"AND WE WERE RIGHT OUTSIDE LIKE THIS," JJ EXPLAINED TO THE GROUP. He backed up against the wall, showing them what position he and John B were in when they visited Lana Grubbs's house. "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."

The Routledge and Maybank boys had gone to the Grubbs residence earlier that morning to ask Lana some questions about Big John's compass and why Scooter had it in his boat when he died. So, now, they were all on the porch of the Chateau.

JJ walked over to where Pope, Kie, and Bree were sitting, bent over, and began rubbing his hair so that white pieces of paint fell out. The Callaway girl slid her seat back so that none of it landed on her as Kie gave him a disgusted look. "That's dandruff, disgusting."

"Okay, thank you," Pope told him, pushing his head away from them.

"Look at al that, all right?" the blonde boy pointed out, gesturing to all the flakes on the ground in front of him. "That's paint. At that point, I was just, like...I'm waiting for death."

Rolling his eyes at JJ's antics, Pope asked him, "So you saw the guys that shot at us, right? Did you get a good description of them? What did they look like. Anything we can bring to, like, a police report maybe?"

"Yeah, anything," Bree agreed.

Kie nodded. "Yeah."

"Burly," was all JJ replied with, and the rest of them stared back at him in disbelief. Of course that was what he said to describe them.

Pope repeated in a questioning voice, "Burly?"

"Really, JJ?" the brunette quizzed as she ran a hand through her hair. "'Burly' was all you could come up with? Nothing more useful?"

"Yeah, that's not very helpful," the Carerra girl added with a sigh, looking from Bree to JJ before leaning her elbows on her knees.

"Okay, well, no. Like, the type of guy at my dad's garage," the blonde boy explained, which still, was not very helpful. "I mean, you guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers."

Kie groaned, "Yeah. Yes. No, we know."

"I can tell you with full confidence, these boys, these killers...they're square groupers," he informed them, saying the last part after leaning against the wall and taking a hit from a cigarette.

The Callaway girl just stared at him with a look that said, 'really?' and dropped her face into her hands. "For Christ's sake."

"They're square groupers, like narco square groupers?" Pope asked him with a confused expression. "Like, Pablo Escobar square grouper?"

"You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie," the raven-haired girl told them.

Ignoring her, the Heyward boy addressed JJ. "Okay, so what does a square grouper look like? Specifically?"

"Burly, apparently," Bree cut in, mocking the blonde.

"You weren't there, bro," the Maybank boy said after shooting her a glare, and when Pope kept badgering him, he yelled, "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, serious hombres, man. It's a heavy vibe right now, okay? I'm not liking this very much."

Kie glanced at John B, who had been silent the entire time while playing with the compass. "Why do they want the compass?"

"The thing's a piece of shit. You couldn't pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to," Pope added. When he realized what he said, he looked at the Routledge boy. "No offense, John B. I know it's in your family—"

"The office," the brunette boy cut him off, and they all stared at him in confusion, wondering what he was talking about when he hadn't had anything to say during the entirety of their conversation.

Bree furrowed her eyebrows. "What?"

"My dad. My dad's office," he continued, making his way to the door of the Chateau as the rest of them followed after him. "He always kept the office locked because he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. We used to laugh at him all the time like he was actually gonna find it, but now that he;s gone, I've just kinda,,,I just left it as he kept it."

"Yeah, for when he gets back," Kie said. They were now standing at a random door in the house that Bree had never noticed on the very few occasions that she'd been inside. He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

They stepped in, surveying the very messy room as Pope informed them, "I've slept over here like six hundred times, and I've never seen this door opened."

"Here, look. This is the original owner, right here," John B told them, grabbing a board and placing it on the table on top of a bunch of papers. He pointed to a picture with a piece of paper tacked next to it.

"Okay. Robert Q. Routledge, 1880 to 1920," Kie read before moving her finger to the picture. "There's the lucky compass, right there."

John B nodded, and a rooster outside crowed. "Actually, um, he was shot after he bought it. The compass was shipped back to Henry. 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."

"I don't think we want to have this compass," Bree muttered, her eyes widening at all the people that died of untimely deaths when they had it.

JJ sighed, "Let me guess. He died in action, right?"

"Sort of," the Routledge boy replied before reconsidering. "Uh, a—actually, he was killed by a banana truck. In — in country. Anyways, after that, Stephen passed the compass down to him, my dad."

"Hm. Sounds like there's a recurring theme here," the Maybank pointed out.

Pope nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you have a death compass."

"Seriously, dude, get rid of it," JJ said when his best friend tried to argue. "It's cursed, and it's made its way back to you."

"Look, my dad used to talk about this compartment in here." John B grabbed the compass and began fiddling with the top cover. "Soldiers used to hide secret notes."

Finally, it came off, and he looked around for some secret message to pop out or something. They crowded around him, and Kie noticed some writing on the cover. "What's that?"

"That wasn't there before. This is my dad's handwriting," the Routledge boy muttered in response.

Pope scoffed, "How can you know that?"

"Because he does these weird Rs with the—" he cut himself off, just deciding to show it to them instead. "See it?"

"Can I see it?" JJ asked, reaching out for the object in his best friend's hand.

Bree shook her head at John B, signaling for him to not hand it over. "I wouldn't let him touch it."

"Shut up," the blonde boy told her before grabbing the cover and looking at the word in an attempt to read it. "Red—Rout — No, I think that's an A."

"It says Redfield," Kie told him with an eyeroll.

JJ nodded. "Right."

"Okay, well, what's Redfield?" Kie questioned, looking down at the brown-haired boy to see if he had any clue as to what it meant. Sure, there were many places in the Outer Banks named Redfield, but they needed a specific place.

Pope groaned, "Besides the most common name in the county."

"Oh, maybe — maybe it's a clue," John B offered. "All right? Maybe it's a clue to where he's hiding."

"A clue, come on that's..." the Heyward boy trailed off when Kie shot him a warning look. The last thing they needed was for the Routledge boy to lose hope in finding his dad. "But if it is a clue, maybe it's an anagram?"

"Yes. Perfect. Anagram. You need paper. Here you go," John B scrambled to find a piece of paper for him to write on.

The rooster crowed once again, and Pope groaned in frustration as he took the pen and paper and began writing. "How can you concentrate with that thing constantly crowing at you?"

"JJ loves the rooster," the brunette boy told him while said boy leaned over Pope's shoulder.

Kie stared at him in shock. "I love the rooster."

"Okay, let me think," the Heyward ordered, and they all watched as he wrote the letters in different patterns. "Dedfiel. Colors — That's stupid."

"What about, like, Ritalin?" JJ suggested.

Bree furrowed her eyebrows at him. "Where the hell are you getting these letters? There's not a T or an N in 'Redfield,' dumbass."

"Okay," the blonde boy replied, holding his hand up and shaking his head. "There's no need for the hostility, princess."

"Dreidel? Fiddler?" Kie offered while the brunette girl stuck her tongue out at him.

Pope sighed glaring at all of them for interrupting his train of thought, "Let's stick with what we're.." He was drowned out by the sound of a car pulling up the house.

"Guys," John B called, but they were all too focused on the anagram. He shouted again, louder this time, "Guys! Somebody's here." The group, confused, made their way to stand next to him and look out the window to see two guys climb out of the car.

"Guys, guys, is that them? Is that them?" she asked, mainly directing the question to John B and JJ who had gotten a better look at the men that had shot at them.

They all began freaking out and talking at the same time, but the Routledge boy stopped all of them my pushing the blonde up against the wall. "JJ! Hey, look at me. Where's the gun?"

"Gun?" he questioned, grabbing his pockets for any sign of the weapon. "I, uh, I can't—"

"Now, you don't have the gun, the one time we need the gun?" Kie asked in disbelief and anger, her voice breaking as scared tears began to well up in her eyes.

Bree ran a hand through her hair as JJ continued, "It was in my backpack, and then I—"

"On the porch," John B realized.

"It's on the porch," the Maybank boy repeated, nodding and rushing to the door to grab it before the men got to it first. "It's—" He opened the door and began running to the porch.

"John Routledge!" A loud voice came from right outside, causing the blonde boy to turn on his heel, falling over, and run back to the room with them. "Come on out, now!"

The brunette boy stared at his friend in wonder. "Where's the gun?"

"They're on the front porch, guys," JJ informed them, and the men continued to yell. Bree could hear their voices getting closer and closer. The front door slammed open, and the sound of breaking glass rang throughout the house.

"Guys, window. Window. Hurry," Kie whispered, and the Maybank and Heyward rushed to it, trying to open it. The two girls walked over to them when they couldn't open it. "What — What's happening? Why is it taking so long?"

Bree inhaled deeply. "Hurry up, guys."

"It's painted shut, okay?" JJ snapped at them. John B put all his weight against the door, wincing at every loud crash and yell that came from behind it.

"Okay, guys," Kie said, grabbing a letter opener from a table next to her and handing it to Bree who started chiseling the paint away. "Here, I got it."

When she began taking to long, the blonde boy glanced nervously at the door. "Come on. Come on."

"I'm going as fast as I can," she assured him, and annoyed expression on her face. John B and Pope, who was standing next to him against the door, shushed them quickly.

All of a sudden, there was a loud banging against the door. "You better not be in there!" A gunshot was fired against the door, and the two boys backed away from it.

The all went silent as Bree finally got the window open. Kie climbed through first, followed by JJ who helped the Callaway girl out afterwards. Once they were all out, John B led them to the chicken coup.

After a couple minutes, the men came out with boxes full of Big John's research, and the rooster kept crowing. Bree flinched every time it did, her back pressed against the wood next to JJ.

"Do something, Pope," the blonde boy insisted, gesturing to the bird. "Shut him up."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Pet it, or talk to it, or something. I don't know," Kie told him through tears . The heard the car door close, and they all shut their mouths. 

The stupid rooster kept making noise, though, and it got to the point where JJ just grabbed it with both hands and twisted its neck so that it fell limp and dead in his arms. He backed up against the wall again, and Kie let out a sob.

Bree's leg was bouncing almost violently in fright as she fought back the tears that were beginning to form. She stopped when a firm but gentle hand landed on her thigh, holding it in place. She looked up and met the comforting blue eyes of the Maybank boy.

"Ratter!" shouted a voice from outside. "What the hell are you doing? Let's go." There were a few more sounds, but finally, the car pulled away. They all let out sighs of relief. 

The brunette girl's head fell onto JJ's shoulder as she took a couple deep breaths to slow down her heart. They were safe for now.