Survive the Night by Riley Sager
INT. LODGE LOBBY—NIGHT
In the echo chamber of the lobby, the gunshot is as loud as a firecracker.
It’s followed by a splat of blood hot on Charlie’s face and a grunt from Josh.
Soft. Surprised.
He lists to the right and hits the floor with a thud that sounds nothing like the way a body lands in the movies. It’s a pitiful noise. Both soft and loud at the same time. Like a sack of laundry landing on a bed.
Charlie looks down and sees Josh facedown on the floor, a bullet hole and widening splotch of blood in the shoulder of his sweatshirt. More blood oozes out from under him, soaking into the canvas drop cloth.
Frantic, Charlie bends forward and tugs at the rope around her ankles. She needs to help Josh. If he’s not already beyond help. He doesn’t move when she looks his way, nor does he make a sound.
On the other side of the canvas, Marge stands with the pistol still raised. Her face is a mask of surprise, as if she, too, can’t believe what she’s just done. Like Josh before her, she leans precariously to the side.
Although she manages to remain upright, the lantern in her hand falls from her grip and smashes onto the floor.
Kerosene spills from the toppled lantern. A quicksilver stream that twists across the canvas.
It makes it all the way to the drapes at the windows before the fire arrives. At first, it’s a streak of blue flames rushing over the path laid out by the kerosene. The fire starts to glow orange as it digs into the canvas, forging its own path over the drop cloth and, soon, the drapes.
They ignite in an instant, the flames climbing the fabric toward the ceiling. Within seconds, all the drapes are engulfed. One set falls away, dropping to the floor in a flutter of fire, smoke, and ash.
A new fire springs up where it lands, spreading across the drop cloth. Once it’s chewed its way to the edge of the canvas, it gets to work on the parquet floor.
When another section of drapes falls, a third patch of fire forms, with the same result.
Charlie knows it’ll just keep happening until that whole area and beyond are engulfed in flame. And when the fire reaches the other kerosene lantern, the situation will go from bad to worse.
Looking to Josh, Charlie sees a growing wall of fire rolling his way.
“Help us!” she yells to Marge, who’s backed away from the flames, stunned.
Lost in a daze, Marge either doesn’t hear her or refuses to listen.
Charlie pulls the final bit of rope from her legs and goes to Josh, who remains silent and motionless. Without thinking, she grabs him by the ankles and begins to drag him away from the fire. Their progress is marked by a streak of blood on the canvas that’s quickly devoured by the flames trailing them.
Soon they’re off the drop cloth and sliding across the lobby’s parquet floor. Not safe from the flames. Far from it. But away, which is all that matters right now.
Marge has also made her way toward the front of the lobby, staring at the growing fire with an agonized look. The pistol’s still in her hand, still extended, and for a surreal moment Charlie thinks she’s going to try to shoot at the flames. But then Marge swivels, aiming the gun right at her.
Charlie raises her hands.
“Please,” she says. “Please don’t do this. He needs help.”
Off to the side, the fire gets larger. Both the chair and the stool now burn, flames leaping from the spot where Charlie had been sitting minutes earlier. All but one set of drapes has fallen away from the windows, revealing more flames reflected in the glass and making the blaze seem even bigger. Smoke spirals toward the ceiling, accumulating at the peaked roof and exposed beams.
Charlie sees all that wood above and thinks one thing: this fire is only going to continue to grow.
“Please,” she tells Marge. “Let me go. Let us both go.”
Charlie thinks she might be getting through to her. Marge looks genuinely torn over what to do. She even starts to lower her arm, the gun barrel tilting toward the floor.
But then the last of the drapes falls, taking the curtain rod with it. An end of the rod smashes through the window, and the sound of shattered glass makes Marge change her mind. Again, Charlie sees it. Another internal snap.
She raises the pistol.
As Marge pulls the trigger, Charlie feels a hand wrap around her ankle, jerking her downward. She hits the floor as the bullet passes overhead, inches away. Beside her is Josh.
Still alive.
Eyes open.
Mouth opening to form a single word.
“Run.”
