[ xxxiii. nightmare on crain street ]

➸➸➸

"SHOULD IT BE EVEN humanly possible to feel this terrible?"

Willa Deveraux's body was draped precariously over the edge of the Heyward family's delivery boat that next morning, where each agonizing moment of reality brought her closer to the brink of losing her stomach contents—or worse, as if her brains were about to explode through her nose. The pitiful hour of sleep she had managed to snatch the night before now seemed like a cruel mockery.

Regret flooded her veins as she cursed every decision that had led her to this wretched state. The combination of a mind-numbing hangover and a brutal cold she had undoubtedly caught assaulted her weakened body. She blamed herself for falling asleep with damp hair. That, and the fact that she had gone to sleep in cold clothes, too. Willa had been set up for system failure the moment she fell into the marsh.

"If you're going to puke, you should do it in the cabin. That'll teach the boys a lesson."

Willa mustered nothing more than a pitiful groan in response to Kiara, her head still throbbing and her vision still swimming. She pressed her clammy forehead against the cold, sleek edge of the boat's railing. "I don't know if I can even move," She muttered, her words barely escaping her chapped lips.

"Yo, you ladies need a tow?!"

A distant, but all-so-irritatingly familiar voice pierced through the hazy fog of Willa's misery. Slowly, she lifted her leaden head all the while her eyes struggled against the glaring sun. Blurred and disoriented, she beheld the sight of the HMS Pogue gliding toward their anchored vessel. John B., Pope, and JJ radiated playfulness, their smiles widening as they closed the distance between them and the stranded trio of girls.

Kiara glanced between Sarah and Willa as the smaller boat slid up to their own. "Don't give them the satisfaction of thinking this worked," She whispered, her voice laced with defiance.

Sarah's lips curled into a mischievous smirk, a fiery spark igniting in her eyes. "Absolutely not," She agreed coyly.

"What's with the long face, sunshine?" JJ called out to Willa from below. She strained to see him, still clinging to the railing's edge, battling the treacherous waves in her stomach as the boat relentlessly rocked.

"I'd be careful if I were you, JJ," Sarah advised. "You're in the splashing zone."

JJ snickered. "Have a little too much fun?"

"If you consider falling overboard in the dead of night and waking up with a head cold from hell fun . . ." Willa dryly began. She slowly dragged herself upright, mustering the strength to walk toward the ladder. Every step was a painful reminder of her ordeal. Stiffly, painfully, she climbed down, and gratefully accepted Pope's extended hand as she gingerly stepped onto the narrow deck of the HMS Pogue. ". . . then I had a blast."

"Fell overboard?" JJ echoed. For a moment, the Maybank boy almost sounded concerned for her. But then his true loyalties were revealed as he inquired, "You didn't have the joint in your hand, did you?"

"Worse," She sighed as she dropped wearily near the bow. "I had the Fireball."

"Ouch." He knew how much she loved her whisky. "Did Kie make you fish the bottle out?"

"Oh, I never let go of it," Willa declared. "You'd have to pry that bottle from my cold, dead fingers."

JJ chuckled. "I'm impressed."

A soft smile ghosted across Willa's face, savoring the rare glimpse of recognition. But instead of acknowledging it, she closed her eyes and embraced the cooling touch of the marsh's breeze that caressed her burning skin. She was grateful that JJ was not trying to pick an argument with her right off the bat for once. Perhaps she really did look as sick and exhausted as she felt, and he was willing to show her mercy. Or else he was just waiting for a better opportunity to strike.

"Okay, but you've got to admit," John B. was saying through a laugh as he helped Sarah and Kiara board next, "the plan was kind of funny."

"Mastermind, huh?" Kiara teased with a roll of her eyes.

"I'm always planning, Kie," John B. promised. He then glanced over to Sarah with a smirk. "You still hate me?"

Sarah scoffed. "A little," She replied. "We're going to get you back when you least expect it."

John B.'s smile widened, relishing the impending challenge. "I'm always up for a boys' night," he declared. Behind him, JJ whooped in agreement.

Pope was grinning, too. "I, for one, welcome that challenge," He asserted confidently.

Willa peered at the Heyward boy through one slit eye. "You say that now," She warned. "You won't be saying that when you're stranded in the middle of the ocean."

Pope's smile faltered just the slightest at Willa's comment, and the girl's shoulders bounced with silent laughter. It never did take much to get Pope riled up. No matter, it was short-lived as the group of six teens settled into their seats. The unspoken tension of a baited question still lingered precariously in the air. "So," Pope addressed the three tired girls. "Did you guys, you know . . ." He intertwined his own fingers in his lap as if bringing a fragile union to life.

"Reconcile our differences?" Kiara offered. Through a theatrical scoff, she continued, "Not even close."

Sarah added her agreement of exaggerated disapproval with a dramatic shake of her head.

Still searching for answers, John B. glanced over at the former mediator of the night. "This true, Willa?" He asked her.

Willa opened her green, heavy eyes again at the mention of her name. As she glanced toward John B., for the first time in five days, she was relieved at the emptiness of feeling that graced her heart as she looked upon the boy now. She hoped it stayed that way. She hoped the smile she held for him now stayed as it was, a gentle gesture of friends.

"Oh, absolutely," She replied at last. Behind John B.'s unsuspecting form, Sarah wore a teasing smirk, while Kiara sent Willa a knowing wink. Willa wished she could reciprocate the gesture without jeopardizing their little game. "In fact, I think they might even be worse than before."

John B. clutched at his chest, a mix of feigned disappointment and honest amusement dancing in his eyes. "So much for the plan."

"But . . ." Sarah interjected, lifting a pointed finger to redirect the attention toward herself. "We're . . . willing to work together." The way she said the phrase nearly made it sound like a question, but the promise of their mending friendships was clear.

"You know what?" John B. exclaimed. "That's victory."

Sarah and Kiara rolled their eyes in unison as JJ erupted in boisterous cheers between them. Willa huddled deeper into her seat, attempting to drown out the noise by wrapping a blanket around her head. But she was no match for the bouncing Maybank, who crashed back into the seat beside her and playfully ruffled her bare shoulders, trying to force some excitement out of her for a supposed job well done. Elsewhere, Pope had jumped up beside John B. and slapped his friend's extended hand, all the while wiggling their fingers. "Woogity-woogity-woogity!" He yelled.

John B. was still grinning madly as he began steering their tinier boat back in the direction of Kildare Island. Back toward home. "You guys ready to jack some loot?" He asked.

Several devious and determined cries of reckless, youth chaos answered him. For tonight was only the beginning for the growing pogue group. Tonight marked the first day of the rest of their lives.

➸➸➸

THAT NIGHT, WILLA WAS so feverish and congested that she could barely breathe, but she would be damned before she missed out on storming the Crain house. Granted, she almost did miss it, anyway, given that she had fallen asleep in the back of the Twinkie on the drive there. But at least one of the pogues had been looking out for her in her unconscious state.

"Rise and shine, kook bait," JJ said, waking her with a shaking jolt.

Willa rolled up into a sitting position and groaned loudly as she slid her shoes back on her feet. She was wearing an all-black getup and she could hardly see herself in the dark, but she supposed that was the point with a breaking-and-entering scheme. She could, however, still feel the several concerned stares from within the Twinkie that watched her like a hawk.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay in the car?" Pope asked, his tone heavy with worry.

"There's no way I'm missing this," Willa dismissed with a shake of her head. "I'll be fine."

"If you pass out in the yard, I'm not carrying you back again," JJ snickered.

"That was a one-time thing," Willa muttered. Apparently, no one was going to let her live down her Midsummer evening. She found herself inching toward the sliding door of the van, eager to escape the humiliation. "Can we get a move on, please?"

Kiara and Sarah murmured their agreement and hurried to follow Willa as she flung the door open. However, before she could take a step onto the gravel, John B. was tapping her shoulder and calling her back. In fact, he was calling all his friends back, and a hushed stillness fell upon the group as they turned to face him. "Wait, wait," he urged softly. Willa pivoted to meet his gaze, ready to unleash some biting retort that likely hung on the edge of her sickly tongue, yet all words evaporated as her eyes locked with his. In the dim light cast by the dwindling power of the Twinkie, John B.'s expression held an unexpected tenderness, a warmth she knew so well. Hickory hues intertwined with her own sage green, and Willa still found that she could never not miss the familiar hickory warmth. "I want to say thank you, guys. Seriously," He proclaimed. "It means a lot to me that you're here tonight.

Kiara rolled her eyes at the cheesiness of John B.'s gesture, but her response was still kind and true. "Always," She said.

In her heart, Willa knew the Carrera girl's promise echoed the sentiments of all the other teens crammed into the Volkswagen van. There was no better way to describe the bond that had formed among them. Less than three weeks ago, Willa would have never imagined herself in this moment. She would never have envisioned fighting a delirium haze, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with classmates who were once strangers but had become so integral to her very existence. She would never have pictured herself preparing for a risky break-in on the dangerous south end of the Cut. Yet, through it all, she knew that no matter the perils they faced, she would be safe because she had her friends by her side.

Willa looked amongst the faces within her small circle until her gaze settled on John B. again. He was still looking at her. Perhaps he would always look to her—the girl who had seen him first; not as a pogue, not as an orphan, but as a boy with a history she was not afraid of stepping into, a history that she had believed in when all others did not.

Within the shadows of the Twinkie, John B. nodded his appreciation to Willa, and she found herself nodding back. No words could begin to describe the evolution of their relationship within the span of such a short time, but Willa knew that silence was not always empty, that a gesture, a look, a feeling could promise all that a phrase could not. That would be enough for the Deveraux daughter and the Routledge son. Hickory and sage had been blurred, yes, but they were not broken.

"All right, are we done with the circle jerk? Can we go do this?"

The softness of the midnight hour was ruptured, of course, by JJ as reality set back in for the teens. Pope snapped his fingers. "Let's get that wheat in the water," He said.

"Weed? I'm up for weed."

"Wheat. I said wheat."

One by one, armed only with ropes, flashlights, and oversized loot bags, the determined teens departed from the Twinkie and approached the ominous Crain house. It loomed like a specter against the night sky, its dark silhouette casting an eerie shadow over the landscape. Willa scaled easily over the short stone wall that lined the edge of the yard and dropped into the high grass on the other side of the property. Once everyone was over, the group began their silent approach, and Willa found herself right at John B,'s shoulder, keeping her own flashlight off and navigating by the light of his to hopefully keep their lighted presence to a minimum.

It seemed like a good plan—until a sudden burst of light erupted from the ancient mansion, flooding the entire yard in blinding brightness. Willa yelped, Sarah cursed, and Pope nearly dropped his rope in shock as they all instinctively threw themselves into the brushy grass, desperately hoping to avoid detection.

Behind them, JJ was beating his flashlight into the ground, trying to bust the bulb as it flickered between a steady orb and an erratic strobe light.

"JJ, turn it off!" Kiara hissed urgently.

JJ was panting as he clicked the flashlight off and launched it back over the stone wall behind them for good measure. Willa heard it crack loudly against an object in the distance, and she hoped that the sound was not so deafening that even old Mrs. Crain could hear it from the depths of her demonic dungeon.

"Okay, so she has motion sensor lights," Pope gulped.

"What do we do?" Willa wondered breathlessly. Her heart was pounding painfully against her ribs, and she could guess that the teens gathered around her felt the same in their own bodies. They had almost been caught and they had only just begun. "How do we get around them?"

"We could, uh . . . move really slowly, maybe?" JJ offered.

"Did you really just say that out loud?" Willa snapped.

"That's not how it works, JJ," Pope retorted.

"Let's throw a rock at it," John B. interjected stupidly.

"What?" Sarah demanded, gaping incredulously.

"That's a really good idea," Kiara deadpanned. "Let the axe murderer know that we're here."

"JJ's flashlight might have already done that job," Willa muttered with a roll of her eyes.

She could feel JJ's sharp glare burning into her from across the huddle. "I'm sorry, but did you have a better idea?" He shot back.

"Yes," She glowered, frustration mounting, "turn it off like a normal human being. Now, thanks to you, we're one flashlight down."

"And about a million more brain cells," Kiara added, her sarcasm dripping with disdain.

JJ nearly stood back up at that backhand comment, but a harsh tug from Pope kept him grounded and away from the prying lights of the Crain household's rickety porch. "We need to come up with a new plan," The Heyward boy decided. "Or else we need to go."

"What about the breaker? In the circuit box on the porch," Sarah suggested. She had turned away from the group and was scoping the house out from a distance. "I used to play hide-and-seek here as a kid. If you were brave enough, you'd go all the way up to her porch. I know exactly where the box is. I can get to it and switch the breaker off."

"No way," John B. immediately objected. "You're not going into that house alone."

"Watch me," Sarah retorted.

"Crain chops people into pieces," JJ reminded her.

"If you believe that," The Cameron princess returned, "but she's like what, eighty-five? She's probably barely still kicking."

"I'll go with you," Kiara volunteered.

"Me too," Willa added. She shifted in her crouch, inching toward the other two girls, but a hand at her elbow suddenly held her back.

Pope, having relinquished his hold on JJ, now stood by her side, grounding her in place. "Mouth breather stays here," he declared, his words biting with authority. When Willa opened her mouth to protest, he shot her a narrowed side glance as if daring her to challenge him. "You were breathing so loudly in the back of the van that I could hear you from the passenger's seat—with the windows open."

"It's because I'm sick!" Willa insisted nasally.

Pope ignored Willa and her growing pout as he back looked to Kiara and Sarah. "We'll wait for your signal," He told them.

Both girls nodded their understanding and rose from their crouches. John B. swiftly seized Sarah's hand. "Hey, be careful," he called after her. Sarah quietly squeezed his hand in response, a silent promise, and then disappeared into the darkness, with Kiara following closely. Willa watched their figures until they blended into mere shadows among the trees, leaving her in the company of two snarky boys teasing their lovestruck companion.

When Willa finally turned back to the trio, a jolt of shock coursed through her. JJ had cradled Pope's face in his hands, their faces inches apart. "Be safe," JJ mocked, his voice dripping with husky playfulness. Disbelief etched across Willa's face at the unexpected sight.

Pope clung to JJ's hands, and seemingly melted in his touch. "I'll be so safe," He whispered back. "I'll be safe for you."

"Can you two not? Please?" John B. groaned. Even in the darkness, from the distant light of the Crain porch, Willa could see the embarrassed flush on his cheeks. "I'm going to kill you both."

Pope frowned mischievously. "But how would that keep us safe?" He teased.

"You three are idiots," Willa muttered.

Suddenly, the lights' power was cut off with a snap of finality, and the large, overgrown yard was plunged back into permanent darkness. Willa exhaled a sigh of relief and stood up from her crouched position. She could not see Kiara and Sarah on the porch, so could only assume they had made for the basement themselves, rather than backtracked. Beside her, Pope knocked JJ's hands away, and the three boys rose, their playful expressions vanishing as their mission truly and rightfully began.

"It's go-time," John B. said in a hushed voice.

JJ reached down for the bandanna wrapped loosely around his neck and pulled the black kerchief up so that it covered his nose and mouth, leaving only his icy blue eyes exposed. "Lead the way," He bid.

Willa now walked carefully through the dead grass, doing her best to avoid stepping too loudly in any given spot. She resumed using her own flashlight, but angled the beam away from the house, cautious of any prying eyes from the windows above. Although she hoped there were none, fear kept her from looking up, her gaze fixed on the ground until she stood before the latched door to the underground shed-like basement. Once more, Willa flinched at the squeal of old hinges being pushed beyond necessary use, but there was nothing she could do about that as she slipped into the dark, wet, and humid space, and let the wooden door fall to a whining close behind her.

Her entire body felt like a nervous live wire. Her throbbing head was in tandem with her pounding heart, and she could feel the sweat pooling at her back beneath the black sweatshirt that she wore. It was not even her sweatshirt, but one she had found at the Chateau, and she had not bothered to ask whom it belonged to before claiming it as her own. She guessed that after tonight, though, no one would want it back, anyway.

"Holy crap," JJ breathed, as he surveyed the disheveled basement. The well was still exactly where they had left it a day before, a menacing black pit of nothingness that was going to swallow one of them up. "Do you know what this is? It just hit me. This is C.H.U.D. Full C.H.U.D."

"Full what?" Willa questioned, only half-listening to the rambling Maybank. She was currently helping Pope set up the pulley system—the makeshift pulley system that the Heyward boy swore was going to work.

"Cannibalistic humanoid underground dwellers?" JJ clarified.

"Am I supposed to know what that is?"

"Really, kook bait? John B., help me out here."

Across the basement, John B. looked up from where he knelt at the edge of the well. "I have no idea what the hell you're talking about," He openly confessed.

"Have none of you seen that film?" JJ gasped. "It's actually a good film. It's about, like, cannibals that live in sewers and under New York City, and it's like—"

"JJ, shut up," John B. interrupted, voice firm. "I don't need to hear about that right now." He had stepped away from the well again and was eyeing the pulley system nervously. Willa and Pope were nearly finished setting it up. "All right, Pope," John B. addressed. "How deep do you think this is?"

"I don't know," Pope admitted. "Best not to dwell on it. Here, let's get you roped in."

Willa stepped back and allowed Pope to finish the mechanics of their operation as he settled John B. into his shiftily constructed harness. Standing next to JJ again, Willa could not help but allow her eyes to skim the shadows around them. There were no cannibalistic humanoid underground dwellers in their midst . . . but they were still missing two of their own. "Where are Sarah and Kie?" She wondered.

"If they were smart, they'd be back at the van," JJ scoffed.

Willa did not respond as she did not believe that for one second. Sarah and Kiara had been brave enough to step right up to the front door. There was no way they would have turned around after that point. Wherever they were on the property, Willa hoped they were not in trouble. They could not afford to get caught—not with all the other destructive mayhem that was piling up around them from all other angles.

"Hey, guys," John B. called once he was settled and locked into his harness. "I have one request. Don't drop me."

Willa made no promises as she stepped up to the rope that would be used to lower John B. into the well. She, JJ, and Pope had separated themselves an equal distance apart, using their weight as stopping points to ensure John B. was lowered at a safe, and slow, pace. Based on Pope's calculations they should have no chance at dropping their friend—but their odds had not been great as of late.

Pope stood nearest to the well, letting the rope shift through his hands and across a series of pipes that rose toward the ceiling. JJ was furthest back, balanced near the dirt steps, letting the rope curl around his back, relaying it slowly outward. Willa would, once again, be a middleman of sorts, using her weight as a breach in case either boy slipped. She hoped that they would not.

"All right," John B. exhaled slowly. "Just keep paying it out nice and slow like that." Slowly, little by little, John B. allowed himself to be lowered back into the dark well, and within seconds, Willa could no longer see him from where she stood. All she could hear was his voice and it was growing fainter and fainter with each foot he was lowered further into the ground. "Keep going . . . keep going . . ."

Willa tried to ignore the faint burn of the rope as it slid across her hands. Right now, it was bearable. The pace was slow, giving her enough time to brace her palms and loosen and tighten her grip at the proper moment. She kept her movements in time with her own breathing, forcing her inhales and exhales to stay steady with each catch and release she—

"Wait, hold on one second," JJ abruptly halted. "I need to get situated." His own breathing had stuttered and ripped Willa from her own contained focus.

She glanced over her shoulder, and briefly eyed his twisted and reddened expression. JJ was struggling beneath the weight of the pulley. He was holding his breath now as he dug his heels back into the loose dirt, and his shoulders were trembling with the strength he was using to push to an unknown and dangerous brink. He was about to break. He was about to let go of the rope, and he had no control over that decision, of his own body betraying him. "J . . ." She cautioned.

"Oh, shit!"

JJ slipped and fell backward into the dirt. The rope shot from his grasp, and the sudden fluctuation of weight slammed into Willa like a freight train, knocking her down to her knees. "No!" She cried out, as she twisted her body in a desperate move to regain control of the flailing rope. The pulley screeched overhead, and somewhere within the well, John B.'s voice erupted in panicked shouts as he plummeted unexpectedly.

"Hang on, John B.!" Pope shouted.

Suddenly, another force slammed into Willa's back once more, but rather than push her further into the dirt, it pulled her backward and upward. A ropeless JJ had abandoned his place by the stairs and was now crouched behind Willa, slipping his arms around her, and buckling his hands at her waist, hauling her back several feet as she clung to the rope. Willa leaned back into him in her desperation for breath, and dug her haywire heels into the ground, pushing them both back as JJ struggled to get them into a more secure position further away from the well.

"Here, here," Willa gasped, trying to shove more of the rope in JJ's hands. She was practically sitting in his lap now, her elbows most definitely digging into his chest every time she hauled more of John B.'s weight back and up. She could not even apologize, she was so out of breath, the world quite literally swept up from beneath her feet in a mere instant.

Yet the chaos settled nearly as quickly as it started. JJ was the first to secure his hold back onto the rope, release his grip on Willa's hips, and clamber to his feet. Willa waited until he was set near the stairs once more, finally situated, before she stood back up, too. Her knees were trembling. Deep, fresh rope burns now clung to her already battered and bruised hands. Quite frankly, she was lucky they were even still attached to her wrists.

"You two good?" Pope called with a grunt.

JJ groaned and it sounded like he was in pain. "Just peachy."

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Willa huffed irritably.

After a quick one-over look, Pope turned his attention back toward the silent well. They had not heard a splash. "John B.?" He called out tentatively.

A harsh shout echoed up to them, furious. "I told you not to drop me!"

Willa immediately sighed in relief. Despite his rage, one takeaway was obvious. "At least he's alive," She remarked.

"What the hell was that?" John B. demanded from the depths.

"Little technical difficulties," Pope responded breathlessly. He, too, had struggled with the sudden rush of weight. Though neither Willa nor JJ had seen it, he had been lifted off his feet as he strained to keep the crushing weight off the pipes overhead.

"O-Okay," John B. responded. She could hear the tremble in his voice through the echoes off the wet walls. "Keep going," He urged. "Slowly!"

Pope took the lead once more and began loosening more of the rope down into the dark. Willa had no choice but to follow his movements, and by now her entire body was drenched in sweat. She was practically panting out of her mouth, too. Her head felt like it was going to explode.

"How much further to the bottom?" She whined. It could not be that much further, could it?

On either side of her, both boys were groaning. Their grunts of exertion grew louder. They were all beginning to struggle with the weight of their friend, but it was the weight of the promised gold that ultimately pushed them to new edges. "We've got fifteen feet left," Pope announced. "Are you getting closer to the bottom, John B.?"

"I can't tell," The Routledge boy replied shakily. "Just keep going until you can't."

"Fuck me," JJ gritted out. His shoulders were beginning to shake beneath his own body's strain again.

"Easy, JJ," Willa murmured tightly.

JJ shot down her concern. "I'm . . . fine," He huffed out.

"Whoa, hey, stop! Stop! You can stop!" John B. unexpectedly cried out. "I'm hanging over some sewage-water-looking shit."

Pope's grip tightened on the rope. "You want back up?" He called down.

"No . . ." John B. hesitated. "Keep going, I guess . . ." Willa was thankful she could not see the mess that he had gotten into in the well. Her stomach was already unsettled. Suddenly, John B. spoke up again, "Okay, I'm at the bottom!"

At the first confirmed sign of John B.'s safety, Willa instantly relaxed her hold on the rope. JJ was immediately behind her doing the same thing as they both stepped up on either of Pope's sides and glanced down into the darkness of the round well. Willa could not see much from this distance aside from the white beam of John B.'s flashlight as it danced off the stone and sent the boy's shadows crawling back up to her.

"How is it down there?" Pope wondered.

"It's worse than I thought," John B.'s stiff answer echoed up to them.

"You find any gold?" JJ prodded.

"Nothing yet. Wait. I think I felt something with my foot."

Willa waited with bated breath, but her excitement instantly shifted to dread as John B. began to scream—sharp and terrified—from the bottom of the well. His blatant and honest shouts of horror ripped and ricocheted through her like a cold bullet, and she nearly stepped over the edge of the well, seemingly ready to dive down after him, and into the dark.

"John B., what's wrong?" JJ demanded.

"Pull me up!" John B. pleaded fearfully. "JJ, pull me up! Pull me up!"

"Shit, come on!" Pope shouted urgently.

Willa, with ice in her heart and panic in her throat, turned back to the rope and pulled with a strength that she was not aware she ever had. Before her, still trapped in the ground, desperate to reach the night, John B. continued to yell, "Pull me up! Please, pull me up!" Each scream was becoming more frantic than the last and it made Willa's skin crawl. What had he found down there within the nightmares of the Crain house's haunted past?

"Hold on! We've almost got you!" Willa attempted to calm him. They were going as fast as they could, but it was not enough.

Suddenly, a sharp tug pulled back against Willa's own strength, and she jolted forward—thankfully keeping her footing this time. It was as if John B. had abruptly stopped scrambling to reach them, had stopped in his climb up the well altogether. And he had. "Wait, wait, wait!" The boy hollered up to them. "Stop pulling me up! I think I found something!"

No longer was he screaming, and no longer was he desperate to escape whatever he had just found. The sudden shift in behavior nearly sent Willa reeling. It made her dizzy, and her grip on the rope shifted as a result. "Whoa, whoa, kook bait," JJ said, alarmed. "Easy . . ."

She heard him step closer to her, and she shook her head. "I'm good," She promised as she swallowed the quiver in her throat.

"What the hell are you doing, John B.?" Pope demanded. Frustration was evident in his tone, too. What was going on down there?

No answer reached them from below, but another new form of chaos had found them from above. Willa's heart dropped as she heard a squealing door from across the basement slam open. Frantic shouts and yelps of fear followed the sudden entrance, and soon both a startled Sarah and Kiara were sprinting down a set of stairs, and over to the sweaty and groaning group of teenagers still holding onto a missing John B.

"Where have you been?" Willa questioned.

"I'll explain later! We've got to go!" Kiara urged, her auburn eyes wide with fear.

"Wait, what?" Pope sputtered. "What's going on?"

"It's Mrs. Crain!" Sarah informed. "She's up there!"

"She tried to kill us with a fire poker," Kiara added.

"We've got to get the fuck out of here," Sarah finished. She was hunched over on her knees, struggling to regain her breath.

"Got it, code red!" JJ shouted. "Let's go, John B.!"

John B. did not immediately answer them, and Willa could have screamed bloody murder after him if it were not for the fact that Mrs. Crain was somewhere upstairs, likely hunting them down. However, they were not exactly quiet anymore. In fact, they had not been quiet at all within the basement. Willa's gaze was steadily shifting from the entrance to the rest of the house and to the exit behind them, wondering just how much time they would have to escape if John B. continued taking his sweet time doing whatever the hell it was that he was doing.

"Wait, wait, shut up! Do you hear that?" Kiara's voice cut through Willa's frantic train of thought. "He's saying something!"

The five teens knelt near the edge of the well, each of them now holding onto the rope, and while it was clear that John B. was saying something, they could not make out what it was. It was as if his voice had been swallowed up by the stone. As if John B. himself had been swallowed up by the stone.

"It sounds like he's drowning!" Sarah exclaimed. "We need to pull him up!"

"Hold on, John B.!" Pope called down into the dark. "We're going to pull you back up, buddy!"

A whirlwind of movement consumed the basement. Willa shot back to her feet and continued pulling at the rope, unsure if John B. was even still attached to it at this point. Thankfully, with the aid of Kiara and Sarah, the flow and control of the rope were that much easier to bear. "Keep going!" Willa urged through gritted teeth. "Almost there . . ."

Then a gunshot rang out.

And pure, annihilating mayhem followed.

JJ abandoned his post. Sarah and Kiara scattered and made for the exit. Pope threw caution to the wind as he ducked and dove to the edge of the well, trying to grab at John B. with his bare hands.

Meanwhile, Willa was no longer in control of her own body, and instinct held her to the ground, to the very rope that would save John B. Across the basement, out of the corner of her eye, Willa recognized the flash and the booming echo of another blaring shot ringing out in the dark of the rotten room. Mrs. Crain, clad in nothing more than a deathly-white nightgown, was standing at the bottom of the stairs, aiming a smoking shotgun at them.

"Kook bait, get down!"

Willa knew she was locked in Mrs. Crain's crosshairs. She looked down at the shotgun's barrel and her breath caught in her throat. All that the murderous old woman had to do was pull the trigger, and she would be dead.

Dead.

Why was that word not so scary to her anymore?

"No!"

Willa braced. She convinced herself that she would not be shot. That the woman made from a spooky island legend would not be as dangerous and lethal as the entirety of Kildare made her out to be.

And then Mrs. Crain's bony finger curled around the trigger again. However, she had turned away in her movements, and now fired the gun once more, this time sending a bullet right into the wall of the basement. A horrendous shot. Shock surged rapidly through Willa. New life curled into her veins. Mrs. Crain could not see her. She was blind.

Willa nearly cried out with relief, but instead, her trembling grip on the rope strengthened, and, standing alone, she pulled against the depths of the well once more. With a final tug, John B. clambered from the sopping darkness and keeled over next to Pope on the dirty ground, gasping for breath. At the sudden movement and sound, Mrs. Crain turned in a flash and fired the shotgun again, this time, sending a bullet into the exposed stone of the well only inches from John B.'s head.

"Fuck, man! Time to go! Time to go!" JJ shouted.

Willa did not need to be told twice. She immediately dropped the rope and allowed herself to finally be pulled back as JJ wrapped a firm hand around her wrist and ripped her after him. Scrambling over loose planks of wood and randomly littered tools, Willa and JJ shot through the tiny gap in the unlatched basement door. Behind them, Pope and John B. sprinted for safety, too.

None of them looked back at the abandoned well, and none of them stopped running until they had launched over the stone wall that lined the property. The Twinkie had never felt like such a welcoming sight to Willa until that moment. Until Sarah and Kiara were holding their hands out to her and pulling her into the safety of the backseat. She fell back against them, breathing hard, lungs burning, as JJ and Pope clambered into the driver's and front passenger's seats. JJ frantically shoved the key into the ignition and revved the engine to life.

"Wh-Where's John B.?" Sarah demanded.

Willa's eyes snapped open, and she sat up in alarm. "He was right behind us."

Willa clambered back over to the sliding door of the van that was still hanging wide open. Half leaning out of the vehicle, Willa peered into the shadows. She watched the very wall she had just nearly fallen over and waited. Somewhere within the depths of the Crain house, another gunshot rang out.

"Oh, my God," Kiara gasped.

"Why are we always getting shot at?!" Pope exclaimed wildly.

Suddenly, Willa saw a pair of dirtied hands grasp the top of the stone wall. "There he is!" She yelled as a moving shadow perched atop the edge. "JJ, start driving! Let's go, John B.! Run!"

The Twinkie began to move just as another gunshot sounded, much louder this time, and the teens yelped in surprise. John B.'s expression was frantic as he flipped over the property line and crashed down onto the gravel road below. Willa shouted after him again, urging John B. to get up, and he rapidly did so, stirring up a cloud of dust in his own waking. He began to sprint after the Twinkie as it gained speed, and Willa leaned further out of the moving vehicle and extended her arm for John B. to take her hand.

"Come on!" Willa encouraged, screaming loudly over the shouts of the others. "Jump!"

In blind faith, John B. leaped forward, and his palm smacked firmly against Willa's own. She immediately leaned her full weight back as her burning fingers curled around his own and pulled him into the van, leaving no room for error. He went crashing down beside her on the van's carpeted floor, gasping and groaning in pain. But breathing, too. He was alive.

"Drive, JJ, drive!" Pope commanded.

JJ slammed the gas pedal to the floor. "Holy shit, man!" He exclaimed in relief. "Are you okay, JB? Are you shot?"

Willa lay beside John B., who was still strangely quiet, and her eyes scanned his body up and down, looking for blood, looking for a gunshot wound, but his entire body was covered in a sickly, smelly, brown muck.

"Are any of us shot?" Sarah asked aloud.

Kiara patted herself down in genuine question and exhaled a shaky breath. "I think I'd know if I was shot, right?"

"John B., what the hell happened in that well?" Willa demanded. Slowly, she pushed herself back upright into a sitting position. John B. did the same, but his gaze was on none of the pogues gathered around him. Rather it was down to a muddy but solid and strange-looking, little golden-colored bar. Willa's eyes followed the movement, and her jaw dropped. "Is that—"

"No, you didn't!" Sarah gasped, already watching the exchange between the two.

"We did it, baby!"

John B.'s entire expression brightened as he began to shout at the top of his lungs. Willa almost stood up in the back of the van. "Holy shit!" She yelped. "Holy shit!"

At all the sudden commotion, JJ slammed on the brakes and turned around in his seat to see the gold bar held firmly in his best friend's hands. "Oh, my God!" He screamed proudly. "Oh, my God! You found the fucking gold!"

"I found the fucking gold!" John B. echoed.

The entire van was now full of cheering, screaming, and whoops of pure excitement and elation as so many sets of youthful eyes fell upon the sight of pure gold for the first time. Willa's body was suddenly so full, and so bright, and so light, all at once, that the world could have been ending and she would have never noticed. Her world was right there in the back of that van.

"Guys, we're going to be rich!" Kiara shrieked.

"Kook rich!" Pope exclaimed.

The Routledge teen began bouncing wildly in his seat, his shoulder knocking warmly against Willa's repeatedly as he held the golden bar higher into the air. "Full kook!" He praised. "Full kook!" One by one, Willa and the others followed ecstatically into John B.'s chant until their whole group echoed with the joy and the promise of one beautiful reality:

"Full kook! Full kook! Full kook!"

~~~~~~~~~~

this might be another one of my new favorite chapters. willa is such a badass. i love my girl.

the crain house storyline is always one of my favorites, so i hope i executed those scenes and incorporated willa well. she's truly not afraid to get hurt which of course--is a very dangerous mindset to have in the obx world... so, what are you thinking? how do we feel about willa after this chapter? how do we feel about willa and her interactions with the pogues?

again, just a check-in. how are the shipping wars? who are you shipping willa with currently and why? i'd love to hear your thoughts about what you're enjoying regarding willa's relationships with the other teens! let's talk!

again, thank you all for showing willa and the pogues and this story so much love. in turn, we are sending you all our love. stay safe and well.

--B.