Audacious//JJ Maybank (Outerbanks)

Chapter 96

{Last One Left}

It took JJ's street knowledge and a few favours from his sketchy connections to track down one of Neville's cousins. According to "Mr. P," Neville hadn't strayed far from his houseboat, which was moored out near Doe Creek. Given what we knew about the rest of the archaeologists from the expedition being picked off one by one, I couldn't blame him for hiding out there.

"See? Why do you always doubt me?" JJ boasted as we waded through the muddy water, the creek rippling around our legs.

John B shrugged. "It just seemed...unlikely. That's all I'm saying."

JJ smirked his confidence barely contained. "Well, we're here, aren't we?"

I rolled my eyes, more focused on the task at hand than JJ's gloating. If I weren't so on edge about the whole situation, I might've even found it amusing.

"Alright, so we're looking for a houseboat," JJ said, scanning the creek, his blue eyes narrowed in concentration.

"That looks like one," John B pointed out, nodding toward a boat anchored a few hundred feet away, half-hidden by overgrown trees and moss.

"You think he's there?" JJ squinted, sizing up the boat as if it might jump out and attack us.

"I dunno..." John B began, but JJ interrupted, impatient as ever.

"There's only one way to find out."

We pushed through the murky water toward the boat and climbed up the creaking ladder. John B made his way to the stove, placing a hand on it. "Still warm. He's here."

"Maybe he bolted when he heard us coming," I suggested, glancing around uneasily. Everything felt too quiet.

Suddenly, a voice boomed, cutting through the air like a blade. "Devils!"

Before we could react, Neville charged out of the cabin, machete in hand, swinging wildly at John B.

"Hey!" JJ shouted, immediately stepping in front of me, one arm held protectively across my stomach as he backed me up.

"We just want to talk!" John B yelled, dodging a swing from Neville's machete.

"Trip line! Trip line!" JJ called out, ducking down just as John B shoved Neville toward him. The two of them tumbled to the deck, Neville fighting like a cornered animal. JJ wrapped his arms around Neville's neck, trying to subdue him.

"Let it go!" JJ grunted, struggling to wrest the machete from Neville's grip.

I stood frozen, my heart hammering in my chest. I wanted to help, but I couldn't risk the baby. "Please, we just want to talk!" I shouted, trying to reach Neville through the chaos.

Neville's eyes darted between John B and JJ, his chest heaving. "We know Professor Sowell," John B said, his voice desperate as he held up his hands in a gesture of peace.

The name stopped Neville in his tracks. "Sowell?" he repeated his grip on the machete loosening.

"You were with him in Orinoco last year, right? There were four other people with you," John B pressed.

Neville's eyes widened. "Who told you that?"

"Sowell did," John B said. "But he's gone now. He's dead."

At that, Neville's face drained of colour, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "He's dead?" he whispered, sinking onto the couch, the machete clattering to the floor.

I nodded, tears brimming in my eyes. The weight of it all was starting to sink in. "You're the last one left," I said softly.

Neville stared down at his trembling hands. "The last one..." he muttered, more to himself than to us.