JJ

Hope's a funny thing. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, grabs hold of you, and doesn't let go. It's like that first breath after you've been underwater too long—sharp and desperate, but alive. That's how I feel right now, staring at Pope's map spread out on the kitchen table. For the first time in what feels like forever, there's a chance that things might actually turn around.

But hope is also dangerous. It can make you do stupid things, take risks you wouldn't normally take. I've learned that the hard way more times than I can count. Still, looking at John B's face, seeing that spark in his eyes again, I can't help but feel it too. Maybe, just maybe, we're onto something.

"This is it," I say, more to myself than anyone else. "We've got to be close."

Pope nods, his eyes darting between the map and John B. "I've cross-referenced the notes with Big John's journal. There's a pattern here, something we missed before. If we follow this lead, it could take us right to where he was last seen."

John B's eyes are locked on the map, his mind already racing ahead to what comes next. I can see the wheels turning, the plans forming. This is what he lives for—the chase, the hunt, the thrill of the unknown. It's what's kept him going, kept all of us going, through everything.

But there's something else too, something that makes my chest tighten just a little. Because as much as I want to believe in this, there's a part of me that can't shake the feeling that we're walking into something we're not ready for. Something bigger than any of us.

"Where do we start?" I ask, because that's what I do. I keep moving forward, keep pushing, because if I stop, if I let myself think too much, I'll drown in everything I'm trying to avoid.

Pope's finger traces a line on the map, stopping at a spot near the edge. "Here. There's an old ruin, a place Big John mentioned in one of his last entries. If we can get there, we might find something. Something that points us in the right direction."

John B's already grabbing his bag, his excitement palpable. "Then what are we waiting for?"

But as I start to move, that familiar doubt creeps in. I think about Luke, about what he'll do if he finds out I'm gone. He's been on edge lately, more unpredictable than usual, and I know it's only a matter of time before he snaps. Leaving now feels like a gamble, a risk I'm not sure I'm ready to take.

But then I look at John B, see the determination in his eyes, and I know I can't back out. Not now. Not when we're this close.

"I'll grab the Twinkie," I say, trying to shake off the unease. "We'll need all the gear we can get."

John B gives me a nod, that silent understanding passing between us like it always does. We've been through hell together, and this is just one more step into the fire.

But as I head outside to get the van, my mind starts to wander. I think about Kie, about the way she looked at me last night, like she could see right through all my bullshit. I hate it, but at the same time, it's the only thing that makes me feel... real. Like I'm not just going through the motions.

She's always been like that, ever since we were kids. Always pushing me to be better, to think about something other than the next stupid decision. And as much as I want to resist it, to push her away, I know she's right. I know she's trying to help.

But this isn't her fight. It's not Pope's, or even John B's. It's mine, and I've got to deal with it on my own terms. I've spent my whole life trying to outrun my problems, but they've always caught up to me. Maybe this time will be different. Maybe this time, I can finally get ahead.

The Twinkie's sitting where I left it, and I slide behind the wheel, the familiar smell of grease and old leather filling the air. It's a comfort, in a weird way, like a reminder that some things haven't changed, even if everything else has.

I fire up the engine, the van rumbling to life with a cough and a sputter. It's seen better days, but so have we. And just like us, it keeps going, no matter how much it's been through.

I pull up to the Chateau, and John B's already waiting, his bag slung over his shoulder. He's got that look on his face, the one that says he's ready for whatever comes next. I wish I could say I feel the same, but the truth is, I'm scared. Scared of what we might find, scared of what we might lose.

But I can't let that stop me. Not now. Not when John B's counting on me.

"You good?" he asks as he climbs in, his eyes searching mine.

"Yeah," I lie, forcing a grin. "Let's do this."

Pope hops in the back, the map clutched in his hands like it's some kind of lifeline. Maybe it is. Maybe it's the only thing keeping us all from falling apart.

We start down the road, the tires kicking up dust as we leave the Chateau behind. The sun's higher in the sky now, casting long shadows on the ground, and I can't help but wonder if those shadows are following us, waiting for the right moment to close in.

But I push those thoughts away, focusing on the road ahead. This is what we do. We chase the impossible, the unreachable, because that's all we've ever known.

As we drive, the silence between us is heavy, but it's not uncomfortable. It's the kind of silence that comes from knowing someone so well that words aren't necessary. We've been through this before, and we'll get through it again.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

The landscape blurs by, a mix of trees and marshland, the island's wild beauty all around us. It's easy to forget that there's danger lurking beneath the surface, that this place holds secrets darker than we can imagine. But I know better. We all do.

Eventually, we reach the spot Pope pointed out on the map—a stretch of land that looks like any other, but holds the promise of something more. Something that could change everything.

We pile out of the van, the air thick with the scent of salt and earth. John B's already scanning the area, his eyes sharp, searching for any sign that we're on the right track.

"This is it," Pope says, his voice low, almost reverent. "We're close."

I want to believe him. I really do. But all I can think about is what happens if we're wrong. If this leads to another dead end, another disappointment. How many more hits can John B take before he breaks?

But I push those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. We're here, and there's no turning back now.

"Let's find your dad," I say, clapping John B on the back. The words feel like a promise, one I'm not sure I can keep, but I'll be damned if I don't try.

We move through the brush, the undergrowth thick and tangled, but we don't slow down. There's a sense of urgency, a need to find something, anything, that will tell us we're on the right path.

And then, just as I'm about to lose hope, I see it—a flash of something metallic, half-buried in the dirt. My heart skips a beat, and I reach down, my fingers brushing against something cold and solid.

I pull it free, and my breath catches in my throat. It's a piece of metal, old and rusted, but unmistakable. It's part of a compass, the kind Big John always carried with him.

"John B," I call out, my voice trembling with excitement and fear. "I think we found something."

He's at my side in an instant, his eyes wide as he takes in the sight of the compass. "That's... that's his."

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. This isn't just another clue. This is proof. Proof that Big John was here, that we're on the right track.

But as I hand the compass to John B, I can't shake the feeling that this is just the beginning. That whatever comes next will be harder, darker, than anything we've faced before.

But I push those thoughts away, focusing on the hope in John B's eyes. We've made it this far, and we're not stopping now.

We're in this together, for better or worse. And whatever comes next, we'll face it as we always have—side by side, no matter what.