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liquid, but there’s only a thick smear of dirt. I blink, trying to make sense of it.
    Jack falls over onto his side, his arms tucked against his chest, and writhes in pain. His face is maraschino red and swollen from all the screaming, but at least I can see his hands. They’re clenched into fists. And clearly still attached. There’s no blood. Not one drop.
    Goose bumps rush up my arms. What the heck’s going on? I stand and step back, unsure of what to do next.
    Cooper steps toward Jack and grasps his shoulders. “Bro, get a hold of yourself.” His voice is loud and firm.
    Jack shakes his head and rolls over onto his other side, turning his back to us. He’s still screaming, but now that he’s facing the dirt wall, his cries are muffled.
    “What’s wrong with him?” Cooper shouts.
    I hunch my shoulders and search his panicked jade eyes. “I have no idea. But we can’t stay here. We’ve got to get him home.”
    My nose burns as a putrid scent wafts across the clearing. It’s bitter and rotten, threatening to choke off my throat. And then as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone.
    Cooper grips his shoulder. “Can you stand, bro?” Jack wails and shakes his head. Cooper sighs. “We’ll have to lift him out of here. But what do you want to do about that?” He points toward the wooden box that slammed back into the tabby vault with the explosion.
    A high-pitched yowl echoes in the distance. It’s almost…happy, like a wolf baying at the moon.
    A chill zips up my spine. I spin around to face the woods. “What is that?”
    Over my shoulder, Cooper calls, “What’s what?”
    “That sound, some kind of howl.” I rub my arms, which have gone cold and prickly.
    “The only hollering I hear is coming from your brother.”
    The forest is quiet and empty. I don’t even see any birds. Jack screeches again. I turn to watch him roll up on his knees again and tuck into a ball. We’d better get out of here quick.
    But first we’ve got to take care of the so-called treasure. Afraid to get too close, I crane my neck toward the tabby vault to see inside. The wooden box is intact and somehow, despite the explosion, isn’t burned. My stomach churns. This is too weird.
    “I don’t want anything to do with it.”
    “Me, neither,” Cooper says. “It’s probably a booby trap. For all we know, it could explode again. But we can’t leave it like that. It’s not safe. We’ve got to cover it.”
    We each take an end of the tabby lid and groan as we lift it off the ground. It’s heavy and brittle. The concrete crumbles under my fingers as we set it in place.
    Jack’s wailing quiets, his stomach shuddering with each hitched sob.
    “Okay, bro, think you can you stand now?” Cooper asks. Jack whimpers and shakes his head. Cooper sighs and turns to me. “If you help me get him out of the pit, I think I can carry him to the golf cart.”
    I haven’t tried to lift my brother in five years. He might be tall and lanky, but he’s no lightweight. We roll him onto his side, and I grab his legs while Cooper gets his shoulders. The first couple feet aren’t too bad, but pushing his midsection out of the hole isn’t easy, especially since Jack’s shaking and so freaking heavy. But after tugging and pulling, we finally manage to roll him over the lip.
    Hoisting ourselves out, we try to pry him off the ground. This time I reach for his hands, which are still balled into fists.
    Jack clutches my fingers with his left hand, clawing into my skin, and stares into my eyes, almost boring a hole straight to my brain. His face is drawn, and fear etches his brow. “It hurts, Em. It really, really hurts,” he manages. He’s a total mess, eyes swollen and bloodshot, face muddied from all the tears. Dirt and snot run out of his nose.
    My stomach twists. I’ve never seen him so bad. Even though he’s five minutes younger than me, he’s always been my bossy big brother. But now he’s lying crippled in the dirt, unable to drag