SUNBURN | JOHN B ROUTLEDGE

073

As the first light of dawn crept over the Outer Banks, the Pogues huddled in the car, their nerves frayed from a night without sleep. The forest around them, usually a source of solace, felt like a cage, the rustling leaves and distant animal calls only adding to their growing paranoia. The occasional wail of police sirens pierced the silence, each one a reminder of the danger that was closing in on them. They were deep in the woods, far from prying eyes, but it didn't feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough.

The radio crackled, a monotonous voice relaying the day's news. "Good news for residents of Outer Banks. Dominion Power says their underwater transmission line, which will restore power to 90% of the area..." The ordinary updates were jarring, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside the car. For a moment, it almost felt like life outside their bubble of fear was normal, but that illusion shattered when two police cars raced past, sirens blaring. Instinctively, the Pogues slid lower in their seats, holding their breath, as if that would make them invisible. The tension was suffocating.

"And still, no arrest in the shooting death of Sheriff Susan Peterkin," the radio continued. "The state police have issued a statement regarding a local person of interest, and a new person to the island of interest, the daughter of famous Dean Ev—"

Before the rest of the sentence could sink in, Kiara reached forward and abruptly switched off the radio, her hand trembling slightly. The silence that followed was deafening, filled with the weight of their situation. No one dared speak for a moment, the fear that they were being hunted looming over them.

JJ, ever restless, leaned back with his arm under his head, trying to think his way out of their predicament. "Let's game this out," he began, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and desperation. "Maybe you guys can help, being the smart ones and all, but... who are the cops going to believe? Ward Cameron or us? So, the accuser is a bigshot developer, kind of lord of the island, got the governor on speed dial kind of person, and the accused... is John B and Fairey, who are pretty much homeless 16-year-olds at this moment."

Gabriella shot JJ a sharp look, "Don't call me Fairey."

Trying to lighten the mood, JJ grinned, "So you're telling me you don't have wings? You can't fly? You don't have any pixie dust?"

The others stared at him, clearly not in the mood for jokes, but JJ just shrugged. "What? I watched Tinkerbell when I was younger. Anyway." He turned serious again, looking at John B and Gabriella. "Yucatan, all right? I'm saying that's the only option. What other option do you have?"

John B, already on edge, snapped, "JJ, enough with the Mexico bullshit."

Gabriella, trying to think clearly, interjected, "Sarah will bail us out."

Kiara perked up slightly at that. "She did witness the whole thing."

But Pope wasn't so easily convinced. "And she's gonna snitch on her brother?"

JJ, unfazed, lit a cigarette, took a drag, then handed it to Gabriella, who gratefully accepted it, her nerves frayed to the edge. "Not happening," JJ said decisively. "We've gotta get you both off the island."

"The ferry. It's the only way," Pope suggested, his voice firm, finally cutting through the tension.

Gabriella nodded slowly, her eyes meeting JJ's. "JB, he's right. We should leave before the entire island is on lockdown."

As more sirens wailed in the distance, Kiara's voice trembled with urgency. "Guys, just get down." She couldn't hide the fear in her eyes as she imagined her two best friends being taken away.

Pope, always the voice of reason, reminded them all, "Sarah's not a Pogue. You can't trust her as much as you think you can."

Gabriella ran her fingers through John B's hair, trying to offer him some comfort, while John B drew gentle circles on her bare legs, seeking the same from her. They clung to each other, but it was hard to find any real solace when they were both so terrified. The reality of being accused of murder weighed heavily on them, the fear of what lay ahead overwhelming any sense of peace they might have found in each other's touch.