Deep Water [OuterBanks]

12: poisoned youth

A choir of cicadas performed ceaselessly for the five teenagers as they gathered in the heart of Rixon's Cove. Their makeshift bonfire flickered wildly, and an unspoken sense of euphoria threatened to swallow them whole. Alana drummed her fingers along her thigh, sitting next to Kiara atop of John B's green and white Rubbermaid cooler. Her blue eyes gravitated towards Pope Heyward as he spoke, plopping down on a low cut tree stomp.

"Hey, guys." He rested his hands on his kneecaps. "So like, my dad's already gonna kill me. So, what's this mandatory meeting about?"

John B aimed finger guns at JJ, who had ditched the catering disguise for his own clothes. His gray t-shirt was riddled with burn holes from smoking, and for the first time in who knows how long, his cap was facing the front. "Might as well tell them, man, before we're gaffed." He shrugged.

"Gaffed?" Alana asked, her voice laced with curiosity as she looked over at the blonde Pogue.

"Those two guys that broke into John B's house? Dead." JJ informed, looking between his four friends. "I saw the pics and everything."

"You ready for this?" John B paused dramatically, glancing to Kiara and Alana, the two nodding simultaneously. "So, the gold never went down with the Royal Merchant."

Pope threw his head back in frustration. "Oh, my God. Here we go again with this."

"Hear him out, all right?" JJ defended.

"It's been here the whole time." John B continued on with a smirk. "It's on the island."

"Are you serious? Oh, my God." Kiara's round face flashed with surprise.

"I'd like to voice my skepticism." Pope raised a finger, having already assembled a multitude of reasons why the theory was unlikely. 

"I'm sure you would, Pope." John B replied, groaning tenuously as he stood up. "But can I please present you with my evidence, sir?"

Pope sighed. "Proceed."

John B unzipped the front pocket of his JanSport bag, pulling out a folded sheet of paper, all yellow and creased from age. "All right. So, in my backpack, I have a letter from Denmark Tanny."

"Denmark?" Alana's eyebrows arched; the teeny bit of makeup she wore highlighted by the pale moon. "This dude has gotta be ancient."

"Who the hell is that?" Kiara wondered, picking at the artificial roses still pinned securely to the front of her head as John B unfolded the sheet of paper.

"Denmark Tanny was a slave that survived the Royal Merchant wreck. Check this out." He handed the letter off to Kiara and Alana, both girls reading it over with curious eyes. "Okay, slaves weren't mentioned as crew members on the ship, but my dad, he found the complete manifest. That was his big discovery. So Tanny, used the gold from the Merchant to buy his freedom. After that, he bought his farm. Drumroll, please, because that farm is..." Kiara handed the letter off to Pope, and the crew slapped their knees in anticipation. "Tannyhill Plantation."