Exton

Friday, November 19th, 11:23 P.M. Paula Carstairs had snuck out of the dorm to meet her boyfriend Rick. He'd just come into possession of one of the rare off-campus apartments and they planned to christen the place in grand style: a little booze, a little grass and a lot of sex, since that was the cheapest form or entertainment available to them.

Tonight Paula was a textbook case of the victim looking for a place to happen, skulking around in the shadows, dressed in a tight mini and high heels that made running - or even walking - a matter of some difficulty. She'd gotten an early start on the celebration, too, so she was a little buzzed as well.

Small wonder she was chosen to die that night.

The attack was savage and without warning. Razored claws tore into her side and teeth clamped shut on her windpipe in nearly the same instant. She fought with all that was in her, in full knowledge of her impending death, and she didn't go down easy.

But she did go down.