[Ambrose]

"Hey, you guys seen Kate?" Spencer asked.

Dave and Ricky exchanged blank looks. The two of them were situated comfortably in the living room; Ricky was lying prostrate on the futon and Dave was slumped back against the rocking chair. They had changed out of their bathing suits and into the extra clothes they had each brought. Ricky was now wearing a red sweater and an Orioles cap. Dave had reassumed his army fatigue, but had swapped out his white undershirt for a blue one.

"Uh, no," Ricky said, thinking for a moment. "Haven't seen her since she was with you at the lake."

Spencer felt worried. It had been two hours since they had finished swimming. After returning to the cabin and changing out of his swim trunks, he had somehow gotten into a heated conversation with Christina about how girls are more stubborn than guys. The two of them had a penchant for starting gender debates; they figured it was normal since they were brother and sister. This particular one started when Christina had cornered him in the kitchen and had made him confess to sleeping with Kate. Spencer had told her that it was she who had wanted to have sex mostly, not him, hoping that that might free him from the responsibility his sister was trying to pin on him. Christina, however, had become upset that Spencer was engaging in "frivolous" behavior with one of her best friends. Spencer thought it was funny how girls could be fine and dandy one moment and then fuming the next. Apparently Kate and Christina had recently grown very close, and Christina suddenly felt that Spencer was stealing Kate away from her. He had totally lost track of time during the argument and when they had finished, or rather when Christina had given up out of frustration, he noticed that Kate hadn't returned to the cabin.

Orion was now coming down the stairs, drying his wavy dark hair with a towel. Another one was wrapped around his waist. He looked as if he had just gotten out of the shower.

"Yo, Orion. Have you seen Kate?" Spencer asked, his voice now distinctly uneasy.

Orion looked puzzled. "She was with you, I thought?"

"Yea, I know, I was with her after our swim in the lake. That's the last time I saw her." Spencer felt a desperate emptiness creep into his stomach. "She didn't say she was going anywhere, did she?"

Orion shook his head. Ricky sat up, siphoning Spencer's alarm. "Wait, you don't think something happened to her, do you?"

Ricky looked at Spencer, whose brown eyes were now fraught with uncertainty. Christina, having overheard their conversation, had walked into the living room.

"The lake," Spencer muttered finally, and bolted for the door without putting on his shoes.

Ricky, Dave and Orion all followed him. Together they leapfrogged the porch and bounded down towards the lake. In his mind, Spencer imagined Kate going back into the lake for another swim.

"Oh god," Spencer said aloud. Now, in his mind, he saw Kate's face, bloated and white, bobbing underwater. This thought quickly perished however when he remembered how good of a swimmer Kate was. "No," he said to himself, "She couldn't have drowned. There's no way."

The four of them stood on the shore, their eyes scanning the lake hoping by chance that Kate might still be swimming. But she was nowhere to be seen. The surface of the lake was dark and calm and vacant. The afternoon had shrunk into evening, and the surrounding evergreens had now devoured the glassy water, miring in thick shadow. Even if Kate was there, trapped somehow at the bottom, there was no way they could find her. The interior of the lake had become occluded by dusk. The only thing visible was the reflection of the clear navy blue sky.

Then Spencer had an idea. He looked down at the sand beneath his bare feet. There were footprints all across the sand. Some of them were their footprints of course, from early in the day. But sure enough, there was one set of footprints that led out away from the dock, following the perimeter of the lake.

"Look!" Spencer shouted, getting everyone else's attention.

Together, all of them still barefoot except for Dave, who had already had his shoes on before they left, followed the footprints which they presumed to be Kate's into the woods.

Pretty soon, it was pitch-black, and Spencer cursed himself for not having the sense to bring a flashlight. But he could still see the ground in front of him, which had become increasingly wet. The footprints they were following seemed to be leading them into a swamp, though it was impossible to tell in the darkness. Spencer felt tall grass brush past his face, as he pushed his way deeper into the shadowy thicket. The rest of the guys followed closely behind him, as if in tow. Spencer could no longer make them out, but he could hear their panting and the wet thump of their feet as they trod through the mud. They had come what seemed to them, at least everyone that wasn't Ricky, quite a way. The footprints were becoming less and less conspicuous in the slippery mud. Spencer was starting to lose hope.

"Kate," Spencer yelled into the darkness. "KATE!"

Finally, Spencer stopped. He had lost sign of the footprints. He felt something smack into him from the rear, and then he heard Ricky's voice.

"Ugh, sorry Spence," Ricky mumbled. "Can't see a damn thing."

Ricky's complaint was quickly followed by two others. Dave had knocked into Ricky, who then collided with Orion. The four of them stood, back to back, squinting blindly into the tall reeds. They were all waiting for Spencer to move forward.

"I can't see the footprints anymore," Spencer whispered.

"Ah, shit," Ricky whispered, shifting uncomfortably where he stood.

They were all breathing hard, their hearts thumping almost in tandem. Reeds scratched at their skin as they felt around uselessly in the dark. Still, they could see nothing but what the soft glow of the moon allowed. The drone of crickets filled their ears.

"I don't think we're going to find anything like this," Orion whispered from the back.

Then Dave's voice rose above the silence. "Why the fuck are we whispering?"

Ricky failed to stifle a laugh.

"I don't know," Spencer said despondently, no longer trying to keep his voice down. Orion's words had made the empty feeling in his stomach grow considerably. "I guess we turn back."

Just then, there was a low whimper. Ricky felt Dave's hand tighten on his shoulder.

"What's up man?" Ricky said, peering back at the shadowy face behind him.

"Oh g-g-god," Dave stuttered. Dave hardly ever stuttered. "Guys, I think I see a hand."

It took Spencer awhile to figure out what Dave was talking about. His eyes desperately scanned the blackness in front of him. And that's when his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. Not more than two feet in front of him, just barely visible in the moonlight, jutting stiffly from the mud, was a pale white human hand.

Driven by some unfamiliar urge, Spencer reached out and grabbed the hand. It was deathly cold beneath his fingers. Ricky was now leaning over his shoulder, peering down at the ground. The hand was awkwardly propped upward, its middle and forefinger pulled backwards in a strange contortion. Spencer let out a half-scream when he pulled it, and a limp body came flopping out of the mud. Ricky cupped his hand to his mouth.

"It's Kate," Spencer said and then began to cry.

* * *

Christina waited anxiously back at the cabin. The others had left in a hurry to find Kate and now she didn't know where they were. Spurred on by a sudden impulse, she went to the front door and opened it. It was dark now, and the light from the house only illuminated the ground a short ways away from the porch. Beyond that, there was only blackness. She could just make out the silhouette of the Chevy against the moonlight, which was conservatively spaced throughout the grass.

Then she heard something, not too far off. It sounded like a twig snapping. A chill went down her spine. She slammed the door shut and locked it.

"You have to be kidding me," Christina said aloud to herself. She felt like she had been dropped into a horror movie. Here she was, all alone in the house, and there were strange noises coming from outside. She leaned back against the door and sat down, wrapping her hands around her knees.

"They'll be back soon," Christina spoke out loud again, trying to reassure herself. But deep down, she was afraid. A memory rose like a sunken vessel from the depths of her mind. She was in the first grade. Her parents had left her alone at the house with her brother, who was only one year older than she was. Spencer, despite his usually flagrant immaturity, took it upon himself to watch out for his sister. Christina felt safe around her brother because she knew he loved her very much and would protect her no matter what. The two of them were sitting on the couch in the living room when a bolt of lightning struck dangerously close outside. Spencer grabbed his sister's hand and led her to the stairs. They started to climb to their room when the lights in the house went out. In the ensuing darkness, she lost hold of her brother's hand. The fear that overcame her in that moment gripped her and wouldn't let go, forever leaving its treacherous mark.

The event was now remembered by many as one of the worst storms to hit Canterbury.

And now this.

Her eyes wandered toward the fire, which was starting to flicker. The wood had burned all the way down to the cinders. She thought she could feel the temperature drop.

Suddenly, there came another snapping noise from outside. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She crawled away from the door and got to her feet.

"Ok Christina," Christina told the empty cabin, "get a hold of yourself."

Christina could hear the wind picking up outside. Just then the fire went out completely. Panicking for no particular reason, she ran upstairs and knelt down on the landing. She put her head against the floor and listened.

Nothing.

"What the hell am I freaking out about?" The words slipped out of her mouth, cutting the silence in the cabin like a knife.

Then, Christina's heart exploded in her chest. Someone had begun pounding on the front door.

"Christina, open the door!" A voice called from outside.

Christina ran down the stairs, her red hair flowing behind her. She was halfway across the living room, having skirted the futon, when she lost her balance and slid the remaining distance across the hardwood floor. There was a loud thud as she collided with the front door.

"Spencer, is that you?" Christina called out, unable to keep the panic out of her voice.

"It's me, Christina. Please open up." Spencer said from outside. It sounded like he was crying.

Christina opened the door. Spencer was standing on the porch. Fresh tears were streaming down his face. His jeans were covered in mud. Ricky, Dave and Orion were behind him. They were carrying something; she couldn't see what because it was wrapped up in the blue tarp that her parents kept in the Chevy.

As if Christina could sense the foreboding creeping out from under the tarp, she said, "Did you find Kate?"

"Kate's dead," Spencer sobbed. The others were holding back tears. The thing in the tarp seemed to bulge irregularly in Christina's mind.

Christina started to make choking noises. A feeling had arisen in her chest, like someone had placed a weight there that was now collapsing her lungs. She fell to the ground.

Spencer's eyes suddenly came alive. He rushed through the door and into the kitchen, bringing back with him a paper bag.

"Breathe into this," Spencer instructed sharply, the thing in the tarp momentarily gone from his mind. "You're hyperventilating. Christina, you need to breathe into this."

Spencer forced the paper bag around his sister's trembling mouth. After what seemed like forever, her rapid breathing subsided; the paper bag began to inflate and deflate at even intervals. Spencer rubbed his sister's back consolingly with his left hand while squeezing her arm with his right.

"It's gonna be OK," Spencer encouraged, but he couldn't believe he had said it. It was as if something inside him had switched on after he saw his sister have a panic attack on the floor. The fear and sadness previously rampant inside him momentarily subsided, and all he could think about was Christina's safety.

Spencer's mind flashed to ten years ago. He was sitting beside his sister on the couch, in the living room of their cozy two-storey home. His parents had left them alone. There was a storm outside, and freak winds picked up garbage lids and blew them down the street. The neighbor's dog was barking. A seven-year-old Spencer gazed nervously out the living room window. His eyes lit up as a jagged bolt of lighting, crackling down from the tempestuous sky, struck the front lawn. The grass sizzled and caught fire. He grabbed his sister's hand and pulled her to the stairs. He began to climb the steps as fast as his scrawny legs could carry him. All of sudden, he lost sight of the landing. Everything went black. He slipped on the last step, losing grip of his sister's hand.

Spencer could still hear his sister wailing in the darkness.

"Spencer, uh," Ricky called from behind. "What should we do with-"

Ricky's voice trailed off.

Spencer felt his stomach become hollow again. The feeling of despair came rushing back through him like ice water. And then there was that single horrible thought that scratched at his brain like sandpaper: Kate's dead.

"Leave her there," Spencer said, and as he did so he felt himself choke back tears.

The other three boys set down the thing in the tarp and came inside.

"What are we going to do?" Ricky said when the five of them had gathered around the kitchen counter. The others were too afraid to speak. Christina had her fists propped up against the refrigerator door, her head sunk low. She was sobbing.

Spencer was looking out the window.

"I don't know about you guys, but don't you think this whole thing is a bit creepy? I mean, how she died." Dave's usually cool voice now wavered.

Orion was looking off into space when Dave said this. A look of fear swept over his face. "What are you saying?"

"I don't know," Dave said, reluctant to let the thought out the gate. "Maybe she was-"

Dave paused.

"-murdered," Ricky finished.

"Shut up, Ricky," Orion snapped, casting a mindful glance toward Spencer who was still standing at the window.

"Hey, I'm just saying what we're all thinking," Ricky retorted.

Spencer turned to face the rest of them. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly calm. "There were markings on her neck. I saw them."

Everyone stared at Spencer from across the kitchen counter. Christina looked up from the refrigerator, her face now alive with fright.

"What?" Christina gasped.

Spencer looked around the room, his eyes alive with a strange focus. A quiet disturbance reverberated throughout the kitchen as everyone came to the same realization.

"I think she was strangled," Spencer said finally.

"Oh my god," Christina breathed, new tears welling in her eyes. "I wanna go home. Right now."

Ricky, who had an uncanny sense for picking up on things, plucked the fear that was at the front of everyone's mind. "What if he's still out there?"

"Who?" Christina asked, though she regretted it afterwards.

"The killer," Ricky said in a low voice.

The boys exchanged nervous glances. Dave looked like he was going to be sick.

"We have to call the police," Spencer said.

Spencer removed his cell phone from his pocket. After a second, he was scowling at the screen. "No service," he said laconically.

For the next ten minutes, the five of them searched the cabin up and down for a phone. They couldn't find one.

"Shit," Dave said, his voice now full of panic.

"Wait," Ricky said, "My uncle has a CB radio."

Christina frowned. She was now pacing back and forth in front of the refrigerator. "I say we leave right now."

"No," Spencer said sternly, "we're not leaving Kate here."

"She's dead!" Christina screamed, her face contorted with fear and anger.

"I don't care," Spencer barked back. He suddenly felt extremely angry. "We're not leaving her."

Spencer turned away from his sister and looked at Ricky. "Do you think we can reach McMinnville with that thing?" McMinnville was only forty or so miles away. It was the closest town.

"Maybe," Ricky said. Then he added quickly, "It's worth a shot."

"Alright, we'll take the Chevy and go get the radio," Spencer instructed.

Just then, Christina grabbed Spencer's arm. "Don't leave me here," she said.

"It's going to be alright," Spencer reassured her, taking his sister under his arm.

"I'll go," Orion said.

Spencer looked at him for a minute, and then at his sister.

"Alright, the two of you go then. We'll stay here and lock the door incase-" But Spencer never finished what he was going to say. He didn't have to. Everyone was already thinking it.

The silver Chevy pulled out of the driveway, its headlights momentarily exploding onto the porch, lighting up the crumpled blue tarp on the ground. Ricky spun the vehicle around on the dirt, its headlights following an arc in the darkness, and slid out through the gap in the trees. Then, with one last long and grating chug escaping from its engine, the truck disappeared from view.

* * *

Ricky Wilhouser gripped the steering wheel of the Chevy tightly. His palms were sweating. The sky had turned a dismal gray, and now the car was being pelted by large drops. Rain splattered onto the front windshield as the wipers worked furiously to fend off the relentless downpour. Intermittent thunder rolled above them. The tires of the Chevy clunked repeatedly as the car shook its way along the rugged dirt road.

"Can you believe this?" Ricky said, turning to Orion in the passenger seat.

Orion's face was pale. His left hand was propped on the dashboard, his fingers frantically tapping away.

"No," Orion said. He gazed out the window, and then he whipped his head back at Ricky.
"Do you think there really is a killer?"

His voice was just above a waver. Orion's eyes gleamed frightfully in their deep sockets.

"I don't know," Ricky said, squinting into the rain. "I mean, you saw what happened to Kate."

"Yeah, but, it might have just been an accident," Orion stammered, his fingers tapping faster than ever.

Ricky frowned. "I just don't know. This whole thing is a fucking mess." He paused and then said, "Maybe the dame was suicidal."

The two of them sat in silence for a minute. The pitter patter of the rain drops hitting the cab reverberated inside the truck.

"Ya wanna know what I think?" Ricky said finally. "I think she was depressed."

Ricky took a deep breath, pulling his Orioles cap down around his head. His curly brown hair stuck out roughly from under the hat, making him look much older.

"I was talking to Dave, ya know, on the way back to the cabin after we was swimming. I said, 'Dave, can you believe a fine gal like Kate has this place all to herself?' and he says to me, 'Nah, it's her father's. Her parents got divorced so the old man doesn't come up any more'. Well, you remember that Derek Bates kid from school right? His parents split too. Well, everyone knows poor old Derek killed himself a week later. I heard rumors that the cops found him at the bottom of the ravine. They say he jumped. Get this though, they say his eyes were still open when they found him and they were still moving. Something about the nerves acting up after he died, I dunno. Fucking creepy as hell."

Ricky finished his story, letting out a long sigh. Orion had stopped tapping on the dashboard. He was staring ahead through the rain-washed windshield.

"Ya know, Spencer's leaving next fall," Orion said out of the blue.

"What?" Ricky blurted out, the image of Derek Bates' body still fresh in his mind.

Orion brushed his wavy dark hair out of his face. "Yeah, I found the letter in his house. He got a scholarship."

"Fuck, really?"

"Yeah, he never told me."

"Didn't you get one? You're pretty fucking smart too."

"I didn't apply for any. I made up my mind to stay in Canterbury along time ago."

Orion turned to face the window again and fell silent. Ricky had hoped to get a football scholarship but it was a small hope. Nobody got out of Canterbury on a football scholarship. He didn't even know if scouts ever came to the high school games but guessed they didn't. It was too small of a town, practically invisible to the rest of the world.

"You know, I've been thinking," Ricky began, "What if I became a cheetah."

"What?" Orion said, puzzled.

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty good at running. And life in the savannah can't be all that bad." Ricky was saying, his eyes still on the road while his mind roved the vast and uncharted planes of his imagination.

"A cheetah?" Orion asked equivocally. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth. There was a quick intake of breath. Then, to Ricky's amazement, a loud growl filled the cab. It sounded like a wild cat or something - in fact it sounded almost like a cheetah. Orion was sitting in the passenger seat, his hands cupped knowingly around his mouth and he was mimicking a cheetah.

Ricky doubled over in laughter, nearly losing his grip on the wheel.

"That was fucking awesome," Ricky said finally, his eyes misty with delight. "Can you do any others?"

Orion cocked his head back, changing the positioning of his hands. He closed his eyes and his throat began to undulate. The skin around his Adam's apple was stretched taut. His entire head began to gyrate up and down. Within a minute, he was able to produce with amazing accuracy the sound of an owl. Loud hooting noises filled the car, blocking out the rain. Ricky began to crack up again.

"Jesus, Orion. Where'd you learn how to do that?" Ricky said, wiping away tears.

"Well, I can only do birds mostly," Orion explained. "Most of it I just picked up from spending time in the woods. I used to go on hikes with my dad, and we would camp out in the mountains for weeks on end."

"What about the cheetah?" Ricky said.

"Oh, that. I learned to do that from watching the discovery channel."

The two of them laughed.

The Chevy reached the main road where the intersection was and turned right. They had left the cover of the narrow dirt road and now the rain seemed to be coming down harder than ever. It was a half-hour drive before they reached the junction where the road to Ricky's uncle's veered off to the left, skirting the mountain side and disappearing from view. The Chevy struggled as it climbed the steep gravel hill, chewing up rocks and spitting them out the back. The headlights painted the passing evergreens a glistening white as rain bounced off their soggy branches. Finally the truck stopped, its headlights now illuminating the corrugated tin roof of a shack. Beyond it, drenched in shade, was a small cabin.

"Alright," Ricky said, "let's do this."

* * *

Spencer paced back and forth in the living room. Outside it was raining hard. From the window overlooking the driveway, he could see the dirt tracks made by the Chevy turn into mud and fill up with water.

"What's taking them so long," Spencer muttered. His face looked agitated.

Dave looked up at him from his spot in the rocking chair. He had been staring at the fire, which Spencer and he had stoked and set ablaze once more. The cabin had grown somewhat colder, and he guessed it was from the humidity. Dave didn't mind the rain though; he had long since grown accustomed to it. He lived in a farm on the outskirts of Canterbury. His father was a cattle rancher. In the summers, he would help his dad round up the cattle and feed them. Sometimes they would get heavy downpours, and the two of them would have to work in the rain. He became pretty good on horseback, having to navigate the floods that sprang up across the fifty or some acres that he and his dad managed and usher in the frenzied cattle. Sometimes, a calf would break free from the pack and get trapped in the mud. He would then have to dismount from his horse and traverse the treacherous mud under the barrage of torrential rain in order to unstuck the frantic animal. However, despite the tremendous pulling he would have to do, to rope in some of the stray cattle and steer them toward the feeders, his arms remained distinctly puny. His dad, who was a burly man standing almost six feet, had once told him that God probably had a sense of humor when he made him.

"They've been gone for nearly two hours," Dave said, looking at his watch.

"That's too long," Spencer said absentmindedly.

Christina looked up from her spot on the futon. "Spencer?"

Spencer didn't answer, he just kept on pacing. Finally he said, "I'm going to find Ricky and Orion."

"What?" Christina and Dave said together.

"I'm going to take Kate's jeep," Spencer stated sullenly. "Something's wrong, I have to get to Ricky's uncle's."

"No," Christina pleaded, "You can't leave us here." Dave now looked equally alarmed, but remained quiet.

"I have to," Spencer said. He took his sister in his arms, gazing confidently into her eyes. He then said, "I'll come back."

Christina made a whimpering noise and then hugged her brother tightly. "Promise me."

"I promise," Spencer said.

Dave got up out of the rocking chair. "Uh, I don't know about this. I mean, what if he comes back first." His voice was now conspicuously scared.

Spencer looked at Dave for a moment, thinking. Then he rushed upstairs. Christina and Dave followed him. Spencer was in Kate's dad's room, rummaging through the closet. Dave and Christina exchanged blank looks.

"What are you looking for?" Dave queried anxiously from behind him.

"A gun." Spencer said simply. "Kate said she used to go hunting with her father." Then he said, "Ah ha!"

Spencer produced a Garand hunting rifle from the closet. The gun looked like it hadn't been used in ages, its Cherry wood-stock covered in a film of dust. Spencer blew on it and the barrel became clean, gleaming dully in the lamplight from above. He returned to the closet and found a box of ammunition. He pulled out a clip and loaded it into the gun. There was a loud clicking noise as the cartridge locked in place.

"Spencer, I don't know, I've never used anything like that before," Dave said meekly.

"You're tellin me you've never shot a gun?" Spencer looked up at him from his spot in the closet.

"No, but that's a Garand. That's a thirty caliber rifle. I mean, shit, I've only used BB guns on the ranch." Dave pleaded desperately.

Spencer shoved the rifle into his hands.

"It's loaded, so be careful," Spencer warned. Spencer was an expert marksman. His dad was somewhat of a gun aficionado, and had taken him to the shooting range outside of Canterbury on more than one occasion. They had even gone deer hunting a couple of times up in the mountains. On their first trip, when he was only thirteen years old, after two nights in the woods, he had spotted and bagged an enormous two hundred and thirty pound buck. Hovering over the carcass afterwards, he had counted fourteen points. He could still remember the pleased look on his dad's face when he had told him he was a natural born hunter.

Christina was now fighting back sobs. Spencer grabbed her and held her tightly. "I told you, I'm coming back." With that, he kissed her cheek and exited the room. A flurry of footsteps signified that he was heading down the stairs.

"Be sure to lock the door," Spencer called back to them upstairs.

Dave and Christina watched from the balcony as Spencer pulled Kate's Land Rover out from the side of the house, its wheels spinning momentarily in the mud, and then gunned it through the gap in the trees.

[JirQUEST]

a lot of what i said in the first part is also applicable to this piece.

remove the word hyperventilating! the paper bag said it all.

finally, you might wanna consider the POV that you are putting across. while i dont have anything to critique about this, it's good to note it when u write a story. do u want all the characters's thoughts to be out in the open, or do u just want the main character?

[GermanRose21]

Once again, amazing story. I really have nothing beneficial to add except I love what you're doing and keep going!

[RENA HANDS]

WOW! I am though not really surprising, impressed with your work. It is MARVELOUS! I cannot wait until I read Part 3.

[RENA HANDS]

Please forgive me, I forgot to rate the second part.

I excitingly give a rate of 5/5!

[Storiesmaniac]

"into the extra clothes they had each brought." I thought this was kind of redundant as, you'd mentioned they brought extra clothes in the first one, it's a safe thing for the reader to assume.

The rest was great, i thought that this one flowed a lot more readily than the first. I'm loving the story excellent work.

[Jimbalaya]

This story is brilliant. Really. So far I suspect three of the teenagers: Ricky because he's strong and you mentioned something about the killer's bulk, Orion because he has a knack for changing his voice, like the killer, and Dave (I think) because he's had so much experience in farming with wrestling things that are stuck in the mud. As of yet, I haven't a clue which one of them is the killer...or maybe there are more than one? We shall see.

Again, I have to say that your characters are very well executed...no pun intended. The wrold you make in your writing is dripping with realisim, I can see it in my minds eye, I can almost taste the fresh air and feel the water of the lake, and the terror of the characters.

Really, really excellent writing, Ambrose. I have to sleep now, but when I wake I'll have a go at number three.

[Ambrose]

Jim, you flatter me. This isn't that good. But please keep disagreeing with me.

I think my original intention with writing about how the characters lounge about in the cabin and the lake was to get the reader to join in with them. Kind of become a fifth wheel, or a seventh one as it were. That way when things went south, the reader would be there to panic with them. It's great to hear you came away with that.

Thanks again.

[D-min]

Not as good as part 1, but that's just because I'm sadistic and was hoping you would bump someone else off. Very well done again, my eye picked up some spelling mistakes but I'll post them later, along with some misused words I saw. But you're still my fave so far, Imma read part 3 soon. Keep going XD