Where Harvey's luck had landed him heads-up, Scott's was all tails. At least he was lucky enough not to have planted his rear down in the small pile of bones that sat just a foot or two behind him. Not only would it have hurt, but S.T. would have had enough material to make dry, subtle boner jokes into next week.

"Ngh, yeah, I am a fan of things that don't involve drawing blood. Never did trust those Red Cross types. Always knew they were up to something," Scott said as he picked himself up, dusting white sand off his jeans.

He gazed out in the darkness, searching for the boat that he knew was pretty sure would be there. Sure enough, on the opposite side of the beach, the boat floated in the faint torchlight. "Hey!" Scott called out to the bag of bones at the boat's helm, walking forward. "So do we actually get to do anything when we get across this time?" If the only thing that sailing across the lake was going to gain them was the loss of three more people, he wanted to know about it beforehand - because he wouldn't be around to know about it otherwise.