“Nobody move!”‌

Oliver’s eyes were frantic, spinning in his head as he studied the front of the RV, and the darkness of the uncovered windshield. He backed up, feeling for the knife on the table.

“He said, ‘Come here,’ ” Maddy whispered, fear spiking in her voice, hands moving instinctively to protect her head. “Is he right outside? Oh my god he’s going to kill us all.”

“Hello.”

The voice clicked off, replaced by that fizzing hiss, but this time Red knew exactly what it was, the sound passing through her, gathering snapshots of memory. Ones she normally pushed away, the good and the bad. Running around her house, back when it had been warm, a walkie-talkie in her hand as she played Cops and Cops with her mom. They’d invented it, you see, because neither wanted to be a robber. Tiny Red yelling made-up police codes into the radio, sometimes too excited to remember to press the push-to-talk button, but always remembering to finish with “Over!” Running into separate rooms, demanding status reports on the Bad Guys. The Bad Guys were invisible, but somehow she and her mom always managed to save the day and save the city. Together. They were heroes, if only in the game.

It was static, that sound, the fuzz between her voice and her mom’s as they ran to each other, laughing, taking cover. But that was all ruined now, because it was the exact same sound as the one at the funeral, the static between the final call on the police radio. Central to Officer 819. Static. Officer 819, no response. Static. Officer 819, Captain Grace Kenny, is End of Watch. Gone but never forgotten. Static.

Gone, that was right. And Red tried to forget most of the time.

“Hello?” The voice came from Oliver that time, crouching low on the floor, eyes trained on the front of the RV, knife up.

“He’s not there,” Red said. “It’s a two-way radio.” Oliver narrowed his eyes at her. “A walkie-talkie.”

Oliver straightened up, his grip loosening on the knife. “Where is it?” “Somewhere over there.” Simon pointed toward the driver’s seat, the one-

eyed bullet hole glaring back at them.

“Inside or outside?” Reyna asked, taking one tentative step forward.

“How would he have gotten it inside?” Oliver snapped. “We are right here and the RV is secure.”

Maybe if he said it enough times, it would become true. “Come here,” the voice said, crackling at the edges. “He wants us to go and get it, I think,” Maddy said.

“I don’t care what he wants,” Oliver barked. “Let me think for a second.” “He wants to talk to us?” Simon asked, exchanging a glance with Maddy. “Hello.”

“He’s waiting,” Reyna said. “We don’t want to piss him off, Oliver.” “What are we waiting for?” Simon said. He stepped forward, not checking

back for permission from Oliver. “Come on.” He beckoned, not quite brave enough to go alone.

Red stepped up, Arthur too, walking carefully toward the front of the RV behind Simon, keeping their heads low. Red was ready to drop to her knees at the slightest sound or whistle of air, her breath tight in her chest.

The static grew louder, thicker, trying to draw up old and older memories, but Red thought them away. She needed her head here and now. And,

anyway, Simon was right, the static was coming from somewhere near the driver’s seat. Beyond.

“Excuse me,” Oliver said, maneuvering Red out of his way with his elbow. Clearly he’d had his second to think, then. “Where is it?”

“I can’t see,” Simon said, crouching low to search the footwells in front of the driver and passenger seats. “Not here.”

“It’s outside,” Red said, following her ears. “Outside that window.” She gestured to the one she and Arthur had just boarded up with the flattened suitcase. It sounded like the radio was just beyond, hovering in the darkness of outside where the rules were different, waiting for them to let it in.

“Did you hear anything when you were covering the window?” Oliver asked.

“No, nothing.” Arthur swallowed.

“He must have put it there after we were done,” Red followed up. She would have recognized that sound right away, if it had been only inches from her head.

“We have to get it,” Simon said. “He wants to talk to us.” He peeled back a few strips of the duct tape that held the lid of the suitcase in place. “Anyone want to take a look? Oliver, you’re in charge, aren’t you?”

“I’m not putting my face out that hole.”

“Hello.” The voice was right there, tinny but clear. A shiver passed up Red’s spine, climbing it to the back of her exposed neck.

“Well, I’m not putting my face out there either,” Simon hissed. “Can’t be on Broadway without a fucking face.”

“Hey, hey, one of you use your phone,” Reyna said, standing with Maddy just behind the gathering. “Take a video on your phone, out the window.”

“Good idea,” Arthur told her, already retrieving his from his front pocket. He swiped across to find his camera app, sliding to the video option and tapping the lightning bolt to activate the flash. Aggressively bright against the dull yellow of the overhead lights.

“Be careful,” Red told him as Arthur pressed the red record button, and the beep it made cut right through her, joining the shiver up her back.

Arthur nodded at Simon, who tucked himself up onto the chair to make room for him, pulling back the corner flap of the suitcase. The gap was small, but enough for Arthur to snake his hand and phone through. He reached forward, losing half his arm to the outside world and the unknown beyond.

“Hello.”

Simon sucked in a nervous breath and Arthur flinched, gritting his teeth. The sleeve of his arm shifted and wrinkled around the hinge of his elbow as he moved the wrist beyond, recording a full arc of outside. Red watched his face as he did, the tension in his upper lip, the focus in his eyes, and she reasoned that if she didn’t think about the red dot then it couldn’t possibly take his arm, or any other part of him. But didn’t that count as thinking of it?

“Okay,” Arthur said, his face unfurrowing as he drew his arm back inside the RV, quickly, clumsily. He tapped his thumb to the screen to stop the recording. Simon pressed the duct tape back in place and Red leaned across the back of the chair to see the video on Arthur’s screen. Oliver did the same, watching over Arthur’s shoulder.

The video began with a shaky view of the dashboard, clipping the end of Red’s voice as she told him to be careful. It moved over, catching Simon as he pulled his legs up out of the way, glancing back, eyes on a point above the camera. A close-up of Simon’s fingers as they bent into ridges, pulling the suitcase aside. The screen zoomed in on the black hole, breaking that barrier between out there and in here as it moved through into the total darkness of outside, the air lit by the ghostly glow of the phone. There was nothing out there, nothing they could see, until the view shifted down and the flash reached the road, picking out stones and pieces of glass.

“Hello,” the voice repeated from ninety seconds ago, through the recording.

The shot juddered and then continued, swinging around to the right, the white light reflecting in the driver’s-side mirror.

“There!” Simon pointed at the screen.

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 and her 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.

“Who is this?” Oliver repeated, holding down the button this time. Static.

“You know who this is.” Static.

“No?” Oliver said.

“I’m the one outside with the rifle.”

Red swallowed, forcing it down her too-tight throat.

“What do you want from us?” Oliver said, pacing away from the cockpit and down the length of the RV. The rest of them followed. “If it’s money, I don’t think we have much cash on us right now. But you can have it all. And my credit card. I’ll give you the PIN. Take as much as you want. It’s yours. Just let us go.”

Click. Static.

“I don’t want your money,” the voice said.

A shadow crossed his face, confusion in the draw of his eyebrows. If only it had been that easy, Oliver. Throw money at the problem.

“What do you want, then?” Oliver paced. “I’m sorry if we’re on your land. We didn’t mean any offense. We got lost. We were never supposed to be here. Just the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Static.

The walkie-talkie crackled, a strange, hitching sound. Was he laughing at them?

“What if I said you were the right people, in the right place at exactly the right time.”

Oliver lowered the walkie-talkie, glancing up at the rest of them, eyes drawn. His mouth flickered silently, words dying before he could breathe life into them.

Maddy’s arm tensed, pushing against Red. Simon on her other side, holding on to her sleeve. She didn’t move, staring at the walkie-talkie in Oliver’s hand, molding the static into empty whispered words in her head. Right people, right place, right time.

“What does he mean?” Arthur said, voice rasping and low, catching on the sides of his throat. His eyes darted to Red’s, but she couldn’t give him any answers there.

Oliver sucked in a shaky breath and raised the walkie-talkie to his lips. He pressed the button, and the only sound in the RV, in the world, was Red’s breath, too heavy in her chest.

“What do you mean?” Oliver asked of the man out there in the wide-open nothing.

Static.

“I’ll tell you what I mean.” Static.

“Oliver Charles Lavoy. “Madeline Joy Lavoy. “Reyna Flores-Serrano. “Arthur Grant Moore. “Simon Jinsun Yoo. “Redford Kenny.”