Dr. Naesley.

Gripping the rope tight, I look over my shoulder at the camera man.

He looks at me in knots, a knot back.

Even though I don't really want to, I look into Roy Dempsey's green, bulging eyes.

The rope digs into his neck just under his chin.

His face is already changing color, turning red.

I don't know if it's from rage or embarrassment, because it sure as hell isn't from lack of

oxygen, not yet.

The crowd standing around us on the other side of the hastily constructed barricades

watches me with intense interest.

Were once they were yelling and screaming, they're now eerily quiet.

I know they'll go crazy once I yank on the rope to lift Dempsey's feet off the ground,

but I don't have much of a choice.

This is a big fucking mistake, Barry says from nearby.

Maybe it is, I think, and I yank on the rope.

The purge isn't as simple as everyone thinks it is.

Most people think it's just a night where it's free to kill, rob, steal, and torture.

Some people hate it.

Others love it.

But what most people don't think about is all the other stuff that comes along with it.

Some cities have body collectors rolling around throughout the night, collecting dead bodies

for disposal.

...