Thank you all for the nice DM's I got. It's been damn near impossible to get any writing done. We lost my Memaw just before Thanksgiving and it's set my schedule back.
Also, RIP to Brodie Lee, a personal favorite and one of the great "big man" workers of the last 20 years. Sometimes life makes no sense.
Chapter 10: Business as usual.
Dean Ambrose heard the sirens before he saw the blaze. The party at his dad's house had finally trickled down to just the handful of people who were planning on spending the night. Bayley, Alexa, Nikki Cross, and Trish Stratus were sound asleep in Bayley's room, though Alexa had needed Dean to snuggle her until she managed to drift off to dreamland. Alexa's faithful puppy, Macy, was curled up in between Alexa and her new best friend Bayley. Roman and his twin cousins, Jimmy and Jey, were stretched out along the sectional couch in the game room, while Dean snored loudly in his bed.
Stirring awake slowly, the fire trucks sounded to Dean to be uncomfortably close to his house. "What the fuck?" He muttered to himself as the blaring noises got closer still. The still exhausted young man attempted to go back to sleep, throwing one of his down feather pillows over his head to drown out the noise. Within five minutes, his serenity was again interrupted, this time by his oldest stepsister Mercedes, who barged through his bedroom door with no regard for his privacy.
"Dean," she began urgently, "there was a fire down at the dock. The boathouse is destroyed and your dad's boat is gone. Get your ass out of bed and get down to the shore."
It took Dean a moment to process what his older step-sibling was telling him. Finally, his brain caught up to his emotions, and he gave the tattooed latina a puzzled look.
"Someone set the dock on fire?"
Mercedes rolled her eyes as Ambrose began fumbling around in the semi-lit room for clothes that could be thrown on quickly. Dean pulled on his football warmup pants and an Atlanta Falcons hoodie that still vaguely smelled from the last time he'd worn it.
"Probably one of your drunken dipshit friends, but we'll find out, won't we?" Mercedes growled, motioning for her much less mature stepbrother to expedite the process and get his clothes on.
"Can you like, not watch me put my fucking pants on?" Dean asked, already annoyed.
Mercedes scoffed, almost incredulously. "Trust me, kiddo, there is nothin' you got that I haven't seen. I have two kids and I've been to fuckin' prison. Just hurry the fuck up."
"Relax," Dean admonished his tattooed housemate. Deep down, Dean loved Mercedes the same as he loved Shelly. She was family, and her kids were his nieces and nephews by marriage. But there were instances, and this was one, where her brusque nature rubbed him the wrong way.
Finally, after some awkward hopping on one foot and then the other, putting on his sneakers, Dean managed to follow his ever impatient big sister out through the dense woods and onto the rough plank trail that served as the pathway to Lake Lanier and the collection of watercraft.
"Fuck." Dean Ambrose said it out loud, but everyone who'd seen the collection of damage at the lake side of the Ambrose property was at least thinking it.
"Ohmigod,' Mercedes muttered under her breath, not having surveyed the aftermath for herself until that very moment.
The smoldering remains of the boat house was enough to depress both Dean and Mercedes in and of itself. Their father, well, Dean's father and Mercedes' stepfather, loved living on Lake Lanier. He loved the access to a huge body of water that allowed him some modicum of freedom from the stresses of the world, and he loved showing off his speedboat to everyone else occupying the large aquifer when he felt like catching sun rays and fresh air.
The jetskis seemed fine. As the Blue River Fire Department pulled into the main driveway and began routing their inspectors and protection teams toward the lake, Dean made a hasty assessment of all his dad's remaining assets on the lake.
The young man could hear the busy chatter of the descending first responders and the approaching sirens of Blue River's suddenly overworked Sheriff's Department. Sure enough, as Dean turned his head, he saw two separate occurrences unravelling at the same time. One; Sergeant John Cena, looking every bit like he'd been awakened from a heavy, peaceful slumber, making his way down from the top of the staircase, having been the first law enforcement to arrive, and two; Dean's friends who'd spent the night were now congregating on the same patio they'd done so much revelling on the night before.
"Dean. Mercedes." Shift Sergeant Cena greeted both attending members of the Ambrose family professionally, as though he were getting ready to interrogate them.
Dean gave his girlfriend's uncle an awkward but somewhat friendly wave, surprised that the huge man was already there.
"You got here fast," Mercedes mused.
Cena pondered this a moment. "I was over at Patterson's having a little breakfast. You know Pat doesn't cook much himself anymore, but he told me last week he would be today, and I had to get some of that banana French Toast."
Mercedes and Dean exchanged a glance. Patterson's Lakeside Grill was less than a mile from their residence, and the Saturday breakfast menu was legendary amongst those who'd lived in Blue River for any real amount of time.
"So what's the deal?" Dean asked, rubbing the fatigue from his eyes. Ambrose, if he were being honest, was both sore and hung over. The students at Blue River High loved to party, but last night's celebration had been easily the wildest of the school year.
"We got a call from one of your neighbors saying there was a wild party at the Ambrose house and that maybe some drunk kids set the boathouse on fire. Looks like someone did just that, and they might have stolen your dad's speedboat, too."
Dean exhaled deeply. John Ambrose was not the most "hands on" father in the world, especially when it came to his oldest son, but he was going to shit a proverbial brick when he came home and saw that his sixty thousand dollar designer boat was AWOL.
"Shit," Ambrose muttered. As he prepared to rebut, Bayley Martinez came charging down the staircase, a look of panic on her face.
"Zack and Dana are missing," she blurted, clearly out of breath.
"What? How do you figure?" Dean fired back, his head pounding and sense of dread beginning to flare up again.
Bayley came to a stop, wiping a thin bead of sweat from her forehead. "Well, Zack's car is still here. His wallet is in the bonus room and Dana's purse is still in my room. I know she was planning on spending the night, but her sleeping bag is still rolled up."
Cena contemplated this for a moment. "You have her home number?"
Bayley nodded resolutely at the Sergeant. "Yeah, of course. Why?"
"Do me a favor and call over there real quick. See if she got a ride home or something. I know the Ryders. I'll call them in a minute. In the meantime, we have a state trooper boat headed this way as soon as they can get here. If the boat isn't here, burned or not burned, that means it's out there on the lake somewhere. We'll find it."
Dean gave a nod of agreement. For the next minute or so, Dean and Mercedes waited awkwardly for Bayley and Deputy Cena to make their respective phone calls. Ambrose was closest to Bayley Martinez, and so he could hear the brunette virtuoso and her brief conversation with whichever of Dana Brooke's parents picked up the phone. At the same time, it sounded an awful lot like John Cena was waiting for one of the Ryder's to pick up at the restaurant. Shaking his head, Cena motioned for Mercedes to follow him, and the two walked down to what remained of the wooden dock port.
"Dana isn't at home," Bayley informed Dean, the faintest hint of abject fear forming in her voice. "Her dad said he waited until after four AM and she never showed. He already called Blockbuster and she isn't there, either."
"Shit," Ambrose spat. That wasn't good news. In the back of his mind, he knew that statistically they only had about twelve hours to find Dana and Zack alive. If whoever was responsible for this influx of terror upon their sleepy town had gotten a hold of Zack and or Dana, it was imperative that they find the couple sooner rather than later.
After another moment, John brought Mercedes back over to Dean and Bayley, who had taken a stance next to her stepbrother.
"Here's the deal, guys," John continued, a serious expression plastered on his face. "The state patrol boat can't get here for at least an hour, so I'm gonna take your dad's pontoon and start looking for the speedboat or any sign of Zack and Dana. We have a chopper getting ready to take the air and see what we can find from the skies."
"I'm coming too, then," Dean asserted defiantly. "It's my dad's fucking boat, and I gotta make sure-"
"No you aren't, Dean," Mercedes shot back. "Your dad said it was fine but that he didn't want you anywhere near a criminal investigation."
"Bullshit," Dean almost yelled, angry that he was being cast aside.
"Dean, look," John turned his attention toward the Junior football star, he was growing more agitated by the second. "I can handle a search and rescue on my own. I might take Breeze and Storm with me if they'll hurry their asses up. I need you to take care of Alexa for me, okay? She's not gonna handle this well. Arson is still kind of a touchy subject."
"Understandable," Dean conceded.
"Yeah, so, take her home, get her settled, stay as long as you want. Take Roman and his cousins if you feel like it, and the little Puerto Rican girl and the weird one with the stringy hair. Whoever. Make sure Alexa is stable and not freaking out. Mickie took the twins to Gymboree, and she won't be home until this afternoon. I'll call her and let her know you all are gonna be there. Don't leave until you hear we've found Zack and Dana."
"You think you'll find Zack and Dana?" There was an unspoken word at the end of that sentence. Alive. Neither John nor Dean would've ever uttered the phrase that way, but that word hung over their heads like thunderhead rainclouds.
John nodded again. "Yeah, there's still a good chance of that. There's no sign of struggle or blood here on what's left of the dock. Wherever the boat is, it didn't burn up here or there'd be pieces of it all over the place. If Dana and Zack are still on the lake somewhere, we'll find them."
Dean scoffed, hoping Cena was right. As he turned to head back up the stairs, he marvelled at how quickly the firemen had gotten in and finished extinguishing what was left of the blaze. AS they began rolling their hoses back up, one of them swore, before picking up a piece of refuse that had gotten caught on his boot.
"The hell is this?" The firefighter wondered out loud. The picture on the damp ground meant nothing to him, but the second John took it from his hand and laid his eyes on it, the color began to leave his face.
"What is it?" Dean asked, dreading the answer.
"It's, um…" John exhaled deeply. "It's a picture of Alexa's house in Ohio as it was burning."
Dean felt the hairs on his arms stand on end. Whatever else it meant, the presence of that particular photo meant that whoever was setting fires and killing teenagers was mostly likely a part of Alexa's life long before she moved to Georgia.
"Don't tell her about this," John admonished quietly. "Let's find Zack and Dana and then we'll deal with this shit. Okay?"
Dean agreed nonverbally, and Bayley nodded too, though the look on her face read hesitant. Without another word, Dean and Bayley hiked back up the wooden stairs to their palatial home, the revelations of that morning (and the worry for two of their best friends) swirling around fresh in their minds…
….
By the time Dean and his friends arrived at the Cena home, there was already word that a massive, lake-wide search had begun. Along with Ambrose, both AJ Lee and Nikki Cross were doing their dead-level best to distract Alexa Bliss from the continuing drama at Lake Lanier. Before long, Alexa's domicile had the general appearance of a youth hostel.
The Uso brothers were out front, throwing a well-worn football, acting as something of a de facto "lookout." No one was anticipating active danger, really, but there was a suspicion in the air that hadn't been felt in Blue River since the flooding of Lake Lanier nearly a hundred years prior. Jimmy and Jey were way too energetic to be cooped up in any house, even a friends, and so they stretched their legs while the other young men and women waited anxiously inside.
In the house, which was not so very chaotic for a domicile that contained almost a dozen students and zero adults, Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns sat slouched around the kitchen table, their hangovers as relentless as the defense they'd played the night previous.
"Shit, man," Dean muttered, shaking his head again in disbelief. "You think Zack and Dana are okay?"
Roman snickered and shook his head. "I got no idea, man. You're the one that got to talk to Cena about it. What'd he say?"
Ambrose chuckled and rolled his eyes. "You know how it is. Bunch of police bullshit. Will say a bunch of words without really telling you anything."
Reigns scoffed in dismayed amusement. "What do you think?"
Dean shrugged. "I mean, there were no bodies. Whoever is killing high schoolers across Blue River hasn't exactly been shy about their handiwork. If the boat really did leave the dock intact, there's just as much chance they're alive as they are dead. I think."
Roman reflected on this notion a minute before concluding that he agreed with the sentiment. "Well, Cena was cool to me when they tried to pin Nattie's fucking murder on me, so if there's such a thing as a competent law enforcement officer, he's probably the one."
As the two teammates continued their small talk, Alexa Bliss was desperately clinging to whatever joy she could muster. Though no one had as of yet been determined killed in this latest escapade, the idea that some violent lurker had set fire to Dean's family's property was not one that would help the tiny blonde sleep at night. What bothered her most, however, was the rumor that another picture had been found on the scene, and the ramifications that such a discovery would have as to the identity and motive of who was perpetrating these senseless attacks.
"You want a soda, Lexi?" Bayley asked, rising slowly from the overstuffed lounger in the Cena-James living room. "Your mom said there was Pepsi One in there and I love that stuff."
Alexa did her best to smile graciously at her guest, who was doing an excellent job of looking after Macy, in addition to her common courtesy.
"Yes please," the waifish beauty replied, fatigue bleeding through her sweet voice. Bayley grinned and nodded, with Macy following right behind.
Alexa snickered playfully, clicking her lips, and watched with amusement as the dog she'd brought with her from Ohio followed her hispanic friend into the kitchen. For whatever reason, Macy and Bayley were now inseparable. It would've hurt Alexa's feelings, but she could plainly see how much the duo enjoyed being around each other, though Macy still stuck to Alexa like glue when the tiny blonde needed her.
Feeling particularly protective, AJ Lee schooched closer on the couch to her beleaguered friend, hoping to soothe the tiny waif's anxiety regarding those who wished to do her harm. Feeling AJ's body sidle up to her own, Alexa leaned her head against AJ's shoulder, softly snickering at the circumstances her life had steered her into.
"Thanks for being here for me, guys," Alexa offered to both AJ and Nikki.
"Yer welcome," Nikki returned brightly, patting Alexa on her knee before squeezing it in an attempt to comfort her best friend.
"I don't know why this shit keeps happening while I'm around," Bliss lamented, as Nikki continued flipping through the dozens of channels on the tv.
"Lexi," Nikki offered as she settled on a show. Setting down the television remote, the unstable brunette turned her full attention to her new best friend. "Lexi, it isn't you. You can't think that if you're gonna keep moving past what happened. We are here for ya, and we love ya."
Alexa's heart jumped slightly at Nikki's kind words. She'd had plenty of friends in Ohio, but she'd never dreamed that just a few weeks after starting at a new school she'd have new companions who seemed willing to fight right alongside her.
The conversation momentarily halted when Zelina Vega appeared with two giant bags of styrofoam to-go containers, filled each to the brim with delicious Tex-Mex from her parents' restaurant. Jimmy and Jey Uso stumbled through the front door behind her, with Jimmy roughly shoving Jey to the floor, causing his brother to stumble into a pile of Brynlee's toys and ensuring that Jimmy got the first pick of the steak nachos they'd ordered.
One and two at a time, the small flock of high schoolers trickled into the somewhat worn but still incredibly welcoming kitchen, each feeling just a bit more at ease while taking temporary refuge in the centerpiece room of the James-Cena house. AJ sprang from her seat like a 747 off the runway, excited to claim her to go order from Vega's Cantina, but Nikki Cross took another minute to sit with her friend.
"I mean it, Lexi," the beautiful but wild-eyed brunette continued. "We love yah. Especially me. You're mah best friend. We ain' gonna let nothin' happen to ya. Not today. Not any day."
Alexa nodded and smiled, though there was more than a hint of sorrow in that grin. "I know, Nikki. Thank you. I just wish I could figure out what was happening."
With that, Alexa stood slowly, her stomach rumbling with hunger and her mind desperately trying to race away from her. Of all the issues on her mind, one seemed to consistently jump over the rest: who was the mastermind behind these attacks, and what did they have to do with the humble blonde from Ohio?
…..
Of all the unorthodox and extraneous events occuring in John Cena's life the last few weeks, maybe the most surreal was the situation he currently found himself in. Ordinarily, a special State Police Aquatic Unit would be conducting this search, as any stolen or missing watercraft on Lake Lanier fell under their jurisdiction. But that unit, or rather, that boat, was having to patrol for BUI's, given that this particular weekend was one of the last weekends of the area's busy season, and so Shift Sergeant John Cena, along with three able bodied Deputies, was expending precious man-hours they could've spent exploring the connections between a rash of killings in Georgia and one home-invasion turned multiple murder/arson in Ohio.
As he scanned over the other three occupants of J.D. Ambrose's overpriced pontoon, Sergeant Cena mused that this scene would be quite humorous in any other situation. Michelle McCool, Lance Storm, and Tyler Breeze were all in full uniform, vigilantly scouring the shores, as well as the many inlets along Lanier, hoping against hope that Zack Ryder and Dana Brooke were still breathing after being trapped on a burning boat. They'd hoped for a sight of some telltale pillar of smoke emanating from the charred husk of a boat hull, but so far they hadn't had any such luck. What they DID have was a helicopter, on loan from Gwinnett PD and fully staffed, making large loops around the massive body of water, hunting for any sign of the two high schoolers.
"You see anything?" Cena asked out loud, not to anyone in particular.
"Nothing here," McCool replied, squinting through binoculars toward the nearest shoreline.
Lance Storm just shook his head slowly, the feeling of dread growing in his stomach.
"What's that over there, boss?" Breeze called back, pointing into the horizon.
"Where?" Cena inquired, trying to follow Breeze's finger to whatever the young man saw.
"You see that campground? Follow the shoreline east." Breeze motioned toward a sizable spit of wooded land that jutted out into the water. What immediately caught John's attention, however, was the unusually large number of RV's, tents and vehicles all gathered in the cleared area used as a campsite by tourists during the busy season.
"Two folks on the shoreline, Sergeant. Right there." McCool confirmed, nodding with satisfaction and hopeful but cautious elation, hoping that the human forms they saw were the two they were seeking.
Exhaling deeply, Cena throttled the recreational vessel into a higher gear, doggedly cutting the craft through the choppy water towards the far shoreline.
As they drew closer to the potential subjects of their quarry, the pit of John Cena's stomach began to sink. Not only did it look to John like both the human outlines on the shore were male, but it also seemed that the two were a part of whatever huge camping party was currently occupying the North Shore Campground.
"It's not them," Storm lamented, the disappointment thick in his Central Canada accent.
"Shit," Deputy Breeze spat, upset by this development.
"Let's go ask if any of them have seen anything," Cena asserted, determined to manufacture some degree of positivity from what would've otherwise been a wasted excursion.
As the quartet approached the shore, John began to see who the occupants of said campground actually were. What looked to be several families were all congregated around a centrally located food preparation and eating area. Before the pontoon could hit dry land, a small crowd had gathered to greet the officers.
"How are you all this morning?" John called out, hoping to sound congenial without coming off as some sort of pushover.
"Not too bad," one of the men responded, seeming guarded but not hostile. Sensing that the lead camper was waiting for him to make the first move, Cean hopped from the bow of the pontoon boat onto the deep brown soil just around Lanier's shoreline, tying the boat off to a nearby tree as he waited for his subordinates to collect themselves.
"You all here together?" Cena followed up, not wanting to lose the man's attention.
"Who, us?" The man asked, appearing to the Sergeant that he was avoiding answering. After considering his situation for a moment, the wispy haired paterfamilias exhaled and internally resolved to answer honestly.
"We're the folks with the fair. The facilities on the fairgrounds weren't to our liking, and the Park Service said this campground didn't have any reservations until spring, so we figured we'd caravan on out here while we work the fair." The mystery man slowly traipsed toward Cena, trying with all his might not to trip and or fall into the lake.
"Jake Roberts," the surprisingly large man fired, extending his hand in introduction. John gave him a cursory shake, but refused to lower his guard around the huddle of strangers.
"Sergeant John Cena, Gwinnett County Sheriff's Department."
Roberts nodded in approval. "I think I met a 'Deputy Jindrak' a few days ago?"
Cena confirmed with a nod of the head. "Yeah, Mark's a good man. One of our offices is over at the fairgrounds. He's usually there if he's not on patrol. You guys need anything?"
Roberts looked around at his companions, most of whom seemed like they'd rather be doing anything than talking to law enforcement. To Tyler Breeze, that made sense. Most of these folks, to put it gently, looked like they'd run afoul of the law a time or two in their lives, and no one, no matter how upstanding, ever REALLY wants to talk to law enforcement, and so the awkward silence lingered another moment or two. Finally, Deputy McCool stepped up, a pleasant smile plastered to her face.
"I'm sure y'all are aware, but we've had a few killings the last couple weeks. It's VERY out of character for a town like Blue River, but nonetheless, y'all be careful, okay?"
Roberts nodded, staring off into space a bit. "We ain't here to cause any trouble. Most folks aren't too happy to see us come into town. They think to themselves that we're nothin' but inbred carnies and avoid us, at best."
All the deputies nodded, with Deputy Storm clicking his lips with disapproval. "I think you'll find Blue River isn't like most places. Y'all stay out of trouble, and most of the folks here will treat you like family."
Roberts snickered. "Unless they're trying to kill us, right?"
He snickered, amused by his own joke, even if no one else was. As this conversation went on, Deputy Breeze was more than a little unsettled by how quiet everyone but Jake Roberts was being. What bothered him the most was the unwavering gaze of one stringy haired girl behind Jake's left shoulder. Her piercing brown eyes were dead set on the young blonde rookie Deputy, as if she were trying to tell him something. Thinking quickly, Breeze interrupted the uncomfortable quiet.
"I'm gonna go have a look around if you don't mind."
Roberts exhaled deeply. "Now, uh, with all this going on, shouldn't we shield ourselves from scrutiny until we have to?"
Cena furrowed his brow. "I think Deputy Breeze just wants to see if we can see the boat wreckage from here."
Thinking quickly, Breeze nodded. "Yeah. No one's under suspicion. You just get a real good view of this part of the lake from here."
Roberts considered this notion. "You won't go in any campers?"
Cena shook his head. "Not today. Our only concern today is finding those kids."
Roberts grunted, signalling his understanding. Instead of responding audibly, Roberts simply opened his stance, swinging his arm toward the campsite in an unspoken invitation to take whatever peek they needed.
The crowd around Roberts dispersed, but their continued silence unnerved the four officers. Breeze marched up the hill in just a few strides, peering out onto open water on three sides and feeling the foreboding sense of dread as there remained no sign of Dana and Zack.
Letting a groan of frustration, Breeze's awareness suddenly kicked into high gear as he felt someone approach from his left. To his utter surprise, the woman who'd been staring him down earlier was no just inches from his left arm, doing her best not to attract attention to herself as she spoke softly.
"Hey. 'The Snake' is lying. I saw something."
Breeze couldn't quite make out what his new acquaintance was uttering. Straining to hear the meek, somewhat haggard looking young woman, Breeze raised his eyebrows in curiosity.
"What'd you say, sweetie?"
The young woman turned her head, desperately seeking the location of the man who'd introduced himself as "Jake" just a few minutes ago.
"I saw something."
Tyler crouched over slightly, lowering his head and making eye contact with the woman, who's own eyes were growing in intensity and fear.
"I can't tell you here," she continued. "I'm going for food for everyone tonight. Meet me at that 'Windham' place at Seven."
Tyler nodded. Quickly doing the calculus in his head, he figured that he could fit in a meeting with this mystery woman and still make his date with Shelly Martinez.
Breeze nodded tightly. "Got it. Are you safe here?"
The woman smiled, though there was more than a sprinkle of sadness in it, as she nodded her head.
"Yeah. I'm as safe here as I am anywhere else."
Breeze readied to ask her about the peculiar nature of her answer, but before he could, the strong but steady voice of John Cena broke through their connection with a loud command.
"Hey, Tyler," John began, "the Lake maintenance crew just spotted boat wreckage about ten miles from here. Said it was still smoking. Let's go!"
With that, Breeze nodded and made his way back to the boat, giving the fearful yet determined looking woman a final glance, doing his best to convey determination and bravery, though the prospect of what the quartet of deputies might find on the smoldering husk of a houseboat…
…...
I intended to write a bit more, but this is a good starting point. Sometimes I get bogged in exposition. Things are starting to pick up and more clues are being dropped.
….