Day Three Lynch - Getting Warmer?

And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite,
I saw satan laughing with delight
-American Pie, Don McLean

Come on baby, light my fire
Try to set the night on fire
-Light my Fire, The Doors

Everyone was grim as they worked, with set mouths and dark expressions, hardened from days of suffering and death. And yet somehow they were still ready to strike, like a nest of coiled vipers. Vera had tried, in a last ditch effort to keep order, to confiscate the guns, but even her forceful personality wasn’t enough to make the group cooperate for the common good; they simply hid their weapons more carefully and did not let her see. She wasn’t strong enough to keep this seemingly perfectly normal group of people from killing each other, but she couldn’t walk away from them either. To abandon them now, when there was a shred of hope they might wake up to what they had become and put and end to the terrible violence, would be criminal.

Later that night, she lost even that tiny shred of hope. She slept with her hand wrapped around a rifle and tears caked to her cheeks.

~*~

“Let’s get her!”

“Yeah, she’s the one killing everyone! Look at that face! Those badges! Those are –killer- badges!”

“Give us the cookies you little wench!”

The party paused with torches in hand, and looked at the odd man out in a moment of pure incredulity before turning back to the struggling girl, mostly hidden by the rope coiled from her legs to just below her eyes, tying her fast to a stake in the ground. The others had planned this in advance - that much was obvious. In spite of some mild hesitation, they had started digging the hole for the stake the moment they made camp inside of Lassen Volcanic National Park. Then there had been the long process of gathering fuel for a proper fire, starting with kindling and working their way up. The girl scout might have been helpful with that undertaking, considering her likely expertise in that area, but considering they planned to kill her with this fire it was considered classless by all to ask her to help. Instead, one of the more attractive males in the group kept her distracted until they were ready.

Cookie put up a surprisingly good fight for such a young girl, kicking and clawing as they dragged her to the makeshift pyre, and her piercing screams split the night along with the ears of those closest to her. Even with her impressive struggles, though, she was no match for the mob.

As one, they lowered their torches and stood back to watch the fire consume the dry wood and climb up the still struggling body of the teenage girl.

Late that same night, they raked out the ashes, mixing them with the earth. After all, a good girl scout always left the camp better than when they found it.