CHAPTER FIVE: I LOVE THE ROOSTER!

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a new day rolled around. a fresh start. hopefully, today we wouldn't get shot at or find a boat wreck.

"and we were right outside, like this. and all we hear is just, BAM BAM BAM! knocking paint off the wall, g. from the inside. all right? and i'm just looking at him like. wait, first off, look at this shit," we all sat on john b's porch and listened to jj's fantastic reenactment of the visit to miss lana's place.

"that's dandruff, disgusting, kie cringed at the boy shaking his head violently.

"okay, thank you,"

"look at that! alright? that's paint," jj insisted, ignoring the remarks made by the other pogues, "at that point, i was just like, i'm waiting for death."

"holy fuck you're dramatic," i turned my head to look at him, not being completely serious with the boy.

"oh, okay, so you saw the guys that shot at us, right?" pope began to try and reason. good thing we had a few smart people in our corner.

"yeah."

"did you get a good description of them? what did they look like?" pope interrogated john b and jj.

"anything," kie sighed.

"anything we can bring to a police report?"

"yeah. burly," jj glanced at all of us seriously.

"burly?" pope mocked.

"yeah, you know like," jj attempted to explain himself.

"j, that's not gonna do shit," i giggled.

"that's not very helpful," kie agreed.

"okay, well, no. like the type of guy at my dad's garage. i mean, you guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers," jj continued to try and reason.

"yeah. yes, no we know," kie told him.

"i can tell you with full confidence, these boys, these killers, they're square groupers," jj took out a vape.

"hey, gimme that," i sat up. i hadn't smoked in nearly a day, and i needed that shit badly.

"greedy much, princess?" he joked, handing me the vape immediately.

"they're square groupers, like narco square groupers?" pope rested his head in his hands, "like, pablo escobar square grouper?"

"yeah, man."

"you guys, not everything is a kingpin movie," kie cut in.

"what does this square grouper look like? specifically-"

"you weren't there!" jj suddenly let out, "dude, i wasn't taking little mental polaroids the entire time, man. i was under duress, okay? but i can tell you, i can tell you by the way that ms. lana was screaming, that these guys are serious hombres man. it's a heavy vibe right now, okay? i'm not liking this very much."

"why do they want the compass?"

"it's a piece of shit. you couldn't pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to," pope added.

"well apparently it must have some kind of value. i mean, why would they shoot at a group of kids without even being positive we had it?" i chimed in.

"the office," john b paused. we all shared confused glances at one another.

"i love that show!" i interrupted, to which all of my friends stared at me in disbelief.

"my dad. my dad's office. he always kept the office locked because he was worried about his competitors stealing his royal merchant research. we used to laugh at him like he was going to find it. but now that he's gone, i've just kinda. i just left it as he kept it," he explained to the four of us as we all trailed into the house.

"yeah, for when he gets back," kie smiled. pope, jj, and i all looked over at each other. it sounded ridiculous to say that big john was going to return. believe me, john b means so much to me, and i'd do whatever if it meant him finding out the truth about his father's disappearance. but face it, he's dead. i wouldn't say that to anyone else though.

"yeah," he turned the key to unlock the room.

"i've slept over here like 600 times, and i've never seen this door open," pope blurted as we took in the room. it was a disaster; it looked like big john was doing some crazy-ass research.

"mhm," we all agreed with him.

"here, look. this is the original owner, right here," john b pulled a cork board down from his father's things.

"okay, robert q routledge, 1880 to 1920. there's the lucky compass, right there," kiara pointed the picture, and we all took notice that the same compass that john b was holding was in the photo.

"actually, um. he was shot after he bought it. then the compass was shipped back to henry," john b continued to explain. the rooster outside started crowing loudly. i made eye contact with jj; it seemed like we were the only two taking notice to this, "henry was killed in a crop-dusting accident when he had the compass. after he died, the compass was given to stephen. stephen had the compass with him when he died in vietnam."

"let me guess, he died in action, right?" jj intervened.

"sort of. uh a-actually he was killed by a banana truck. in, country. anyways, after that, stephen passed the compass down to him, my dad."

"hm, sounds like you have a reoccurring theme here," jj gestured.

"yeah, you have a death compass," pope contributed to jj's point.

"i do not."

"you have a death compass."

"get rid of it. it's cursed, and it's made its way back to you"

"look, my dad used to talk about this compartment in here. soldiers used to hide secret notes," john b replied as he unscrewed the compartment in the compass.

"what's that?" kie pointed to the name engraved into the metal.

"that wasn't there before. this is my dad's handwriting," john b turned around.

"how can you know that?" pope lilted.

"because he does these weird r's with the, see it?"

"can i see it?" jj took the compass out of john b's hand. "red- rout... no i think that's an a."

"it says redfield," kiara stopped jj from attempting to sound out the bad handwriting. "okay, well, what's redfield?"

"besides the most common name in the county," i added.

john b twirled the compass, "okay, maybe it's a clue. maybe it's a clue to where he's hiding."

"john b," i started.

"a clue, no come on that's," pope began to say before kie gave him a look to stop talking. for once, it seemed as if pope and i were the only ones on the same side here. "but if it's a clue, maybe it's an anagram?" i breathed dramatically at him feeding into john b's story.

"yes. perfect. anagram. you need paper. okay. here you go."

"how can you concentrate with that thing crowing at you?" pope ridiculed, taking the paper that john b handed him.

"jj loves the rooster," i patted jj on the back.

"i love the rooster!" kie affirmed.

"let me think," pope stared at the word redfield.

"seriously, think."

"dedfiel, colors, no, that's stupid," pope concentrated.

"what about ritalin?" jj suggested. the fuck?

"dreidel? fiddler?" kie spitballed ideas.

"let's stick with what we're-. defile, does that mean anything to you?"

"guys," john b stated, but we were all too busy, "guys! somebody's here!" we all stopped immediately, and headed toward the window. sure enough, there were two guys that shockingly fit the description jj had told us about earlier.

"guys, is that them?" kie wondered, "is that them?" kie noticed the nervous looks on jj and john b's faces.

"this is suboptimal," pope huffed.

"john b, i told you, why does it always-" jj started to pace.

"jj, hey look at me. where's the gun?" john b pinned him against the wall.

"gun? i uh, i can't-"

"now you don't have the gun, the one time we need a gun?" kie started tearing up.

"guys, we know they have weapons on them, we need the gun! jj, just think," i tried to remain calm, meeting my eyes with his. freaking out wouldn't help the situation.

"it's on the porch," he realized.

"go, go," john b lead him out of the room.

"JOHN ROUTLEDGE!" one of men's voices boomed from outside. jj came sprinting back into the room, and we shut the door.

"guys," kie cried.

"come on now, fuck, where's the compass!" they shouted.

"they're on the front porch guys," jj rested his head against the door.

"get out here! routledge!" we heard the men throwing stuff in the house, "where you at boy?"

"guys, the window," an idea dawned on me. we all began to try and pull a window open, but they all happened to be painted shut. kie found a knife and started scouring it. the men at this point were just outside of the door. i surprisingly remained calm until they started shooting at the door. it's fine, it's fine. they won't hurt us, i kept telling myself, even if it wasn't true. my hands were trembling, and tears were threatening to spill from my eyes. fortunately, we managed to open the window and climb out before the men kicked the door down completely. we all climbed into the rooster's coop. i was sitting in between jj's legs, his hands covering my ears. the rooster wouldn't stop crowing; it was practically trying to give us away.

"do something pope, shut him up," jj whispered through gritted teeth.

" what do you want me to do?"

"pet it, or talk to it, i don't know," kie started breaking down.

"you do something."

then, jj took his hands off of my ears, and snapped the poor rooster's neck, killing him. through the holes in the coop, i saw one of the men pointing a gun right in our direction. i gasped seeing him kill the rooster with his bare hands. he put his hand over my mouth so that my shaky breaths couldn't be heard. kie was sobbing.

"ratter! what the hell you doing? let's go," the other guy shouted. the man with the gun pointed at us turned around as they hopped in the car and drove away.

"jesus christ," was all i managed to say once jj removed his hand from my mouth, "i need a beer."

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{1707 words}

imagine being the rooster though- like damn

ally