Fog blankets the darkness. Neil and Huck are wandering home. It is cold and damp. In the woods, a dozen boys and five girls huddle round a bon fire warming themselves with cheap beer and cheaper vodka. Overhead, the faint diffused light of the full moon glows like a candle. The night smells fresh and unused. A few couples drift off toward the woods. Neil hears a muffled scream.
He races toward the sound.… There in the grass, empty beer bottles scattered around her, glinting in the night like fallen constellations, Lisa Handel is thrashing wildly in dry leaves, her short skirt riding above moist, scratched thighs. Tiny red lace panties lay ripped on the ground, like dried blood. Tom and Brian are holding her down while Chip straddles her. Brian has stuffed a sock into her mouth. Her eyes roll wildly backward, exposing the whites like a frightened horse.