𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒. ᵒᵘᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵃⁿᵏˢ ¹

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 55.

━ 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 and crisp against my bare arms as they dipped into the waves of the sea, aching and constricting with every plunge further. Clothes were clinging tightly to my torso that lay flat on the softened paddle board, plowing forward with each push, and each rebuttal against the diminished— but still ever-present— current. The sun breathed underneath dominant grey clouds overhead. With the presence of bitter wind flow coming from different directions, the mild water fell in degrees when reached my bare limbs— it wasn't cold out, it just felt so.

    It wasn't just the wind against my body that made me shiver, it was the actuality of sneaking out the back door of Rose Cameron's listing house in the very brightness of day, upon having cops knocking right on the front door. We had woken up to the solid pounding coming from the floor beneath us, and the shouts from a Kildare officer. Only to be later— while on our way out the covered door on the back end— witness the sound of breaking glass, and the unlocking of the entrance. We'd made it out on the docks before the officers reached the top floor.

    I'd never really envisioned myself on a paddle board— at the least, not in that very sense. Not in the sense where my life precisely depended on that piece of polished wood. It was an escape, one of the many we'd performed like the night before. It was bewildering to think back at how long I'd ran, ducked, crouched, hid, and sprinted for, all in the span of two short days, but it was becoming less bemusing with every waking hour— the more and more time we would spend running from our dangers, the more and more I was realizing that things would never return to normal. At least, not for a paralyzingly long while.

    "This isn't safe," I whispered, once the two of us were really beginning to near the dock of the Chateau. We were going to get the gold we'd taken from the Crain house.

    In the split second when John B turned his head around and made eye contact, I felt my stomach drop to my feet. All this— all of the running and hiding, escaping and fleeing, was leading up to the one thing I was dreading most. The final stage to the galavant, the unpredictable end to my summer, his escape. It sent a whirl of emotions to cloud my brain, and began to dig a certain spot in my heart. It was going to be the end.

    But that was the scariest part of it all. The end to what.

    He didn't reply, as he steered away from the dock, causing my eyebrows to narrow even more. I kept my lips sealed, but my heart racing, as we newly paddled through a patch of tall watery grass. There were no cop cars in sight at our point.

    It was only a matter of time before John B was sliding off his board, into the tall grass, and climbing onto the ground. He pulled his board up at his feet, gliding it to rest hidden. With wary eyes, I looked up to meet his, as he struck out a hand. Hesitantly, I grabbed it with my own, and he pulled me to stand next to him, soon reaching down for my own stolen board. I was breathing heavily.

    With his hand locked in mine, he jogged us over to a work shed. We were at the front of his house— which I rarely went in through, the frontside barely recognizable to eye. There was a Kildare County Sheriff SUV parked near the door. I caught my breath. I didn't have time to look at it though, for I was pulled to stand behind one of the rickety wooden posts, upon hearing a voice.

    "Historical fact," An officer paraded down the steps that lead up to the front door, announcing to someone else. "It was four hundred-million in British government gold bars," he was saying.

I looked over John B's shoulder as we pressed up against the wooden post, letting my eyes settle on two officers trotting down the steps, the bigger one holding a cardboard box, and the other, a plastic bag. I looked closely at the bag.