"Get back!" Shani called, striking the wooden match, tossing it on the lighter-fuel-drenched wood. The flames ignited in a black billow of oily smoke. "But just think of the superior taste." "Think of the carcinogenics." "We'll let the lighter fluid burn off before we roast the hot dogs. That won't take long. It'll be like old times." "We've never done this before," Angie said. "But in the future, when we do it again, we'll be able to say, gosh, this is like old times!" Angie fished through the cooler at her feet, pulling out a packet of Farmer John's one-footers. "You're awfully chipper today. Did Flynn visit you last night?" "Only for sex," Shani said. In reality, she did not feel well. She had tossed until the sun had risen. The label on Insect Death had hung like a billboard in her dreams. When she had awoken, for a moment, the entire party had been clear in her memory. But only for a moment. Then the flashback had clouded, leaving her doubtful and with an upset stomach, which was getting worse as the day progressed.
