the chain

damn your lies

Dustin presses the doorbell, hearing its shrill ring from outside Reefer Rick's house. You can't actually believe you're at a house belonging to a guy called Reefer Rick. It checks out though, Eddie had to have been getting his weed from somewhere. You had never talked to him about where though. You watch Dustin nervously bouncing in anticipation as he presses it again. Once again, silence follows.

"Okay. Well, that's settled," Steve speaks up, giving a frustrated shrug, "Ricks not home."

Dustin resorts to slamming his fist against the door loudly, causing you to jump a little as he begins to shout, "Eddie? We're here to help you! Are you in there?" Even Robin cringes, glancing around. Max stands there, unamused and kinda cold. "Eddie, it's Dustin!"

"Great," Steve sighs, running a hand over his tired face.

"Rick? Reefer Rick?"

"Don't scream that!" Steve widens his eyes at him, a stern look crossing his face as if he's a parent trying to calm their child down at the supermarket. You let out a sigh as the kid continues to shout and knock on the door. Turning to the large front yard, you can hear the sound of lapping waves. It's distant and low. It isn't windy so Lovers Lake must be calm tonight. If you weren't so terrified and on edge, you'd think this place would be kind of nice to live in. The morning view must be pretty, you can only imagine.

As the group bickers, you walk the steps down the front porch. There's a light on in the distance. It belongs to the boat house just beyond the driveway. "Guys?" You call out, frowning as you peer at the large building.

Steve and Dustin continue their bickering, standing in front of the door and gesturing wildly at one another.

Max, having heard your call, stands beside you, "Wanna check it out while the two idiots argue?" She quips, looking up at you with a small smirk.

You smile back at the young girl, "Sure. Just stay behind me."

The boathouse door creaks open easily but loudly, gaining the attention of the rest of the group. Robin walks down the steps, towards the boathouse, "Come on, idiots."

You walk in first, the darkness chilling you to your core. Suddenly, you wish Steve and Robin were standing beside you. After everything you've gone through, they're your safe place. You all trust one another with your lives. If anything were to happen - to any of you - you know that they have your back, no matter what.

"This place stinks," Max mutters, clicking her flashlight on. The inside lights up, showing you an old, somewhat abandoned space. It's full of junk, sure, but it doesn't seem like any ones been here for a long, long time. With your own torch in hand, you walk around, shuffling the various papers and notes splayed upon the tall workbench. Max is right, it smells like dead fish and saltwater in here. The scent is abrasive to your nostrils and you move to the small boat in the centre of the room.

"Is anyone home?" Robin looks around at the dark place.

The group disperses, quietly looking around; opening closets, looking underneath benches and chairs. Steve grabs an oar from the floor beside the boat, looking at it in his hands before narrowing his eyes at the tarp above the boat. He ignores the look you give him. There's a coffee table filled with empty bottles and food packages. You can even smell the faint scent of a cigarette. "Someone was here," Max announces, glancing at Robin to her left.

Steve pulls the oar back, shoving it into the tarp a few times, "What? For all we know, he did have something to do with it."

Dustin lets out a sigh, "Come on, again with this?"

"Maybe he heard us got spooked and ran," Robin suggests, looking down at the coffee table.

"Don't worry!" Dustin adds, his voice in a high, sarcastic tone, "Steve will get him with his oar."