It had been one month since Finney Blake escaped. One agonizingly long month of reporters, police, and hospital visits. One month since sitting in the back of that car with his sister, blanket around his shoulders, watching his best friend get wheeled out in a body bag. Today was their funeral, the 5 other boys. Tonight, at 6. The 5 who didn’t make it, versus the one who did, on their advice, and sheer dumb luck.