Lost At Sea ⋆ JJ Maybank

𝖝𝖎𝖎𝖎. Resting Fire

Kathryn stares at JJ, wondering if he's really that dumb or that desperate. She watches with wide eyes as he makes himself a sandwich composed of outdated ham and mouldy bread.

"JJ," she sighs, like a tired parent. "Please don't eat that."

He shrugs. "I'll just pull off the bad parts. Plus, mold is good for you. It's just a natural organism."

She blinks. "It's not – you know what, can't say I didn't warn you."

He holds up his sandwich, with a triumphant smile. As long as Kathryn isn't cleaning the bathroom after him, she doesn't care. She does want to snatch it away and throw it in the bin, in a non-caring way.

"Guys," Kie calls out, cutting her thoughts short.

They walk to the centre of the room, where John B is sitting at a table. It's lit only by one lamp in the middle, cluttered. He shoves everything out of the way and puts the package down.

"Yup, yup, yup. Hot damn!" exclaims JJ, standing beside Kathryn next to John B. "Let's do this."

He takes a bite of his sandwich. Gags, spits it out, and walks towards the trash.

"I told you so," says Kathryn in a sing-song voice. "You know what, tomorrow you're all eating with me at Henry's."

At least, there, she knows that nothing is mouldy.

"Yes, please," JJ begs, still shuddering from the awful taste.

John B smirks, and opens the package. He takes a map out of it. There's coordinates written by hand on it, and a cross right in the middle of the ocean. Kathryn recognizes the Outer Banks.

Pope points to the cross. "'X' marks the spot."

"The spot to what?" Kathryn hums.

John B traces the lines on the map, absent-mindedly. "Longitude, latitude..." His eyes trail to the bulge in the package. "There's another thing in there."

He gets a small recorder out of it. He inspects it, frowning.

"What's that?" JJ asks.

"It's a tape recorder, dumbass," Kie answers.