like the police, have their own frequencies speci๏ฌcally so they donโ€™t get interference from other signals, like youโ€™re suggesting.โ€

โ€œRight, I know,โ€ Oliver said. Had he, though? โ€œBut, in an emergency, canโ€™t we make it do that?โ€

There was a simple answer to that, the one Oliver didnโ€™t want to hear. But he was asking, so: โ€œNo,โ€ she said, looking away from him as she did, so his eyes didnโ€™t bully a di๏ฌ€erent response out of her. โ€œNo, itโ€™s not physically possible to make this radio transmit on the emergency frequencies that police use.โ€

โ€œFuckโ€ was Oliverโ€™s simple answer in return.

โ€œHow do you know?โ€ Reyna turned to Red, but Oliver answered for her: โ€œHer mom was a cop.โ€

And thatย wasย still hurt. It always did. But that wasnโ€™t why she knew so

much about walkie-talkies. Well, not directly. Her mom was a cop, but so was Red when they played that game together. And that was how she knew. Four days after the funeral, Red found a box in the attic, a box of her momโ€™s old stu๏ฌ€. And there, nestled between old jackets and shoes, were the walkie-talkies. A piece of masking tape across the back of each, one withย MOM,ย one withย RED.ย She hadnโ€™t been looking for them, not really, just looking to look, to preserve her mom for another day, and then another. Red left her own walkie-talkie there, took the one labeledย MOMย down to her room. She stole a screwdriver from her dadโ€”he was already mostly lost by then, but he could still pretend to function, still went to workโ€”and, in the quiet of her room past midnight, she took apart the walkie-talkie. Piece by piece, wire by wire, but she never did ๏ฌnd her momโ€™s voice hiding inside.

โ€œItโ€™s probably an FRS radio,โ€ she said, approaching Oliver, holding her hand out, waiting for him to let it go. He placed it in her hand, and she felt the familiar weight of the device. She knew it, inside and out.

โ€œFRS?โ€ Oliver said, not stepping back, like he couldnโ€™t be too far from the walkie-talkie, couldnโ€™t trust her to even hold it.

โ€œFamily Radio Service,โ€ she said. โ€œItโ€™s the radio frequencies most amateur devices like this use. If I remember rightโ€โ€”and she did remember right, how could she ever forget thisโ€”โ€œit has twenty-two channels.โ€ She knew more than that, that those twenty-two channels were found somewhere between 462 and 467 megahertz, and that the speaker also functioned as the microphone, built from the same bones: a magnet, a coil of wire, a cone made of plastic. Sheโ€™d learned all that, putting Momโ€™s walkie-talkie back together again, until it turned on and hissed at her. For days that was all she did, took it apart, rebuilt it, did it again on her momโ€™s birthday the year after, and the one after that. You couldnโ€™t do that with dead moms, though, rebuild them. They stayed gone.

โ€œSo, we canโ€™t use it to contact anyone else?โ€ Oliver asked, still standing too close.

Red stepped back if he wasnโ€™t going to. โ€œYes, we could,โ€ she said, and the light returned to Oliverโ€™s eyes. โ€œIn theory, if someone else is using another two-way radio on the same frequency channel within range, we would be able to talk to them. The sniper is using channel three.โ€

Red and her mom always used number six, for some reason. It was lucky, at least until it wasnโ€™t anymore.

โ€œWhatโ€™s the range?โ€ Reyna asked, studying Red as though she couldnโ€™t wait for the answer.

Red sighed, unable to give them what they wanted. โ€œItโ€™s not great with something like this,โ€ she said. โ€œIt depends on the terrain, the weather, how many trees and buildings are in the way, butโ€ฆโ€ She thought about it. โ€œA couple of miles, maybe. A few at most.โ€

Red and her mom once picked up interference from a wedding planner barking orders down her end. Must have been someplace close. The groom

had been late, apparently, but Red pretended it was a surveillance mission and they took notes. Laughing. The kind of laugh that hurt during and after.

โ€œOh,โ€ Reyna said in response. No, it wasnโ€™t good news, not for them. They were in the middle of nowhere, a range of three miles still left them pretty much in nowhere. But there were houses and farms within all that nowhere.

Reyna pulled out her phone to check the time. โ€œItโ€™s almost one a.m.,โ€ she said, de๏ฌ‚ating. โ€œI guess itโ€™s unlikely anyone will be out using a walkie-talkie.โ€

Silent agreement from the rest of them, the walkie-talkie laughing at them from Redโ€™s hands.

โ€œUnlikely, but they might?โ€ Red said. โ€œOr someone might have a baby monitor on in range. We could keep cycling through the channels, see if we pick up any interference?โ€

Red hadnโ€™t found her momโ€™s voice on channel six, or any of the others sheโ€™d tried. But it was harder when the person you were looking for wasnโ€™t alive.

โ€œYes.โ€ Oliver snapped his ๏ฌngers at her, a smile cracking his face. โ€œThis is what Iโ€™m talking about! Some initiative. Okay, Red, youโ€™re in charge of the walkie-talkie. You cycle through the channels, but make sure you always return to three, every couple of minutes or so. In case we miss the sniper trying to talk to us. We donโ€™t want him to know what weโ€™re up to.โ€

Red glowed, despite herself, nodding as she accepted the order from Oliver. Was sheย useful? What a plot twist that was. A smile from Maddy too, full house. Red bet Arthur was secretly impressed as well; look at her, knowing stu๏ฌ€.

Right, focus. There was a man with a ri๏ฌ‚e outside, and Red was trying to be useful. She wouldnโ€™t want to die, not like that. Although she supposed it wouldnโ€™t take two shots to the back of the head this time. Just the one, just anywhere. Red pressed theย menuย button and then the + on the right, switching to channel four instead and the empty static there. She could pretend the tone of the static changed each time, a di๏ฌ€erent swirl of sound, like a new song. But it didnโ€™t, it sounded the same. An empty hiss. Up to ๏ฌve now, then six. Red waited longer there, just in case.

โ€œOkay,โ€ Oliver said, looking around at the group. He stepped over to the sofa and, in one quick motion, removed the beer bottle from Simonโ€™s hand, walking it over to the kitchen counter. โ€œSo Red is on part one of the plan; trying to get outside help. But we need part two. An escape plan.โ€

รŠลšฤŠฤ„Pร‹.

Stop that. Up to channel eight now. Should she go back to three and make sure the sniper wasnโ€™t trying to talk to them?

โ€œLike our mom always says.โ€ Oliver turned to Maddy. โ€œA plan must have two parts, and you have to make sure either way plays out in your favor.โ€

โ€œThatโ€™s win-win,โ€ Maddy said, completing it for him.

Yes, Catherine Lavoy always had a plan, Red knew that. Birthday presents and reserves. Two di๏ฌ€erent ๏ฌ‚avors of ice cream. Red herself preferred the lose-lose system: no plan at all and no backups. She pressed the down button back to three to check for the sniperโ€™s voice. Nothing. Back up to eleven. Click, static, click.

โ€œAnd what is the plan?โ€ Simon said, his words more slurred now, but Red couldnโ€™t tell if he was putting it on to irritate Oliver. โ€œYouโ€™re the leader, the most high-value person here. What is your brilliant plan to escape the active shooter out there in the pitch-black who can see us but we canโ€™t see him?โ€

Oliverโ€™s jaw snapped open, hanging ajar as his eyes spooled in his head again, working loose.

โ€œThatโ€™s it,โ€ he laughed, slapping one hand against his hip. โ€œThatโ€™s his only advantage, that we donโ€™t know where he is.โ€

โ€œIโ€™d say his advantage is the giant fucking ri๏ฌ‚e with the laser sight,โ€ Simon muttered.

Oliver didnโ€™t hear him, or didnโ€™t listen. โ€œThatโ€™s the plan, thatโ€™s all we have to do. Work out exactly where he is out there. Find the sniper.โ€

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