Story So Far
Suppose you want to join the fight. Suppose you think you're ready to play with fire. That's fine. But nobody dives just into something, man, nobody who isn't brain-dead.
So you ask for a run-down, and that's peachy, damn near hunky-dory. I'm your resident open-book, the one you ask when Jeeves is out of town. Could be a guide, could be a ghost, could be the little voice on your shoulder that tells you not to have that extra cream cake. But the thing is, I know this town, know this place, know these people. And I know the things that'll keep you alive.
It started four months and three days ago. That's when the first mutilations started. Like I said, cows, stems, sterns, y'know? Nasty shit. Sometimes literally. So there were mutilations, class act disappearances, and then the storms started. That was three weeks ago. And we're talking electrical storms, gale force winds, the beaches have been closed because some girl drowned in the riptide. Armageddon, end of the world?
To the students at Del Norte, it means one thing and one thing only: God, does that mean I have to wear a raincoat over my prom dress?
You laugh because you think I'm kidding.
So this is it, the big she-bang. Everybody deserves a prom night, and what kind of kids would let little things like potential cult activity, prison breaks or freak weather ruin their big night? Come on, man, how many boys are lookin' to get lucky? How many girls just spent four hundred dollars on a dress, a pair of shoes and that perfect hair cut?
Guess they're in for a surprise. A foul-smelling, undead surprise.
Or maybe there's just something in the punch.