𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐈𝐄 ¹- jj maybank

𝟎𝟏𝟏 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐛

SEASON 1
EPISODE 2

"I think this is everything he wanted me to find."

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         AS THE VAN RATTLED down the dark, empty road, headlights cutting through the thickening fog, JJ leaned back in his seat and fished a crumpled joint from his pocket. He glanced over his shoulder, raising it slightly as he flashed a grin.

"Mind if I just relax on this one?" he asked, almost to himself but loud enough for the others to hear. He tapped the joint against his knee, clearly itching to light it up. "It's been a long day, man. A lot of weird stuff's gone down." He shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm just gonna lay low."

Without waiting for an answer, JJ lit the joint, took a long drag, and then exhaled slowly, savoring the moment. The smoke drifted through the van, curling in hazy trails. He looked over at Pope, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, did you want a hit of this?"

Pope gave him an unimpressed look and lifted his hand in front of his face, blocking the smoke with a firm wave. "I keep the signal clear."

JJ rolled his eyes and let out a scoff, his grin widening. "Dude, okay," he said, still holding the joint up in front of Pope, wagging it back and forth. "Do you understand that your problem is you don't get creative? If you got creative, then—"

"Look—" Pope started, but before he could finish, John B cut in, his voice breaking through the back-and-forth, thick with frustration and determination.

"I know, all right? I know I was wrong about the lighthouse," John B said, turning halfway in his seat to look back at his friends, but quickly turning back to keep his eyes on the road. "And I know I was wrong about— about pretty much everything else lately." He let out a sigh, raking a hand through his hair, the words tumbling out faster now, as if he couldn't hold them back. "But I was right about one thing. My dad— he's trying to tell me something. I know it."

The van went quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the space. The others exchanged uneasy glances, their faces a mixture of concern and confusion. They didn't know how to respond—whether they should try to help him shake off the idea or just go along with it for now, knowing how much his dad's memory weighed on him.

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         AS THEY CREPT through the shadowy cemetery, John B glanced back at Victoria and Kiara, who were lagging a few steps behind, their flashlights bobbing in the darkness.

"Come on, hey," John B whispered, urging them forward with a wave. He could sense their unease as they took in the eerie gravestones and the skeletal branches casting strange shadows around them.

Victoria hugged her arms, glancing warily around. "We're coming, but... this place is creepy," she muttered, her eyes darting from one dark corner to another.

Kiara gave her a small smile of agreement. "John B, what exactly are we doing here?" she asked, her voice low but exasperated.

John B slowed his pace just enough to explain, keeping his flashlight steady as it swept over the cracked tombstones. "You know that feeling when you're trying to remember a song but can't remember who sings it?" he asked, his gaze focused ahead.

"Yeah?" Victoria replied, looking skeptical.

He continued, his voice a little more animated. "So, 'Redfield'—I've been thinking it's a place, you know? But it's not. It's a person." He brought his flashlight up to illuminate a large, ancient grave with the name "Redfield" carved into the stone in faded letters. "Look," he said, pride filling his voice. "This is my great-great-grandmother. Olivia Redfield. That was her maiden name."