SUNBURN | JOHN B ROUTLEDGE

071

Everyone stood frozen in shock, the gravity of what had just occurred sinking in like a stone in deep water. Sarah's mind struggled to comprehend what she had just witnessed. Her own brother had shot someone. Rafe, the same brother she had grown up with, who had his moments of anger but was still her family, was now standing there, a gun in hand, having just committed an unthinkable act. She couldn't believe it. The Rafe she knew had always been reckless, but this? This was beyond anything she could have imagined.

Ward, on the other hand, was reeling from a different kind of disbelief. His son had done the unthinkable, and not in a moment of passion or fear, but to protect him. Rafe had crossed a line that Ward himself had been teetering on, and now there was no going back. It was a mess, a colossal disaster that Ward hadn't foreseen, and he felt a cold dread wash over him as he realized the full extent of what had happened.

Gabriella was in a state of shock so profound that she could hardly breathe. Just not that long ago, she had been sitting with Rafe, sharing breakfast, engaging in what had seemed like a friendly conversation. Rafe had always been a troubled kid, prone to outbursts, but this? Shooting someone, committing murder? It was unfathomable. The image of him sitting across from her, just hours ago, clashed violently with the reality of him now, gun in hand, having just shot Sheriff Peterkin.

On the ground, Peterkin was gasping for breath, her life slipping away as blood pooled beneath her. She coughed weakly, each breath a struggle as she tried to hold on. John B rushed to her side, his heart pounding in his chest. "Hey, hey. Hold still. Hold still. It's okay," he murmured, trying to comfort her as he frantically searched for her walkie-talkie to call for help. "Where is it? Where is it?" he muttered, his hands trembling as he pressed his bandana against her wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

Gabriella ran to Peterkin's side, her own tears streaming down her face as she gently stroked Peterkin's head, her voice breaking as she kept repeating, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The words tumbled out of her mouth in a desperate litany, as if by apologizing, she could somehow undo what had just happened.

Peterkin, her voice barely a whisper, managed to gasp out, "Call. Call for help." The words were barely audible, but John B and Gabriella heard them, and they both scrambled for the walkie-talkie. Just as they found it, they were stopped in their tracks by the cold barrel of a gun pointed directly at them.

It was Rafe. His eyes were wild, his breath coming in sharp, erratic bursts. "Don't even think about it," he snarled, his voice edged with a dangerous desperation. Ward, seeing the situation spiraling even further out of control, called out to his son, trying to keep him from making things even worse. "Rafe, John B, give me the radio," he said, his voice unsteady, betraying his own fear.

John B looked at Gabriella, her eyes wide with terror, silently pleading with him not to give in. He shook his head, defying Ward's order. "No," he said, his voice firm despite the fear tightening in his chest.

Ward wasn't willing to back down. "Give me the radio. The damn radio," he demanded, his voice rising as he reached out and snatched the walkie-talkie from John B's trembling hands. He turned to Rafe, trying to calm him down before things got any worse. "Rafe, I've got it. Calm down. Rafe, put the gun down."

Rafe hesitated, his grip on the gun faltering as his father's words finally began to sink in. He sighed heavily, the weight of what he had done crashing down on him all at once. Slowly, he lowered the gun, the adrenaline fading as the reality of his actions settled in.

But the damage was done, and nothing would ever be the same again.

Peterkin's breaths were shallow, each one more labored than the last. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of pain and determination, locked onto John B and Gabriella. With all the strength she could muster, she whispered, "Run."

But how could they leave her? John B's voice cracked as he replied, "I'm not leaving you." Gabriella, her hand trembling, placed it on top of his, both of them pressing down on Peterkin's wound in a futile attempt to keep her with them. "We're not leaving you," he corrected, his voice breaking with emotion.

Gabriella glanced up at Rafe and Ward, who were huddled together, their whispers frantic as they tried to piece together what had just happened. The weight of the situation was crashing down on everyone, but it was Peterkin's desperate voice that cut through the chaos. "Run!" she repeated, more forcefully this time, using what little strength she had left.

John B's eyes filled with tears as he realized what she was asking them to do. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. Gabriella, her heart breaking, echoed his words, "I'm so, so sorry," as she let go of Peterkin's hand.

Reluctantly, they began to back away, every step feeling like a betrayal. Suddenly, Rafe lunged at them, only to be restrained by Ward. "Where are you going? Huh?" Rafe shouted, his voice wild as he waved the gun around, his anger and fear spiraling out of control.

Gabriella tried to reach for Sarah, but Sarah pushed her away, her voice filled with urgency as she yelled, "Run!" It was the only word that made sense anymore. Hand in hand, John B and Gabriella turned and sprinted away, their hearts pounding as they ran for their lives across the open field. Behind them, they could hear the chaotic screams of the Camerons and the sharp crack of gunshots whizzing past them, but they didn't dare look back.

They ran as fast as they could, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, until they finally reached the Cut. There, waiting for them, were Kiara, JJ, and Pope. Their feet skidded to a halt, but they were in such a state of shock that they couldn't process what was happening around them. Their clothes were stained with Peterkin's blood, the crimson stark against the fabric, but they were too numb to even register it.

JJ's voice cut through the haze, "Gabs, JB, you good?"

Kiara's eyes widened in horror as she noticed their bloodstained hands, asking, "Whose blood is that?" But John B and Gabriella couldn't respond; they were frozen, trapped in the horrific moment that had just unfolded.

It wasn't until the sound of approaching police sirens pierced the night air that they snapped back to reality. Without a word, they turned and ran, the urgency of survival driving them forward once again, leaving the trauma of what they had just witnessed echoing in their minds.