Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
JOHN B WAS A RUNNER. To sayit was a surprise when Renna and Cleo emerged from the bottom of the boat to find the boy gone, having seemingly disappeared into the clean air, was a lie. They should've seen it coming.
"I don't see why we have to leave him," Atticus grumbled beneath his breath, back pressed against the edge of the boat as he looked out to sea. His hand was tightly wrapped around Renna's own, his seasickness and worry for flipping overboard spiralling in his dense mind. He was fine in the marsh, in a lake, in a pool - it was when he hit open water that sent him panicking.
"See, that's what I'm sayin', man! We're just sailing out? We're just gonna forget about John B?" Renna locked eyes with the girl behind the wheel, Sarah's brown and saddened gaze meeting her own. "We should never have left him. We're turning right back around." JJ continued.
"No! We're all gonna get caught. What type of plan is that?" Cleo fired, leaving Pope's side to stand up to the boy's fuming face.
"It's a plan to stick together, Cleo!" JJ argued.
"Then we are dead together," she retorted, anger lacing her tongue. No, Renna thought, no.
The dead man in the marsh. The dead man in Rafe's truck. The hand in the sewer. The blood, his blood, in the hall and on the verandah floor. John B drowning. Atticus drowning. Sarah getting shot. Pope getting stung. Kiara getting kidnapped. Cleo getting ran over. JJ getting beaten. Herself, poor old Renna, falling victim to the flame. They weren't dead together, no. They were dead alone.
"She's right. We had to leave, or we'd all be zip-tied in the back of a pickup. We did the right thing," Kiara swore. Atticus pushed his head into Renna's shoulder, his eyes closing tight as he let out a breath. She sent him a glance, running her thumb over his palm, as she watched him smile with bliss.
They stayed against the wall, even when John B called. They were worried, frighteningly worried, but Atticus couldn't find himself to move. His eyes were still closed, his head pressed against the girl's shoulder, as he willed the sickness to go away.
"Yo, say it again. Say it again," JJ ordered into the phone as their friend's voice spiked and washed away.
"I think I'm gonna throw up," Atticus murmured as his stomach knocked against his ribcage. He squeezed Renna's hand tighter.
She looked down hurriedly, eyes wide, before looking back at the others distracted by the phone. "Okay, c'mon, baby. Guys, we'll be back," she shouted to their friends as she wrapped her arm around Atticus' back, leading him towards the stairs.
"I don't wanna throw up on you," he mumbled, his voice croaky, as his other hand fought to catch hold of the railing.
"You won't, I don't care. We'll take it slow, okay? One step at a time," she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady in contrary to the ocean waves. He nodded in his sick state, hobbling down the wooden stairs with his body clinging to her own. As soon as his feet hit the bottom floor, he was off, leaving her side as he practically fell into the door leading inside. "Atticus! Do it in the ocean!" She sighed before quickly following after him.
