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AS SOON AS THE JET-SKI hit the bank, Atticus was off. The curly-haired boy sprinted towards the staircase of the motel as Renna scooted up in the seat, Kiara and Pope staring after the boy as he sped towards the broken building.
"Hey- Whoa, Atticus?" Pope questioned as said teen jumped onto the ground and dashed away from the reunited trio.
"What's got him so-" Kiara began to question as her eyes trailed after the speedy boy. He was inside the room on the second-storey in no time, his determination pushing him to pump his legs and arms faster as he travelled around the destroyed motel.
"There was a dead body," Renna interrupted sadly, which instantly shut the pair on the H.M.S Pogue up. "It was right near the boat. It had to have been his, right?" She asked as her feet bounced against the rim of the jet-ski. Out of sight from the other two teens, Renna's fingers squeezed and tapped against each other as her mind ran in circles - Was it his boat? How did he die? Was it murder?
"Renna, what?" Kiara sighed with disbelief as she stared at her blonde friend, not believing a word she was uttering.
"I saw him, Kiara. He was looking at me," she forced out with teary eyes. The girl's look instantly softened as Pope straightened up from beside her.
"Was he breathing?" He asked with furrowed brows, slowly inching closer as Kiara worriedly glanced between them.
"He was blue," she mumbled as she ducked her head.
"Shit," he hissed beneath his breath, turning to the side as his hands moved to play with his hat.
"Did you recognize him?" Kiara questioned gently. Renna shook her head as she hung it low, biting her lip to will herself to control the breaking dams hidden behind her azure eyes. However, before Kiara could interrogate her any further, the group heard patronising sirens.
"Shit, cops," Pope warned them, but they already knew.
"Call them," Kiara urged.
"Can't, towers are down," Pope dismissed with a firm shake of his head, brows furrowed with annoyance.
"Watch the jet-ski," Renna ordered, barely above a whisper, as she moved off her vehicle and crept onto the shore. She ignored the sounds of protests coming from behind her as she carefully inched further and further up the bank, sneaking around the bushes and trees to reach the back of the motel room. She looked around in a hurry, hands shaking, before picking up a variety of small pebbles. She threw them at the window, internally praying that one of them would hit the foggy glass. Thankfully, for the first time that day, luck was on her side. A stone hit the window.
She watched as John B's head snaked in-between the glass and the old blinds, staring down at her with confusion and suspicion. She frantically pointed towards the side as she jumped in her spot, mouthing cops to the freckled Pogue as she urged him to retreat. His eyes widened as he processed the situation before disappearing out of sight. She took that as her cue to leave.
