CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE:
SEVENTEEN GOING UNDER
(episode ten: the phantom)

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JOHN B ROUTLEDGE AND Sarah Cameron were dead.

Haven couldn't believe it. And yet, it was the stone cold truth. In a way, she could already feel it, the absence of two people she loved dearly. She'd learned that feeling of loss when her father passed. But it never got easier.

Death. It was enough to send those left behind crazy. They would never hear their loved one laugh again, say their name again. They'd never see the little things; the way they blinked, breathed, moved. Everything was gone, all at once, and the only shattered fragment that remained in the aftermath was a gaping hole where these people who shaped them used to reside. Haven felt it ripped away from her the moment John B left the jetty, but now... now, it was spoken into existence.

John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron were dead, and the police department of Outer Banks were the ones to blame. Ward Cameron was the one to blame.

But for the time being, we backtrack to the past.

There was a sinking feeling that just wouldn't fade burrowed deep into Haven's chest. It thumped in unison with her heart as Shoupe and several officers lead her and the other pogues into a large assortment of tents set up at the point of Outer Banks where sand met open sea. Somewhere, just metres away from them, John B was attempting to escape and a violent storm was roaring in to meet him. Haven tried her best not to stare out into the darkness as officers from all corners of America gathered around a cluster of computers and other machinery she didn't understand.

The pogues had an officer stationed with them, too. He wasn't much older than they were, and yet he stood in front of Haven and JJ's seats, a machine gun strapped to his uniformed chest like a soldier being sent to the trenches. He watched them with narrowed eyes, like he thought he could scare the information out of them, but Haven just stared back with amusement clouding her features. Whatever Shoupe thought he would get out of bringing them here, he was sorely mistaken.

Or so she thought.

For maybe, they weren't there to assist in his investigation. Maybe, some part of him had known what was to come, and wanted them to watch what their actions had cost them. And what better way for them to get front row seats than to turn on the long-awaited power.

About time, Haven thought with a huff as lights flashed through cracks in the tent. All it took was the Sheriff dying for them to give power to The Cut.

But her relief was short-lived as the group heard excited shouts suddenly coming from outside. Power to the entire island meant power to Redfield Lighthouse. It would be impossible for a boat to stay hidden in the shadows with so much increased vision. John B had been found. Those shouts were a sighting. All of this, the interaction with Rafe and Barry, meant absolutely nothing. The group shared a desperate glance, Haven shifting in her seat as she fought the urge to run over to the door to get a better look at what was unfolding. The assigned officer would only stop her. They just had to sit and listen to the rising clatter of rain on the roof as they waited.

"Suspect is attempting to escape to the South." A voice declared through the crackling of Deputy Shoupe's intercom. "Our attempts to contact the vessel were unsuccessful. We're gettin' hammered out here."

The South? Why was John B heading South? They'd told him North. The South meant heading right into a tropical storm. Surely, he knew that wasn't safe. The officers knew it too, for Haven saw them exchange a worried look before a man she didn't recognise ordered the group out on the water to keep looking.

"Roger that."

"I got one more card I think we can play."

The man, who Haven presumed was leading the investigation, disappeared for a minute before returning with someone that made her blood boil. Ward Cameron didn't so much as spare the pogues a glance as he followed the officer over to where Shoupe and the everyone else was gathered. He sat down behind the radio, holding it close to his mouth as the rest watched on. Over the increasing sounds of the storm, Haven was barely able to make out whatever he was saying to John B on the radio, but she caught bits and pieces through each clap of thunder and the swirl of pouring rain.

"John B? I know you're there, son, I know you can hear me. And if you love my daughter like I think you love my daughter, then you will turn that boat around and come back."

Haven's brows furrowed, one of her hands reaching for JJ's and squeezing tight. Every murmur of Ward's voice she managed to catch set her on edge. She wanted to lash out, to scream at Shoupe and this random officer for the fucking audacity they had to bring in Ward Cameron of all people. But instead, she held on tight to her cousin, thinking over the murderer's words for a moment. If you love my daughter like I think you love my daughter. It didn't make any sense for Ward to be there for John B, Haven slowly came to realise. The only reason he would step foot near that radio was if Sarah had escaped. Did that mean John B found her in time? Were they out there together?

"John B, I am begging you." Haven had missed part of what Ward was saying. Wind was now roaring against the walls of the tent, sending a chill down her spine that was getting harder and harder to ignore. She leaned in closer, as did all the pogues, listening to what sounded like genuine terror in Ward's voice. Was it real for the daughter he was about to lose? Or was it just another elaborate act, yet another face Ward Cameron morphed to fit the devil's?

"Ward Cameron, can you hear me?"

The unmistakable shout of John B through the radio had the pogues freezing. What was he doing? Was he going to come back? The storm sounded rough, too rough for The Phantom to get through. But if he came back, what was he returning to? A life penance for a crime he didn't commit? A worse punishment for evading the law? John B was stuck between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose what was the lesser of two evils. Right now, he was conversing with one of them like his boat wasn't being absolutely battered out there.

"You killed — and you framed me — I didn't commit."

The storm was too much to make sense of it, but if Haven wasn't mistaken, John B Routledge just outed Ward Cameron for his crimes. If she wasn't so terrified, she would've laughed. The look on Ward's face was worth everything she'd been through to get to this moment.

"So you listen to me, alright? I'm coming for you. I'm coming for you!"

The following minutes felt like a lifetime had passed. Not once did Haven let go of JJ's hand; to her, it was the only thing grounding her in that tent. Her eyes threatened to droop with the urge to sleep. Her body was aching, every bone and joint burning with each breath she took. The presence of Pope, Arden and Kie felt more like an anchor holding her down than a reassurance that she wasn't alone. Just a day ago, she was sitting in a car with Kie asking her if they were okay, not quite ready to face the loneliness just yet. Now, she longed for it, for the tent to empty so she could make sense of the sudden, empty yet agonising hole in her chest.

Eventually, Shoupe and two other officers approached them. Haven had a feeling she knew what they were going to say before they even got the words out. She hadn't heard anything since the pieces of John B's message, but it was like that night in the hospital all over again. When her father died, she had known even before the nurse offered her condolences.

"Did you find them?" Pope asked as he and the others rushed over. Haven stayed rooted in her chair, JJ's hand dragging away from hers. He hadn't felt it yet. But he would.

"No," Shoupe shook his head, lips pursed into a grim line.

"So they got away?" Kie asked with a hopeful smile. Haven couldn't bear the sight of it.

"We, uh... we lost them," Shoupe admitted with what sounded like a pained sigh. He looked genuinely apologetic, but Haven couldn't bring herself to care. He had chased children into the open sea and now he wanted forgiveness? Haven would never give it. "I'm sorry."

Never.

"You lost them?" Pope repeated incredulously.

"That's not possible," Arden cut in shakily, but she knew. "Shoupe, that's..."

"What do you mean you lost them?" Pope demanded when she trailed off with a sniffle. "Like, they're gone? What are you talking about?"

"They took an open boat into a tropical depression, Pope."

"So they're dead?" Kie whimpered.

"We don't know."

Only then did Haven stand. She crossed the room to stand between her and JJ, her cousin already reaching for her arm as anger lit up his features. "You drove them straight through the storm, man," he screamed as Arden's hands clapped over her mouth to muffle a sob. Kie was crying too, and Pope, but Haven stayed frozen, JJ tugging at her arm but she couldn't feel it.

John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron were dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

DEAD.

Faintly, she felt JJ lurch away from her. She saw him latch onto the front of Shoupe's coat, screaming profanities as the other officers forced themselves between them. Arden was looking at Haven for comfort but Haven refused to move. She felt off centre, like a door kicked off its hinges, like she was drunk out of her mind balancing on the edge of a cliff with nothing below to cushion the oncoming fall.

At some point, their parents arrived, obviously called by Shoupe as a way to soften the almighty blow. Haven looked to the floor at the sight of Mrs Carrera striding across the room to embrace Kie in a hug. Her husband wasn't far behind her. Then came Mr and Mrs Heyward for a screaming Pope, the trio huddled together, bygones be bygones. Even Liam Powers was there, though Haven didn't even spare him a glance as he marched right past her and kneeled beside Arden, who'd dropped to the ground with her arms around her stomach with pure terror in her eyes. For a moment, Haven and JJ were forced to stand alone, neither Luke or Melinda in sight. Haven sprinted over to JJ then, the first pin-pricks of tears appearing in her eyes. She clung to his chest as the world tipped.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Then suddenly, a warm embrace was enveloping them. Haven tore her face away from JJ as Melinda stared back at her painfully. In that instant, Haven wasn't the sixteen-year-old who had just lost her friends. She was the child in a hospital bed screaming for her mother as she was told she'd never see her dad again. Melinda held her tight as Haven's silence faded to familiar screams, eventually opening her arms for JJ too as his father stayed a no-show.

John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron were dead.

And in some ways, so was Haven Murphy.

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A/N: So obviously, some things were changed in this chapter. I just wanted to preface before anyone commented that both Lou and I are aware that Shoupe's tent was not connected to the one the pogues waited in, but for the sake of the plot, it was. Anyways, that was all I wanted to say, just to clear up any potential confusion! You can carry on reading now :)