𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒. ᵒᵘᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵃⁿᵏˢ ¹

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 15.

━ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀.

    "𝐆𝐔𝐘𝐒, 𝐆𝐔𝐘𝐒, 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 them? Is that them!" Kiara quickly rose to a panic, looking frantically at us in the row beside her.

The five of us were standing in an unorganized clump in front of the dirty window, the events quickly catching up to our senses. The two men, dressed in all black, were swiftly headed right for the back porch, shoving their guns into their pockets as if undoubtedly saving them away for later.

I felt as though my lungs stopped giving off air, my throat tightening up, as the men looked around with contemptible looks on their roughly smug faces.

It was hard to believe. Only a week ago, I'd been sitting in my room in New York City, wishing I was one of the tourists. Now, I stood in front of a chipping window to watch two reckless, dangerous, home-invading psychopaths, step up the porch of the Routledge kid's house. It was truly paralyzingly to think about the damage they were going to do to the boy's home— and possibly us— just the same as they did with Lana Grubb's.

"No, no, no," Jj was muttering, his voice sounding as though he just wasn't quite believing exactly what was happening. "I told you John B, man, why does it always hap—"

"Jj, hey!" John B furiously whisper-shouted, grabbing both of Jj's shoulders in force, "Look at me. Where's the gun," he shoved his friend against the wall near the door, pointed a finger to his mouth, and spoke lowly through gritted teeth.

"Gun? I— uh, I can't—" Jj answered stressfully, trying to think.

"Now you don't have the gun?" Kiara butted in, her voice rising in pitch as she ran her hands through her curly hair, "The one time we need the gun!"

Jj rubbed both dirt-stained hands over his face, "It was in my backpack... and then I—"

"Backpack," John B repeated, "On the porch,"

"It's on the porch," Jj realized, before suddenly sliding out from John B's grasp and rushing out the door.

Meanwhile, Pope and I stood next to one another by the same window, he was looking out to watch the two men, and I was looking at John B.

"John Routledge!" A loud voice screamed, and I immediately knew it was one of the men, the booming voice ringing multiples bells in my mind. It was the same coarse and vile shouting that I'd heard while in the bathroom at Lana Grubbs' house.

"Oh my god," I mumbled to myself, the only thing I could muster up to say.

"Come on out now!" The voice yelled, and everyone looked at one another through whipped gazes, "Where's that fuckin' compass!"

Jj scrambled back into the room as quick as he'd left, almost falling headfirst, closing the door as urgently but silently as he could.

"Where is the gun," John B asked him, his words quick and low.

"They're on the porch, guys—" Jj whispered out, fear laced between each one of his words.

"Routledge!" The man shouted again, this time, as if it wasn't worse enough, his voice became louder and increasingly more dangerous, sending a spike of fear right into my chest.

"Where you at, boy!" The other man screamed.

No one knew what to do. Everyone looked around the room, hands on their head or pulling on their faces with stress, a cacophony of fear spreading through each body, that much was certain.