An Unforgettable Night

There’s nothing quite like hitting thirty. Well, at least, not that I’ve seen. Feelings of mortality war with feelings of accomplishment, as the end of life seems not so far distant. Meanwhile, the hard-earned trappings of success finally chase away those last remaining fears of failure. The suddenness of the transition, from youthful twenty-year-old to grizzled thirty-year-old, also causes one to look back on life, to examine the road that brought them to this place, or at least, that’s how it affected me. One of those twists in the path is something that I think should be written down, to take its place in the collective consciousness. I want it to survive, to live outside of the cramped halls of my memory, never to fade or grow older.

This story has been etched into my brain for close to twelve years. The subject of this tale is a night that is infamous among those few unlucky enough (or lucky enough, depending on your viewpoint) to have participated in it; one which has spawned many exaggerated and outlandish lies, none of which match up to the reality that has burned itself into my memory.

To preface this story, I need to explain how it came to be. It was the summer of 2000, and my friends and I had just graduated high school. Most of us were going on to college, while a couple of us were staying home to work on our respective family farms. We lived in rural Iowa, so such a thing wasn’t particularly uncommon. I was not one of the ones who was staying home, as I had received an academic scholarship to Iowa State. This fact led me to be the subject of many good-natured pranks, as my friends felt the need to bring me down as many pegs as possible before they lost the opportunity.

Our prank wars had progressed steadily from mid-July to late-August. What had begun with the routine greasing of car door-handles and hidden keys had soon enough morphed into elaborate, multi-layer schemes, each meticulously crafted in an effort to one-up the other. I was the head of one side of this process, while my best friend Dave ran the other. After so many pranks the war had brought in recruits, so by the time the night in question happened we each had about five guys and girls at our disposal.

It so happened that it was my turn for a prank that night. Dave had stolen my truck the night before with my roommate's help (he gave him his copy of my key), and left it parked in a nearby Wal-Mart parking lot. The windows had been soaped, and a sign was placed prominently on the windshield that said “Free to a good Homo – Please call (my number) for more information”. Juvenile, but effective. After receiving a few (very creepy) calls about the truck I had for sale, I finally figured out what was going on, and went down to retrieve my vehicle. The looks I got while I was unlocking it and cleaning off the windshield were enough to get the revenge juices flowing, that’s for sure.

Up to that point, most of the things we’d done had been relatively harmless. Even the truck thing wasn’t that big of a deal, as the Wal-Mart was only a couple of blocks away, and he had locked it up to make sure no one did anything to it. However, the summer was drawing to a close, and I felt that I needed to go out with a bang. So, with that in mind, I drove home and started planning.

Two things figured prominently in my schemes. The first was that I knew that we were all going to be camping out at our favorite spot, miles away from civilization near a barn-board cabin that we had all built. The second was that Dave and a few other guys had camped out there the night before. I was sure that they had left their tents and gear there, as that’s what we normally did if we were going to be back the same day.

This was the perfect setup for a prank that I had been thinking about pulling for a while. During a casual reading of some mystery novel or another, I had read that if a person drinks a bunch of Visine, within a half an hour or so they’ll be struck with sudden, uncontrollable, explosive diarrhea. While something like that probably seems way over the top for a simple high-school age prank-war, I wasn’t old or experienced enough to realize it. I just kept imagining Dave spasmodically shitting himself in front of all of our friends and girlfriends. The thought of it sent chills down my spine.

So, with the plan set firmly in my mind, I returned to Wal-Mart and bought some Visine, along with some camping supplies, a 2-liter of Mountain Dew, and food for the night. Another friend of ours was supposed to be supplying the booze, as he worked at the local HyVee and therefore had easy access to anything we could possibly want. This was because, unlike most grocery stores in the country, Iowa markets are allowed to sell hard liquor. Couple this with the fact that the backrooms of the stores are massive and mostly unsupervised, and the opportunity for an unscrupulous employee to set a case of liquor on the loading docks for his friends to pick up is quite readily available.

With all of my supplies in the back of my truck, I drove out to the cabin and prepared my concoction. I should mention at this point that Dave’s well-known, almost compulsive love for Mountain Dew was prominent in my plans, as I knew that if he saw a two-liter of the stuff while he was drunk he would be almost physically unable to stay away from it. With that in mind, I opened the bottle, poured about a half a cup out, and then emptied the entire bottle of Visine into it. With a few gentle swirls, and then a not-so-gentle flip of the bottle, I mixed the liquids together.

I remember holding the bottle in my hand and looking around the area furtively, like someone was out in the corn watching me. I think it was at that point that the thought crossed my mind that I might be overdoing it a little bit. Giving someone explosive diarrhea is a pretty big step above pranking their car, or sending them pizzas that they hadn’t ordered. However, standing in that cornfield with the bottle of Mountain Dew in my hand, it was simply too late to stop. I was committed. So, after my brief pause, I walked over to Dave’s tent and slipped the bottle under his sleeping bag. I didn’t know it at the time, but that simple act had set into motion a chain of events that would strain many life-long friendships, and completely end two budding romantic relationships.

After my trip out to the cabin I returned home and hung out with my roommate Andy and a couple of my other friends for the rest of the day. I didn’t tell anyone about what I had done, as a niggling, guilty feeling had overtaken me, and I wasn’t sure I was going to want to claim credit for what was to come. As the day progressed we barbequed and played video games, and celebrated mightily when our friend Chad showed up with a case of Jameson Whiskey. The night held plenty of promise, and with all of our excitement my doubts soon left me. In fact, by the time we left for the cabin, I had pretty much forgotten about the whole thing.

It was during the drive over that things really got rolling. Dave called to tell us that he was on his way with a bunch of our other friends, and that they had gotten promises from a group of local girls to meet up at the cabin. Andy had also gotten a group of girls to promise to come out that night, so things were looking up. Our ratio would be good, we had plenty of booze, and the night was going to be clear and warm. Braden’s parents, the owners of the cornfield in which we were going to be staying, were still gone, up vacationing in their cabin in Minnesota, so no adults would be interrupting us. It was nights like those, that held endless promise and possibilities, that I miss most now.

My memories of the beginning of that night are somewhat hazy. We started drinking immediately upon arrival, and continued to drink for a good solid hour or so. Dave and our other friends arrived shortly after we did, and after that I just remember a series of phone calls, during which we tried to ascertain when the girls would be arriving and how many of them there would be. It turned out that a girl I was very into, Sarah, was coming. With all of the liquid courage that I had imbibed, coupled with the overall feeling of promise that the night held, there was little doubt in my mind that that night I was finally going to seal the deal with her. We had made out a couple of times in the past, and had almost gotten to a something a little more serious the last time we had seen each other. It was Dave that interrupted that particular event actually, which makes me feel a little bit better about what happened, now that I think about it.

Anyway, I was all hyped up about Sarah coming, and a lot of the other guys were stoked about some other girl or another as well. Everyone started divvying up chicks, calling their target and making sure all the other guys knew to stay away from their favorite. This was not unusual, and rarely led to hard feelings, as even though our relationships were sporadic and superficial they were pretty much all we had going on at the time. The guys without a chick already picked out had plenty of others to choose from, so there really wasn’t anything to get fired up about.

So skip ahead to when the girls arrived. The party really picked up, and everyone was having a lot of fun. We had a huge bonfire in the middle of a bunch of parked cars, most of which were trucks with their tailgates down, facing the blaze. Back in the trees a bit was our barn-board cabin, complete with generator, lights, and a rudimentary bar. It was a two-story building, with a sloped roof made of tin sheets. The upper story had a really low ceiling, only about three feet or so high, but the entire floor was covered in mattresses. As the night wore on couples would pair off and head over to the cabin, to go upstairs and make-out, or whatever else they wanted to do.

After the arrival of the females, my goal in life was to get some alcohol into Sarah. I accomplished this feat through a series of drinking challenges, over-strong mixed drinks that she had to literally choke down, and teamwork. Since I shared the same goal with pretty much every guy there, we did our best to help each other out, by making sure to keep all of the girls' cups full, and by never missing an opportunity to get them to take a shot. We weren’t trying to get them so drunk that they passed out or anything, don’t get the wrong idea, we just wanted to even them out a bit.

And it wasn’t like we had to force anything down their throats. I’m pretty sure the girls showed up with the same ideas in mind that we had. They might not have talked about it as openly with one another as we guys did, but everyone pretty much knew the score. So, within another hour, the girls were buzzed, we were buzzed, and the night was rocking. All in all, there was probably thirty or so people out in the corn field that night, and everyone was having an awesome time.

There was one guy there, Rick, who was having a better time than most. Rick had been over at my house since noon, drinking beers and margaritas. He hadn’t slowed down the entire day, and right when I finally started reining in my drinking he was just starting to get ridiculously drunk. The guy’s speech was slurred, he was stumbling around, and he had just reached the point where he didn’t give a damn who saw him naked. Rick was somewhat famous for these episodes, so we were all just sitting back in our trucks, letting him go.

Which leads me into one of the stories about that night that actually is true. You see, the thing about the cabin is that it was seriously out in the middle of nowhere. The field it was in was a two-thousand acre field, and our spot was on the edge of it, between Braden’s property and another farmer’s field. Now, the only reason that this was an issue is that the bathroom situation was kinda’ve dicey. If you had to piss, then you just went out in the corn and did your business. With as drunk as we normally were it really wasn’t a big deal, even for the girls. However, if you had to take a shit, then good luck. The scenario was the same as it was for when you had to pee, except there was never any damn toilet paper around. We had brought some out a couple of different times, but it always got used to start a fire, or got left out and rained on or something.

Another thing about Rick was that he had some weird intestinal shit going on. He always had irritable bowels, and coupled with his alcohol allergy the dude was always slammed after a good round of heavy drinking. That night, the guy was wandering around our little circle of trucks, asking everyone if they had any toilet paper. No one did, so he started getting desperate, asking people if they had anything at all. My roommate, Andy, casually mentioned that if he couldn’t find any, at least there was always Spud.

Spud was Braden’s little black-and-white Chihuahua. He was a tiny, yippy little fuck that wasn’t much good for anything, but he was always around. We had joked a hundred times about using him as ass-wipe, but obviously no one ever had, as that’s fucked up. However, on this night, Rick was finally drunk enough, and desperate enough, that Andy’s tongue-in-cheek suggestion sounded viable.

Sarah and I were sitting on my tailgate, with a perfect view of everything that happened. The first part was sorta’ve sad in a way, as Rick walked over to the bonfire to get Spud, and Braden blocked his way, telling him it wasn’t funny. But twenty voices rung out in the night, telling Braden to get out of the way, and with that much peer pressure beating down on him he eventually stepped aside. With his way cleared Rick continued on his stumbling path, scooping up the innocent dog and continuing on out to the corn field. I remember glancing at Braden then, and seeing a weird half-resigned, half-amused look, which was probably mirrored on most of the faces around the bonfire.

Being as drunk as he was, and as desperate, Rick didn’t make it far before he squatted down. Still in full view of everyone at the fire, he proceeded to unbuckle his belt and drop, balancing precariously on his heels while his pasty white ass pointed towards we unfortunate onlookers. A chorus of groans erupted, followed by cheers as Spud, who had been carelessly set down, trotted blissfully away, back towards the group. Rick gave an audible curse, and with pants still around his ankles, stood up and chased after him, calling plaintively.

Spud, unluckily, was caught long before he reached the safety of the circle of trucks. He had unwisely paused, unsure of whether or not he should return to Rick, who was calling him back. This gave Rick enough time to waddle over and scoop him up. I watched as Rick made his way back to the same spot, only about seventy-five feet away, and returned to his hunched position, this time holding Spud securely in his lap. I had to look away when the first splatter of brown shit erupted out of Rick’s ass-cheeks, but in a minute or so my gaze was called back by a ripple of whispers and incredulous outbursts.

“He’s gonna do it.”
“Holy shit, he’s doing it.”

I turned in time so see Braden jump up and start towards Rick. He was yelling something, but what it was I can’t say, as my full attention was focused on Rick. He was holding Spud in two hands, one around the dog’s scrawny neck, the other around his tail. His right hand was in front of his torso, under his dick, while his left was behind him, raised slightly, near belt-level. Spud, the unfortunate little mite, was stretched lengthways underneath him, running parallel to Rick’s ass-crack.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Braden running forward, but it was too late. With a deceptively smooth, almost natural motion, Rick raised Spud up a few inches, and then drew him forward. The dog’s back disappeared between Rick’s butt cheeks, then reappeared on the other side, covered in slimy brown shit. Braden had stopped about ten feet away, and was looking on horrified. The whole party had fallen silent, watching the event in front of us unfold. We were awestruck at what Rick had done, rendered speechless by the sheer oddity of what we were witnessing.

Spud’s yelps broke the silence. As if he had been stuck with a hot poker, the little fuck began screeching and barking, and spasming powerfully back and forth in Rick’s grip. Surprised, Rick dropped him, and stood up jerkily. He stood there staring at his hands while Spud streaked off into the night, heading for Braden’s house. We could hear him for quite a while, which was amazing given the distance, and the noise of the roaring bonfire.

“Rick, you’re a damn retard,” was all Braden said.

As he turned and walked back to his truck I watched Rick, who was watching Braden’s retreat. His expression was one of utter confusion, as if he couldn’t understand what he had done wrong. The fact that he was standing there with his pants down around his ankles, jaw slack, gave Braden’s statement a ringing feel of truth. The smears of shit covering his inner thighs, caused by the wriggling, struggling Spud, didn’t help either.

It was then, while I was watching the conclusion of the Dog Drama, that Sarah made her move. While my gaze was elsewhere she took my right hand from where it rested on the tailgate of my truck, and moved it so that it was resting on her left leg. The positioning of my hand was such that I was practically fingering her through her skimpy shorts, which was more than enough to get my attention. I quickly turned my head to face her. When I saw the devilish look in her eyes, which were a soft mix of gentle brown and lustful green, I knew that the evening had only just begun. I could think of only one thing to say.

“Want to take a walk?”
“Sure,” she said, smiling slightly.

With that, we hopped down from our perch and made our way out into the cornfield. Chad gave me a wink as we walked out of the circle of vehicles, but I didn’t respond, as I knew Sarah was watching me. As we proceeded to draw further away from the fire, the warm summer night, complete with a swirling tapestry of stars and a golden harvest moon, drew around us like a cloak. The sound of cicadas and owls gave the evening a low background music that was strangely romantic, almost magical. We didn’t talk for a while, just wanting to be away from everyone else, so my memory of the walk mostly involves the scenery. We stopped when we came to an irrigation stream that divided Braden’s field from his neighbor’s. As I had been working out for years at that point, I had no qualms about taking my shirt off and spreading it out on the concrete barrier that ran along it. Once I was finished, I patted the freshly-upholstered bench.

“Have a seat,” I said, trying to sound confident.

I won’t go into the details of what happened next, as I don’t remember many specifics, and it’s more of a private memory anyway. Suffice it to say that I made it to second base, and then pretty much stayed there, as I was in no hurry and didn’t want to push her too far too fast.

We stayed out in the cornfield for about an hour. Our brief interlude was brought to a close when I was forced to stand up and stretch. That action broke the delicate spell that held us, and after a couple of looks which promised more to come we headed back to the camp site. For anyone wondering why the hell I needed to stretch after an hour of making out, you should know that about ten minutes after we sat down Sarah had moved over onto my lap. An hour of having her there, coupled with the fact that I was sitting on a narrow, jagged-edged cement block, had put a ton of strain on my lower back. By the time I finally gave in I was concentrating more on not folding up like a lawn chair than I was on Sarah’s many considerable charms.

Upon coming into view of the bonfire, the first thing that struck me was that not much had changed. Granted, it was still relatively early (about midnight, I’d imagine), and we really hadn’t been gone that long. Still, the scene was practically identical to the one we’d left, save for the condition of the previously-mentioned Rick. He was passed out in a ditch, about ten feet or so from the fire. Someone had thrown a broken-down Natural Light box over him as a blanket, which apparently was serving him marvelously, since his snores were loud enough to drown out part of the fire’s roar.

After weaving our way through the various vehicles, Sarah and I reclaimed our seat on the back of my truck and chilled out for a while. At that point there was so much going on around us that it was a challenge just to keep up with it all. We did our best to keep each other appraised of any interesting things that were happening, and in this manner we passed another hour. We also took another shot during that time, and shared a beer. I’m pretty sure we were both pretty drunk, although I think she was feeling it more than I was, as she kept laughing loudly with almost no provocation.

It goes without saying that I was thoroughly enjoying myself. Things with Sarah were progressing smoothly, the weather was absolutely perfect for camping, and my buzz was at that optimal level where you feel great, but are still able to think relatively clearly. I didn’t think the night could get much better, but Sarah’s next words were able to coax an even bigger smile out of me.

“Oh great, Dave found some Mountain Dew,” she said, laughing.

That snapped my head around in a hurry. As I said before, Dave was well-known for his weird affinity for the Dew, and his discovery of a full, untouched two-liter in his tent had led him to celebrate wildly. My eyes found him cavorting around the bonfire, the bottle of Dew held before him as if it was a gift from the gods. His smile was enormous, and everyone around him was laughing, entertained by his antics. I imagine myself sitting there watching him, with the fire reflecting in my eyes, and the vision is that of some impish trickster, a dark-humored demon. I alone, out of everyone there at the party, knew what that bottle contained, and the thought of what was to happen when he drank it amused me greatly. I was past the point of foreboding, having left any second thoughts back with my shirt near the creek, and was left with nothing but anticipation.

“I don’t even remember bringing this out here!” Dave exclaimed, and my smile grew even wider. If I had fangs, they would have glinted red in the dancing light.

Then, as if to provide an exclamation point for my excitement, there was a huge explosion overhead. Everyone looked up just in time to see a cascading umbrella of lights, streaming down through the night sky. As the sight registered in my mind as fireworks another blast went off, lighting up the trees and the corn field with an eerie, electric blue glow. Sarah squealed next to me and gripped my hand, overcome by the beauty of the moment. I temporarily forgot about Dave and his bottle, as I draped my arm over her shoulders and watched the display. Four or five more mortars were fired off before they decided to call it quits, which was enough time for my hand to stray down towards her breasts. The feeling of her soft yet firm flesh under the tips of my fingers kidnapped my attention for good, and when she turned to me and smiled I lost any notion of what was going on around me, as my only thoughts were of getting Sarah somewhere where we could be alone.

Since the fireworks had been launched from the roof of the cabin, they gave me a perfect opportunity to ask her to go up to the second story without seeming to be assuming too much. As we were both curious about who had put on the remarkable display she agreed to go immediately.

The trail over to the cabin was short and well-trodden, but I took her hand and guided her anyway. The dark forest hanging over the path added a hint of mystery and danger to our tryst, which caused me to look back after a few steps to make sure she wasn’t frightened. The sight of her bouncing along behind me, silhouetted by the bonfire behind us, is a vision that is still perfectly clear to me today. Her light brown hair floating around her heart-shaped face, her full, pink lips split in a grin, and the way her eyes held mine, full of promise, are sights that have influenced the way I’ve judged every girl since.

As we rounded the back corner of the cabin (we put the door in the back, for reasons unknown), we found a group of guys standing in a loose circle, discussing whether or not they should fire off a couple of more mortars. Sarah, who had been enthralled by the previous show, immediately began pleading with them to do another round. The interest of such a beautiful girl was enough to sway the group’s opinion, and soon enough we were all trooping up the stairs, ready to light up the night.

While I was slightly disappointed that we weren’t going to be alone for a while, I was stoked enough to see some more fireworks that it wasn’t a huge deal. When I found myself standing directly behind Sarah on the roof, with a perfect opportunity to run my hands all over her body, the misgivings I had about the delay disappeared completely.

As my fingers explored the hills and valleys of Sarah’s nubile body, my gaze was focused on my friend Sean and his cohorts, who were busily setting up the mortar canister. The launching mechanism was nothing more than a garishly decorated cardboard tube, which was propped up with a couple of hinged pieces of wood. The mortars themselves were dark, shiny balls, with long, forest green wicks wrapped tightly around their shell. The only thing that looked at all professional was the case in which they sat, as it was a heavy metal thing, with snapping locks and a bright silver keyhole.

After a few moments they were ready for the first launch. Sean unwrapped the long wick from one of the mortars and held it over the flimsy cardboard contraption. Another guy, who I didn’t know very well, came forward with a lit punk and touched it off. As soon as the sparks began to fly off of the gunpowder-infused thread Sean ceremoniously dropped the mortar in the launching tube and stepped back.

The wait was longer than I expected. But, just as I began to think that the mortar must have been a dud, there was a loud thump, and the whole roof on which we were standing shook. Everyone quickly raised their eyes to the heavens, just in time to see the blooming orchid of fire spread itself out across the night sky. Sarah shrieked with delight and clapped her hands. Similar sounds of amazement echoed up from the camp site below. It took a while for the sparkling lights to fade, and in the brief lull Sarah turned and kissed me full on the mouth. While I stood there, stunned, surprised and grinning, she pivoted again and returned to watching the show. As soon as the glowing embers had fully faded away, she was begging Sean to do another.

Having seen the process of setting up the launch just moments before, my attention strayed during the preparations for the second attempt. At first my gaze flitted over the dark tree line around us, marveling at the way the moon shone through the branches. However, eventually my eyes came to rest on the camp site. What I saw there caused me to start violently.

Down near the fire, standing in a rough half moon shape, was a group of people. At their center was Dave, with the bottle of Mountain Dew in his hand. He was pouring the last of it into a paper cup, which was held by his girlfriend Brittany. Around him stood about five other people, each of them with an identical cup of their own, filled with a liquid that shone green in the firelight. All of the cups were full, and the people were holding them out before themselves, waiting for something.

When Dave finished pouring the soda into Brittany’s cup he reached down and grabbed a bottle of whiskey that had stood at his feet. He topped off the girl’s cup with it, then quickly set it down and raised up his own, probably saying a toast. As I watched, mesmerized by the horror unfolding below me, Dave downed the contents of the Dixie cup, and threw it into the blaze. The other people standing around him, including Brittany, did the same.

“Oh FUCK!” I blurted reflexively.

Looking back, it was probably this moment, during which I temporarily lost control of my tongue, that I caused the most damage that night. However, I can't really blame myself, as the vision that ran through my mind, of six different people spasmodically shitting all over themselves, was simply too much to contain.

To recap, I was standing up on a roof with a bunch of people. These people were in the process of setting up a mortar shot, and had in fact just lit the fuse and dropped the mortar ball into the tube when I yelled. As everyone knew that a mortar was a dangerous firework, people were already on edge, watching for the slightest thing to go wrong. This situation was a volatile one in which to utter an unanticipated, startling expletive, to say the least.

This exclamation, coming unexpectedly and with passion, caused Sean to throw up his hands in surprise and jump back from the mortar tube. As he did so his hand clipped the tip of the contraption, which made the assembly begin to wobble wildly. The impact of his landing on the thin metal roof caused it to further unbalance, as the shockwaves propelled the whole thing a few inches up into the air. The combined jolt of these two events sent the tube spinning out of control. As I sit here typing, I can clearly see the gaping black maw of the tube as it briefly swung in my direction, as if it happened only minutes ago. In that moment I had a brief, poignant flash of clarity, during which the day's events paraded quickly through my mind. I don't remember any regrets, only surprise.

After that, there's a tiny blank in my recollection. The next thing that comes to me is the memory of grabbing Sarah and diving to the side. Everyone else was doing the same thing, as the cardboard cannon rotated violently on its unsteady base. As I landed on my side, pulling Sarah down behind me in an effort to shield her from any upcoming blast, I saw the skinny little stilts which balanced the tube fold up. As if in slow motion, the entire contraption fell, causing the tube to land parallel to the roof, facing the bonfire.

Someone up on the roof whispered “Oh shit…”

I heard myself take a deep breath, and clenched my teeth together so tightly that my jaw hurt for days afterwards.

And then it fired.

The first thing I saw was a muted flash, as the mortar launched out of the tube. The halo of light it created briefly defined Sean’s nearby face, which was twisted up in an expression of pure terror. His eyes were bulging, and his skin was as pale as cheese. As the murderous ball streaked away, and the short-lived flash faded, my eyes focused on a second moving object, which was rapidly approaching my face. Before I had time to fully comprehend what was happening, the launching apparatus smashed into my mouth, splitting my lip and bloodying my nose. The shock of the impact made me close my eyes as I winced in pain and surprise. They remained shut until I heard the explosion which came moments later. As the first terrified screams reached my ears, the need to see what was happening forced my reluctant lids open. So, it was through bleary, stinging tears that I witnessed the aftermath of the mortar’s detonation.

Chaos reigned in the camp below. Fire was everywhere; burning in small patches on the ground, drifting down from the sky, and smoldering balefully in the clothes of some of my closest friends. The people in the camp were running frantically in every direction, some trying to escape the flames, others heading towards fallen friends and lovers. The whole scene was made hazy and surreal by a thick covering of blue smoke, which quickly turned the sharp cries and outraged howls to hacking coughs. My memory tells me that I could smell the acrid tang of burning gunpowder and melting plastic as well, though I was probably too far away from the blast at that point for it to have reached me.

After a few seconds, during which my eyes and brain tried to make sense of the scene as a whole, I finally managed to focus on a crisis which was enfolding just outside the circle of vehicles. In front of an old white truck there was a growing knot of people gathered around a thin, pale blonde girl. Her name was Erika. She eventually went on to become a model, but at that point she was just another pretty teen. However, at that moment she was laying on the ground, screaming in pain and holding her face. The owner of the truck, Joe, who was one of my oldest friends, was kneeling down beside her, flailing madly at some embers on her clothes with his shirt. Two other guys were searching the immediate area for water, while a trio of girls stood a few feet away and stared, frozen in place.

Unable to concentrate, my eyes moved away, only to settle on another group of girls huddled together behind my truck. I recognized Brittany, Dave’s girlfriend, and a few of her friends. They were all talking at once, gesturing wildly, and the faces that I could see were covered in dust and streaked with tears. One girl kept pointing to a spot on her head, and I initially thought she was saying that she had been hit by something. However, I found out later that a small chunk of her hair had been burned away by a piece of hot ash, and she was devastated because she was supposed to be competing in a pageant the following weekend.

From there, my eyes went back to Joe’s truck. It had clearly been ground zero for the explosion, as the hood was completely blackened, and the windshield was cloudy and cracked. The paint nearest the glass had been peeled back by the heat, and further down it had bubbled up, which had the odd effect of making the truck look diseased. Smoke was still trailing up from the top of the cab, and black streaks sent spidery strands along the vehicle’s body in every direction.

I probably would have sat and stared at the carnage left by the mortar for another couple of minutes at least, but a soft moan snapped me out of my reverie. Behind me, Sarah was stirring, trying to wriggle out from beneath my arm, which had been flung over her in an effort to protect her from flying debris. As soon as I realized what was going on I hurriedly levered myself off of her, and then turned to face her.

As I came around I quickly scanned her body to see if she had sustained any injuries. I didn’t see anything, which was a huge relief. My good feelings disappeared almost instantly though, as her face registered a quick gamut of emotions when she saw the aftermath of the mortar tube’s collision with my lips.

Her reaction upon seeing my mangled mug was one of pure surprise. First, her brow furrowed slightly, and then her eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped open.

“Nick, what happened to you?” she asked immediately. Before I had a chance to answer she sat up and carefully began treating my split lip, dabbing at it with the edge of her shirt. Unable to speak, as she had her fingers over my lips, I simply sat and stared at her bare, tan stomach until she finished.

After a minute or so, she pulled back and looked at me questioningly.

“Pretty sure the mortar tube launched over here and took me out,” was my belated reply.

Sarah made a concerned little tsking noise, and bent towards me again to examine the damage further. Behind me, the other guys on the roof were talking quietly. People down in the camp were yelling up at us, asking what the hell had happened. No one was replying, as we still hadn’t completely figured it out ourselves. Eventually I heard movement, as someone walked towards me.

“Let’s see it,” said Sean. He came around from behind me and bent over, craning down to get a good look at my face.

“Looks like you got punched in the mouth.”
“Feels like it too,” I replied.

Following my answer, Sean paused for a moment. It was a heavy, pregnant silence, as it was obvious that he had something else on his mind.

“Why the hell did you yell like that, man?” he asked suddenly.

There are many things that I’m ashamed of from that night, but what I said next sticks out in my mind as the worst. I’ve never been a liar, but at that moment, with the party in shambles and some people possibly hurt, I didn’t feel like explaining to my friend that everything that had happened had been in some way related to a stupid prank war. It had gotten too serious.

“I thought I saw a bat fly by your head, just as you were about to drop the ball in. I thought it was going to make you drop it or something. It just surprised me.”

Following my answer, Sean squinted, looking at me with a frank, trusting look. It was clear that he believed me, and was simply taking some time to process the repercussions of such an innocent mistake.

“Oh. Well, that sucks,” was all he said. After a few seconds he walked away, back to the edge of the roof. I heard him asking the other guys if they had seen anything, but I didn’t hear their replies, as Sarah was talking to me again.

“Can you feel this?” she asked, as she gently pinched the tip of my nose and wriggled it back and forth.
“Yep, hurts like hell.”

In reality, it really didn’t hurt that bad, but I was enjoying her attention, and the fact that she felt sorry for me was acting as a balm for my guilty conscience.

“How about this?” she continued, lightly poking my bruised cheekbone.
“Sure can…”
“And this?”

With that, she leaned in, and gave me a gentle, lingering kiss on the left side of my mouth, away from the carnage on the right. Looking back, the kiss seems somehow out of place, but at the time it felt perfectly natural. For a few brief seconds it took me away from the roof of the cabin, and the devastated campground below, and put me in a much quieter, safer place.

When she pulled back I looked into her eyes, and saw my ravaged face reflected in them.

“I felt it,” I said softly.

Her eyes twinkled.

“Good,” she said as she pushed herself up. Once she was standing, she reached down and offered me her hand. Her eyebrows raised questioningly when I made no move to take it.
“I’m kinda’ve enjoying the view…” I said lecherously, as my eyes panned up her toned legs, and towards her flimsy shorts.
“Oh, get up!” she exclaimed, feigning annoyance.

I took a couple of more seconds, then grabbed her hand and stood. Once I was up, she looked past me at the camp. I turned and looked as well. People seemed to be sorting things out a bit, although Erika was still down on the ground. Sean and another guy were yelling back and forth with Joe and Andy, explaining to them what had happened. Rick was still passed out by the fire under his beer box, blissfully unaware of the whole thing.

“We should go down and see if we can help,” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Sarah nodded, and Sean and the other guys mumbled their agreement. I turned and led the way down the stairs. In single file we made our way out of the cabin and through the trees to the camp.

The first people we encountered were the ones gathered around Erika. She was sobbing uncontrollably, with one hand clamped over her left cheek. She still hadn’t gotten to her feet, although she had managed to sit up. Joe was crouching at her side, trying to get her to pull her hand away so he could see what was hurting her.

When Sarah, who was one of Erika’s closest friends, saw what was going on, she shouldered past me and ran up ahead. By the time I got close enough to hear what was being said she was down on the ground with Erika, gently pulling her hand back away from her face. I quickened my pace, so that I would be able to see the damage at the same time everyone else did.

As the source of Erika’s pain and despair came into view the crowd around her began muttering, and almost everyone simply turned and walked away. At first I was confused, as I didn’t see anything at all. However, after a second or two I noticed a small red mark, just below her eye. It looked like something she could have gotten if she had fallen asleep at a desk with her head in her hands.

Now, granted, Erika was extremely pampered and spoiled, and I’m sure the mortar going off so close to her head had scared the crap out of her. With those things in mind, I suppose her reaction to being struck and lightly burned by a flying ember was somewhat understandable. However, the massive production she had been putting on, coupled with the fact that almost everyone at the party had had a similar experience, was enough to start people sneering when they saw the puny wound.

As Erika had been the only who had been complaining about her injuries, it was soon apparent to me that the firework accident had left our group almost miraculously unscathed. Aside from her little burn, there were a few assorted cases of charred hair, ruined clothes, and scraped knees, but generally speaking everyone was intact. All in all, the worst injuries sustained in the near-disaster were mine, which I felt was a blessing.

Upon realizing our luck, relief washed over me. Until that point I hadn’t noticed the sick, queasy feeling that I had been carrying with me in the pit of my stomach. The thought that my actions had led to an innocent girl getting badly hurt had been torture, and I was overjoyed that nothing major had actually happened. There was still the matter of Joe’s truck to consider, but it was an old piece of junk, so even that wasn’t a huge deal.

With disaster averted, the first thing that I could think of was that someone should try to get the party going again. After all, as scary as the whole thing was, it hadn't really done anything bad enough to justify having the rest of the night ruined. With that in mind, I started trying to work up something to say, some lame joke to lighten the mood.

However, that idea disappeared in a flash when I heard a girl’s voice up ahead say something which sent chills down my spine. The feeling of dread, which had only gone away seconds before, came back with a vengeance.

“Oh god…” she began. Her voice trailed off for a moment, as if she were wincing in pain.

“Something’s wrong with my stomach.”

Upon hearing those five fateful words, my imagination immediately swung into overdrive. Visions of traumatized party-goers hunched over painfully, shitting their guts out while their confused friends looked on helplessly raced through my mind. If the reality of the situation was anything like the book I had read, they wouldn’t be able to control it at all. These were proud, popular kids, so their embarrassment would be intense. The implications and consequences of such a scenario seemed boundless, since they would surely be looking for something or someone to blame.

As I considered what to do next, I found myself questioning how likely it was that my friends would be able to trace the onset of the sickness back to the Mountain Dew bottle, and then, how likely it was that they would tie it to me. Braden’s mom, who worked as a dispatcher for the local police department, suddenly became a potential enemy, as she could run the fingerprints on the bottle and find out everyone that had touched it. These incoherent, paranoid thoughts were followed by stillborn, ridiculously outlandish alibis, cooked up in seconds and as quickly discarded. Those plans were replaced by thoughts of confession, in which I imagined myself explaining how such a ridiculously silly thing had caused so much damage.

All of that flew through my mind in an instant. This manic episode was followed by a longer period of mental white noise, during which most of my thoughts disappeared into the ether before they even registered to my consciousness.

My expression must have betrayed my anxiety, as my roommate Andy walked over to me and asked me what was wrong. It took me a moment to respond, as I was still digesting the girl’s words and their possible implications. By the time I opened my mouth to speak Sarah had also risen, and was looking at me expectantly.

“Uh…” I started, trying to buy a few seconds for my shell-shocked brain to work up an explanation. Nothing brilliant came to mind, so I took the easy way out.
“Um, nothing really,” I continued. “My face just hurts, that’s all. I think I might have a broken nose.”

“Yeah, it does look pretty bad,” Andy said sympathetically. “Maybe you should go to the emergency room.”

This statement seemed to echo around in my head for a moment, as I gave another long pause. While I stalled for time, I found myself staring across the hood of Joe’s truck at Brittany. Her face looked much more pale than usual, and she was rubbing her arms as if she had a chill, even though it had to have been at least seventy degrees that night.

“No dude, I’m fine,” I replied eventually. “I was just kinda’ve spacing off for a minute, but I’m good. If it still hurts tomorrow, maybe I’ll go in then.”

Andy nodded, glanced at Sarah, then gave me a poorly concealed wink before he turned and went back to the fire. As he walked away, he yelled back at me over his shoulder.

“Have a beer or something, it’ll dull the pain.”

This got a laugh out of Sarah. I forced a smile as well, though I didn’t really find the statement that funny. However, my serious demeanor was bringing me too much attention, and I knew that I had to start acting cool if I was going to make it through the next hour or so without giving myself away. My other option was to call it a night and retreat before the gastric crisis really got into full swing, but the last thing I wanted to do was to leave. With everything that was going on, and the possibility of getting to spend some time alone with Sarah still very real, I just wasn't able to convince myself that it was the right thing to do. There were no assurances that my absence would prevent people from considering me as a suspect anyway, so I figured I was probably better off being there to defend myself than I would be sitting at home.

Having decided on a course of action, I slowly turned towards the fire while kneading my facial muscles, making a show of conquering and shaking off the pain I had been complaining of.

“Actually, a beer doesn’t sound like such a bad idea,” I said when I finished, having rotated myself slightly so that I was looking in Sarah’s direction. “Want me to get you one too?”
“Sure,” she replied sweetly. “Although you might be better off with a shot.”
“You’re right. I’ll get us one of each.”

The sound of her musical laughter was enough to buoy my spirits a bit. Without another word I started off past Joe’s truck, heading towards my own. There was a large cooler containing various beers and wine bottles on that side of the bonfire, and we had left our shot glasses on the tailgate as well.

As I dipped my hand into the icy water of the long, trough-like cooler, I heard a low moaning sound come from the corn just beyond the fire. The first time I heard it I ignored it, since it sounded just like wind coming through the stalks. However, the next time the groaning sound reached my ears it was followed by a violent round of retching, which immediately grabbed my attention. Still, nothing seemed particularly amiss about someone puking to me, as there were plenty of people at the party who had been drinking heavily. I just figured someone had overdone it.

However, as I turned away from the cooler and made my way over to my truck I saw Dave and Brittany sitting together in the back of his blazer. He had the hatch open towards the fire, and they were facing it, legs dangling over his rear bumper. Neither of them looked well at all. As I noticed Dave’s pale, drawn face, and Brittany holding her belly, grimacing, I saw another guy that I didn’t know very well running for the corn stalks. His jaw was clenched tight, but I saw his throat working, and there was a look of desperation in his eyes. He didn’t even make it out of sight before he doubled over, hands on his knees. The ropey, yellowish substance that he expelled turned my stomach, and I quickly looked away.

Something wasn’t right. These people weren’t supposed to be puking and turning green, they were supposed to be shitting their guts out. However, that certainly wasn’t the case, as the evidence to the contrary was right in front of me. It was becoming evident to me that I had been misinformed.

You see, the thing about cheesy detective novels is that they’re not exactly written to be used as a reference. A mystery writer isn’t fact-checking his or her story to make sure that everything in it can be used as a blue-print for immature pranks. So, while the story of a Visine-laced drink causing a recalcitrant criminal to confess his crimes between bouts of uncontrollable diarrhea had made for a hilarious read, its real-world application was much, much less amusing. In fact, as I stood in front of my truck, a pair of Coors Lights clutched in one hand, shot-glasses in the other, I felt more like crying than laughing.

I discovered afterward that there’s basically no truth to the whole thing at all. Visine doesn’t give people the shits, all it does is make them really, really sick. In fact, years later, when I finally decided to research it a bit, I found out that a strong enough Visine cocktail can actually cause someone to stop breathing.

You may remember that I had squirted an entire half-ounce of the stuff into the Mountain Dew bottle. I had done this thinking that if a few drops were enough to give someone the squirts, a bigger dose should really get things moving. However, as I know now, my vision of the prank was incredibly naïve. The thought never crossed my mind for a second that I could be poisoning my friend. All I had seen in my head was an image of Dave sitting on a log, feet up in the air, grimacing mightily as he evacuated his guts in front of everyone. Had things gone according to plan, though, and Dave had drunk the whole two-liter by himself, I very well may have killed him.

As it was, the dose had been spread out among six different people. While this was a truly wondrous stroke of luck, since it had kept the dosages to a non-fatal level, I didn’t know it at the time. All I could think of was how I had only wanted to prank Dave, and how stupid I was for not realizing that he would share the soda.

With a heavy heart and a guilty conscience I started walking back to Sarah. As I did so, I glanced furtively around the camp. It was extremely easy to pick out the people that had drunk the poisonous mix. Their drawn, haggard faces, coupled with their pained expressions and limp posture, told anyone that looked at them that they were doing everything they could to keep from vomiting.

When I neared Dave’s blazer I swung a little closer than I had to, in an attempt to catch a snippet of his conversation with Brittany. I had to know if they were blaming anyone for their illness, or if they were just huddled together for support, sharing their misery. Their muted whispers were too quiet for me to pick out over the roar of the fire, though, so I delayed my reunion with Sarah for the moment and approached them directly.

“You guys don’t look so hot,” I stated, trying to affect a nonchalant, concerned tone.
“Don’t feel so hot, either,” replied Dave, looking up at me. "Although, I gotta say, I doubt you look much better. What happened to you?"

I opened my mouth to start telling him about the events on the rooftop, but before I got anything out I was cut off.

“We think that bitch Lindsay put something in our drinks.”

This was from Brittany. She didn’t raise her head to look at me, so her voice seemed to come out of nowhere. My face must have registered my complete surprise, as Dave hurriedly cleared his throat and then tried to explain his girlfriend’s accusation.

“Brittany and Lindsay got into a big fight today. Britt got voted squad leader or whatever, and Lindsay was all pissed because she thought she should I have won.”
“She thinks I told the other girls that she was a slut, and that if we voted her squad leader that it would make us all look bad,” Brittany blurted. “I never said anything like that, she’s just crazy. She IS a slut, though. She’s slept with half the football team, and everyone knows it.”

“Uh…” was all I could manage. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“It’s just weird, man,” Dave interjected, talking fast. “About half an hour ago, before that whole firework thing, we ran out of mixers. So we were going around asking people what they had, looking around for something decent. Lindsay comes out of nowhere and tosses me this bottle of Sobe that she had in her car, and told me I could use it, since she didn’t want it anymore. Now, everyone that drank it is sick as hell.”

“Yeah, but…” I started. Before I could get anything else out, Brittany was talking over me.

“It’s just so her, you know?” she began. “She’s always doing stuff like this! I mean, last year she wrote ‘Skank’ on Allison’s lawn in bleach, just because she gave Randy a ride home from school. And she was the one that called Sarah’s mom and told her about that thing in the locker room, so that she’d get grounded and Lindsay would get to fill in for her for that stupid play. She does this crap all the time, the fucking bitch!”

“Um, but…” was my attempt at starting a reply. However, before I was able to form a coherent sentence, I was interrupted again. This time, though, no one was trying to talk over me. Instead, Brittany jumped up without warning, and with a weird, shuffling sprint, ran for the trees. She didn’t make it far before the contents of her stomach began splashing down at her feet. As I turned to Dave, thinking that I would have better luck trying to talk some sense into him anyway, he uttered a strangled gagging noise, then took off as well.

I was left standing alone under the canopy of Dave’s open hatch, with a couple of beers growing warm in my hands. My scattered thoughts were everywhere and nowhere. Honestly, the only thing I can really remember thinking about was the idea of Sarah in some dirty locker room, doing something bad enough to get her grounded.

It took me a bit, but I did eventually shake myself out of my stupor. I’d like to believe that I had made a decision to act, that I was just getting ready to swing into action, but in reality I think it was the sound of raised voices that did it.

Blinking, I slowly pivoted on my left foot and looked towards the cabin. From somewhere in the darkness, beyond the flickering light of the dying bonfire, two of my best friends were shouting at one another.

Joe’s was the loudest voice. Booming, it raged across the empty space between us, assaulting my ears with the sounds of his anger. Between his yells I heard the sound of Sean answering him in kind, his tone lower, but more threatening. In the brief pauses between their shouts, shrill, panicky girl’s voices filled in the blanks.

As soon as I realized what was happening, I was moving. At a half run, a sort of loping, side-to-side jog, I weaved my way through the vehicles around me and hurried towards the cabin. Other than a singular thought, a desperate need to stop whatever was about to happen, my mind was completely empty.

I wasn’t the only one that heard the commotion, though. By the time I had begun to make my way over to where the argument was, most of the camp was doing the same thing. I actually had to get in line behind Andy, as the narrow trail to the cabin was lined with thorny berry bushes which only left enough room for two people to walk abreast. As my progress was slowed to a halting, jerky walk, impatience flared in me abruptly, and the thought of shoving the people in front of me aside blazed up in my mind. However, I had caused enough pain for one night already, so I swallowed my anger, and fell into line behind my friends.

After what seemed like an eternity of tramping along the dark, crowded path, I finally rounded the corner of the cabin and came into the open space behind it. The sound of the argument had been growing progressively louder, and as we drew closer I had been able to make out some of the words, as my friends’ heated voices had slowly began to drown out the rampant speculation going on around me. What I had heard was anything but promising.

“Of course it’s you’re fucking fault, you dumb shit!”

This was from Joe. I couldn’t see him yet, but I could tell by the sound of his voice that he was up on his toes, staring down at the smaller Sean. He had a tendency to swell up when he got angry, which made his huge frame all the more imposing.

“I never said it wasn’t,” answered Sean. His voice, while quieter, was the more worrisome to me. Within his clipped words lay a promise of violence, seething just below the surface.
“I just said it was an accident,” he continued. “No one was trying to hurt anyone, we were just trying to put on a show and we messed it up.”

Sean had just finished talking when I finally got close enough to catch a glimpse of my friends through the press of bodies that surrounded them. As I had suspected, Joe was looming over Sean, back straight, fists balled at his side. In the dim light of a flickering camping lantern a pulsing vein stood defined on the blue-gray flesh of his bicep, while a matching one throbbed on his temple. His wide shoulders, built up over years of throwing hay bales onto high wagons, flared out around his thick neck like wings.

Sean was harder to make out, as he didn’t have Joe’s massive stature. However, as I pushed my way through the crowd, ignoring the curses and jabs that rewarded my haste, I could see his wavering shadow darkening the lower half of Joe’s torso. It was clear that he was standing very close, probably unconsciously crouching, as he had been trained to do.

The atmosphere in the clearing was electric. These were not just a couple of farm boys that were squaring off, after all. Joe was an all-state linebacker, who had turned down a scholarship to UNI so that he could help his dad on their sprawling, meticulously maintained farm. On our nights out, it was the sight of his muscled, heavy frame that kept our group from brawling with the various other groups we encountered, as no one wanted to find out what it felt like to be hit with his enormous, horny fists. Years of weight-lifting and farm work had molded him into a juggernaut, whose fearsome countenance was normally belied by his gentle, caring demeanor. However, it was well-known among our circle of friends that Joe had a temper, and that when he began to heat u, it was high time for whoever was pissing him off to shut up. Otherwise, the focus of his ire was bound to end up with broken bones and bruised organs, as his punches hit with the impact of a wrecking ball.

It was Sean, though, that was the more dangerous. As the former top cruiserweight wrestler in Iowa, his reputation was formidable. I believe that at the time of the party Sean had never been defeated in an official event. As a sophomore I had watched countless times as he simply destroyed people who I would have run from, tearing them down with his viper-like quickness. His rangy, corded muscles always seemed to lull his opponents into a false sense of security, as almost all of the people he faced were built like tanks. This worked to his advantage, as he was easily as strong as the bulkier guys, but was twice as fast.

With that said, it wasn't his wrestling background that scared me. He had been out of high school for almost two years at that point, so that was all ancient history. However, after graduating he had gone on to become a professional fighter, and it was this experience that gave him an edge over almost anyone he encountered. It’s one thing to have been a beast on the mat, with rules and referees controlling what you can and can’t do. It’s another to have fought for money and pride in a cage against another trained gladiator. Having watched Sean in various tough man competitions, as well as sponsored MMA fights, I knew what he was capable of. Joe didn’t stand a chance.

“Yeah well, accidents like that only happen to fucking idiots,” Joe stated. His voice, while still loud enough to send his words bouncing off the back of my skull, had taken on a growling tone. He had unclenched his fists as well, and was flexing his fingers, as if in preparation. Along with everyone else in the clearing he knew that his one chance against Sean was to get a hold of him with those massive hands and squeeze the life out of him. In a stand up fight, Joe would be destroyed.

“You need to watch your mouth, Joe,” was Sean’s low reply. I was close enough now to see the side of his face, and the sight of his jaw line and furrowed brow sent a surge of adrenaline running through me. I had seen that look before, and could imagine what Joe saw. The sight of his steely blue eyes, looking at me like they must have been looking at Joe, probably would have made me piss myself.

“Don’t threaten me, you little shit,” snarled Joe. “You might have everyone else scared of you, but not me. In fact, I’m getting sick of watching you walk around like a damn rooster. Either you man up and apologize to Erika like you should have done in the beginning, or I’m going to put you in your place. It’s that simple.”

Up to that point, I hadn’t even seen the waifish blonde girl standing behind Joe. As his face was in the light, everyone standing on the other side of him was darkened by his huge shadow. However, upon hearing his words, her tearful face seemed to jump out at me. Pale and mournful, she was the picture of a mistreated maiden. Her dirty clothes and ash-stained hair gave her a battered look that had surely brought the chivalrous knight out in Joe. Her condition explained why he wasn’t backing down. He felt honor-bound to elicit an apology out of Sean, and if in doing so he had to break a few of his friend's bones, such was the price of love.

Now, I’m a fairly romantic guy myself, so I can support putting yourself in harms way in order to protect someone you care about. However, I knew Joe, and I knew Erika. And the fact of the matter was that Joe had been trying to get with her for years, with absolutely no success. Erika was all about image, and a big dumb brute like Joe, whose future involved raising pigs and baling hay, didn’t fit into her view of herself. He really had no reason to be confronting Sean over her, especially because he and Sean were pretty close friends.

And then there were her eyes. While everything else about her, including her body language and tear-streaked, dirty cheeks, screamed sorrow and hurt feelings, Erika's eyes told a different story. In complete contrast with the rest of her face, they were open wide, gleaming in the lantern-light. The bloodlust that was in them, and the joy of being fought over, was plain as day.

During this short exchange I had continued to push myself to the front of the circle surrounding the two men. However, with only a layer or so remaining, the going had become very difficult. People were continuing to crowd forward, and as they did so the space between them got smaller and smaller. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they left no room for me to squeeze by. Desperate to reach my two friends and diffuse the situation, as their confrontation was, at least in part, my fault, I began shoving the people in front of me, and yelling for them to get out of the way. While I struggled, the conflict in front of me began to boil over.

“What the fuck else do you want me to apologize for?” exploded Sean. “I already said that I’m sorry, and that it was an accident. If it’s that pathetic little burn, then you’re being ridiculous. Practically everyone got one, and hers is nothing! She’s just a fucking drama queen man, everyone knows it. Getting all up in arms over her is the dumbest damn thing you could do! You’re not gonna get with her anyway, this whole thing is pointless.”

That was the wrong thing to say. As I said before, Joe had been in love with Erika for years, in spite of his lack of success. He had heard everything that was said about her, but he never agreed with any of it. He was her biggest supporter, and was always telling people that once you got to know her that she was really a sweet, loving person, and that people just needed to give her a chance. I knew her better than he did, though, and that was bullshit. She was as shallow as they came, as selfish as any person I have ever met.

Still, everyone knew that Joe was deep under her spell, and therefore his mere presence was normally enough to keep people from talking shit about her. However, Sean wasn’t scared of anyone, and he wasn’t the type to hold his tongue.

With Joe already as hot as he was, Sean’s words were the last straw. As I saw the storm clouds begin to roil in Joe’s eyes, heard his low growl that signaled he was done talking, and saw Sean’s back tense in response, I desperately lunged forward. My sudden surge surprised the guy in front of me, and the power of it knocked him to the side. With a clear path to my friends in front of me at last I ran forward, shouting for them to stop.

I had about ten feet of open space to cover. As I burst out into the open I took two quick steps then launched myself at Sean, figuring if I knocked him down and landed on top of him that I could stop the fight.

If this was a movie, this would be the scene where everything suddenly slows down. The shouted voices of the throng would distort into weird, bass-only howls, and the dancing light of the lantern would illuminate the entire circle of people in an otherworldly, tribal glow. The crowd would slowly shift and bend, mimicking the movements of the trees behind them, as if they were all pieces of seaweed, swaying with the gentle motion of the waves above. Their pointed fingers and sideways comments to the people nearest them would seem comical and exaggerated, as if they were mere caricatures of humans, not real living, breathing people. Motion blur would warp and garble all of the outlines, as the dust kicked up by my jump slowly settled behind me, spreading out in a gentle cloud. The viewers would be treated to the sight of my shirtless body, stretched out full length, arms extended in front of me, slowly moving forward through the air as if I were some sort of sloth-like Superman. My mouth would be opened, turning my face into a rictus, as my bulging eyes stared at Sean's rigid back.

Then, the camera would pan to Joe’s balled fist, and follow it as it pistoned forward, aimed at Sean’s face. As it came towards him, the watcher would see Sean’s spiky hair, blurring oddly as the speed of his dodge took him out of the picture. For a moment, Joe’s massive, callused fist would be in the frame alone. Then, as if out of nowhere, my face would fly into the scene, just in time for my jaw to connect with his knuckles. The frame would freeze, as spittle and blood flew from my mouth. And then, the Batman caption:

POW!

I have to imagine it this way, because all I really remember was one poorly-planned leap, and then an explosion of pain and stars. I recall looking up at Joe’s shocked face, and the shouts of surprise from the crowd. I can see Sean’s back, circling around to Joe’s left, and the sight of Andy, starting forward. Then, nothing.

I woke up with my head cradled in Sarah’s lap. She was bending over me, so that her sweet breath lightly washed over me like a caress. Her arms were resting on my shoulders, while her hands gently stroked my battered jawline. It was that sensation, of being held and carefully cared for, that began to bring me out of the darkness of unconsciousness, and back into reality. The next thing I noticed was that her hair tickled my nose every time she moved, but I didn’t mind, as the smell of it was like morphine, dulling my pain. I remember hearing her whispering something in a low, crooning tone, but I don’t recall the words.

Consciousness came back to me slowly. I didn’t want to leave the comfortable place that I had awakened in, but it was a losing battle. As the seconds passed, the sounds of the world outside of Sarah’s arms began to filter in. With them came a throbbing, all-encompassing pain, spreading outwards from my jaw all the way down to my toes.

“I’m pretty sure I just saw him open his eyes for a second,” said a voice from above me. I couldn’t place it for a moment, as the inflection and tone of the words were obscured by the blood roaring in my ears. They sounded like they were coming from miles away, echoing down to me through a long tunnel. As I concentrated, though, the reverberations faded, and I recognized Andy’s voice.

“Do you want to try sitting him up?” he asked.

“I don’t think we should,” was Sarah’s reply. Her voice carried an audible note of concern, which worried me. At that point I still wasn’t entirely clear on what had happened, and my fuzzy, confused brain wasn’t doing a very good job of putting the pieces together. From the sound of her tone, though, I wasn’t looking so hot.

“I think we should probably let him rest for a bit longer,” she continued after a moment. “You should go talk to Sean. I’ll stay here with him until you get back.”

“Ok,” Andy replied. “Yell if you need anything.”

I felt the muscles in Sarah’s body ripple as she nodded. Andy didn’t immediately walk away, so he must have stared down at me for a moment before making his way to wherever Sean was. As his footsteps faded a new voice spoke up, coming from my right.

“Do you think he’s alright?”

This was from Joe. Speaking in a quiet, muted voice that contrasted jarringly with his normally loud, brash one, he phrased the question in such a way that I realized that he really wasn’t sure. At that moment, in Joe’s mind at least, there existed a real possibility that I was broken; that I wasn’t going to be ok.

“I hope so,” said Sarah shortly, without looking up.

I could tell by her tone that she wanted Joe gone. He must have felt it too, as he only waited a few seconds for her to continue before he turned to leave. Before he walked away, he crouched down next to me and briefly squeezed my hand. His callused skin felt like sand paper, but despite his rough grip the gesture still made me feel better.

The silence that followed Joe’s exit fell on me like a weight. With no sensory input other than Sarah’s tender fingers on my face, my brief rally into consciousness petered out. The roaring in my ears slowly grew deeper and louder, until it eventually swallowed the world. For the second time that night my mind retreated into darkness, leaving my ravaged body to fend for itself.

I must not have been out very long, because the next time I woke up not much had changed. My back had grown cold from lying on the damp earth, but that discomfort was offset by the warmth of Sarah’s thighs on the back of my neck. The pain in my jaw had subsided slightly as well, though it still felt as if I had a hot piece of steel lodged in my mouth. Most importantly, though, was the fact that my mind was finally working properly again.

I stayed quiet for a moment, as I pieced what little I knew into a somewhat accurate picture of what had happened. Given the circumstances that I found myself in, and the events prior to my loss of consciousness, I realized soon enough that Joe had accidentally hit me when he swung at Sean. The fact that he had struck me right on the jaw was an unfortunate coincidence, but there was no question in my mind that he had had no intention of punching me. I had just thrown myself into the wrong place, at the wrong time.

As I lay there in Sarah’s lap, picturing myself flying across the open space between the crowd and the two would-be combatants, probably shouting some incoherent, garbled plea for them to stop, a slight smile creased my face. The image of the aftermath of Joe’s thunderous, misplaced punch, which had probably sent me into a flat-spin, only to land in a heap like a misused rag doll, amused me even more.

It was just too much. All of the events of the night had put so much stress on me that lying there in Sarah’s lap, all I could do was laugh at how things had ended up. Fitting was the word that came to mind. It was fucking fitting.

My distorted, wheezing laugh seemed to surprise Sarah, as I felt her body tense up. The sharp hiss that followed, when the movement of my jaws caused a white-hot stab of pain to arc across my face, brought her hands to a complete stop.

“Nick?” she asked questioningly.

I took a moment to respond, as my vocal cords were temporarily frozen by the shock of just how badly it hurt to open my mouth.

“Hey Sarah,” I said eventually, through tightly pursed lips. My voice was rasping and hoarse, as if I had been yelling. “Nice night, isn’t it?”

This got a laugh out of her. As I fell silent again, she gently set my head down on the ground, then stood and came around to face me.

“How are you feeling?”
“Not too bad, for someone whose face is mashed in.”

I tried to smile, to show her I was joking, but all I managed was a grimace.

“Yeah, you’ve taken a couple of pretty good shots tonight, that’s for sure,” she said, keeping her tone light. She paused for a moment then, looking down into my eyes appraisingly. Silhouetted against the night sky, with a halo of bright stars around her head, she looked like an angel.

“I think we’d better take you to the hospital.”

As that was the second time that someone had suggested that I needed medical attention, I took a bit longer to think over the idea than I had the first time. However, my feelings on the subject remained the same.

“Huh uh,” was all I could manage as a reply. I realized that she was probably right, but I was still trying to impress her, and I thought at the time that acting tough was the best way to do it. My bravado, though, produced a less-than-stellar reaction.

“Uh huh,” she returned, mockingly. “Unless you’d rather have a crooked nose for the rest of your life.”

The look she gave me then, of exasperated impatience mixed with true concern, took the smile off of my face. I looked up at her, suddenly serious.

“That bad, huh?”
“Yeah, that bad. You look like you got hit by a truck.”
“Oh…”

As I mulled over her words, and whether or not I would be damaging my chances with Sarah forever by wussing out and going to the emergency room, I heard someone approaching us. They were jogging quickly down the trail, breathing heavily. Sarah heard it too, and after taking one more long, scrutinizing glance at my face, she turned to meet the newcomer.

It was Andy, my roommate. As he skidded to a stop a few feet from me he bent over, wheezing slightly. Not used to physical exertion, the short run had winded him. Neither Sarah nor I said a word during the time it took him to gather himself, although I’m sure we were both thinking much the same thing. Eventually he straightened and looked at Sarah, a worried look crinkling the skin around his eyes.

“Hey Sarah,” he began. His breath was coming in short gasps, which forced him to speak in clipped sentences. “Do you think you could… run over to the fire and… see if you can… calm some of your friends down? I can stay here with Nick.”

My eyes moved from Andy’s face to Sarah’s, just in time to see her brows furrow. She took a quick step forward, as if to start down the cabin path, but then stopped, and turned to glare at Andy.

“What? Why? What are they doing?” she asked, her annoyance lacing her words with venom.

It took a second for Andy to respond, as he was still trying to master his breathing. Her tone didn’t help matters, as the hostility in it confused him.

“I think they’re… gonna start fighting… or something. I didn’t… stick around to find out.”

Andy’s flushed face was guileless. It was clear that he had simply run from the impending conflict, hoping to find someone who could stop the fight. Sarah, after looking at him for a moment, suddenly lost her aggressive manner and seemed to slump. Her body language explained everything. She was tired of the drama, and just wanted to be left alone. However, Andy was looking at her expectantly, and the sound of raised voices was beginning to filter through over the sighing of the trees.

During this short exchange I had stayed quiet, watching and listening. Seeing the indecision on Sarah’s face, though, I decided it was high time that I spoke up.

“I’m fine,” I said.

She looked down at me, and started to open her mouth. I already knew what she was going to say, so I continued in my strained, raspy voice, forcing her to pause.

“Seriously, I’m fine. Go see what’s going on. I’ll come out in a second, as soon as I’m sure my jaw isn’t going to fall off.”

My small joke, told through cracked, bleeding lips, was still enough to coax a smile out of her. The lightened mood also straightened her posture, so that she once again stood tall, her shadow gracefully painting the cabin’s doorway.

“Ok,” she said, as she turned and started down the path. “Just make sure you’re still around when I get back, I’m not done with you yet!”

With that, she was off, gliding smoothly down the trail.

“We haven’t even gotten started,” was my reply. Forced to speak softly, as anything more sent screaming lines of pain down my face, I wasn’t able to get enough volume out of my tortured throat for my words to carry all the way to her. She continued on, racing towards the fire, in an effort to curtail whatever mischief her friends were getting into. The only answer to my heartfelt promise was Andy’s mocking laugh.

Once Sarah was gone, I gingerly slid backwards, pushing with my legs and supporting myself with my hands until my torso contacted the bole of one of the oak trees that overshadowed the cabin. Thus supported, I raised my hands to my face and explored the devastation with my fingertips. It was slow going, as even the lightest touch sent stabs of pain through my face and neck, but I kept at it, wanting to know the extent of my injuries. The damage was apparent, with swollen bumps and ragged scabs covering everything. Andy simply stood and watched, waiting for me to finish.

When I lowered my hands they were covered with black, bloody flakes. I found myself squinting through my right eye at the detritus, as my left had begun to squeeze shut. My nose hadn’t felt crooked or broken, though, which was a boon to my faltering, failing spirit. It seemed the damage wasn’t as permanent as Sarah had led me to believe, which meant that I didn’t necessarily have to go to the emergency room. The most I needed was a few stitches, and a nice cold compress to ease the swelling.

“What’s the verdict?” Andy asked, as he shuffled over and knelt down beside me.
“Seems like I’ll live,” I replied. “Although tomorrow is going to suck.”

Andy laughed. Without another word he held out his hand. After I had grasped his pudgy, damp palm, then readjusted my grip to get a firmer hold, he leaned back, allowing his considerable weight to pull me to my feet. The sudden change in elevation sent a shock through my system, and I broke out into a cold sweat. Dizziness began to blur my vision, but a stubborn need to be up and about made me shake it off. Wincing, I clenched my teeth and stared straight ahead, willing my eyes to focus. Eventually, they did.

When I finally got control of my body, I blinked a few times and then straightened. Turning my head to the left, I looked at Andy. He was staring at me quizzically, as if I had suddenly sprouted a horn out of the center of my forehead. I met his gaze firmly, and after a moment he smiled.

“Want to go check it out?” he asked, nodding his head towards the fire.
“Sure man. Go ahead, I’ll catch up with you in a second.”
“Nah,” he replied casually, shaking his head. “If I left you, Sarah’d kick my ass. Lead the way, I’ll stay behind and pick up any body parts that fall off.”

I thought about arguing, but quickly decided against it. As much as I would rather not have had someone watching me struggle down the trail, I knew that Andy was right. There was no way of knowing if I had sustained a concussion, or something equally as sinister and hard to detect, and if I passed out and fell into the bushes it could be days before I was found again. Not to mention the fact that I really wanted to make it to the fire, as my brief sojourn on the damp ground had left me chilled.

So, with no reply save for a derisive snort, I began to shuffle my way towards the light. It was slow going, as I had to do my best to keep my head level. The few times I did stumble my vision immediately lit up with stars, and the strength seemed to ebb out of me. However, Andy was paying careful attention, and when it seemed like I was about to fall he would quickly grab me under my armpits and hold me up until the spell had passed. It was in this way that I left the trail and came into the muddy parking lot, propped up like a hand-puppet in my roommate’s flabby arms.

I had heard yelling as I neared the fire, but I had been concentrating so hard on putting one foot in front of the other that I hadn’t been paying attention to what was said. As I got closer, though, the noise faded, and by the time I pulled myself up onto my tailgate the clearing was relatively quiet. There was still the occasional snap of sap popping in the fire, and Rick’s snores still buzzed from the edge of the night’s shadow, but there were no longer any raised voices to be heard. The only other sound was the low drone of motors, signaling that at least a few cars were on their way out, creeping slowly back down the old dirt road that led to the highway.

Turning my head slowly to the left, I gazed towards the edge of the cornfield, and saw the red glow of the taillights. I recognized Sean’s truck, as the cover of the right rear light was broken, which allowed the bright white bulb behind it to shine out unimpeded. He was followed by a couple of smaller cars that I didn’t recognize, which surely belonged to a couple of the girls. As I watched they passed out of sight behind a line of trees.

“Looks like the party’s over”, Andy said, as he leveraged his girth up onto the tailgate next to me. His legs, short and out of proportion with the rest of his body, swung lazily back and forth above the ground.

“Looks like it,” I agreed. “I wonder where Sarah went?”
“She’s over there.”

Pointing, Andy directed my gaze to a corner of the cornfield that bordered the muddy open space that I was parked in. She was standing with her hands in her pockets, talking to a girl that I didn’t know.

While Sarah was a picture of calm, her friend looked nothing short of disheveled. Her hair, blond and wispy, was floating around her face and above her head, standing on end as if she had received a massive electrical shock. Her clothes were dirty and tattered, caked with the reddish mud that the campground was layered with. Her untied shoelaces dragged through the dirt as she nervously shuffled her feet back and forth, and when her hands weren’t on her face they were fluttering about at her sides like small, pale birds. Overall, she gave of a feeling of defeat, of having lost herself. She reminded me of a kicked dog.

As I watched, she repeatedly raised a hand to her right eye. I focused as best I could on the area she kept touching, and after a bit I thought I could see a small bump above her eye. I began to get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, and hoped desperately that I hadn’t been the cause of whatever event had created that knot.

“Who’s that girl with her?” I asked Andy without turning my head.
“I’m not sure. One of Brittany’s friends, I think. Margie, or something like that.”
“Do you know what happened to her?”
“No idea. Maybe she tried to stop a fight with her face too.”

I sighed at that. Andy had a talent for dry wit, but at the moment I wasn’t in the mood for humor. His response was simply to chuckle, his mirth sounding like water bubbling up over rocks.

We stayed quiet for a time, watching Sarah and the supposed Margie talk. There were only a few people left at the campground at that point, and everyone else had gone to sleep, so the only sounds were those of the night and its creatures, and the merry crackling of the fire. Somewhere off in the distance a train’s whistle moaned, providing a bass line to Rick’s staccato snores.

After a few minutes, Sarah reached down and took the blonde girl’s hand. As she began to walk towards us, her smaller friend in tow behind her, she gave me a smile and a wink. The blonde seemed like she wanted to resist, as her body was leaning back and her feet seemed almost to skid as she walked forward, but Sarah was unrelenting, and continued to pull her along. As they drew closer, Andy hopped down from the tailgate and patted the spot he had vacated.

“You look like you might want to sit down,” he said to the blonde.

She gave a nervous giggle, then looked away towards the fire and shook her head. Andy looked at her for a moment, then swept his gaze across me towards Sarah, clearly puzzled.

“Maggie’s a little shy,” said Sarah, taking the opportunity to roll her eyes at me while the other girl’s attention was elsewhere. I began to raise my eyebrows questioningly in response, but Maggie suddenly turned back around, forcing me to return my expression to neutral.

“Why don’t you sit down, honey?” Sarah continued after a moment. “You can wait here while I go get us something to drink.”

Maggie again began to shake her head, but Sarah was having none of it. With a quick grab, she took the girl’s hand and gently pulled her forward. When she got her in range of my truck, she physically turned her around, by placing her hands on the blonde girl’s skinny hips and pushing. Once Maggie’s rear was facing the truck, Sarah patted the tailgate and she hopped up obediently. I could only stare.

“Good girl. I’ll be right back.”

With that, Sarah turned and walked away towards the fire, ostensibly to grab her and Maggie some drinks. Most of the coolers and other drink containers had been left under the trees near the cabin, as we partied at the site enough that we rarely took anything home. As always, the image of her hourglass figure receding away from me drew my attention. Her soft brown hair, lifted and danced about by the gentle breath of the warm night’s breeze, was captivating.

I was only able to watch her progress for a few seconds, though, as Maggie immediately began to tremble as Sarah faded into the darkness. As her silhouette disappeared around the glare of the fire Maggie reached down and grabbed the tailgate, gripping hard enough that the skin around her knuckles turned as white as her face.

“You ok?” I asked after a moment.
“I’m fine,” she answered, her voice quiet and wavering. Immediately after speaking she turned her face away towards the fire, but even the dark night shadows couldn’t hide the tears welling up in her eyes.
“Are you sure you’re ok?” Andy asked after a moment. “Seems like you’re a little on edge.”
“Yep, I’m good.”

Her words hung in the air for a second, filled with a private anguish. I’m sure everyone knows what it’s like to try to put up a strong front, when all the while you’re trying to keep yourself from sobbing. Maggie’s eyes belied her nonchalant attitude, and the half-strangled tone of her voice let Andy and I know that she was close to breaking down. The problem was that neither of us knew the cause of her distress, so we had no idea how to help her.

“So…” Andy started, clearly wanting to question Maggie further.
“Anyway, what happened to your face?” Maggie suddenly blurted, cutting Andy off. She had swiveled slightly in my direction, to make it clear who she was talking to, but her gaze was directed out into the night. It was obvious to everyone that she was simply changing the subject.
“Oh, uh…” I began. I paused then, not sure how to explain everything in a way that would make sense.
“Nick likes trying to play the hero. It doesn’t really work out for him, though.”

That was from Andy. As Maggie had turned away from the fire he had walked over to stand by my side, and was leaning against the side of my truck. I started to turn my head, probably to attempt a retort with some half-baked come-back, but the pain that arced across my face from the movement caused me to stop abruptly. Instead, I simply winced, and nodded my head slightly.

“Yeah, I guess that’s about right,” was my rueful reply.

Maggie finally turned to fully look at me then, a puzzled look furrowing her brow. The tears were gone from her eyes, as the mystery of my ravaged face had temporarily distracted her from her own problems. A question was clearly forming on her lips, but before she was able to speak Sarah made her return carrying a half-rack of Busch Light.

“Who’s ready for a beer?” she asked as she made her way out of the shadows. Her cheerful face coincided nicely with her upbeat tone, but her eyes were resting on Maggie. There was a look there that worried me, although I didn’t know why.

“I’ll take one!” Andy exclaimed. He took a couple quick strides forward, and began to detach himself a beverage from the plastic holster. As he removed his weight from the side of my truck, he set Maggie and I swaying back and forth as the shocks readjusted.

“I could probably use one too,” I said.

“You probably need a lot more than one,” replied Sarah, as she took the half-rack back from Andy and walked over to the truck. Once she was close enough, she set the beers down on the tailgate. I began to reach for one, but before my hand had done much more than start to raise, she had pulled one free, popped the tab, and was holding it out for me.

“Thanks,” I said, attempting to smile. As I took the beer from her, our fingers touched, sending a thrill up my arm.
“Any time,” she replied mischievously. The look she gave me then was a mixture of fire and honey.

As I raised the can up to take a drink, Sarah grabbed one for herself and walked in front of me. With gentle pressure, she pushed in between my knees, then jumped up on the tailgate and leaned back against my chest. I, in turn, leaned back against the sidewall of the truckbed, propping us both up comfortably. When she drank, her hair floated back into my face, flooding my senses with the exotic scent of perfume mixed with campfire smoke. About a minute passed, with no one saying anything.

“So, uh, where’d everyone go?” Andy asked after a while. His words were punctuated by the gravelly sound of an empty beer can being crushed in his hand. As he reached for another, Sarah looked over at Maggie, then turned once again towards Andy.

“I’m pretty sure Sean took off with Brittany and those girls,” she began. “They were going to head up to the gas station and get some mixers, then come back. I think Dave was just going to go home, and last I heard, he was giving Joe a ride to his house first so that he could get his four-wheeler. And Erika’s going to the hospital with Lindsay and Dawn, to have her burn looked at. Everyone else is passed out.”

“Oh, ok…” Andy said. His voice trailed off contemplatively, as his thoughts were probably following the same track mine were. The two big questions in my head involved why Dave’s girlfriend Brittany was taking off with Sean when Dave was going home, and how things had been resolved between Joe and Sean.

“Kinda’ weird that Brittany’s not going home with Dave,” I said, just throwing it out there. I wasn’t sure if it was something that Sarah wanted to talk about, as Brittany was a close friend of hers, so I wanted to leave her an out in case she’d rather blow it off.

I felt Sarah’s shoulders tense against my chest. After a moment, though, she exhaled a deep sigh, and nodded her head.

“Yeah, I guess her and Dave are broken up now, or something. It’s all really stupid, if you ask me.”

The shock of her statement caused my brows to furrow and my eyes to squint, which in turn put pressure on my jaw, eliciting a sharp jab of pain. The pain remained secondary to my surprise, though, as such an outcome was truly unbelievable. Dave and Brittany had been as much of a couple as our group of friends had ever had. Their relationship had lasted for years, and while they’d had ups and downs, they had seemed as solid as any couple I had known. Even with Dave graduating, and Brittany having a year left of high school, there was never any indication that they had considered breaking up. Dave had taken great pains to make sure that he attended a college that was close enough that he’d be able to see Brittany often, and they had made plans that as soon as she graduated that she would enroll wherever he was. I had figured they’d even get engaged, just to make things official.

“Uh, what?” I asked after a moment. “I mean, why, what happened?”
“Yeah, what the hell?” Andy interjected. “They were fine a few hours ago. The last time I saw them, they were making out in Dave’s truck.”

Sarah took a few seconds to answer. Right before she spoke, she shook her head, and rolled her eyes up towards the stars.

“I really have no idea,” she began. “When I got there, Brittany was shouting something about getting poisoned by Lindsay, and Dave was already gone. Erika was making such a huge deal out of her stupid little burn that I went over to try to quiet her down, and then all of a sudden Brit’s sobbing and hugging Sean. Then Lindsay told everyone that she was taking Erika to the emergency room, and her and Dawn just got in the car and drove off. After she left, Brit just kept crying and saying how she couldn’t believe her and Dave were over, how Lindsay’s a huge bitch, and how she just needed to get drunk. So Sean took her and some other people to go get mixers. I’m surprised they’re not back by now.”

Upon finishing her recounting, Sarah seemed to melt back into my lap, as if she needed some physical support. Unthinkingly, I wrapped my left arm around her, and pulled her close. Her only reaction was to rest her head on my shoulder.

“Um… wow,” Andy started. His voice trailed off, apparently unable to think of anything to say past that.
“Yeah, no shit,” I said. “So I guess Sean and Joe are cool now? I mean, it sounds like they were done fighting, at least…”

Sarah’s only response was a shrug. She seemed uninterested in what had taken place between our friends while I was knocked out, which I can’t really blame her for. She had come out to the cabin to have a good time, and the night had been ruined by a bunch of pointless drama. The real shame of it all was that I had caused most of it.

The silence that followed my question seemed to stretch, while we all contemplated the night’s events. Andy, resting his elbows on the side of my truck, had closed his eyes, and was apparently off in his own little world. Sarah just kept leaning back into me, breathing slowly, while occasionally taking a sip of her beer. Maggie had turned once again to look at the bonfire, leaving me to stare at the back of her head.

It was in the hush of that moment that the distant sound of sirens became audible over the more organic night sounds that had surrounded us. From the direction I was facing the far off wailing seemed to whisper in my right ear, almost quiet enough to ignore. The sound of it rose and fell, carrying across the vast, swaying cornfields, tickling my brain. As my consciousness recognized what the sound was, the acidic, sour feeling in my stomach suddenly returned. In the area that we were camped, households were few and far between. And the only family that lived in the direction that the siren was coming from was Joe’s.

“Hey, do you guys hear that?” I asked, hoping for a negative answer. The feeling of dread was back again, and my mind had once again jumped into survival mode. Except this time, the white noise was gone. Instead, there was a hopeful doubt, a possibility that I couldn’t trust my own body after all of the hits and alcohol, and that I was hearing things.

“Sounds like an ambulance or something,” Andy said, after cocking his head slightly.

My heart stopped. I felt a lump rise in my throat, causing me to swallow hard. Immediately afterward, I felt a chill run down my spine, followed by a cold sweat. Blood began to pound in my ears, and I experienced an odd numbing sensation across my face. Visions of my friends, broken and mangled in some horrific accident, began to run through my head.

“You ok?” Sarah said, her voice coming from somewhere just in front of me.

“Uh…” I started. My voice sputtered to a stop, though, as I realized I had been holding my breath, and didn’t have the wind to continue. As my mind re-engaged, I also noticed that I had my eyes closed. I opened them, to find Sarah looking back at me, her torso twisted in my arms.

“Yeah… I mean, yeah, I’m good.” I continued. “An ambulance over that way can’t be good though. That’s Joe’s house.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. She wasn’t familiar enough with the area to have known where Joe lived, but it was clear that she realized the implications behind my words.

“Could just be someone on the road,” Andy said from behind me. “I mean, just cause it’s over there, it doesn’t mean it’s Dave and Joe.”

I could tell that his statement was meant to be reassuring, but his body language didn’t fit. As I turned to look at him I noticed that he was now standing upright, peering off into the darkness with a nervous stare. His hands were clenched together tightly at belt level, and his shoulders were hunched, as if he expected a large weight to drop on him at any second.

“There’s not a lot of people that use that road, though,” I found myself saying. It was almost as if someone else was controlling my tongue, trying to reason with my mind, which refused to believe what it was hearing.

“Especially at night,” I continued. “I mean, it doesn’t go anywhere. It basically ends at Joe’s feed lot. The only reason anyone else uses it is to go to the fishing hole, and it’s a bit late for that.”

Andy’s only response was to wince, and then turn slowly towards the fire. He took a few steps forward, and then stopped, as if waiting for something. While he was moving, Sarah turned further in my embrace, to look out into the night behind me. Maggie, quiet during the whole exchange, continued to gaze into the bonfire, apparently lost in her own thoughts.

“Do you think we should go check it out?” asked Sarah, pulling back slightly to look into my eyes.

I took a deep breath, knowing what my answer had to be. Andy, fearful stress lines crinkling his normally open, friendly face, turned to look at me. Maggie shifted slightly, folding her arms in front of her chest. For a brief moment there was a question in my mind, on whether or not there was any possibility that it was someone else out there in the night. Even though I knew better, the fact remained that there was no way to be one-hundred percent sure that it was our friends. A trip out to Joe's house, to find nothing but some strangers in a messed-up car staring at some roadkill, would be a huge waste of time, and would further ruin the night. And even if it was Dave and Joe, what could we really do, anyway? Ambulances would be on the scene before us, it wasn’t like we could really help anything.

And then, just as I had started to convince myself that it was silly for us to go out there, half drunk, tired and injured, the sound of a second ambulance split the night. It was traveling fast, the sound of it breaking through the wall of noise exuded by the bonfire, drowning out the chirping and whirring of the wildlife. The path it was on was unmistakable, as it could only be on the service road that ran along the train tracks. That road really did go nowhere. Well, nowhere except for an old depot, just across the road from Joe’s house.

"Yeah," I finally answered, my stomach churning. "Yeah, we should probably head over there, just in case there's something we can do. Is anybody good to drive?"

Sarah looked at me for a moment, then shook her head ruefully. Andy took a moment longer, then grimaced.

"Probably not," he said.

I knew I was in no state to drive. Even if I hadn't had anything to drink at all, the fact that I really only had one functioning eye precluded me from being considered a viable chauffeur. Sarah and Andy apparently came to the same conclusion I did, as after a few heartbeats we all slowly focused our attention on Maggie.

She had to have known what we were thinking, but she just continued staring into the fire, apparently oblivious. After a few seconds Andy looked over at me and raised his eyebrows. My response was a slight shrug, followed by both of us turning to Sarah. She was frowning at the back of Maggie's head, and remained unaware of our questioning looks for a moment. Eventually the pressure of our eyes must have registered though, as she turned to look at us. After a short time of shared looks, during which many eyebrows were raised and heads were meaningfully nodded towards Maggie, Sarah finally bounded off the tailgate, using my thighs as leverage.

"Do you think you can drive us, Mags?" she asked, turning to face her friend. "It doesn't seem like you've had much to drink, and we really should go over and see if we can help somehow."

Maggie remained still, almost as if she hadn't heard Sarah's question. Time seemed to drag then, as we all stared at Maggie, waiting for an answer. The ambulance's shrill sirens wailed their strangely harmonious chorus in the background, drowning out everything except the creaking of my truck's shocks and the occasional loud pop of sap exploding in the bonfire.

"Maggie?" Sarah continued after a moment, while simultaneously reaching out and taking her friend's wrist in her hand.

"I can't" Maggie hissed suddenly, jerking free of Sarah's grasp. The emotion in her voice knocked Sarah back a step, and widened Andy's eyes. My eyebrows raised enough to tighten the skin around my mouth, which sent a sizzling bite of pain down my neck. Trying to keep tears from squirting out of my swollen ducts, I focused on the sharp ridge of muscle suddenly protruding from Maggie's neck. Apparently, she had her jaws clenched shut about as tightly as possible.

"Uh, ok," Sarah responded after a moment, steadying herself by laying a hand on the tailgate next to Maggie's leg. "I mean, that's fine I guess, if you're drunk or whatever. It just seems like you're pretty sober."

"It's really not very far," Andy cut in softly, right on the heels of Sarah finishing up. "Probably about five miles, and it's mostly back roads. Do you think you could maybe make it that far? I'd try, but I really am pretty wasted. It's important."

Maggie sighed, and the ridge of muscle I had been focusing on suddenly disappeared. For a moment she was silent, and then she began to shake her head slowly. Unable to see her face, I was utterly confused as to what was going on, but Sarah must have seen something, as she started forward, a look of concern on her face. However, before she could even close the two-step distance between them, Maggie suddenly collapsed with her face in her hands and began to sob.

"Um..." Andy began, hands fluttering inches from Maggie's shoulders. Indecision warred worry on his face, as he tried to decide if he should try to comfort the girl, or leave that to Sarah. His decision was made for him almost immediately though, as Sarah quickly folded her arms around the frail blonde girl and held her tightly. Maggie's crying, which had seemed so heartrending before, intensified even further as she almost seemed to melt into Sarah's embrace.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" I heard Sarah whisper, while gently rocking the girl back and forth. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad. What happened?"

Her only answer was a explosion of pitiful, choking sobs, which wracked the skinny girl's whole body. Andy looked at my helplessly, but I had no answers for him. With nothing else to do, we sat quietly and waited while Sarah whispered quietly to Maggie.

"I can't leave," Maggie said eventually in a strangled, husky voice. As she spoke she gently pried herself from Sarah's arms and shook her head doggedly. When Sarah released her she remained silent for a moment, then slowly leaned back on her elbows and stared up at the stars.

"I can't leave," she repeated, then paused to take a deep breath.

"I have to stay here. I have to wait for Sean. I need to talk to him, and tonight might be the only chance I get, since he won't return my phone calls anymore. If I leave I might miss him, and I think if I have to wait much longer to tell him I might just lose it."

Sarah's face, ghostly in the moonlight, her hair backlit by the slowly dying embers of the once-roaring bonfire, wore an expression that I could only call puzzled. I'm sure mine was much the same, while Andy merely looked confused. However, while enlightenment continued to elude me, and Andy's forehead remained as wrinkled as a rhino's hide, his tongue caught between his teeth, Sarah's eyes suddenly widened, and then she slowly began to nod almost imperceptibly. I looked at her questioningly, but I might as well have not existed for all the attention my gaze garnered. She was looking down at Maggie with such a look of compassion that my heart went out to the frail girl, even though I had no idea what was wrong.

Andy and I sat bemused as Sarah reached for Maggie once more, and pulled her towards her. Hands resting on the girl's thin shoulders, Sarah looked searchingly into the girl's eyes. It took a moment for Maggie to answer the unspoken question, but finally she did, with a simple nod. Immediately afterward she collapsed into Sarah's embrace once again and began to cry, though much more softly than before.

Andy and I glanced at one another, and when we both realized that neither of us had a clue what was going on we once more looked to Sarah. She was crooning softly to Maggie, kneading her arms and gently smiling down, obviously trying to impart some strength to her friend. As far as she was concerned, they were the only two people in the universe right then.

"Uh..." I began. One of the sirens had stopped, but the other was still wailing in the distance.

Sarah looked up at me over the top of Maggie's head, and when she saw the look of utter confusion on my face she sighed, exasperated. Turning to Andy, she suddenly barked a quick laugh when she saw my expression mirrored on his face. Shaking her head, she turned once more to look at me.

"You guys are clueless," she said, continuing to rub her hands up and down Maggie's arms. "She's pregnant, obviously. And it must be Sean's, and I guess she hasn't told him yet."

Comprehension dawned quickly. It took Andy a moment longer, but after a second or two his mouth formed an oval, as he silently breathed a revelatory "ohhhhh..." I continued to hold Sarah's eyes for a bit, to show that I finally understood, but when she dropped her head to look once more into Maggie's face I levered myself up and slid down onto the ground. Andy followed reflexively, trailing me as I made my way out a few steps towards the fire. Once we were far away enough to not be overheard I turned my back to the girls. Putting my arm around Andy's shoulder, I lowered my head.

"Just how wasted are you?" I asked simply, in a voice just above a whisper.

"Umm, I'm still pretty drunk dude," Andy replied, his husky whisper loud enough to make me wince. "I mean, I could probably drive, but I'm sure I'd trip a breathalizer if we got pulled over."

"Well, one of us has to," I said. "I'm not going to risk Sarah getting pulled over, and we really should go see what's going on at Joe's. The paramedics might need someone to give them phone numbers or something. I mean..."

I paused then, mulling over the morbid thought that had nearly spilled out of my mouth. Andy looked over at me knowingly.

"You mean, they might need us to identify some bodies or whatever," Andy said wryly, finishing my unspoken sentence. "I doubt it's that bad, man. Joe wasn't that drunk, and I don't think Dave was either."

"Well, either way, we should head over there. It's not like we're doing anything here."

"Sure, ok," Andy replied after a moment. "I mean, yeah, it's like five miles, I can do it. Should we take my car?"

I thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded.

"Yeah, that's probably best. It'd suck trying to fit all of us in my truck."

"I'm not going," Maggie suddenly blurted from behind us, causing Andy and I to whip our heads around. She was standing next to Sarah, who was leaning back against the tailgate of my truck, hands in her pockets.

"I'm not either," Sarah said softly. "I'll stay here with Maggie, and wait for Sean. You guys can call us when you get to Joe's and let us know what's going on."

I was speechless then, an internal battle raging in my mind. My resolve to go see if I could help my friends was quickly crumbling in the face of the reality that in order to do so I'd have to leave Sarah behind. However, Andy, probably knowing full well what I was thinking, reacted quickly.

"Sounds good," he said. "It shouldn't take us long to get over there. If nothing's going on, or it's just some randoms that took out a cow, we'll head back over here and meet up with you guys. Come on, Nick."

What that, he gave me a not-so-gentle shove towards his car. Although my brain hadn't totally decided what it wanted to do, the momentum of his push got my feet moving, and I continued stumbling towards his old Integra, half-turned so that I could watch Sarah as I made my way away from her. I knew I was doing the right thing when, after I had rounded the hood of Andy's car and got the door open, she smiled, waved, and called "we'll be waiting here for you."

"See you in a bit," Andy replied. I got into the car without saying a word, still slightly shell-shocked.

"Try not to get blood on my seats," he said as he pulled out towards the corn-lined dirt road.

We were both silent during the brief, bumpy journey to the highway. I was too busy trying to hold my head still to talk, as every pothole and drainage ditch jostled my tender jaw enough to make me see stars, while I guess Andy just didn't have much to say. As we pulled onto the pavement and headed towards Joe's house Andy reached over and flipped on his radio. The cheery, upbeat LFI song that filled up the car seemed ridiculously out of place, but he left it on anyway. I don't remember anything else about the drive.

After what could only have been a few minutes we turned onto the service road that ran to Joe's house. Not far ahead, two ambulances were pulled off on the side of the road, both on our side. Their overhead lights were off, but the headlights were still on, illuminating the road in front of them. People moved in the ditch to the right but it was hard to tell what they were doing, as they were just outside the cone of light. Andy punched out the radio, and we rolled the last few yards in silence.

Gravel crunched underneath our tires as we pulled off, and Andy angled his headlights towards the people in the field before yanking his emergency brake. All the illumination showed was the backs of paramedics. Before we had time to see more, or really take in what we were seeing, one of the men turned towards us, right hand shading his eyes.

"Turn that light off, damn it!" he yelled. Without waiting to see if we complied, he turned away from us and bent back down.

"Fuck me, sorry," Andy murmured, so quiet that he had to have been talking only to himself. Flipping off his headlights, he plunged the area in front of the car into darkness.

For a few seconds we both sat silently, bathed in the otherworldly glow of his ice blue dashboard lights. Eyes straining, we tried to make out what was going on out in the field in front of us, but the lazily nodding corn stalks obscured our vision. After a moment I reached for the door handle, and cracked the door.

"Might as well go check it out," I said over my shoulder. Without waiting to see if Andy was following I stepped out onto the thin strip of gravel between the car and the ditch and started walking towards the ambulances. The sound of Andy's door slamming behind me seemed disproportionately loud when compared to the soft murmur of the paramedics and the droning hum of their vehicles.

As I rounded the bumper of the lead ambulance I almost stumbled over Joe's huge body. He was sitting on the ground, his back to the right front tire, arms around his knees. His phone was resting on the ground in front of him, next to the crumpled ballcap that he often wore. Dust covered his face, and there were a few holes in his jeans that I hadn't noticed earlier. It took him a few moments to look up, and when he did his face remained blank for a bit before my features registered.

"Oh, hey Nick," he said as he recognized me. "I thought you were the cops."

"The cops?" Andy asked, coming up from behind me. "Why, what's going on?"

Joe looked over his shoulder at Andy, then slowly turned his head back towards the field. For a moment he was silent, his only movement a deliberate reach down to pick up his ballcap, which he then began to gently twist in his enormous hands.

"Well, I'm not really sure," he began. "Dave and I came out here to get his four-wheeler, and I decided I was just going to stay home. He took off, I guess to go back to the cabin or whatever, but he didn't get very far. I was about to go inside when all of a sudden I hear this big crash, and when I turned around Dave's way off into the field, with his headlight pointing up at the sky. I ran out to see what was going on and found him passed out on the ground. He had a big lump on his head, and a nasty shiner, so I called 911. From what they're saying they think he's got alcohol poisoning or something, cause he keeps puking ever since he woke up. He really didn't seem that drunk to me, though, but who knows. I just figured they called the cops, since he's underage."

After his explanation, Joe's voice trailed off, and he flopped his ballcap onto his knee. Andy and I were silent as well, staring off into the field.

"So he's alright?" I asked after a while. "I mean, drunk or whatever, but he's ok?"

"Yeah, I guess," Joe replied. "From what I can tell they're just out there talking to him. I can hear him every once in a while. Sounds fine to me, from the little I've heard."

"Huh," Andy said.

"Yeah," Joe replied simply.

After that, Andy and I sat down next to Joe, and we all waited there on the side of the road. The idle on the ambulance behind us periodically kicked higher or lower, depending on the energy needs of the vehicle I suppose, but other than that the world seemed to slow down, to freeze. I just kept wondering if I should go out and explain to the paramedics that Dave probably wasn't drunk, that he'd been poisoned by a prank gone wrong, but the news that he was mostly fine, just a little banged up, held me back. If there wasn't a pressing reason to confess, then there was really no reason to let the world know what I had done. At least, that's what I kept telling myself.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, a couple of the paramedics started back towards us, Dave bracketed between them. It was an eerie sight, their flashlights stabbing through the corn stalks, throwing oversized shadows up to the road and painting the sides of the ambulance we were leaning against. As they came further into the light, the black eye that Joe had told us about became readily apparent, but other than that Dave seemed fine. He was walking under his own power, the arms of the paramedics to either side more to keep him from bolting than to lend support.

"Hey guys," he said, voice only slightly woozy. "What're you doing here?"

Before we could answer, one of the paramedics broke in.

"Are any of you boys sober enough to drive?” he asked, still advancing, his left hand held out and angled to push the corn stalks out of his path. “I'm convinced that your friend here isn't as drunk as we thought, but I still don't think he should be operating a vehicle. I think its best that you all go home, but I don't want to be scraping any more of you off the pavement."

None of us spoke at first. Joe looked over at me, and after a brief pause, I looked over at Andy. Shrugging, he finally raised his hand.

"Um, I'm good to drive... Uh, sir."

The paramedic that hadn't spoken laughed, while the speaker shook his head ruefully.

"Do you have far to go?" was all he said, though I could tell he wanted to say more. The whole group had stopped a few feet in front of us, on the other side of the ditch.

"Not far," I replied.

"Just a few miles," Andy agreed.

The man who had spoken looked over at his partner, who shrugged and looked meaningfully down at his watch.

"Alright then," the first paramedic said. "You boys take Dave here on home, and make sure he gets plenty of water. Nothing's broken, but whatever flu he's caught, it's draining every bit of moisture out of him it can. His four-wheeler can wait until the morning, although I'd advise you to come clean it up as soon as the sun’s up."

"Will do, sir," Joe said. As Andy and I watched silently, he jumped to his feet and reached out, taking a hold of Dave's arm. The paramedics looked at one another briefly, then released their grips on Dave and let their arms drop to their sides. Dave let himself be manhandled, never even cracking his lips to speak.

"Come on, let's go," Joe rumbled, pulling Dave over the ditch and around, shoving him gently into the road. "I want to get to bed."

Andy stood and followed wordlessly, and after a moment I jumped to my feet as well.

"You should get your lip looked at," the previously silent paramedic said to me as I turned, his voice surprisingly deep. "It looks pretty ugly."

"Uh, yeah, I'll do that," I replied, quickly turning away and stepping past the ambulance's headlights into the darkness. Behind me the paramedics just laughed, then headed back out into the field. The rest of the ambulance's crews were still out there, gathering up gear and joking with one another.

We walked back to Andy's car in silence. Andy hopped in to the driver's seat, and Joe took shotgun, never even glancing backwards to see if Dave or I had a problem with it. I skirted the gravel strip and took the seat behind Joe, while Dave slid in behind Andy. After we were all seated, the doors shut, Andy turned, looking to Joe first, then twisting further to look at Dave and I.

"I guess we head back to the cabin?" he asked.

"Yep," I said, before anyone else had a chance to answer. I wanted to get back as quickly as possible.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Joe agreed after a moment. "I guess I'll just sleep out there tonight." Dave just nodded and leaned his head back against his seat.

The drive back was as uneventful as the journey out. Andy flipped the radio on for a few seconds, but quickly grew tired of whatever ad was playing and switched it off again. Joe and Dave both did their best to fall asleep, while I stared out at the moon hovering above the treetops. The reflection of Andy's dashboard shone in the corner of my eye, only slightly warped by the irregularities of the window, proclaiming an almost unbelievable time of 2:30. It seemed as if days had passed, or lifetimes, but it had really only been a few hours.

As we pulled into the cabin's muddy parking lot I immediately began scanning the area for Sarah. The bonfire had burned down to a small pile of ash and unburnt ends, barely providing enough light to illuminate the clearing, but there was enough to see that it was practically empty. Sarah was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the only person I could see in the camp was Rick, still in his ditch, blissfully dreaming away beneath his cardboard blanket. My heart fell as I realized she had probably gone home. We hadn't really been gone that long, but most of the cars that had still been there when we left were now gone, and the lights in the cabin were off.

I was the last out of the car. My three friends, darker shadows in the gloom, slowly shuffled ahead of me, heading towards my truck. Dave’s blazer was still parked next to it, the hatch up. A few half-full beers lay abandoned on the tailgate, and the jacket Maggie had been wearing lay draped over the side of the bed, apparently forgotten.

Instead of going all the way to the vehicles, Joe led the way over to a bench near the fire and sat down heavily. We all followed behind like baby ducks, pulling up chairs and logs next to him. Andy grabbed some wood that had been sitting next to one of the coolers and unceremoniously tossed it onto the fire. As the flames began to lick upwards once more, I turned to Dave.

“So, what happened to you anyway? How’d you crash?”

Dave barked a short laugh, then reached down to grab an unopened beer. He cracked it and took a long pull before he answered.

“Possum,” he started simply. “Or maybe a raccoon. A pretty big one, too. The fucking thing ran out in front of me, about made me shit myself. I swerved to miss it and hit the ditch. I probably got about ten feet of air before I landed, maybe more. My head smacked the handlebars pretty hard, then all I remember is looking up at the stars for a bit, before Joe came and found me.”

“Hah,” Andy said after a bit, never taking his gaze from the fire. “Fucking possums.”

“Brutal,” was my input.

Joe stayed quiet, and after a moment Dave just nodded and turned to stare into the flames. I did the same, slowly sipping a Pabst that I had grabbed on my way to the fire. We stayed like that for a time, each lost in our own thoughts, watching the fire slowly consume the new wood.

Abruptly Dave stood, and walked around the fire.

“Sweet!” he exclaimed, reaching down to pick something up. I paid little attention, too busy feeling sorry for myself about having lost the opportunity to spend more time with Sarah.

“You should lay off that shit dude, or you’re going to be awake all night,” Andy said, his disembodied voice coming from beyond Joe’s huge, shadowy bulk.

“Dude, it’s always a good time for some Dew!” Dave replied.

That snapped my head up. I quickly looked towards the spot where I had heard Dave speaking from. He was standing on the other side of the fire, raising a nearly-empty 2-liter of Dew to his lips.

“Hold up!” I shouted. I heard panic in my voice, and apparently so did my friends, as they all swiveled to look at me. Dave lowered the bottle, holding it loosely in his right hand.

“What?” Dave asked, confusion casting strange shadows over his face in the firelight. “There’s not enough to mix anything in it. There’s just a few swallows.”

“I don’t want to mix it,” I said, wondering what to say. Andy and Joe were looking at me curiously, while Dave had begun to look impatient.

“So…” Dave replied.

“Uh…”

My brain, befuddled and impaired with alcohol, battled to come up with an explanation. A few seconds passed while everyone just stared at me, until the answer suddenly came to me. It was perfect.

“I pissed in it, after you left. In fact, that’s probably pretty much all piss, cause there wasn’t much soda left in there when I did.”

Andy’s eyes widened slightly, then he turned away in disgust. Joe’s response was to suddenly slap his knee, then begin to laugh, almost doubling over. Dave just stared at me, then abruptly turned and chucked the bottle into the woods.

“What the fuck for?” he said then, once again taking his seat by the fire. “There was still some left in there, why’d you ruin it?”

“Just thought it’d be funny, I guess. I was pretty drunk, and I thought I’d get you back for messing with my truck. Making you drink piss is a little out of line though. Just be thankful I sobered up enough to change my mind.”

“Thankful…” Dave said, trailing off. “Yeah, I’m thankful. You’re also fucking lucky I didn’t drink that shit, cause if I had you’d be in for an ass-beating, let me tell you. You think one black eye is bad, just see how you like walking around with two.”

I just smiled at him. Joe’s laughing trailed off, and Andy stood and walked towards the fire, turning to face us. He stood silently for a bit, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them.

“Ass is cold,” he said.

“Yeah, it’s getting pretty late,” Joe said. “I’m going to go crash. Does anyone have any extra blankets? I’m not like Rick, I need a little more than a nasty old box to keep me warm.”

“I’ve got some,” I replied. I always brought a big stack of blankets out camping, as I used them to make a mattress in the back of my truck. I loved sleeping like that, under the stars, wrapped up in my multi-layered cocoon. “I guess I can let you have one. A little one.”

“Gee, thanks…” Joe said sardonically. Rising, we both walked over to my truck.

As I approached the driver’s side, something about the truck seemed amiss. The shadows didn’t look right. This registered in the back of my mind, but didn’t have time to fully process before I snagged the handle and pulled the door open.

At first, all I saw was a soft waterfall of brown hair. Then, a flash of tanned skin, a pert nose, and a rosebud mouth, pursed slightly. My eyes widened, unbelievingly tracing the lines of the beautiful girl curled up in my driver’s seat. Her chest rose and fell slowly, while her head rested on a bundle of silky fleece blankets crumpled up against the right armrest. The rest of her body was obscured, wrapped up completely in a large blue-and-white checkered comforter. It was one of the most enchanting sights I think I’ll ever see.

As the light streamed in and struck her closed eyes, Sarah woke, and looked up at me dreamily.

“Oh, hey,” she murmured. “About time you guys got back. What time is it?”

“Like three or so,” Joe answered, pulling open the passenger side door. I was silent, dumbstruck.

“Can I have one of those blankets?” he continued, staring down at the empty passenger seat. “I really want to go to bed.”

“Oh, sure, yeah,” Sarah replied haltingly, still waking up. She struggled prettily to sit straight, her movements hampered by the blankets encasing her.

“Here, let me help you,” I finally said. Reaching forward, I gently pulled the edges of the comforter out from under her, and unwound another fleece blanket from around her shoulders. My hands brushed the tops of her breasts as I did, which sent a thrill up my spine. Joe waited patiently on the other side of the truck, while Sarah just smiled and looked up at me.

“There you go,” I said once she was freed. Her answer was a tinkling laugh, followed by a quick jump out of the seat. The smell of her washed over me, like some kind of magical tropical spice, as she stood to my right, leaning back against the open door.

“Thanks,” she murmured, eyes full of promise.

“Any time.”

I probably would have stood and stared down into her face until the sun came up, entranced by the way the moonlight coming from over my shoulder illuminated her flashing eyes and nubile young body, but Joe had other plans. He waited only a few seconds before roughly clearing his throat.

“Which blanket is mine?”

Dragging my eyes away from Sarah, I looked down at my hands. I still clutched the last fleece that I had unwound from Sarah’s shoulders. It was a small thing, but warm. Warm enough for Joe, anyway. I had other plans for the rest of my blankets.

“Here,” I said, tossing it to him. He looked down at it, his face twisted sourly, but he finally just grunted and walked off without a word.

“You’re welcome,” I called after him.

As I watched Joe stalk off into the night, just a darker shadow slowly disappearing into the trees around the cabin, I felt Sarah’s hands slide around my waist from behind. The yielding mounds of her breasts pushed against my back, and her sweet breath washed over me as she stood on her tiptoes to whisper into my ear.

“I’m really tired,” she said suggestively. “Were you planning on going to sleep soon?”

Turning slowly, I rotated in her arms until I faced her. Lacing my fingers together behind her back, I looked down into the endless depths of her eyes.

“Definitely,” I murmured. “Just let me set up the blankets.”

Her answering smile warmed my blood, as did the words that followed.

“Great,” she said. “I’ll help.”

Afterwards, we lay entwined in the back of my truck, covered in a mound of soft blankets. The summer sun, still early to rise at the end of August, was just starting to poke its head above the horizon. It sent burnt-orange shafts through the foliage of the surrounding trees, lighting up the clearing with a golden glow. Around us, the day birds were beginning to wake up, chirping quietly to one another as they pulled their heads out from under their wings. Owls, heading off to bed, swooped down out of the sky, rustling the branches as they pushed their way into their nests.

“That was quite a night,” Sarah murmured into my ear. She was propped up next to me, leaning back on a pillow that was pressed against the cab. My arm, encircling her waist, rested lightly on the silky smoothness of her bare stomach.

“Yeah,” I agreed after a moment. “It was.”

Her answer to my brevity was a quiet, tired laugh. She then snuggled under the blankets, pulling a scrap up to cover her eyes.

Once comfortable, she laid her head on my shoulder, and quickly drifted off to sleep. After a while, during which I watched the sun slowly creep up over the tree tops, I followed suit. My dreams were glorious.