The buses hissed and groaned to a stop, engines cooling as a swirl of students scrambled down the steps, hauling bags, duffels, and whatever small treasures they’d brought with them from home. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine needles, dirt, and the faint tang of campfire smoke from previous seasons.

Pugsley bounded off the bus first, his backpack slung loosely over one shoulder, fingers twitching slightly with tiny arcs of electricity that fizzed and popped like restless fireflies. His eyes scanned the camp with equal parts excitement and mischief, clearly thrilled to be back in the chaos of summer camp, even if this was only his first impression of Camp Jericho.

You followed, adjusting your bag and trying to keep your balance as you stepped over exposed roots and uneven ground. That’s when your eyes caught it; a large, dark coffin leaning at a slightly odd angle near the edge of the unloading area. From inside came a low, wet groan that made your stomach flip. You froze, bag slipping slightly from your grasp. “Uh… Pugsley… is that… alive?”

He spun toward you, cheeks pink, eyes darting nervously between you and the coffin. His usual mischievous grin faltered, and he ran a hand through his messy hair. “Oh! Uh… that? Totally fine! Just… fireworks. Yeah, really big, very safe, very explosive fireworks.”