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18 MONTHS LATER

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THE APPLAUSE ECHOED around us, loud and persistent, but it felt distant, like I was hearing it underwater. The crowd stood, their cheers filling the air, even the Kooks clapping along with everyone else. My eyes drifted across the sea of faces, each one beaming with excitement and pride. But my chest felt tight, hollow. This wasn't about the gold anymore—not for me.

The rest of the Pogues stood beside me, John B on my left, Sarah just beyond him. They were smiling faintly, trying to soak in the moment, but I couldn't find the joy. Big John was gone. My dad was gone. The man who'd been like a second father to me, who had shaped so much of who I was, was no longer here to see what we had accomplished. It wasn't the gold that mattered—it was the family we had built along the way. Now, a huge piece of that was missing, and no medal or applause could fill the void.

The ceremony carried on, Shoupe's voice booming as he presented each of us with a Medal of Honor. I barely registered the weight of the medal as it was draped around my neck. My hands stayed clenched at my sides, the edges of my nails digging into my palms.

Finally, it was over, and we stepped down from the stage, moving through the buzzing crowd to a quieter spot by the edge of the green. JJ wasted no time pulling a joint from his pocket, his lighter clicking a few times before the tip flared. He took a long drag, tilting his head back as he exhaled a cloud of smoke into the air.

''Okay, I need a reset,'' he announced, his voice muffled slightly by the smoke. ''This is a lot.''

''I'll take one hit,'' Pope muttered, reaching for the joint. ''One.''

Cleo smirked, crossing her arms. ''Bad man now,'' she teased.

I let out a small laugh despite myself, but it faded as a man's voice interrupted us. ''Excuse me. I... I don't mean to interrupt.''

We all turned, our attention shifting to the stranger making his way toward John B and Sarah. He was older, dressed sharply in a tailored suit, carrying a briefcase. 

Pope stepped forward, his brow furrowed. ''Uh, can we help you?''

JJ flicked the joint into a nearby champagne flute, the fizz hissing as it extinguished the ember.

''Yes,'' the man replied. ''I wanted to tell you all—it's remarkable, what you've done. Royal Merchant, El Dorado, Denmark Tanny. Truly impressive.''

We exchanged uneasy glances.

''I was wondering,'' the man continued, ''if you would be so kind as to look at an item of mine.''

''Oh, yeah? What type of item is that?'' Cleo asked, stepping closer, her arms still crossed.

The man set his briefcase on a nearby table, clicking it open with a practiced precision. Inside, wrapped in protective cloth, was a thick manuscript, its worn leather cover cracked with age. He lifted it carefully, placing it in front of us.

''It's a manuscript,'' he explained. ''I would investigate it myself, but I'm too long in the tooth. I need partners, and you all were first on my list.''

''May I?'' Pope asked, his hand hovering near the book.

''I was hoping you would,'' the man replied.

Pope took the manuscript with care, flipping it open and scanning the pages. ''1718,'' he murmured, his brow furrowing as he read. ''Jeez, this is old. Exhibition notes, dates...''

John B leaned in, peering over Pope's shoulder. ''This is a captain's log,'' he said, his voice laced with intrigue. ''It shows the exact position of the ship.''

''The exact location where the ship sailed and where it stopped,'' the man clarified.

JJ cocked his head. ''Who's the captain?''

The man's lips curved into a faint smile. ''Edward Teach,'' he said, pausing for effect. ''Blackbeard.''

A collective silence fell over the group, each of us processing the information. Then JJ broke the silence, his eyes wide with excitement.

''Hot damn.'' 

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