Rogue | outer banks

039 - The Airstrip

The morning sun cast a warm glow over the deck where the Pogues gathered. Rafe and I had shared a quiet night, cocooned in each other's presence, but the call from Kie shattered the tranquil bubble we had created. He huffed in a way that conveyed his reluctance to part ways, and I couldn't help but share the sentiment. A lazy morning tangled up with him was a tempting prospect, a desire to freeze time and savor the stolen moments.

Yet, duty called, and we reluctantly untangled ourselves.

As I joined the others on the deck, I couldn't help but notice John B struggling to free himself from the cast on his arm. His nonchalant attitude towards his own well-being raised my eyebrows in concern.

"What the hell are you doing?" I questioned, my expression a mix of confusion and worry.

"Look, it's not like I expected a happy ending or some shit," John B retorted, tossing the cast aside with an air of defiance. His eyes met mine, and a sigh escaped him. "What, Lia? It's a hairline fracture. Who cares?"

"You should care," I deadpanned, my concern etched in my gaze. "Your arm's gonna be messed up for life."

John B, seemingly unfazed, wiggled his fingers to demonstrate his perceived invincibility. "It's fine," he reassured, a hint of bravado in his voice. "See?"

"That's so convincing," I remarked, a tone of skepticism in my voice.

The atmosphere on the deck shifted as Pope's voice cut through the air, carrying a sense of urgency. I turned to see him sprinting towards us, sweat stains marring his pristine Kook-looking shirt. His arrival brought a wave of curiosity and concern among us.

"Guys!" he exclaimed again, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "Oh my God! Oh! I ran all the way here."

Kiara, with a quizzical expression, inquired, "You alright?"

"How was the interview, Pope?" JJ questioned.

"Don't ask," Pope replied, a nonchalant shrug betraying an unusual indifference.

Months of preparation for a scholarship interview, and yet he seemed remarkably unbothered.

"Awesome," John B chimed in with a nonchalant tone.

Pope, the intellectual powerhouse of the Pogues, had always been the one engrossed in books, tirelessly studying for the sheer pleasure of it. His carefree attitude now seemed out of character, and I couldn't help but wonder why he was here and why the interview outcome seemed inconsequential to him.

"JB," Pope panted, addressing John B, who lounged on the deck. "Look, I'm sorry, dude. About everything."

John B's response was surprisingly calm, "It's fine."

"But... but I don't have a lot of time and— and I have information that is tactically relevant," Pope rushed out. "So, before I had my interview, my dad said he was going down to the private airstrip to cut palms for Cameron's big plane. Because it was too heavy and it needed a longer landing strip to take off. So, I'm sitting in my interview, thinking to myself, 'Hmmm, why would Cameron need a longer airstrip to take off?'"

John B, visibly processing the information, stood up, his face a canvas of contemplation.

"'What could be so heavy to weigh it down?'" Pope continued, his voice charged with a mixture of excitement and realization.

"Gold!" JJ exclaimed, his disbelief mirrored on the faces of the rest of us.

"Oh my God..." Kiara whispered, her eyes wide with realization.

"Exactly!" Pope affirmed, his excitement contagious. "Guys, this is our chance, but it leaves tonight and we have to go."

As Pope's words hung in the air, a surge of determination swept through me. This was it — the pivotal moment that could change the course of our lives.