IT WAS ALWAYS A BACK AND FORTH process between sleeping at John B's and sleeping in her own home for Sierra. That night, though, it felt necessary to stay in the Routledge boy's company after such a major discovery. One of which made everything much more personal then it initially was. The two were up hours after night fall, discussing how a compass that was in Big John's ancestry was somehow circled back into John B's palm. And something about denial, that was mostly on John B's part due to the constant pitiful looks he gets whenever he shoots down that claim that his father was dead.

  "Denial is overrated." He claimed, looking at Sierra from across the hammock, noting the fact that she was dozing off with every word he spoke.

  "Well, I had no room for denial because my old man was just straight up dead." Sierra slurred tiredly as she shrugged, throwing her head back. "And the autopsy is there to prove it, plus the funeral really sealed the deal."

  John B didn't know if he should've laughed or patted her on the back with a soothing word. He did a mixture of both, standing from the hammock with an amused grin and a hand on her right shoulder. "Don't think he pulled a Will Byers and the body you saw was actually just a dummy."

  "Denial is a river in Egypt, John B." Sierra muttered, slowly stepping off the hammock as well. "Let's keep it there and not bring to the Outerbanks."

  "Don't know 'bout you, but you should definitely try it out."

  "Didn't you just say it was overrated?"

  "I can make some exception." John B tossed an arm to wrap around Sierra, letting her sink into his side as they made their way into the Chateau. "Alright, nice and steady."

  John B slowly lowered Sierra before she physically tossed herself into the sheets. The pull out couch had spent more of its hours as a bed then an actual couch, the brunette noticed. It was small things like that of which he appreciated. It meant he didn't have to leave Sierra on one of the dining chairs—where he knew she'd ultimately fall asleep on—as he set up the whole bed.

  Sierra only let out half groans, half hums every time John B spoke, including when he pushed her to the other side so he could comfortably crawl in too. "To being fatherless, John B."

  The Routledge boy laughed, shaking his head. "To being fatherless, Sierra."

  "Goodnight."

  "Night."

Sleep soon overtook them, soft breathing turning into snores as they rested for the whole night. The pull out couch could've been worse. Yes, it was a bit old but with a few blankets and pillows (and JJ's body warmth, of which was absent from the scene) it was enough.

  That morning, a pounding came from the door, a deep voice calling out from the other side.

"DCS, we know you're in there!" A harsh knock, then a brief silence. John B sat up in a instant, looking around in fear, his hand reaching out to shake Sierra awake. Just as she began to flutter open her eyes, JJ jumped in front of the window that sat directly above the couch, banging on the glass with a wide grin. John B flinched, then scoffed at the sight of his mischievous best friend. "Gotcha' slick."

Sierra sat up, looking around with furrowed brows and squinted eyes. "Fuck off, JJ." She heard John B mutter, moving off the couch to unlock the door.

"What are you doing on the pull out couch with my girl, that's our designated spot." JJ pushed through the door, staring at the culprits with a raised eyebrow.

"I thought it was the guest room that you turned into your room." John B asked, standing to walk to his bedroom and search for a different shirt.

"It is, we have multiple spots." The blonde turned to look at Sierra who had yet to say anything, far too sleepy as she stared at the wall in front of her blankly. "Isn't that right?"

"Huh?"

"Y'know." John B peeked his head out from his room, his bare shoulders indicating that he was mid shirt change. "This is my house."

"Okay?"

"I'm hungry." Sierra groaned, heading for the bathroom.

"The lady is hungry, do you seriously not know how to treat a girl properly, Johnny." JJ asked with two firm hands planted on his hips.

"She's not my girl to take care of." The brunette declared stepping out his room, "That's your job, big boy." He patted his best friends shoulder, opening the front door and leaving. JJ was left with his mouth half open, ready to spit back words that never left his mouth. He wasn't even sure if he was going to say anything if he was given the chance.

"Si, hurry up." The blonde called out, leaning against the wide open door that gave him full view of Sierra changing. She was only slipping on a tank top, so there wasn't anything to gawk at for the moment. "Cute shirt."

"Thanks, you stole it."

—

"I'M JUST SAYIN', LIKE, I DON'T understand why you don't at least try with Kiara." JJ began after a he somehow found a way to bring up the Carrera girl. Sierra listened in mindlessly from the back seat. "She clearly likes you. She's like: 'oh, John B'!"

  John B kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the passenger seat cooly. He stared over towards JJ, who sat in the said passenger seat, and gave him an unconvinced look. "Oh, is that what she does?"

  "She's sketchin' about you diving, and then she kissed you, bro!" JJ exaggerated like Kiara had proposed to John B, much like he always does when he wants to get his point across. "Back me up, Sierra."

  "Let the women rest." John B began, "And, by the way, Kie kissed me on the cheek! S'not like we were makin' out or anything, like you and Sierra level shit."

  "Aye, let the woman rest." JJ raised a finger before quickly switching back to the subject at hand. "And I got three words for you: Low-hanging fruit, bro."

  "That was four."

  "Shut up, stop trying to change this subject and pretend like you don't notice." JJ raised two fingers to point at his bright blue irires, then motioned them at John B dramatically. "I see it in your eyes, you're like: 'I kinda like that', and you start blushing 'nd shit."

  "I blush?" John B raised a brow, looking over at JJ suspiciously. At that point, he wasn't sure if what the blonde said was true or a bent truth that he trying manifest.

  "Yeah, you do."

  "Really?" John B furrowed his brows, glancing at the rear view mirror, "Pirate, do I blush?"

  "I think so." Sierra mumbled from her resting position, "But sometimes I can't tell if it's actual blush or just your sun damaged ass skin."

  "Okay."

  "I mean, I've told you to put on sunscreen, like, a gazillion times."

  "Alright, enough, I'm done with this conversation." John B rolled his eyes, going back to having both hands on the wheel and staring forward. That was only kept up for a few moments before JJ curiously reached for the compass and was met with John B's frantic lunge.

  "Hey, don't—" The one thing John B knew was that the last person he'd let hold onto an old relic that was passed down his bloodline was JJ Maybank. As sneaky and slick the blonde boys hands can be, the holes in his pockets were not. The only things JJ somehow managed to keep on him were his wallet, lighter, and vape. Maybe, the occasional pre-rolled blunt that he kept in a mentos tin pack.

  "I was just looking at it!" JJ defended, pulling away his hand as John B retreated hesitantly. JJ stared at the compass, tracing his thumb over the copper cover. "I gotta admit, your father's compass in Scooter's boat," The blonde gave a look, "that's freaky."

John B's gaze flickered between the road and the compass in JJ's hand. "Yeah, that's why we're going to talk to Ms. Lana, figure this whole thing out."

"I'm sure she would love to talk to us." JJ commented, resting comfortably against the seat and raising his feet up onto the dashboard. "It's not like her husband just drowned or anything "

Sierra snickered, sitting up from her seat after mentally deciding that she'd gotten enough rest. "And the women saw the body too. I bet she's ecstatic to see three teenagers asking about a compass they stole from her husbands boat after seeing that pretty sight."

—

John B pulled into the dirt drive away of the home which was hidden behind a mini forest of trees. The Grubb's lived isolated from the island, preferring to stay in a more isolated location from The Cut. The van halted, quieting down as the brunette removed the keys from the ignited and exited. He already began towards the front door, not paying attention to JJ who stayed put until Sierra was fully out and sliding the door shut.

JJ then whistled, catching John B's attention and making him pause his steps. "You know what this house looks like?" The blonde nodded at the pretty pink house that was decorated with multi-colored flowers. "Whoever lives here smokes too much weed."

John B laughed, shaking his head before continuing his steps. Sierra joined in with soft giggled, wrapping an arm around JJ's waist for comfort. The blonde instinctively tossed his own arm to rest on her shoulders. They still stood near van, unmoving.

"Wouldn't this house be a perfect fit for you?" Sierra questioned, looking up at him. "Y'know, the whole 'smokes too much weed' thing fits you."

"Yeah, but," JJ chuckled, turning to look at the home once more, "lady went a little overboard. I would've at least put a naked marble statue of me out front for decoration."

Sierra let out another laugh, "Like the Ancient Greeks?"

"Exactly."

"Small dick and all?"

"You know what it looks like, and it's not that."

Sierra blushed, looking away and holding back a smile. "That was a long time ago, I barely remember."

"I think you remember very clearly, princess."

"John B." Sierra called out and began walking towards him, far too flustered to continue being so near JJ at the moment. "Please, help me."

John B paused, but not because of Sierra's words. As she grew near she heard why he suddenly grew so tense, there was crashing of furniture and smashing of glass coming from the home. Not only that, but after came screams. A man, maybe another, and a woman.

  Well, the situation just took a really drastic turn. Sierra's smile dropped, her steps slowing down as John B held out a hand.

JJ jogged over to catch up, furrowing his brows at the noise. "Maybe we should come back." He suggested nervously, already reaching to grab Sierra's hand and drag her back to the van.

  "No, no—"

  "Maybe It's a little to soon."

  "Shut up, shut up, JJ." John B admonished through his teeth, glaring at JJ before turning back. The brunette then continued, one foot stepping slowly in front of the other. Sierra pulled her hand away from JJ's unmoving grip, following after the Routledge boy.

  The sound of booming curses and shouts made JJ flinch, crouching low at the noise. The three arrived just below the window seal, squished against the wall uncontrollably. A sense of Deja Vu washed over Sierra, thinking back on when she was on the motel platform, hiding from the cops.

  Things seemed to be far more intense this time, as hard as it seems. Sierra didn't know if that was because of the continuous screaming from the men or Lana Grubbs' whimpers of fear and pain. Maybe even both, it did not matter which, for one poked at a tense bear in Sierra's mind. It made her chest heave unconsciously, she did not realize that the panic was beginning to paralyze her until a loud crash neared the window and caused a mixture of paint and dust to snow down onto the heads of the three Pogues.

  That's when JJ's hand flung out to grip onto Sierra's, turning to look between her and John B, who was equally as flummoxed by the action.

  "Is that paint?" JJ questioned, shaking his blonde locks and running a hand through to remove any residue.

  "Yes, it's paint!" John B snapped back quietly. He moved past him to peek out only his eye, catching sight of the men as they finally released the widow from their terror and stomped out the home, grumbling curses under their breath.

  Sierra leaned over the brunette, her chin grazing his shoulder as she attempted to figure out their identity. JJ mimicked her actions and nearly let out a gasp that would've gotten them caught.

  "Dude, those were the guys who shot at us." The Maybank boy looked to John B with widened, blue eyes, opening his mouth to say something else before being interrupted.

  "Move back, move back." The Routledge boy ushered, pushing Sierra and JJ away to remain hidden. A loud engine buzzed by but faded away just as swiftly as it approached. By the time it was gone, John B didn't waste a second.

  He kept his eyes on the boat, stepping towards the front porch cautiously. The door was broken off its hinges, swinging loosely as John B pushed it away with a quiet curse at the scene. "Ms. Lana?" His eyes widened when he saw the weeping woman on the floor, "Ms. Lana?"

"Oh, my god." Sierra whispered, a hand coming to cover her mouth.

"Hey, hey." John B murmured reassuringly as he rushed to the woman's side, "Are you okay."

It seemed as if Lana Grubbs wasn't present, her soul so devastated by grief and terror that her ears blocked out all noise. She didn't turn at the sound of footsteps or the Routledge boys soft words. She only hugged herself, protecting her torso that breathed heavily with sobs. It wasn't until John B laid a hand on her shoulder that she flinched back into reality.

"Dude, she's tweaking."

"Stop." Sierra sternly warned, turning to the blonde with a raised hand to signal her want for him to back away. She kneeled down next to John B, joining in on the pitiful look that he gave Ms. Lana.

"Do you need a doctor?" The brunette asked, being met with no answer before he turned to Sierra, "Let's call the sheriff's department."

In an instant, Ms. Lana snapped her head up and shook it, "No, no, no, no cops, please."

"Mm." JJ hummed in quiet disapproval, "That's not good." He leaned down to brush his fingers on Sierra's shoulder, "Come on, dude, let's just go."

"JJ, stop it." Sierra warned once again, shrugging off his touch before looking back to the frightened woman. "Ms. Lana, tell us what we can do to help."

"You shouldn't be here."

"That's enough for me, come on." JJ muttered, this time he reached over to grab John B's bicep and tugged at it gently.

"Wait, wait." The brunette whispered, pulling him back. "What do you know about these guys?"

"They were looking for some thing." The Grubbs woman replied with a quivering voice.

The Routledge boy furrowed his brows, immediately reaching into his back pocket. "Does it have anything to do with this." The sight of the compass sent waves of utter fear through Lana Grubbs. All together, her sniffles stopped, her crying stopped, and her ragged breathing did as well. She froze. "Do you know anything about this?"

"JB, let's just fuckin' chill; she's scared—"

"This is my father's, and Scooter had it." He ignored, pushing at Ms. Lana further. "Why?"

"Scooter didn't have it, okay?" The woman defended, mood switching instantly. Her hoarse voice turning sharp and angry, almost. "Don't tell anyone that you have that."

"Why?"

"They can't know that you have that! You've got to get out of here!"

Sierra finally found it in her to give in to JJ's frantic want to leave, standing up and leaning to grab John B. "Let's go—"

"What do you know about the compass?"

"Go! Get out!" The woman yelled, shuffling up to her knees in a weak attempt to stand and kick them out herself.

"We gotta go." JJ joined in on pulling the Routledge boy to his feet. "Let's go."

John B opened and closed his mouth, fighting between the angel and devil on his shoulder. He knew that in such a state, it was best to leave Ms. Lana alone, but he desperately wanted to know what was behind the compass ending up in Scooter Grubbs' boat. Ultimately, he forced to leave her and her cries alone, the three rushing back into the van.

"Who's got service." JJ asked, "We gotta get Kie and Pope in on this."

—

  JJ PACED AROUND THE PORCH in a dizzying manner, his expressive body language and flustered state made his story telling nearly unintelligible.

  "And all we hear is just: Bam! Bam! Bam!." He leaned against the brick wall, "Knocking paint off the wall, G! From the inside, all right? And I'm just looking at him, and then to Sierra, like—" He suddenly paused his frantic words, bending down in front of Kiara and Pope who listened in with scrunched up faces of confusion. "Wait, first off, look at this shit. Look at it."

  The blonde ran his fingers through his hair, releasing white flakes of chipped paint from his locks, his pause in the reenactment giving him the chance to let out ragged breaths.
 
  "That's dandruff," Kiara mumbled, looking at the flakes as they drifted to floor in disgust, "disgusting."

"All right, thank you." Pope muttered, pushing his head away.

"Look at all that, all right?" JJ huffed, standing up straight, "That's paint!" He turned to stare off at the distance dramatically, "At that point, I was just like...I'm waiting for death!"

Pope placed his head into his hands, "Oh, okay, so you saw the guys that shot at us, right."

"Yeah."

"Did you get a good description of
them? What did they look like?" Pope further questioned, hoping to find some sort of peace in JJ's frazzled state.

  "Anything?"

  "Anything we can bring to, like, a police report, maybe."

"Yeah." Kiara agreed calmly, nodding towards Pope before turning to JJ.

  "Burly." Was all JJ managed to let out, turning around swiftly like a lightbulb went off atop of his head.

Pope sat there for a moment, staring at the blonde with a expressionless look. "Burly?" The Heyward boy repeated, like he was shocked at the lack of help the word provided.

"Yeah," JJ nodded, snapping his fingers to find the right words. "y'know, like-" He kept opening and closing his mouth, trying to find a way to finish his sentence, but all he let out were stutters and unsure syllables.

"That's not very helpful." Kiara held her voice barley above a whisper, enough for JJ to hear but not be offended.

"Okay, well—no, like the type of guy at my dad's garage." JJ added on, looking between his friends, he didn't receive as much as a nod or a hum, just stares. "I mean, you guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers."

  "Yeah, yes." Kiara confirmed, though JJ opened his mouth to further continue his description, "No, we know."

  The blonde finally let out a sigh, "I can tell you this with full confidence, guys. These boys," He reached into his shirt pocket to pull out his pen, "these killers," He took a heavy inhale, "they're are square groupers."

  Pope once again held that same, utterly confused and stressed look at the words. "They're square grouper, like narco square grouper? Like Pablo Escobar square grouper?" He spoke while rubbing his hands down his face.

  "Yeah, man."

"You guys," Kiara uttered with a roll of her eyes, "not everything is a kingpin movie."

  "Okay, so what does this square grouper look like, specifically?" The Heyward boy asked, hoping that this attempt would draw out a more clear answer.

"You weren't there, bro!"

"Because apparently, you don't know what to look for!"

  "Dude!" JJ snapped, throwing his arms down frustratingly, "I wasn't taking little mental Polaroids the entire time, man, I was under duress. Okay?" He spoke the sentence in one whole breath, voice raising in pitch after each word. "But, I can tell you..." He breathed in sharply, "But I can tell you by the way that Ms. Lana was screaming...that these guys are serious. Serious, serious hombres, man."

"All right, Jay." Sierra whispered softly, moving to the side so a space opened up next to her. "Just chill the fuck out."

  "It's a heavy vibe right now, okay?" He finalized, walking to the open spot next to the Ray girl and collapsing down with a heavy sigh. "I'm not liking this very much."

  "Why do they want the compass?" Kiara asked the million dollar question. One that they asked themselves the moment they saw and heard the rampage left behind at the Grubb's residence. Now that it was left to five teenagers to figure out, it seemed nearly impossible to know why.

  "It's a piece of shit." Pope spoke up, "You couldn't pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to. No offense, John B, I know it's in your family—"

  "The office." John B muttered suddenly, looking at the compass he'd flickered open in an attempt to find an answer somewhere. He took the murmurs of confusion as a sign to continue. "My dad. My dad's office." He marched towards the front door, "He always kept it locked because he was worried that his competitors would steal his Royal Merchant research. We used to laugh at him like he was actually gonna find it. But now that's he's gone, I've just kinda...just left it as he kept it."

The Pogues followed behind him and into the home with furrowed brows, all equally as confused. The brunette then stood at the white door, securely locked with a keyhole on the knob and a extra lock dangling on a screwed on hook.

"Yeah, for when he gets back." Kiara encouraged positively, giving him a smile as he turned to look at her.

"So," Pope began, "How the hell do you even get in." He looked to the very obviously locked door. "Unless someone here knows how to do the Alohomora trick on this door we're not opening it."

"I could kick it down." JJ offered, raising a hand as Sierra slapped it back down. "What?"

"No." John B firmly denied, "We have a way in. A key, one that my dad gave to one person, and one person only. Someone he trusted with his work more then anyone, including me."

"Who?"

"Me." Sierra pushed away her hair, removing the necklace that dangled around her from a single black band. The key was offered out to John B, a perfect fit for the lock.

"Wait, why do you have it?" Pope questioned with furrowed brows, "I get that he trusted you and all, but why you?"

"Believing in others will get you very far in life, Pope. And I was the only one who believed this whole Royal Merchant thing."
Sierra proudly smirked, titling her head. "Tell me who you'd trust in a world full of doubters?"

John B took the key from Sierra's hands, almost hesitant as he reached for the lock. But he pushed that anxious feeling away, swiftly unlocking the door and pushing it open. He was quick to step in before his own mind changed its decision, scanning the stacks of papers all over his desk.

It was a sight to gawked, and that's what the Pogues did as they entered the room in a much more slower and observant manner. The Big John's office, like a fictional world in a book that you finally see with your own eyes. Although, it wasn't that mystical, it was more dusty from all the months being locked up.

  "I've slept over here, like, six hundred times and I've never seen the door opened." Pope muttered, his dark eyes bouncing across the room to take it in.

"Here, look." John B interrupted before anybody could make another comment about their own fascination with the office. He placed a bulletin board that was messily organized with a variety of photos and paper scraps."This is the original owner, right here."

"Okay, Robert Q. Routledge,1880 to 1920." Kiara began, curiously reading out the information provided where John B pointed at. "There's the lucky compass, right there."

"Actually, um..." The Routledge boy winced as he spoke, "he was shot after he bought it. Then the compass was shipped back to Henry P. Routledge. He 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."

The group listened in slight horror at the quick deaths of each compass bearer, all dying so suddenly. JJ spoke up, looking at the black and white picture of a man in military attire. "Let me guess, he died in action, right?"

"Sort of, uh, a-actually, he was killed by a banana truck, in country." John awkwardly explained, looking up at the four before clearing his throat. "Anyways, after that, Stephen passed the compass down to him, my dad."

"Hmm, sounds like there's a reoccurring theme here."

"Yeah, so, uh.." Pope sucked in a breath before letting it out in a heavy sigh, "you have a death compass."

"I do not have a death compass."

"You have a death compass."

"Seriously, dude, get rid of it." JJ began, glaring over at John B who'd already walked away in irritation. "It's cursed, and made it's way back to you."

John B paused, suddenly sitting down on a squeaky old chair that was pulled out from a desk. "Look, my dad used to talk about this compartment in here." He twisted off the bottom of the compass easily, shaking to see if anything spilled out. "Soldiers used to hide secret notes."

  "What's that?" Kiara inquired, pointing to the cap that was discarded after John B twisted it off.

  "That wasn't there before." John B muttered, brows furrowing as he stared at the engraved word. "This is my dad's handwriting."

  "How can you know that?" Pope threw back, unconvinced.

  "Big John used to have these really weird R's." Sierra answered, making John B nod in agreement and show the cap off.

  "Yeah, it had the little thing, see it?"

  "Can I see it?" JJ requested, moving his hand out as John B placed it hesitantly onto his palm. "Red—Route—no, I think it's an A."

  "It say's Redfield." Kiara easily read which made JJ pause and hand it back to John B with a nod.

  "Right."

  "Dumbass."

  "Okay, in my defense—"

  "Okay, well, what's Redfield?" Kiara interrupted, looking down at John B who only covered his face.

  "Besides the most common name in the county."

  "Maybe it's a clue." The Routledge boy spoke up, "Maybe it's a clue to where he's hiding."

  "A clue? Come on, that's—" Pope scoffed, already beginning to form an explanation as to why it most definitely wasn't a clue. That was until his eyes met Kiara, who was giving him a look as she placed a hand on her hip. "But...if it is a clue, maybe it's an anagram?"

  "Yes, perfect!" John B pointed enthusiastically, looking around frantically. "Anagram, you need paper."

  Pope took the paper and pen, handing it to him while scrunching his nose as the rooster let out another loud yelp. It had been doing it continuously for the past hour, not letting up.

  "How do you concentrate with that thing constantly crowing at you?"

  "JJ loves the rooster!" John B snapped, casually letting out the information like it was obvious. "Sierra loves the rooster!"

  "Don't talk shit about about Mr. Willy."

  "You named it?" Pope gave a disbelieved look to Sierra, "You gave the rooster a name."

  "I'm pretty sure the damn thing responds to it now." John B added on, turning away to look for more papers or clues. "Because the other day it wouldn't let me feed it until I called it by the name."

"And, if we're gonna be stealin' his children to make some bomb ass omelets we at least gotta give respect where respect is due."

"It's a rooster."

  "Nah," JJ defended, shaking his head in disapproval, "Mr. Willy is a G."

  "Okay, enough, I need to think." Pope raised his hands, silencing the room before beginning to spew out words that could relate to Redfield.

  "What about, like, Ritalin?"

  "Dreidel? Fiddler?"

  "Defile, does that mean anything to you?"

  "Nah, you're missing a letter, that wouldn't make sense—"

  "Guys!" John B called sternly, and loudly, catching the attention of the four. "Somebody is here!"

  The four all walked up to the Routledge boys side, taking one look out the dirty window to see two men exiting their car. "Guys, guys is that them?"

  "No."

  "Is that them?" Kiara asked again, more frantically as her breaths quickened in panic.

  "This is suboptimal."

  "No shit, Pope!"

  "John B, I told you." JJ began calmly, but the beginning steps of his anxious pacing overruled any peace he held in his tone. "Why does it always—"

  "JJ, hey, look at me." John B aggressively tugged at the fabric of his shirt, forcing JJ to turn around as the brunette simultaneously shoved him against the wall. "Where's the gun."

  Now the panic hand settled in completely, JJ blue eyes being clouded by his dilated pupils, but they were quickly hidden away as he closed them in deep thought. "Gun? I, uh, I can't—"

  "Now you don't have the gun, the one time we need the gun?" Kiara babbled worryingly, her voice a little too loud for comfort.

  It only made the blonde more scared, his empty head scrambling to find a answer. "It was in my backpack, and then I—" He stopped for a moment to find the rest of his sentence as he rubbed his eyes.

  "On the porch?" John B concluded with a raise brow, making JJ snap his eyes open.

  "It's on the porch." The Maybank boy whispered back in realization, murmuring out the sentence like he was going to forget as he was pushed out the door to fetch it.

  "John Routledge!" Just as quickly as JJ sprinted out, he stumbled back in, slamming the door shut. The booming sound of the intruders voice frightening him enough. "Come on out now!"

"Where's the gun?" John B asked, brows furrowing at the sight of the Maybank boy's empty hands.

  "They're on the front porch, guys." Following JJ's defeated sigh, noises of utter havoc were heard through the door. Crashes of furniture being thrown, glasses shattering, metal cans of empty beer tossed carelessly to the floor. It was utter Deja Vu, save for the rooster that continued to crow.

  "We gotta leave!" Kiara whispered loudly, turning away from the noises to find an emergency exit. "Guys, window, window."

  Immediately, JJ and Pope put in an effort by attempting to pry open the window, but not avail. "Any fuckin' day now!" Sierra couldn't help but snap, her put-togethor stature crumbling as the noises only got closer.

  "It's painted shut, okay!" JJ turned to throw his own panicked words right back, "You should fuckin' know since you practically lived in here!"

  "Why are you still talking? Open the fuckin' window, Jay!"

  "Okay, guys, chill." Kiara attempted to reason, returning to them a letter opener that probably was dull and dusty with age. "Here, got it."

  Pope pulled away, moving to instead guard the door with John B. Kiara worked on cutting through the paint, which was much harder to do when you're under pressure and have an uncontrollable tremble in your hands.

"Kiara, hurry up!"

  "Shut up, I'm trying."

  John B signaled for silence, a for a few, blissful moments, there was. That was until loud bangs of a foot against a door pierced it, the wood shaking behind the Routledge boy's back. A piece even broke off, falling to the floor as Pope and John B moved away.

  It was the Pogues rushing against time, now all sorts of hushed words of fear spilling out for Kiara to open the window. On the cusp of being caught, the window as finally opened. Sierra had never been more happy to feel the same, humid air fill her lungs. She hadn't even realized that whole situation had nearly suffocated her with anxiety.

  They trailed behind each other, taking impatient turns to crawl—or, more so throw themselves out—and reach the dirt below. The oncoming cries of terror were only encouraged by a gun shot that rang into the room. In a suspenseful few seconds, John B reached the floor and pulled the window back down right before the intruders managed to break in.

—

NATTI SPEAKS:
edited 05/19/24
Please let me know of any spelling errors found on this chapter! Thank you, enjoy your reading <3.