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 ''Oh, great. So we're going to a house with a dead body in it? That's the plan?''

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THE TWINKIE'S ENGINE growled as it carried us down the winding road. JJ lounged in the passenger seat, his legs propped up on the dash like he didn't have a care in the world, while I was squished in the back. The van smelled faintly of old upholstery and sand, a scent that was oddly comforting.

''So,'' JJ started, turning to John B, ''walk us through it one more time.''

John B gripped the steering wheel, his eyes on the road. ''Okay, right there.'' He pointed vaguely to the glovebox, which held a map. ''That's where they're taking him. South America.''

JJ stared at him. ''You just pointed to all of South America. You get that, right?''

John B nodded firmly. ''Yep.''

''That's all you know?'' JJ pressed. ''He's somewhere in South America? That's it?''

John B kept his focus ahead. ''Look, that's why we're going to the professor's house. He was at the site.''

JJ threw his hands up. ''Oh, great. So we're going to a house with a dead body in it? That's the plan?''

''Yeah,'' John B confirmed with a shrug.

JJ turned in his seat, aiming a questioning look at me. ''And you're just... fine with this?''

I crossed my arms, leaning back against the seat. ''He's my dad, so I have to be.'' I replied simply, though even I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about it.

JJ gave me a look—half amused, half resigned.

''Yep, she's officially a Routledge,'' John B muttered.

John B glanced at me in the rearview mirror, grinning. ''In the eyes of the law, not really,'' I corrected.

''Can we make this quick?'' JJ cut in. ''In and out. Like, five minutes.''

''Obviously,'' John B replied, pulling into the driveway.

The professor's house was quiet, the kind of eerie that made the hairs on my arms stand up. We moved cautiously.

''His body's gone,'' John B announced, stopping in the middle of the room. ''Sowell was right here.''

JJ glanced around, his brow furrowed. ''And Sowell was... the professor, right?''

''Right,'' John B confirmed.

''Well, they've already been here,'' JJ reasoned. ''Sweepers probably cleaned everything out. This room's deader than he was. Let's bounce.''

''Maybe there's something they missed,'' John B argued, scanning the room. ''Anything to do with an archaeological dig.''

''Oh, yeah, that really narrows it down,'' JJ quipped, starting to rummage through the clutter. ''Anything. Right. Got it.''

''Don't forget about fingerprints,'' I reminded him.

JJ froze, muttering a curse before pulling a bandana out of his pocket and wiping the surfaces he'd touched. ''You hear that? Live crime scene. Maybe don't leave your DNA behind, John B.''

''I'll keep that in mind,'' John B retorted, still searching.

JJ wandered toward the kitchen. ''You know what? I'm just gonna check the fridge. No one ever checks the fridge.''

I rolled my eyes, following him. ''Because there's never anything there but food.''

''Exactly,'' JJ countered, opening the fridge. ''That's just what they want you to think.''

I walked up behind him, my arms crossed as I watched him pull out a chicken leg. ''JJ,'' I hissed.

''What?'' he asked, mid-bite.

''You can't just eat out of a dead man's fridge!'' I exclaimed.

''Why not? He's not gonna eat it,'' JJ shot back, completely unbothered.

I groaned, though a laugh slipped out despite myself. ''If you were hungry, you could've just said so.''

John B's voice broke through. ''Guys. Guys!''

We turned simultaneously, JJ still holding the turkey leg.

''Is JJ eating a chicken leg?'' John B asked, baffled.

''Uh... yes,'' I admitted, fighting the urge to laugh again.

JJ shrugged. ''I'm just being resourceful. Waste not, want not.''

''Did you find anything?'' JJ asked, changing the subject as he walked over, still chewing.

John B held up a newspaper clipping. ''Local expedition team departs for South America,'' he read aloud.

JJ leaned closer, peering at the photo. ''One of these guys is Sowell?''

''Right there,'' John B pointed, his finger hovering over a face in the photo.

JJ nodded, glancing at me. ''Guess we're heading south.''

John B let out a low whistle. ''Holy shit,'' he muttered under his breath.

''What?'' JJ asked, his brow furrowing as he leaned closer to get a better look.

''Neville,'' John B repeated.

JJ blinked, his confusion plain on his face. ''What?''

''Neville,'' John B said again, like that would somehow make it all click into place.

''Yeah, we heard you the first time,'' I chimed in, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow. ''That still doesn't answer the question.''

John B's eyes flicked to mine, the corner of his mouth twitching in a small, almost apologetic smile before he clarified, ''The last thing Sowell said before he died was 'Neville'.''

JJ tilted his head slightly. ''Neville meaning... what exactly?'' he asked, dragging the words out like they might make more sense that way.

John B didn't answer right away. Instead, he pointed to the paper in his hand. ''Right there,'' he said, tapping a name written in faint, blocky handwriting. ''Neville Persaud, expedition guide.''

JJ leaned in, squinting at the name. ''Neville Persaud,'' he muttered, the words rolling off his tongue slowly as if testing how they sounded. His eyes widened suddenly, and his jaw slackened, like a puzzle piece had just snapped into place in his mind.

''So Sowell said there were five people on the expedition, right?'' John B continued, holding up five fingers.

JJ nodded slowly. ''Right,'' he mumbled.

''Three of those people are dead,'' John B pointed out, lowering three of his fingers. ''Which leaves us with two.''

JJ reached out, lowering one of John B's remaining fingers. ''Sowell,'' he counted.

''Mm-hmm,'' John B hummed in agreement.

''So... he's the last one alive,'' JJ concluded.

''Yeah,'' John B agreed. ''I think Sowell was telling me to warn him.''

The room went quiet for a moment. The only sound was the faint creak of the house as it settled in the wind outside.

JJ was the first to break the silence. ''We need to find Neville,'' he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I nodded, stepping closer to the two of them. ''If Sowell thought it was important enough to use his last words on, then we don't have a choice,'' I agreed

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

THE THREE OF us stepped out of the Twinkie, the late afternoon sun bouncing off the muddy trail ahead. 

''Okay, now, let me get this straight,'' John B began, running a hand through his hair as he turned to JJ. ''So, because you know a guy with the same last name as Neville, you think they've gotta be related. That's your master plan?''

''Right,'' JJ retorted. ''Okay, how many people do you know with the last name Persaud?'' He shot back, eyebrows raised as if challenging the obvious.

''None,'' I interjected, trying to keep the peace, ''but that doesn't mean—''

JJ waved me off. ''I met a guy here last summer with my cousin. You know, doing the growing business. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Last name Persaud. Or, wait—was it Percett?'' He suddenly looked uncertain, causing us all to halt.

''You're not even sure?'' John B threw his hands up in frustration.

''No, no, no, I'm sure,'' JJ argued. ''Okay, Mr. Persaud. Trust me, I've got this.''

John B groaned, gesturing between him and me. ''JJ, we're talking about our dad's life here. Can we not base this on a hunch?''

''I know. Trust me,'' JJ replied firmly, stepping ahead toward a guy walking in the distance. ''Hey, uh, Mr. P., right?'' he called out, grinning with his usual charm.

The man turned, his face lighting up. ''Hey!'' he greeted back.

JJ looked over his shoulder at us smugly. ''Told you guys,'' he muttered before addressing Persaud again. ''Yeah, yeah, yeah. What's going on, man? Listen, we're looking for Neville. Is he still here?''

Persaud shook his head, his expression growing serious. ''Nah, nah, nah. He's out there,'' he replied, pointing toward the distant woods. ''Been holding up near Doe Creek.''

''Doe Creek?'' JJ repeated.

''In his houseboat. Way, way back,'' Persaud clarified.

''Why do you ever doubt me?'' JJ asked, his grin widening.

John B folded his arms, unimpressed. ''The idea was a little far-fetched, is all I'm saying.''

We headed toward the creek, the sun dipping lower in the sky. The water was cool against my legs as we waded in, the surface rippling in faint gold. It reached the boys' knees, but for me, it brushed mid-thigh, making every step a little more difficult.

''All right, so we're looking for a houseboat,'' JJ muttered, scanning the area like a hawk.

John B pointed ahead. ''That looks like a houseboat.''

''Well, you think he's there?'' JJ asked, narrowing his eyes.

''I don't know. I mean—''

''Only one way to find out,'' JJ interrupted, his voice growing louder. ''Neville! Hey!''

''Stop it!'' John B hissed, grabbing JJ by the mouth. The two stumbled as JJ wrestled free. ''What are you doing? He thinks people are trying to kill him!'' John B whisper-yelled. ''He's probably packing.''

''Ah, okay,'' JJ said sarcastically. ''It's a death trap. Perfect.''

John B's voice grew firmer. ''He's the only guy alive who knows where our dad is. Please focus.''

We swam toward the houseboat, trying to stay quiet despite the tension. The air felt heavier the closer we got. Water dripped from the ends of my hair as JJ helped me climb onto the deck.

''JJ, keep it down,'' John B whispered harshly. The wooden boards creaked under our weight as we crept forward. Inside, John B touched the stove. ''The stove's warm. He's still here,'' he whispered.

JJ glanced around, his voice hushed. ''Maybe he split when he heard us coming.''

Before I could respond, a voice boomed from above. ''Devils!'' Neville shouted, jumping down from the roof with a machete gleaming in his hands. My heart jolted as he swung wildly, his movements quick and erratic.

John B shoved JJ out of the way. JJ tried to grapple Neville, but a sharp elbow to his face sent him staggering backward. My breath hitched as the machete flashed, the metallic sheen sparking an all-too-familiar memory—me on that boat, the man I had to kill, the blood...

I froze.

I could barely hear John B yelling over the pounding in my ears. The machete gleamed again, and my stomach twisted, dread anchoring me to the spot.

As Neville's hand trembled on the hilt of the machete, I stepped forward instinctively. ''Sir! Listen! We just want to talk.'' John B yelled as he struggled to keep the blade away from his face, straining under Neville's strength.

JJ shouted, ''Guys! Trip line! Trip line!'' His quick thinking was our only opening. Without hesitation, I lunged forward, shoving Neville hard. He stumbled over JJ's outstretched leg, but in the chaos, he pulled John B down with him.

Before I could think, Neville had John B pinned to the floor, the machete raised high and ready to strike. ''Stop, stop!'' I yelled, darting toward them. ''We know Professor Sowell!'' My voice cracked slightly as I threw my arm out, forming a barrier between Neville and John B.

Neville froze, his sharp gaze darting to me. ''Who gave you that name?'' he demanded.

''Let him go, please! Listen to me,'' I pleaded, breathless but focused. ''The boy you're holding right now is friends with him, okay?'' I gestured toward John B, my hand shaking slightly as I tried to calm the situation.

John B, still pinned, added, ''You were in Orinoco last year! With five other people, right?'' His words made Neville falter, his grip loosening just a fraction.

Neville's eyes narrowed. ''How did you know that?''

''Let go. Let go,'' John B urged.

Before Neville could act, JJ darted forward, wrenching the machete from his grasp. ''Let it go! Let it go!'' he shouted. He slammed Neville against the wall, holding the blade inches from his face.

''JJ, stop!'' I called out, rushing to help John B to his feet. He was shaking, his face pale, but he managed to nod when I asked if he was okay. I hugged him tightly, grateful he was still standing.

JJ, his voice dripping with sarcasm, addressed Neville. ''We're on the same team, home dog, okay?'' He kept the machete raised but didn't press further.

John B, his voice softer now, stepped forward. ''Look, we don't want to hurt you, okay?'' He gestured to JJ. ''Put it down.'' Reluctantly, JJ lowered the blade but kept it close.

''We were just with Sowell yesterday,'' John B continued. ''He, uh... he didn't make it.''

''He's dead?'' Neville asked.

JJ nodded grimly. ''Yeah.''

''I'm sorry,'' John B added quietly.

Neville exhaled shakily, his shoulders sagging. The boys stepped back, giving him space. ''I'm the last one left,'' Neville murmured, more to himself than to us.

JJ, crouched now, spoke gently. ''Yeah. That's why we had to get to you before they did. If we found you, they can too.''

John B reached into his bag and pulled out a drawing, carefully laying it on the table. ''I just have a few questions,'' he began. ''Solana. You've been there, yeah?''

Neville's expression hardened. ''That is a place of evil,'' he stated flatly, the conviction in his voice unmistakable.

''Okay,'' John B said, pointing at the stone depiction. ''That stone piece right there. Me and my dad found the thingy that goes in the center.''

Neville's eyes flicked to the drawing. ''The gnomon,'' he muttered.

''Gnomon,'' JJ repeated, squinting. ''What's a gnomon?''

''The gnomon,'' Neville repeated sharply.

John B raised a hand, cutting JJ off before he could spiral into a tangent. ''Hey, I got it. I got it,'' he assured. He turned back to Neville, his voice taking on a desperate edge. ''Listen to me. Now, there are some bad men who have taken our father to this place, and they're gonna kill him. So I need your help to find this place, Neville.''

''No, no, no, no,'' Neville stammered, suddenly pushing himself to his feet. 

''No?'' John B questioned, his voice tinged with disbelief.

''The curse has already done enough,'' Neville replied firmly.

''No, no, no. Look, it's not a curse, okay?'' John B insisted, his frustration boiling over. ''I understand that it's dangerous, but I need your help.''

JJ, crouched beside him, tensed. ''Hey,'' he muttered under his breath, cutting John B off mid-sentence.

''What? What is going on?'' John B hissed, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at JJ.

''Just... shut up! Shut up!'' JJ snapped, clamping his hand over John B's mouth for a moment before whispering, ''Shut up.''

Before I could question what was happening, the faint hum of a boat engine cut through the tense silence. My stomach churned.

''Hey, Neville,'' JJ asked, his voice barely audible. ''How much traffic do you get on this river?''

Neville's expression hardened. ''Nothing,'' he replied.

From the distance, a man's voice echoed through the trees. ''Neville! Neville Persaud!''

The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the moment, a window exploding behind us. I ducked instinctively, my heart lurching into my throat as glass shards rained down. The four of us dropped to the floor, breath held tight.

''Get the anchor!'' Neville barked.

JJ didn't hesitate, grabbing the machete as we scrambled into action. Neville darted to the wheel, his movements frantic, while the three of us slipped off the side of the boat, staying low and silent as we swam toward the intruders' smaller vessel.

The water felt cold against my skin, but I barely noticed, my focus locked on the task ahead. I glanced at JJ, who nodded, signaling for us to stay on opposite sides of the boat. One of the men climbed aboard Neville's boat, while the other remained on the small skiff.

John B moved with quiet precision, hoisting himself onto their boat. I held my breath, my heart pounding as I watched him. The man shouted into Neville's boat. ''Neville? I know you're in there. Let's get this over with. Come on now. You can't hide forever.''

I watched as John B reached for the keys in the ignition, but the faint click of metal gave him away. The man spun around just as John B grabbed a gun, the two struggling in a chaotic flurry of movement. A splash followed, and I realized John B had managed to throw him overboard.

Another gunshot cracked from Neville's boat, and I winced. ''Come on, move!'' JJ whispered, urging me forward. We swam to the back of Neville's boat, the current tugging at my legs as adrenaline pushed me forward.

I climbed onto the deck just in time to see the man on the smaller boat kick John B in the side, sending him sprawling. My breath caught as the intruder regained his gun, turning it on John B with a smirk.

''Hey, hey. Wait, wait,'' John B tried, raising his hands.

The man laughed. ''Not this time, my friend. Uh-uh. Down.''

John B started to lower himself to his knees, his movements deliberate and slow. I noticed JJ climbing the ladder behind the man while I stayed in the water. The boat's engine roared to life, the noise jarring, as Neville tried to move us. The anchor, however, held us firmly in place.

In one swift motion, JJ grabbed the back of the man's shirt and yanked him into the water. The splash reverberated around us as JJ steadied himself on the deck.

''JJ, machete!'' John B shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Without hesitation, JJ pulled the machete from where he'd been gripping it in his teeth and tossed it to John B. The blade glinted in the sunlight as John B caught it mid-air.

''Cut the line! Cut the line!'' JJ yelled, his voice sharp as he turned to help me onto the deck. My hands were trembling, but I forced myself to focus.

My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might leap out of my chest. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to keep moving, but for a brief second, I froze, catching my breath.

Then, something cold and strong clamped around my ankle. Panic surged through me like a lightning bolt, and I kicked back instinctively, not even thinking to look. My heel connected with something solid, and I heard a guttural grunt from behind me.

''This isn't over!'' the man bellowed, his voice strained and furious as water splashed violently around him.

I turned just in time to see him clawing at the edge of the boat, his face twisted with rage, before sinking back into the water.

''Go, go!'' JJ shouted, his voice sharp and urgent as he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the wheel.

''Go, go! You gotta go. You gotta go,'' John B pressed.

Neville, already at the wheel, threw a wild glance back at us. ''Yeah, I'm going! I'm going!'' he yelled over the sound of the sputtering engine. ''Are they coming?'' he asked after a tense few moments, his