Page 58 of We’re All Going to Die Tonight!

I consider this. “I mean, both, I guess. McCullough practically recruited him to join us. And Jay played baseball when he was here, so they were close. Why would he kill him?”

Avery nods. She fidgets with the edge of the couch cushion she’s sitting on, running her fingers across the seam.

“Do you think the others are okay?” she asks. “I’m worried—”

Her hand stills, and she looks down, reaching into the couch cushion and pulling out a phone. I recognize it immediately as Lucas’s—how many times have I seen him with it in his hands, filming every moment of our lives?

“This is Lucas’s,” Avery says, turning the phone over. “It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when Emerson moved him. Do you think he was filming when he was attacked?”

It’s not the worst suggestion. Lucas was pretty much always recording.

“Maybe,” I say. “Do you know the passcode?”

She laughs. “Of course. Don’t you?”

We all know Lucas’s passcode. He’s constantly flinging his phone at us and telling us to get a shot of him doing something. And then telling us how he fucked it up and to do it again.

“One one two four one seven!” Lucas would shout. “Hurry, you’re missing the light!”

Something bitter burns in my throat at the memory. When Lucas was here—here but unconscious—I was able to tell myself that he’d be okay, that we’d get him the medical attention he needed and it would all work out. But now that he’s gone, panic is starting to seep in.

What if he never comes back?

I shake off the thought, though. I refuse to let it in.

I nod at Avery. “Let’s see what’s there.”

She types in the numbers, and immediately, Lucas’s phone lights up, welcoming us to his exceptionally well-organized home screen. Lucas has customized icons for everything. He also has everything color coded, set against a quote on the background:

I’m obsessed with giving the audience something they don’t see coming. —Jordan Peele

It’s like someone grabs my heart in a vise. Anyone who met Lucas knew that he had dreams, plus a carefully constructed plan to achieve them. He wanted to be a world-famous film director, and in the meantime, he was building up his YouTube channel with short horror films and vlogs. Lucas was obsessed with the future, was obsessed with where he was headed and how to get there.

And now, he’s disappeared without a trace, and we’re about to go through his phone. The guilt of what I’m doing rises like bile in my throat, but I bite it back. Lucas would understand. He’d want us to have answers.

“Do you want to do this?” Avery asks, holding the phone out to me. “You’re his friend.”

I don’t point out that that actually makes me feel like shit because I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to have a reason to look through his phone. But right now, it’s the only way to help him.

“Sorry, Lucas,” I mumble, then open his photos.

Lucas is just as organized here as he is on the rest of his phone. There are albums like “September B-Roll” and “September 1 Vlog.” I navigate over to his “Recents” album, looking for shots of the house, and try swiping through everything he just had open.

I jump when an image of myself appears on the screen. Of course Lucas was filming me. But somehow, it’s still disconcerting. The first video is from right after we left the hotel. I’m sitting in the van, headphones on, typing on my phone. Marlene and Avery are sitting up ahead of us, playing Uno, textbooks on their laps as tables. In the video, my eyes jump to them as I type.

Well, not exactly. Not to both of them. My stomach twists as I see what Lucas’s camera sees: My eyes fall almost exclusively on Avery, wavering only to return to my phone and then back again. I stare at her, my eyebrows pinched together. In worry, of course. In doubt. But also…

I close the video and go back to the album. I don’t want Avery to see me lingering.

I tap a video of us entering the Airbnb. Mr. Jay calls after Kaitlyn, and I watch through Lucas’s camera as she waves him off. I swipe again. And then—

“There,” Avery says. “It’s him filming the house from outside.”

My heart lurches, because she’s right. Lucas has the camera flipped in selfie mode, recording his face under an umbrella as he walks around the outside of the house. He’s got his hood up, and he’s walking along close to the side of house.

“Hey, y’all,” he says. “Welcome back to my channel. I’m coming to you today with a place that’s absolutely sick. Just look at it.”

There’s more footage of the house as he gets several sweeping shots. The video ends, then starts again inside the house. He pans across the hallway before moving through his room upstairs, showing off the furniture and architectural design.