Chapter 14: Shadows Beneath the Stars
The first rays of dawn crept into the bungalow, filtering through the slats of the shutters and landing on the bed where John B lay half-awake. His arm was draped over Sarah's waist, his palm resting lightly on the slight curve of her stomach. The featherlike movement beneath his hand made his chest tighten—not with fear, but awe.
He opened his eyes, blinking against the soft light, and gazed at the girl in his arms. Her golden hair fanned out over the pillow, her expression peaceful, her breathing soft and steady. She was carrying his baby, and the thought of it both overwhelmed and steadied him. It was surreal to think about the life they were creating, the future they were hurtling toward.
John B's mind wandered to the life he wanted to give her—the house, the dog, the warmth of a family filled with love and laughter. He thought about lazy Sundays in a backyard, kids playing in the grass, and Sarah smiling at him from the porch. That vision felt so real, so tangible, and yet just out of reach. To get there, they needed the treasure. And for the first time in weeks, self-doubt crept in. Could he do this? Could he provide for them? Or would he end up like his dad—chasing dreams and leaving nothing behind but disappointment and broken promises?
Sarah stirred softly against him, breaking him from his thoughts. Her hand came up to rest on his arm, her fingers brushing lightly over his skin. She didn't wake fully, just nestled closer with a contented sigh. John B pressed a kiss to her temple, resolving to push his doubts aside. She needed him, and he wouldn't fail her. Not this time.
By midday, the group was a mix of nervous energy and excitement as they prepared to head back to the lagoon. The low tide would hit just after midnight, giving them the perfect window to uncover whatever secrets lay hidden there.
In the small living room, Pope and John B huddled over the journal, triple-checking every note and sketch they had. Pope furiously scribbled down a few calculations, muttering to himself. "We need to account for the moon's position, the tide shift, and—
"Pope, we've checked this like five times," JJ cut in, lounging against the wall. "I think we've got it."
"Better safe than sorry," Pope shot back, his eyes never leaving the journal.
Meanwhile, Cleo and Kiara were sorting supplies by the front door: flashlights, a portable camera, snacks, and extra water. Cleo glanced at the gas canisters for the jet skis, giving them a shake. "These better be enough. Don't wanna get stranded out there."
"They will be," Kiara replied, tying her hair back. "If not, JJ can paddle us home."
"Funny, Ki," JJ retorted, tossing a stray wrapper at her. "Real funny."
Sarah emerged from the bedroom, her hands brushing over her braid as she took in the scene. Despite the weight of what lay ahead, she felt a small flicker of warmth seeing everyone so focused, so in sync.
"You good?" John B asked, standing and slipping an arm around her waist.
She nodded, leaning into him. "Yeah. Let's do this.
The lagoon was eerily quiet as they arrived, the moon casting an otherworldly glow over the water. They parked the jet skis at a hidden spot along the shore and crept toward the rocks, flashlights in hand. The tide was still high, the water lapping gently at the base of the strange, fish-tail-shaped formations.
"Alright," Pope said, his voice low but steady. "Low tide hits in an hour. Let's spread out and keep an eye on anything that looks like a clue."
As they waited, the group exchanged nervous jokes to keep their energy up. Sarah sat perched on a rock, her flashlight resting in her lap as she stared out over the water. John B joined her, slipping an arm around her shoulders.
As the minutes passed, the water began to recede, revealing more of the rocky formations. The group fanned out, moving around the lagoon and scanning every surface with their flashlights.
"I don't see anything!" JJ called, his voice tinged with frustration.
"Keep looking," Pope urged, shining his light along the base of one of the larger rocks.
John B's beam landed on a smooth section of stone that looked slightly different from the rest. His brow furrowed as he stepped closer, crouching down. "Hey, I think I found something."
The others rushed over, their lights converging on the spot. Pope knelt beside John B, running his fingers over the faint etchings in the rock.
"Could be inscriptions," Pope murmured. "But they're so worn down... they could've been eroded away over the years."
The air grew heavy with disappointment until Sarah's voice cut through.
"Wait," she said, kneeling beside Pope. Her eyes darted between the markings, a spark of recognition lighting in them. "That looks like the Big Dipper."
"What?" Pope asked, his flashlight following her gaze.
Sarah traced her finger along the rock, moving from one faint star-shaped marking to another. "Here. The bottom two stars—"
"Point to the North Star," John B finished, his voice rising with excitement.
Kiara's eyes widened as she shone her light on another section of the rock. "Oh my God. They're constellations!"
The group's energy surged as they pieced together the markings, tracing out star patterns and snapping photos. Pope's notebook filled quickly with furious scribbles as he documented everything.
Suddenly, Cleo's voice broke through their excitement. "We've got company," she hissed, her flashlight flicking off as she pointed toward the water.
A motorboat's engine roared in the distance, the sound growing louder with each passing second.
"Move!" John B shouted, grabbing Sarah's hand as the group bolted back toward the jet skis.
Gunfire cracked through the night, a bullet hitting the water just feet from where they ran.
"Why is someone always trying to shoot us?" JJ yelled as they dove onto the jet skis.
John B helped Sarah onto theirs, positioning himself behind her to shield her with his body. Another shot rang out as he gunned the engine, the jet ski surging forward.
They zigzagged across the open water, the sound of the motorboat fading into the distance as they sped toward safety. The adrenaline didn't ease until the lagoon was far behind them and the first light of dawn touched the horizon.
-
The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the horizon in soft golds and pinks as the Pogues returned to the bungalow, their faces a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. The events of the night clung to them—the frantic search at the lagoon, the discovery of the constellation carvings, and the gunfire that had sent them fleeing into the night.
Inside the bungalow, they dumped their bags on the floor, the tension in the room thick. Pope spread the photos and notes across the table, his focus already shifting to deciphering the next step.
"We've got the pieces," Pope said, scanning the images. "But putting them together is going to take time. These constellations… they're not just markers. They're guiding us somewhere, but we have to figure out exactly where."
"We don't have much time," Cleo interjected, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "Whoever shot at us could be connected to Ortega. If they're already here, we need to move fast."
John B rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion tugging at him. "So what do we do? Stay and figure it out or leave and try to work on it on the move?"
The group fell silent, the weight of the decision pressing on them. Kiara spoke up first. "We should prepare to leave. Pack everything, get ready to bolt if we have to. But Pope needs time. If we don't figure this out now, we're back to square one."
Sarah nodded from her spot on the couch. "We can't rush this, but we also can't stay here forever."
"Alright," John B said, his voice firm. "Here's the plan. Pope and I will work on the constellations. JJ and Cleo, head to the docks. See if any of Cleo's contacts can help us get off the island—maybe sell the jet skis if we need to sweeten the deal."
"What about us?" Kiara asked, motioning between herself and Sarah.
"You can pack up," John B said. "Or do whatever else needs doing. Honestly, we just need you to lay low."
Kiara groaned, shifting uncomfortably. "Packing isn't exactly my strong suit." She glanced at Sarah, who was lounging on the couch, her hand resting lightly on her belly. "What do you think?"
Sarah smirked. "I think I'd rather do something practical. What about the laundry? We've been recycling the same clothes for days, and I'm pretty sure JJ's t-shirts are sentient now."
Kiara's face lit up. "Perfect. At least that'll keep us busy."
"Great," John B said, standing to grab his bag. He kissed Sarah lightly on the forehead. "Be safe, alright?"
The air at the docks was thick with salt and diesel fumes as JJ and Cleo made their way through the maze of shipping containers and loading bays. Workers bustled around them, shouting orders and hauling crates, the sound of clanging metal mixing with the distant roar of the ocean.
Cleo led the way, her sharp eyes scanning the scene until she spotted a familiar figure leaning against a forklift. "That's Darius," she said, nodding toward a burly man with a shaved head. "If anyone knows how to get us off this island, it's him."
JJ stuffed his hands in his pockets, trailing behind her. "So what's the plan? We just ask nicely and hope he's feeling generous?"
Cleo shot him a look over her shoulder. "No, we offer something he can't refuse. Like those jet skis you keep pretending to hate."
"Hey, I don't hate them," JJ protested. "I just don't want to marry them."
"Good, because they're about to be our bargaining chip," Cleo said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
When they reached Darius, Cleo wasted no time. "Darius," she said smoothly, her tone warm but commanding. "Got a minute?"
Darius looked up, his expression cautious but curious. "Cleo. Didn't think I'd see you back here so soon. What do you want?"
"Passage," Cleo said simply. "Off this island. No questions asked."
Darius raised an eyebrow. "That's a tall order, girl. You know that costs more than a favor."
"We've got three jet skis," Cleo countered. "Top condition, fast, and barely used. You could flip them for a nice profit or keep them for yourself. Interested?"
Darius stroked his chin, considering. "Maybe. But I'd need to see them first. And you're gonna owe me if this goes sideways."
Cleo smiled, extending her hand. "Deal."
JJ leaned in as they walked away, whispering, "What does he mean, 'if this goes sideways'? Does he think we're gonna sink his boat or something?"
"Just keep your mouth shut and let me handle it," Cleo muttered, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes.
Back at the bungalow, Pope and John B sat at the small table, their faces illuminated by the glow of the lap top screen and the spread of photos and notes in front of them.
"So," John B said, leaning back in his chair. "How exactly do constellations help us find a pirate cove?"
Pope smirked, grabbing a notebook filled with sketches. "It's all about navigation. Before GPS and charts, sailors used stars to figure out where they were and where they were going. Each constellation points to something—like the North Star, for example. It's always in the same place, so it's basically a compass."
John B nodded, intrigued. "Okay, but what about the ones we saw at the lagoon?"
Pope flipped to a page where he'd copied the carvings from the rocks. "They're patterns, not directions. Pirates would use constellations like these to mark locations. If we align these stars with modern charts, we can figure out where the cove is."
"So it's like a treasure map, but in the sky," John B said, a grin spreading across his face.
"Exactly," Pope said, matching his excitement. "But it's not easy. The stars shift slightly over time, so we have to account for that too. It's a lot of math and guesswork, but I think I've got it."
John B leaned forward, his eyes scanning the notes. "This is insane. How do you even know all this?"
"Books, documentaries, and a little bit of Pogue ingenuity," Pope said with a shrug. "Now, help me cross-check these coordinates."
At the laundromat, Sarah and Kiara folded clothes, the rhythmic hum of the machines creating a steady background noise. A few locals came and went, their conversations in low tones blending into the hum of dryers and the occasional jingle of keys.
Kiara held up one of JJ's tattered shirts, wrinkling her nose. "How does someone even wear something this worn out? It's like a single thread holding this together."
Sarah laughed, folding one of John B's hoodies. "It's kind of his vibe, though. He'd probably complain if you bought him something new."
"True," Kiara replied with a grin. She glanced at Sarah's belly. "How are you holding up? You were amazing last night, even with all the craziness."
Sarah rested a hand on her bump, her expression softening. "Tired, but okay. I think the adrenaline helps. I don't want to be what slows everyone down I don't want to be a burden."
Kiara nudged her gently. "You're a total badass. You held your ground out there like a pro. Your kid's lucky to have you."
Sarah smiled, a faint blush rising in her cheeks. "Thanks, Ki. That means a lot." She glanced at the dryers, checking the time. "We've got one more load, right?"
"Yep, and then we're done," Kiara said, hopping onto one of the benches and stretching. "You grabbing a drink?"
"Yeah. Want anything?"
Kiara waved her off. "Surprise me. I'll fold these up."
Sarah nodded and stepped outside, the warm Bahamian sun hitting her skin. She shaded her eyes, scanning the quiet street for a convenience store. As she turned the corner toward a nearby shop, her steps slowed. Something felt… off. The street was bustling, but it was like the noise faded into the background. She couldn't shake the eerie sensation that someone was watching her.
She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the moving crowd. Nothing seemed out of place. Tourists milled about, locals moved between market stalls, and a musician strummed a guitar in the shade of a palm tree. But the hair on the back of her neck prickled.
"Stop being paranoid," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. "You're fine."
She stepped into the convenience store, grabbed a couple of cold drinks, and started back toward the laundromat. The uneasy feeling clung to her, and her pace quickened.
As she turned into the narrow alley leading to the laundromat's side entrance, the world seemed to close in around her. The noise of the street faded, replaced by the echo of her footsteps.
Then it happened.
A hand clamped over her mouth from behind, muffling her scream. Another arm wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms to her sides as she struggled. She kicked and thrashed, her heart pounding in her chest as terror consumed her.
"Shhh," a low, threatening voice hissed in her ear. "Stop fighting."
The drinks fell from her hands, clattering to the ground and rolling into the shadows. She tried to scream again, her cry muffled against the strong hand as she clawed at it desperately. Her lungs burned as she fought for air, her vision blurring from the panic and lack of oxygen.
She felt herself being dragged deeper into the alley, away from the street. A cloth pressed against her face, and a chemical smell invaded her senses. She thrashed harder, her movements becoming frantic, but her strength began to wane as the world tilted and spun.
Her last thought was of John B—his smile, his voice, the way he always said they'd be okay—before everything went black.
Kiara folded the last of JJ's shirts into the basket, chuckling at its threadbare state. "He seriously needs to learn what a sewing kit is. These clothes are barely holding on."
She grabbed the next load from the dryer, sorting through the warm fabric with mechanical ease. It felt good to be doing something practical for the group, even if it was just laundry. But minutes ticked by, and Kiara glanced toward the door
"She's been gone for a while," she murmured, her stomach tightening with unease.
Slipping her bag over her shoulder, she stepped into the busy street, scanning the area. "Sarah?" she called, her voice rising above the crowd. There was no response, just the steady hum of life moving around her. She looked both ways, her heart starting to race.
"Sarah?" she called, scanning the bustling street. The sunlight glinted off windows and vendor stalls, but there was no sign of her friend. Kiara's pulse quickened as her eyes darted to the alley. Something on the ground caught her attention—a splash of liquid pooling near shattered glass.
She moved closer, her heart sinking when she recognised the hair clip Sarah had been wearing this morning. Her gaze flicked toward the alley, a dark, quiet space that seemed to stretch endlessly.
"Sarah?" Her voice wavered, panic creeping into its edges. She took a step toward the alley but froze, her instincts screaming at her to go back. Spinning on her heel, she bolted down the street toward the bungalow.
Inside the bungalow, laughter and excitement filled the room. Pope and John B were huddled over the journal, their voices animated as they pieced together the constellations from the lagoon.
"Look at this," Pope said, pointing at a sketch in the journal. "The pattern matches perfectly. If we chart their positions, it should give us the next location."
John B's face lit up with a mix of relief and determination. "This is it. We're getting closer."
JJ leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on two legs. "Told you. Pogues don't miss."
The door burst open, slamming against the wall. Kiara stumbled in, her face pale and her breathing ragged. The room fell silent, the air thick with tension.
John B frowned, standing quickly. "Ki? What's wrong?" His eyes scanned the doorway, and his heart sank. "Where's Sarah?"
Kiara opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her trembling hand reached into her pocket, pulling out the hair clip. She held it out like an accusation, her voice cracking as she finally spoke. "She's gone, John B. I found this by some broken glass… near an alley."
John B's breath hitched, his pulse pounding in his ears. "What do you mean, gone?" His voice rose, desperate and edged with fear. "Ki, where is she?"
"I don't know," Kiara stammered, her eyes filling with tears. "I looked everywhere. She's not there. There was glass, and the alley was empty—"
"Empty?" John B's voice cracked, his hands clenching into fists. He turned away, running a hand through his hair as his chest heaved. "No. No, this isn't happening. She can't be gone."
Pope stood, his voice calm but firm. "John B, we'll figure this out—
John B whipped around, tears streaming down his face. "Figure it out? That's my wife, Pope. That's my baby out there! She's gone because of me. I put her in danger for some stupid treasure."
He slammed his fist against the wall, the sound reverberating through the room. JJ flinched but quickly moved toward him, his expression hardening. "Hey. Stop. We're gonna find her. Nobody messes with one of us. Got it?"
John B's chest heaved as he struggled to rein in his emotions. His voice dropped to a whisper, broken and raw. "She's out there, scared and alone. And it's my fault."
JJ grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Then we fix it. No one's giving up on her."
Kiara wiped her tears, her voice steadying as she stepped forward. "We have to act fast. Whoever took her… they can't have gone far."
The Pogues moved into action, their bond tightening in the face of the unthinkable. But in the quiet moments, as John B wiped the tears from his face and steadied his breathing, a single thought echoed in his mind "He was supposed to protect them."