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chapter seventeen: shit just got real
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The Pogues crowded around the dingy, banged up window and peered out of it ( as best as they could with all the dirt ). Two men, two burly men, were walking up to Monica's home, and they looked as if they were on a mission.
"See?" Monica shrugged, looking back at Kiara, who had shock mixed with fear plastered on her face. "Told ya. Burly."
"No . . ." muttered JJ incredulously while slowly backing away from the window.
"Is that them?" repeated Kiara, her voice firm this time.
"This is suboptimal," murmured Pope, reaching up to tug on his cap.
JJ was making wild gestures with his hands as he attempted to calm himself down. "Monica, I told you," he chastised, moving toward the other side of the room. "Why does it always —"
Monica took three long strides toward him and shoved him back, holding a finger up to indicate he should be as silent as possible. "Where's the gun?"
"Gun? I, uh," he stuttered, eyes darting around the room as if he left the weapon somewhere in there, "I can't —"
"Now you don't have the gun, the one time we need the gun?" retorted Kie, trembling.
"Kie, I know you're scared, but shut up!" whisper-yelled Monica. She turned back to JJ, who was breathing out something about his backpack. "Backpack, yes. And then . . . on the porch," she realized.
"It's on the porch," JJ said in confirmation. He was light on his feet when he thrust open the door and hurriedly tiptoed out. It was only a mere seven seconds before they heard crashing, and JJ skidded back into the office, panting heavily with his hands on his knees. Monica pulled him up to her eye level, and he gasped out, "They're on the front porch."
"Get out here, Hart!"
Monica flinched at the sudden booming that came mere doors away. "That's fucking great."
"We gotta leave!" stated an exasperated Kie. The curly-haired girl looked over to the window and rapidly pointed at it. "Guys. Window, window!"
Pope and JJ, being the "men" of the group, clamored over and tried to open the window, but it was sealed shut. Monica was bitterly reminded that her father had gone to extreme measures to protect his work, and this was one of his efforts.
"What — what's happening? Why is it taking so long?" It was evident that Kiara was panicking, and it didn't help when JJ turned to her.
"It's painted shut, okay?" he seethed, their eyes locking for a tense moment.
"Stop eye-fucking and move!" Monica shouted. During their pointless efforts to get the window unstuck, the girl had searched through drawer after drawer until she retrieved a sharp box cutter. She wedged it inside the thick line of dried paint and began to chip away at the residue. Kie was relentlessly urging her to hurry up while the other two went to barricade the door with their bodies. The wood began to rattle vigorously, screams from the men echoing their way under the door. They began to kick at it, and when the Pogues heard a gunshot, they hurried their efforts to get outside.
"I got it. I got it!" Monica exclaimed quietly. She was the first to crawl out; she lent a hand to Kiara, who did the same for Pope, and JJ simply yet effectively jumped out of the window and tumbled to the ground. Luckily, it wasn't a long fall.
Each member of the group seemed to collectively have the same idea, darting for the chicken coop. They couldn't run away — the men would see them through the window. The four ducked down as low as they could without slowing themselves down, filing into the tiny wooden structure one by one. Kie and JJ were situated on one end of the coop while Pope and Monica pressed their backs against the other. Monica heavily gasped for air, her heart filling with sadness after realizing the men were trashing her house, her dad's office — basically everything her father ever worked for.
JJ shifted his leg and accidentally stepped on a chicken's foot, prompting the animal to cluck annoyingly, bringing the man's attention to the coop. Monica peeked out while the others tried to calm the chicken down — the men were loading multiple of her father's, what she assumed to be pieces of evidence, into their truck.
"Do something, Pope," demanded JJ while gritting his teeth out of stress. "Shut him up."
"What do you want me to do?" the dark-skinned boy shot back. "You're the one —"
"Just pet it, or talk to it. I don't know!" Kiara had tears evidently falling down her cheekbones and onto her shirt. One of the roosters clucked louder and more abrupt than the rest, and Monica noticed one of the men's eyes travel to their hiding spot. The blonde shuffled back until she hit the stiff wood and shut her eyes. Crunches of leaves sounded, getting increasingly louder as the seconds passed. But it felt like hours.
"You do something." Pope shoved the chicken over to the Maybank boy, who finally decided to take charge. He grasped the animal by the neck and slammed it to the ground. It struggled a bit but turned out to be no match for the teenager, who snapped its neck with ease but remorse. He staggered back in shock while Kie let out a pained, muffled sob.
"Ratter!" they heard. "The hell are you doin'? Let's go."
The man retreated to their car, and Kiara could finally get some air in her lungs. Monica stared at the dirty hay-covered floor, also breathing heavily.
The four exchanged glances, and a thought seemed to thread from everyone's brain and tie together.
This is a lot deeper than we thought.
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author's note
sorry for the late/short update! i was really busy over the weekend w/ studying and whatnot :(
